Red Surf: Leah Ryan Thrillers (The Leah Ryan Thrillers Book 4) Page 15

  “I don’t know, Kicks. Something about it is bothering me. It’s like Corey was trying to make us think it’s him, or laugh in our faces and dare us to prove it. But Logan is a crackpot of a different variety. He’s so spooky and he’s got some very serious issues. You know what I’m saying?” He turned from the ocean and gazed into my eyes. “I think his psychosis goes way deeper than this. I think he’s too obsessed to plan and be patient enough to pull it off.”

  I glanced in the direction of the marina, where Corey Samuels’s father’s boat was docked. “I don’t know, Jax. Logan is pretty spun. He might just be the one.”

  “But there’s something beneath the surface with Logan that’s so twisted and scary. He puts me in mind of some sicko digging up a grave by the light of the moon. You know. Stuffing them and talking to them and shit. Almost too crazy.”

  “Christ. I’ll never sleep again with that image in my brain. Thanks, Jax.”

  “Maybe they’re working together,” Jackson said. “And Corey’s trying to lead us off the trail. Where the real bad shit is happening.”

  I considered it. The idea was beyond terrifying—but entirely conceivable. “Maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time two killers have worked together.”

  McCool came walking over, his face drawn, and his gait slightly defeated. He shook his head. “Bailey Pembrooke was stabbed to death. He bled out in the water.”

  “Jesus.” Jackson looked down at the sand.

  McCool continued. “Trina mentioned that Bailey always carried a jackknife. Had it on the boat with him. He jumped into the water with it. But it wouldn’t have been easy to get this guy. Trina said that he wore a wet suit. She was sure he was wearing fins on his feet. She felt them around her legs for a second when he had hold of her.”

  “So Bailey wouldn’t have known who was attacking Trina. Just that someone was,” I said.

  “Hell of a good disguise, too,” Jackson said. “With the scuba diving mask covering his face and eyes it would be hard to see who it was.”

  “To see him at all,” McCool said. “Wet suits are usually black or dark grey. They’re excellent camouflage in the water. It would make it hard to see him, especially in murky water. With all this rain, the ocean isn’t exactly clear.”

  “This guy is good,” Jackson said. “Has it all planned out, down to the last detail.”

  I looked at Chris, not sure how to voice what I wanted to say.

  He noticed. “What is it?”

  “Have you seen Logan lately?”

  “Not today,” McCool said. His head tilted slightly to the side. “You thinking this could be Logan?”

  I shrugged. “He’s weird, Chris. I mean, really. When he had me in the shark cage I had the creepiest feeling that he might not let me out of it. Like he was getting off on having me in a cage with sharks surrounding me.”

  Chris lowered his chin to his chest, thinking. “I’ll go talk to him. Make it look like I’m asking questions about the case. See if I can find out where he was earlier.”

  “Where he says he was,” Jackson said.

  “I’ll be sure to verify his whereabouts. If there are no witnesses, well, he might have a little bit of a problem. May merit a little further investigation.”

  “Jackson and I happen to be pretty good at poking around, seeing if people were where they say they were at specific times,” I said.

  “You might say we have a certain knack for it, even,” Jackson added.

  McCool said, “Good deal.” His mouth was turned downward. “Whoever it was playing splashy-splash tonight didn’t get his prize.”

  That thought had crossed my mind, but I hadn’t wanted to give voice to it. “I know.”

  “He’ll be hunting again soon,” Jackson said. “He’s got to be pissed that he didn’t get Trina.”

  “Maybe he’ll be desperate. Make a mistake.” The wind had picked up and my voice sounded thin, carried away on it.

  Then a uniform approached, the young female cop, Megan. Her voice was carried off by the wind, too, but not before I’d heard what she’d said.

  “An Amber alert has been issued.” Her face was pale under the gunmetal sky. “He’s taken a kid.”

  Chapter 8

  Eleven year old Shelly Flynn was last seen fishing off the dock of her father’s summer home, just a mile down the beach from Bass Bay. Her father went up to the house to get them a couple of sodas. When he got back, she was gone.

  The same little girl who had waved to me from her dock. My stomach twisted, and my throat squeezed over rising fear for her.

  “We can’t be certain she was taken by this sicko,” McCool said. “She could’ve fallen into the water.”

  Both thoughts sent chills up my spine. Falling into the water not far from where sharks regularly fed on a steady menu of available seals, or taken by a psycho who fed his victims to them. “Could she have wandered off?”

  McCool shook his head. “Her father, Ed, searched the area and I’ve got a team out there searching the woods around the property. He said she never wandered off. She was single minded about fishing. Took it very seriously. He says Shelly lives for it. I know Ed and Shelly. Her mother died a few years back. Cancer. Her dad is the world to her. And fishing. Fishes out on the dock all day, every day. She doesn’t wander off.”

