Dead in the Water (DeSantos Book 1)

by A. R. Case

  With only six hundred dollars in the bank, no furniture, Jonathan’s clothes and nothing much else, she left the battle behind. Within a week, she landed a job at Atlanticare and from there, three years later, she only moved forward. Until she had gained back all the ground she’d lost in Ohio. She’d be making more than her old boss in Ohio, if she agreed to later shifts, but refused to leave Jonathan home alone that late at fifteen. So the trade off was the early twelve, starting at seven and ending at eight (if she was lucky), home in time to clean up supper, go over homework, get him in bed by ten, and then a few more minutes to herself before crashing so the five-thirty alarm wasn’t overlooked.

  But tonight she was lucky. The eight-twenty pulled up as soon as she reached the bus stop. Traffic was light even for a Thursday in off season, and the two-block walk to the house in the dark was peaceful.

  Until she walked up to a dark house, that is.

  Ever since her cousin, Janie, started dating her latest toy, she was never home. Typical. But Jonathan wasn’t home, and that was very unusual. She rushed through unlocking the door and took the stairs to their upstairs apartment two at a time. At the top, she fumbled around in the dark to unlock the second door, for once cursing her paranoia which insisted both doors have locks. Once inside, she didn’t take off her coat and went straight to the phone to dial her voice mail.

  Hearing her son’s voice, she breathed a sigh of relief. He was at some sign place on West End. At least it wasn’t far away. At this hour, she was glad he called rather than try to walk along the highway, or god forbid, try to take a shortcut through the wetlands.

  She juggled the keys and her purse to re-lock both doors then hopped into her car to get to West End as fast as she safely could. Jonathan hadn’t been too specific, just letting her know he was safe, where he was, and that he needed a ride. She passed the company before realizing she would have to circle back to get on the correct side. There wasn’t a turn lane on this narrow stretch of road, so she pulled into the Plaza shops to return back down to West End.

  Susan had just determined which driveway she was supposed to turn into when she noticed police cars in the lot. Her heart leapt into her throat. She replayed Jonathan’s message in her head. He was safe. But he didn’t say anything about police. It probably was optimistic to think Jonathan suffered no ill will against his father’s profession but her spine crawled anyway. She pulled to the shoulder to enter the gate, but it was closed.

  Now what? Her son was in there.

  A heavyset guard ambled over to her car. Susan cracked her window to talk to him.

  “Move along,” he said.

  “My son’s in there,” she said to his retreating back.

  The guard visibly sighed then walked back. “ID.”

  Susan pulled out her wallet and flipped it open to show her ID to the guard.

  “Take it out, please.”

  She frowned. Normally for an officer she would, but this guy was nobody.

  Nobody but the guy between her and her son, so she pulled it out and handed it through the cracked window.

  “Says here you’re Susan Schreiber. That’s not the kid’s name.”

  She frowned. “Divorced. Bauer is his father’s name.”

  The guard nodded and studied her license a bit longer.

  “Sir? I’d like to get him home please.” She poked her fingers out the window to motion for her ID.

  He finally handed it back. “Just a minute. ‘Gotta open the gate.” Then he did that thing that she hated. He shined the flashlight in her face one last time, taking a good long look not only at her face, but everything else below the neck that he could see.

  Susan was very glad she’d worn her winter coat today. It covered her from the neck down and didn’t give any hint that she was built like more like Jessica Rabbit than a Rubenesque model. Of course, judging by the hesitation he exhibited, she guessed it probably didn’t make a difference.

  The gate slid back and Susan started to park in the front. Then she realized most of the police were parked in the back of the lot. In fact, the front of the building was still dark. The concentration of lights were focused on the back corner of the lot, but there were a couple of squads near a back door and loading dock. She found a spot to the side, not quite between the door and the commotion near the back corner. She hoped to God that Jonathan was inside, not back there. The wetlands were right there, only a fence separating this bit of civilization from acres of danger.

