Eye for an Eye (An Owen Day Thriller)

by Rachel Ford

  This time, they complied. It didn’t stop them from asking questions: Who was the dead guy? How had he died? Did I know him? But I ignored those.

  “Alright,” I said, “I need to call 9-1-1. So – just be quiet, okay?”

  “Why do you think someone killed him, Uncle Owen?” Maisie asked.

  “Shh,” I said, pulling my phone from its mount. Then, I added, “I don’t know.”

  “Will they try to kill us?”

  I glanced up at her. She had worry lines crossing her face. So did Daniel. They were both watching me. I adopted a softer tone. “Of course not, Mais. There’s no one around. We’re perfectly safe.”

  She nodded but didn’t look convinced. I started to dial. The phone accepted the digits, then displayed a message indicating it was calling 911. The message stayed on the screen for a long time. Then a tone sounded, and a big red X popped up indicating that the connection was unsuccessful.

  I glanced at the bars indicating signal strength. “Shit.” I had zero bars. I was in the middle of the swamp, and my signal was roaming with zero bars of connectivity.

  I moved the phone around the vehicle, holding it close to the windshield, and leaning from side to side. It stayed at zero bars and continued to roam.

  “One second,” I said. “I need to step outside. Do not leave, do you understand me?”

  They nodded, but I didn’t believe them. I figured I had half a minute, maybe a minute, before they tried to follow.

  I got out and checked the signal. No change.

  I took a few steps toward the body. No change.

  I tried the opposite direction, heading back by the rear of the SUV. No change.

  I heard a door open, and I grimaced. Daniel’s voice called, “Uncle Owen?”

  “Coming.” I hurried back and reached the driver’s door in time to see him pulling his head back in and closing the back door.

  “I thought I said to stay inside?” I asked, as I got back into the vehicle.

  “I did,” he said.

  “I’m scared,” Maisie said.

  “Okay. Change of plans. We’re going to drive until I get a cell signal, okay?”

  “Good,” Maisie said. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “I want to see the body,” Daniel said.

  “Buckle up,” I told them. Then I put the phone back in its cradle and headed down the road.

  I watched my signal as we drove. It stayed at no bars. We reached an empty intersection. I ignored the stop sign and went through.

  “You were supposed to stop,” Maisie said.

  “You could get a ticket,” Daniel said.

  I still had no signal. The dark forest pressed in on the road like it meant to bury it, and the water rose up like it would swallow the blacktop into its verdant depths.

  I tried the call again as I drove. It failed to connect, again.

  Then the elevation shifted. The road rose a few degrees. The trees fell away, the water receded. We reached open ground, with fields and homes on both sides.

  I saw a bar appear in the signal display, and then another. I put my call through a third time; and two seconds later, a woman’s voice answered. She was calm and all business. She wanted to know what my emergency was.

  I told her my name, and our situation. “I found a body in a tarp in the middle of the road.”

  She didn’t miss a beat, like finding dead people wrapped in tarps was no weirder than anything else she dealt with. Maybe it wasn’t. “Can you tell me your location, Mr. Day?”

  “I’m on Jay Road.” I paused, squinting at the road sign ahead of me. “Give me a second. I can tell you what road I’m next to.”

  She waited until I got close enough to read the sign at the next intersection. Then she confirmed that I was sure that I’d seen a body. I described the scene. She told me officers were on their way. She asked me where I was at the moment, if I was still by the roadside.

  I confirmed that I was. “But I can go back. I’ll lose you if I do. I don’t have reception back there.”

  She didn’t want that, though. It’d be better if I stayed where I was and waited for the officers to arrive. No, I didn’t need to worry: they’d find me. “Just sit tight.”

  They did, maybe ten minutes later. A big sheriff’s car raced into sight, its lights and sirens blaring. It parked behind the SUV, and the siren stopped. The lights went on blazing.