  “This asshole has seen her fishing every day.” Jackson’s jaw tightened and he glared out at the ocean. “He didn’t want to leave empty handed. She was easy pickings. Saw that her dad wasn’t there, and swam over, reached up and grabbed her off the dock.”

  “Sick ticket,” I said, trying to still the panic threatening to overwhelm me. I was finding it hard to breathe. Sucking air in too quickly. I focused on slowing my breathing. If I lost it, I’d be no help to Shelly.

  Jackson said, “I get my hands on him, I’ll punch his fucking ticket.”

  “Where’s Logan?” I asked McCool.

  “His boat wasn’t there, and neither was he. His car is parked in its spot at the pier,” he said.

  “It’s him,” I said. “I know it is. He might as well be waving a flag that says, killer, across it.”

  “It would sure make my job easier if he was.” McCool looked at me, something clearly on his mind.

  “What?” I said.

  “He likes you, Leah,” he said. “Maybe you can get him to trip up.”

  “You want to set him up?” I asked him. “Using me?”

  His face was pensive. “Yeah. If anyone can do this, you can.”

  Jackson stared at Chris. “Wait a sec—”

  I wanted to kill McCool, because I didn’t want to be anywhere near Logan again. But I wanted the little girl back more. “Absolutely.”

  ***

  We were all thinking the same thing. Please don’t let it be too late.

  I’d texted Nick Logan, told him I’d had a rough day, and asked if I could see him. I needed to shake the day off. Texting those words made me want to gag. He responded within a minute, saying he’d meet me at eight.

  I had twenty-five minutes.

  “I don’t like this,” Jackson said.

  “We need to get Shelly back,” I said to him. “Neither of us has to like it. I’m the only one who might be able to get close enough to him right now to find out where she is.”

  A flash of my little sister, Susie, riding her bike behind me. Six years old. The sound of a car idling. The slam of a car door. My sister, gone. There one second. Gone the next.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m ready.”

  “We’ll be near, on a police boat. I’ve synched your cell with our LET system. It’s pretty new. Stands for Orion Systems’ Law Enforcement Telephone System. It’ll use your phone to record anything said, within a ten mile radius. It’s synched to my phone. We’ll have you on speaker, and I’ll be listening to everything you say. Just don’t drop it in the drink.”

  “Yeah. A hungry, slobbering shark might get it while it’s waiting for me to be dropped in the water.
”

  “Leah. Stop.” Jackson, the jokester, had no trace of a smile.

  “Oh, come on, Jackson. The sharks won’t eat me. I’m too strange. The last one didn’t even want to sample me.”

  His eyes locked onto mine, his face dipped downward. He wasn’t amused.

  “Now, the cell stays on. Even in the unlikely event that you suddenly decide to get romantic with Logan on his boat. The cell won’t make a sound. He’ll never know it’s there.” Chris looked into my eyes and a ghost of a smile crossed his face.

  “The only way Logan will ever get romantic with me is if I’m no longer living. Or if I’m drugged to the point of being in a coma.”

  “I wouldn’t rule either of those out as being something he’d be capable of. Or even prefer, for that matter.” Jackson crossed his arms over his barrel of a chest.

  I stared at Jackson. “Thanks, Jax. I needed to hear that right now.”

  He winced. “Sorry.”

  Chris placed his hands on my forearms. “If anything gets weird, we’ll be right on top of him in less than a minute. Okay?”

  “Shouldn’t we have a code word or phrase for her to use, in the event of things getting weird?” Jackson asked.

  “How about ‘shark food’? And if I’m already in the water, will ‘glub glub’ do?”

  “’Douchebaggery at sea?’” Jackson offered. “I like that.”

  “‘I’d rather jump than sleep with you?’” Chris added.

  “’The sharks are sexier,’” I said. “That’s the truth, too.”

  “I know,” Jackson said brightly. “How about, ‘bet you can’t stick your head in that shark’s mouth’?” I really dig that one.”

  I laughed out loud at that one. “Jackson. I love you.”

  He gave me that little grin of his. “I love you, too, Kicks.”

  “Okay, cut it out before I start bawling,” Chris said. “This isn’t the Lifetime movie network.”

  I had to get moving before I lost my nerve. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  Logan was already heading toward my Jeep as I climbed out of it. My tank top clung to my back, and the heavy and hot air was stifling, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it was because my heart was beating triple time, and adrenaline was spiking through my body, leaving me feeling shaky and sick.

  “Leah.” He snaked an arm around my waist. “I’m so glad you texted me. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, lately.”

  The feeling of his arm around me made me want to scream, and I had to fight the urge to push him away. Instead, I offered a smile as I looked at his boat, and wondered if it had taken several girls to their deaths. “You have?”

  “Yeah.” He gave a little chuckle. “I had so much fun with you the last time. I thought it was incredibly courageous of you to get into the shark cage. But then, you’re a bit of a thrill seeker, aren’t you?”

  “How could you tell?”

  “I did a bit of research on you. Internet. Nothing is secret anymore, right?”