  There was an officer near one of the cars. He told her that Jonathan was inside.

  “What’s going on over there?”

  “They’re figuring out how to shift the fence so they can get the body out.”

  “Body?!” She squeaked.

  “Shit. No one told you he found a floater, right?”

  She nodded and tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry.

  “He’s okay and inside. You should go in there, hey?” Her hesitation made him add, “It’s okay, really.”

  “Right.” She stumbled up the two steps and had to catch the rail so she wouldn’t fall on her face. The cop moved to help, but she waved him off. “I’m fine, just tripped a little. I’m fine…” He’d backed off so she cut her rambling short.

  She pulled the door open and searched for Jonathan as she blinked to adjust her eyes. What she didn’t expect to see was Jonathan sitting at a lunch table with a motley mix of police, detectives, a security guard, and the baddest-looking biker slash model she’d ever seen. The last in line made her eyes stick in place. Gorgeous, if you like them bad. She thought.

  Only momentarily distracted, she rushed to her son’s side. “Are you okay?” She wanted to fuss but knew he’d be mortified if his mother got gushy. He stood, and the biker stood too. Susan pretended to not notice how tall he was.

  “I’m fine mom.”

  Okay, he seemed fine. Maybe it wasn’t as bad...no,wait, the officer outside said “body.” “What’s this about a body and what were you doing in the wetlands, don’t you know it’s behind a fence for a reason? As if Scott didn’t tell you enough stories about people drowning in there and…”

  “Mom!” Jonathan yelled. “I’m fine.”

  Susan narrowed her eyes and counted off some fingers on one hand before speaking again. “Body. Dead. Explain.” She didn’t yell; she didn’t even raise her voice. Gritted teeth didn’t count according to her unwritten Mom handbook.

  “I had to take the shortcut.” He held up a hand, “I know I shouldn’t have, okay? It was just, um… necessary.” He dropped his hand feebly then looked at her with that pleading face he used to use to get a toy when she went grocery shopping.

  Giving him a small nod, she kept staring down her son.

  “So when I slipped…”

  “You slipped?”

  “I didn’t fall in, just some loose rocks, Mom. Anyway, I saw…” He hesitated a moment. “I was just getting up and saw something in the water. Once I figured out what it was, I got scared and went under the fence here and they called the cops.”

  Susan took a deep breath, paused, and, suddenly conscious of the others at the table who were listening in or watching her, or both, stopped what she was going to say. She frowned inwardly. “You’re grounded. I’m too mad right now to detail how long or what it will entail, just know until further notice you’re mine, young man.” Deep down she was relieved, but knew there was some censoring going on. If her son didn’t come right out with it, she wouldn’t press in front of police officers. That lesson got drilled into her during that horrible three years.

  Her luck, they’d glom onto something and either her or her son would pay just like before. If it came down to a choice between telling the police everything and her son, there wasn’t a question about it. If he didn’t want to talk about his experience in front of her ex-husband’s fraternity here, then she was all about
solidarity. She turned her attention to the men around the table. Some of them had the decency to stop staring at what was under her open coat.

  Assessing the group, there were three junior officers all standing around, probably patrolmen, a sitting detective that didn’t dress well enough for promotion and who sulked in a tired slouch, the biker, who may or may not be an undercover, and a clean-cut detective who carried his weight around his shoulders. It was a typical alpha posture that made people follow orders whether they realized they were doing it or not.

  That was the one she needed to address, but fear clenched her stomach. Her husband and his partner carried themselves like that. It was the mark of a man with an agenda. They were the worst kind of alpha-wannabe males.

  Her eyes cut to the biker again. His focus was half on her and half on her son, yet somehow alert to everything in the room. Interesting. He dwarfed the men around him by forging an invisible aura of power and aloofness, in quiet control without pushing his authority. Maybe she should talk to him instead. Then again, undercover officers, higher in rank or not, didn’t answer questions in investigations.