  A deputy stepped out of the vehicle: a big, sandy-haired guy in his late twenties. His nameplate read Wagner, and he wore an expression about halfway between friendly and threatening. Like he was going for approachable, because he was a public servant, but he needed you to realize that he was still the law.

  He was about six feet tall, with beefy arms and a little pucker around the buttons of his uniform shirt that hinted at a belly that had gone on growing as the rest of him stopped. The picture of a cornfed Midwesterner.

  He approached on the left, stopping by my window. I lowered it, and he asked, “Are you Owen Day? The one who called the body in?”

  “Yes sir.”

  He nodded and glanced into the interior. “Can you step outside, Mr. Day?”

  I did, and he explained, “I figure we should probably not talk in front of the kids.”

  “They saw it,” I said. “Unfortunately.”

  He nodded again. “They yours?”

  “My brother’s.”

  “Your brother up here with you?”

  I shook my head. “He’s dead. My sister-in-law is in Florida. The kids are with me for the week.”

  “Ah.” He hesitated for a moment, like he didn’t know where to go with that; like maybe he was thinking of asking for some kind of verification of the fact, but had something else vying for top priority. “Mr. Day, this body you called in…you said it was on Jay Road? This road?”

  “That’s right. A few miles past the intersection behind us.”

  He frowned. “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it was right in the middle of the road?”

  I explained what I’d seen, and where: the head end in the middle of the lane, the opposite end dangling into the swampy water.

  “You mind showing me where this is?”

  “Showing you? It’s right in the middle of the road. You can’t miss it.”

  He blew out a long breath. “The thing is, there’s no body there, Mr. Day.”

  I blinked. “What? Of course there is.”

  “Okay. Then do you mind showing me?”

  So I did. Or at least, I tried. I made a U-turn with the deputy behind me, his lights still flashing, and his siren off. I headed back the way we’d come, from farm country back to dank, muddy forest, and then back to swamp. The miles fell away. We crossed the intersection. I approached the spot where we’d left the body.

  Except, there was no body there anymore. There were SUV’s and cars with County Sheriff painted on the side. There was the stick I’d pulled out of the swamp and used to probe the tarp.

  But there was no tarp, and no body. I pulled over, but not too far over. Not with still water reaching the edge of the pavement.

  I rolled my window down and waited for Deputy Wagner to get out. He did, with an expression a lot further away from approachable than it had been at the start of our acquaintance. “Can you step outside, Mr. Day?” he asked again.

  Which I did, gesturing to the road across from me, where the stick lay. “It was right there.”

  Deputy Wagner raised an eyebrow and made a big show of examining the empty road, first in one direction, then another. “Was it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you see it now?”

  I frowned. “Of course not. I’m not saying it’s still there. But it was.”

  “Exactly there?” I nodded, and he pressed, “How do you know?”

  “Because I used that stick to move the tarp. I pulled it out of the swamp, held it by the gross end…” I held out my hand, which still had particles of green algae
. The rest, I’d brushed away on the leg of my shorts.

  He glanced at the algae, first on my hand and then my leg. He considered. “Did you see anyone else in the area?”

  “No.”

  “Did any vehicles pass you while you were waiting?”

  “No, but they might have come from the other direction. I wouldn’t have been able to see them, not from where I was.”

  He nodded, like he accepted that. He’d been there, by the stop sign where we’d waited. He knew the distance and angles were wrong. “So someone came out here and picked the body up after you left?”

  “Must have,” I said. “Or maybe they dumped it into the water. I don’t know. But I’m telling you, there was a body here.”

  “Mr. Day,” he said, and his tone was patient, and even friendly, like he understood. Like he was looking out for me. “You do realize that a false report is a crime, right? That – if this is a prank, or a joke, or a bet, or a lark – now is the time to stop it. Because the more time we waste, the worse it gets for you.”

  “It’s not,” I said. “There was a body there, Deputy. I’m not making it up.”

  Maisie’s voice floated over my shoulder, and her little face appeared in the space of the open window beside us. “He’s not. Uncle Owen doesn’t lie. And I saw it too. So did Daniel.”