  Facing the detective she asked, “Are there charges against Jonathan?”

  The biker shifted, moving slightly in front of Jonathan.

  The detective answered and motioned to the biker. “Mr. DeSantos isn’t pursuing trespass. We’re checking on wetland access. There may be extenuating circumstances.”

  Susan waited. In her head she filed away the knowledge that the biker was probably the owner, not a cop. She could practically feel the knot of tension between her shoulder blades lessen with that knowledge, but she focused on the necessary conversation for now. The cop wanted a prompt from her. Something that said she was looking to him for leadership, but she refused to encourage him. Her husband, ex-husband, had given her one good thing, her son, and maybe a backbone of steel could be counted as a good thing, but deep down she hated it. There was value in it though, especially since the detective broke first.

  “He said he was chased by some gang members into the wetlands.”

  Her son hid his head and slouched lower.

  That got filed away too. Jonathan hadn’t told her he was being targeted by gangs. Working ER she knew all too well how quickly harassment turned into more.

  The detective continued. “As far as we can tell, there isn’t an ordinance against entry into the wetlands. That’s boaters though, not foot traffic. I guess they never figured someone would be, um, cutting across it.”

  “Then what is the fence for?” Susan asked.

  “Mostly the fence is to discourage access to the power lines. It’s not fenced where it washes up against West End.”

  “Or by the baseball fields.” Jonathan tried to supply in support.

  Susan glared at her son.

  The biker piped up. “Well, since we’ve figured all that out, can the kid leave?” He turned to Susan and held out a hand, “Anthony De Santos. My brother and I own the company.”

  She blinked at it then took his hand to shake it. She tracked his eyes doing so. Most men didn’t make eye contact in the first three seconds while looking up. They tended to get distracted about halfway from her hand to her head. One, two, and eye contact. His eyes were dark. So dark there wasn’t a hint of color. For a second she was curious whether they were brown or black. He had those enviable long eyelashes most men were blessed with.

  He held her hand with a slight squeeze.

  She glanced down to look at his huge hand covering hers. There had been a long time where a handshake would have triggered some tremor or involuntary flinch. But this was nice. His hand was warm, callused, and, she realized, still holding hers without the normal handshake motions.

  Quickly she pulled her hand free, resisting the urge to wipe the sensation of his skin off. That phobia was still there. She obviously felt an attraction to him, but still didn’t want that feeling on her.

  “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?”

  That cold steel wall that kept people out came crashing down and she heard herself turn him down. She finished with, “I can’t. I just... can’t.” That was probably the truth. She couldn’t date, she couldn’t be normal. It just wasn’t an option anymore.

  Turning to her son, “Jonathan, it’s time to go. Thank Mr. DeSantos, and...” She motioned to the officers still hanging around the warehouse.

  Police, in numbers, her nerves were almost ready to snap.

  The last time she’d been around as many police officers as this was when she lost Jonathan during the hell in Ohio. It had taken five months of lawyers, judges, interviews, Social Services visits, and numerous days off, without pay, to get him back. It was a fluke she’d been on duty that night when he was admitted. Otherwise, she might never have been given the ammunition she needed to win.

  A neighbor had brought Jonathan in. He’d made it three houses down, sneaking out the window of his second-story bedroom with a hairline-fractured rib, blackening eye, and defensive bruises on his arms and legs. What made her see red though was the half foot shaped bruise on his back, just high enough to crack a rib, but luckily missing his kidneys. She pressed charges, refusing to leave the hospital until there was a restraining order on her husband barring him from getting within a hundred feet of her son.

  She stayed by Jonathan’s bed that night and through the next day until her shift started. Four visits from Social Services at her work in one day, two female detectives taking both her and her son’s statements, a child advocate from the State’s attorney’s office and several other people of some influence or another came in and out of her son’s recovery room.