  “I only saw part of the face,” Daniel corrected. “And it looked like a zombie.”

  Which, somehow, seemed to help. Wagner nodded. “Alright. Well, we appreciate you reporting it. We’re going to need a statement, and a detailed description of everything you saw. Anything you can remember.”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll get a team in to drag the water. And we’ll have our people on the lookout for a vehicle transporting any kind of weird looking tarp.”

  Chapter Three

  We didn’t get to Lake Michigan, not then. We headed back to the sheriff’s department, where I gave a full statement. I spoke to a sketch artist while a female deputy took the kids and talked to them.

  Then Wagner sent us on our way, advising that they might need to speak to me again. By then, the afternoon had grown long, so by unanimous decision, we headed back to Random Lake for food.

  Daniel could barely contain himself during the drive. The deputy, whose name was apparently Lori, had asked him all kinds of questions, and given him a badge – a small, gold thing that said Sheriff on it. “I told her I could only see his eyes, but they were black, like a zombie’s.”

  He was referring, I guessed, to the pupils, that had relaxed and expanded after death. “They did look a little like zombie eyes,” I said.

  Maisie shook her head at the pair of us. “Zombies aren’t real, Uncle Owen.”

  “Lori says he could be a zombie,” Daniel countered, “who lives in the swamp.”

  I wasn’t sure which was worse: the kids convincing themselves that zombies were real or coming to terms with yet another murder in their young lives. “Well, I said, let’s not think about zombies anymore. Let’s think of what we’re going to eat.”

  “Pizza,” Daniel said, excitedly. “And ice cream.”

  “I’m sold,” I said.

  Maisie nodded. “She asked me about mom, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Where mom was. If she knew we were with you.” She frowned. “She asked a funny question. Do you know what she said?”

  “No.”

  “She asked if I wanted to be here.”

  “She asked me too,” Daniel nodded.

  “What did you say?”

  “No,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I told her I wanted to be at Disney World, but mom said we couldn’t go.”

  Jesus, I thought. The kid had probably almost gotten me pegged as some kind of kidnapper.

  “I said yes,” Maisie said. “I’d like to go to Disney World, but not with Ben. Or Michael.”

  “Or Leah and Luna,” Daniel added, a touch of sourness in his tone. Leah and Luna were Michael’s twin daughters, and I got the distinct impression that there had been difficulties integrating the two families since Megan and Michael started dating. But I didn’t pry, and the kids didn’t tell me much.

  “Well,” I said, “you don’t have to worry about Luna and Leah, or Michael.”

  “Or Ben.”

  “Or Ben,” I agreed. “All we have to do is eat pizza, and ice cream, and go swimming.”

  Maisie nodded, and Daniel shrugged. The happy shrug. “Who knows: maybe we’ll find another body. Or the zombie kingdom.”

  They went back to arguing about zombies. They moved on from the existence of zombies to the likelihood of zombies living in kingdoms. Daniel had an entire hierarchy worked out. Maisie argued that zombies weren’t smart enough for any of that, not since their brains had all rotted away.

  Which wasn’t the most appetizing segue into dinner, but they enjoyed themselves anyway. Then we reached the pizzeria, and their focus shifted. The menu was huge, with all kinds of unusual options. I got a plain cheese pizza for myself. They got meatballs in pizza crust as an appetizer, and pizzas with French fries and tortilla chips on top.

  Maisie tried to convince me to try a slice of hers – some kind of steak fry pizza. She reminded me of my promise to her, that I’d try one new thing every week.

  It had been a promise she cajoled out of me shortly after her father’s death. She had some idea that I was too stuck in my ways, too resistant to change; that I was missing out in life. And, in some combination of my own grief and sensitivity to hers, I’d agreed.