  Getting Jonathan safe almost hadn’t happened when the neighbor changed his story. Susan figured some of John’s colleagues had spoken with poor Mr. Ritter, reminding him how miserable life could be without the blessing of the local PD. She knew how that went. Her life had devolved to walking a very straight and narrow line. Even then, she felt the threat her ex poised hanging over her like the Sword of Damocles.

  Life was finally better, but that didn’t change how she felt around this many officers.

  Jonathan must have sensed her nervousness or probably had plenty of his own since he practically race-walked to the door. Susan followed, so did Mr. De Santos. Tony, she remembered.

  “I’ll make sure you’re let out of the gate without hassle. Kevin can be a real ass sometimes.”

  “Your guard at the gate?” Susan frowned. Yeah he was a real ass. “Thank you.” She realized this might be the last chance she had to thank him for not pressing charges against her son too. “And thank you for taking care of Jonathan while he waited for me.”

  “I’m not a kid, Mom.” He butted in.

  “Of course not. Thank Mr. De Santos for not pressing charges.”

  “I did already.”

  “Again wouldn’t hurt.”

  Jonathan mumbled out his appreciation in that way that teenagers do that never sounds quite right. Susan frowned.

  Tony replied, “Any time. You get in trouble, you have my number, right?”

  “It’s on Mom’s machine.”

  Tony fished a card out of his wallet and passed it to her son. “Here. Trouble. Call.”

  Man shorthand, Susan thought. Probably something her son was missing out on. She turned to Tony. “I appreciate your help and understanding, Mr. De Santos.”

  “Tony.”

  Susan opened and closed her mouth quickly. She forced herself to say his name aloud. “Tony.” There, her inner snark said, That wasn’t so bad now, was it? She tried not to listen to it, or at least tried to keep her thoughts from showing on her face. She smiled to hide them. “I hope the rest of this isn’t trouble for you.” She pointed to the cluster of red and blue lights in the corner of the lot.

  “They’ll figure it out. Hey kid, thanks for catching it before
it started to stink up the place.” He smiled and a dimple showed even in the dim light of the lot.

  Jonathan laughed too, but it was just a bit forced. “No problem Mr. D.”

  “Mr. D was my dad.” The smile faded a little and the dimple disappeared completely. “Tony is fine.”

  The silence was awkward for a moment and she covered by ushering Jonathan to the car. Tony walked to the gate.

  He stood by Kevin in the little booth as she drove out and he raised a hand in farewell. She tried and failed to not stare at him in her rear-view mirror for one last eye taste.

  The red and blue lights faded into the distance as she drove north on West End and the knot in her shoulders let up a bit more. Jonathan was silent, which was typical, but she worried. “Why were you being chased?” She finally asked.

  He shrugged in typical teen fashion, but volunteered, “I don’t know, maybe ‘cause I actually go to school. Who knows.”

  “Who knows indeed.” She whispered. They were both left with their thoughts of violent people who did what they did because they could.

  Chapter four

  At the warehouse, Tony was just settling in at his desk, which he never used. A detective, no, make that two detectives stood at the door.

  The one poking his head in the door introduced himself and his partner as Detective Katz and Bowers, respectively. Then Katz asked, “Do you have a moment?”

  “Sure, come in.” Tony motioned to the couch opposite his desk. There was a chair too, but it was covered in half-opened FedEx boxes and equipment manuals. Since there was enough room (barely) for two men to sit on the couch, Tony didn’t bother to get up to clear the chair. Besides, he was tired.

  The detectives stood instead.

  Bowers asked, “Do you know a Rich Giofreida?”

  “Yeah, he’s dating my cousin, Lisa.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  This was an interesting conversation. “Like I said, he’s dating my cousin. He’s been around.” One of the things his dad taught him was never volunteer information the cops don’t already know. Obviously, they knew he knew his cousin’s boyfriend, and now they were fishing for something else. He’d have to wait through their questioning to find out why.