  It hadn’t seemed like much of a concession at the time, but in hindsight I counted it as a mistake. She’d held that promise over my head ever since. I’d eaten an apple covered in caramel and fake worms because of it. I’d choked down an oat milk latte, and gagged on the sugary sweet horror that is unicorn hot cocoa.

  By comparison, French fries on pizza sounded dandy. Hell, it didn’t even necessarily sound bad. Another day, I might have willingly taken a bite. But I’d already dealt with starving mosquitoes, ornery kids, a disappearing dead body, and a disbelieving deputy. I was all adventured out.

  She loved it, though, and so did Daniel when he snagged a taste. As for myself, I thoroughly enjoyed my boring cheese pizza.

  The pizzeria also served real, homemade ice cream, in three sensible flavors: chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. No weird concoctions blending add-ins and flavors and bizarre colors. No blue ice cream that tastes like cereal milk, or chocolate-covered cherry-flavored marshmallow-streaked diabetes in a bowl.

  So after we finished pizza, we each got a waffle cone. They came in one size, and that apparently was mammoth. I couldn’t finish mine, but the kids got through theirs no problem. Then, they wanted to go swimming.

  So we did. They were still in their swimsuits, so we went to the beach at Random Lake. The water was great, like it had been earlier, and the area was a little quieter.

  I waited until the kids were in the water and rang Megan. I didn’t have kids of my own, but I figured running into a dead body was probably the kind of thing a parent should know about. The phone rang through to voicemail.

  “Hi, this is Megan Welch, please leave a message.”

  I glanced at the time. It would be about six-thirty where they were. Maybe they were at dinner.

  I thought during the space between her message and the beep. Hey, your children saw a dead guy today, but no big deal, wasn’t really the kind of thing you could leave on voicemail. Not without causing all kinds of panic and worry.

  So I opted instead for, “Hi Megan, this is Owen. Give me a call when you can. Thanks.” Then, realizing that sounded a little ominous, I added, “Oh, and we’re fine – everyone’s fine. I just need to talk to you. Okay, bye.”

  Finally, even Maisie and Daniel tired themselves out. We got back into the vehicle and made the drive back to our campsite. They were ready to hit the sack, but not on my watch – not without brushing their teeth first. Not after all the ice cream we’d had.<
br />
  It was something I was particular about. I’d seen pictures of advanced gum disease and tooth decay years before, in one of those picture books dentists like to keep in their offices to scare people into practicing proper dental hygiene.

  It obviously worked, since the images permanently seared themselves into my consciousness.

  So we trudged down to the showers, the kids complaining all the way about how tired they were. “Keep it up and I’ll make you take a shower too,” I warned.

  It didn’t stop the complaining, but it did at least put a damper on it. They survived the ordeal just fine, and we reached our site for the second time that evening just after nine-thirty.

  The kids went to their tents, and as far as I could tell, were out within minutes. There was no glow of device screens from within – no chatter or rustling as they squirmed and fidgeted. Just quiet, even breathing.

  I pulled out my phone to check for messages or missed calls. Nothing.

  I thought about calling Megan again but decided against it. More because I wasn’t excited about the call than anything else, probably. But I rationalized it as not wanting to scare her. Two calls in a night would make it seem more serious than it was.

  Then, I headed to my own tent. Unlike the kids, I didn’t sleep right away. Partly because it had been a lot of years since I’d had to fall asleep in a cot, partly because the night was hot and humid, and partly because my mind couldn’t shake itself free of distractions.

  And I had plenty of those competing for attention. Our neighbors a site over were apparently having a party, complete with raucous laughter and loud music.

  Which I was pretty sure went against campground rules. There’d been something in there about noise levels, and an expectation that sound wouldn’t travel beyond your site. But it was almost ten, and that was lights out. So I figured the noisy neighbors wouldn’t be a problem for too much longer.

  The disappearing body, though? I figured that’d keep on playing through my thoughts long after lights out.

  How did a body just disappear? Someone had come back for it, obviously, but why? And, maybe more importantly, how did it get there in the first place? It didn’t make any kind of sense.