  Oh, I bet you’ve got plenty of secrets. “That’s the truth.”

  “Watch your step. It’s slippery because of the rain.”

  His hand clamped onto my forearm, giving me the sense of being trapped, and for a long moment, the urge to run was overwhelming. My legs were heavy as I climbed the few steps onto the boat. I felt like I was about to walk the plank.

  “I was going to take a ride out to see Spooky Sally. Do you want to see some dolphins? They’re pretty active at this time of the evening. They’re used to seeing my boat, so they perform some neat antics out there.”

  Antics. The word Corey had used. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. They jump into the air. Sometimes several at once. It’s pretty amazing to see.” His eyes seemed to burn into mine, and a strange little smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

  I had a bad case of the creeps. But Jackson and Chris were listening. So I balled up my courage. “Absolutely. I’d love to see it.”

  “Great! Go on in. I’ll be right there.”

  I headed into the cabin and looked around, my nerves humming. Nothing looked out of place. In fact, it all looked strangely normal. Just a regular houseboat. A place Logan called home. Still, I scanned the room, went into the bathroom. Looked around, not knowing what I was looking for. Anything that would tell me that Shelly had been inside. Any sign that any of the dead girls had stepped foot on this boat while they were still alive.

  I opened the cabinet. Nothing out of the ordinary. Some ibuprofen. Some Dramamine; for guests who might be seasick. A toothbrush, toothpaste. Men’s deodorant. Sun block.

  The sound of something shifting outside the door made my heart jump. My breathing quickened. “Logan?”

  “Yeah.”

  His voice was right outside the door. My skin crawled. How long had he been out there, listening? Lurking? It was something that someone used to watching people who were unaware of it, would do.

  “Can I have a couple of your ibuprofen? I’m not used to the humidity in Maine. It’s making my sinuses ache.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.” His voice sounded close. Like he was speaking through the space between the jamb and the door.

  Hoping he’d bought my bullshit, I twisted the top off the ibuprofen bottle with shaking fingers. Dropped it into the sink. The sound was loud in my ears.

  “Everything okay in there?”

  “Yeah. Just clumsy.” I gave a nervous little laugh. Poured two of the pills into my palm, replaced the cap and put the bottle back into the cabinet.

  Something shiny glinted in the light of the bathroom. There. In the corner near the door. I bent down and used a fingernail to coax it out from a crack between the wall and floor. I pulled it out and held it up between my thumb and index finger. A silver earring. The letter S. Shannon. This had to be Shannon’s earring.

  “Leah?”

  I started. If I looked in the space between the door and the jamb, and his eye was staring back at me, I’d lose it. I didn’t look. I injected some annoyance into my tone. “Yeah, Logan.”

  I pushed the earring deeply into my jeans pocket, turned, and twisted the door handle.

  Logan pulled it open. He stood there, far too close, his eyes locked onto mine. “Got it?”

  I frowned. “Got what?”

  “The Ibuprofen. Did you find it okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I’m not feeling like myself.” I needed to get him to step back, before I did what I really, really wanted to do, which was to sucker punch him in the face. But then, I might not find out where Shelly was. “Can I have a glass of water?”

  “Sure.” He stood studying me for a moment longer. It felt like an eternity. Then he slowly turned and headed to the cabinet over the sink. He brought a glass down.

  I walked up beside him. Watched his hands to make sure nothing went into that glass except for water.

  He turned the faucet off and handed me the glass. “You’re not used to being here. The atmosphere is different.”

  “No. Never been to Maine before now.” I took a long sip of the water. Swallowed the pills. “But I like it. It’s beautiful. It must be amazing living on the water like this.”

  “It is. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  “What about in the winter?”

  “I have a cabin about ten miles up the coast. Fireplace. Terrific views. I think you’d like it, Leah.”

  “I’m sure I would.” I put the glass on the counter. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Each moment drawn out. “So, will we be able to see the dolphins? It’ll be dark soon.”

  “We still have a bit of light left. They know the sound of my boat engine.” He gave me that white toothed smile. “Do you want a beer?”

  “I’d love one. Thanks.”

  He opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle. Twisted the top off with the typical beer hiss, which I’d been listening for. Wanted to make sure the beer hadn’t been opened earlier, spiked with a date rape drug, and then put b
ack on again.

  I’d been drugged while investigating a case before. I wasn’t really keen on it happening again. If someone is going to drug you, their intentions are not good. Chances are, if you wake up at all, the situation you wake up to will be bad.

  I put on a little smile and looked through the window at the water.

  “You want to go outside? Look at the waves?”

  Oh, God. Here we go. “Sure.”

  He opened the cabin door for me. I walked through, my nerves jumping under my skin. I hated Logan being behind me. Every bad scenario ran through my mind.

  I placed my hands on the railing, looking over the water. I saw him from the corner of my eye, watching me.

  The coast guard was out searching the waters for Shelly. As we passed by her father’s cottage, I watched the dock where she’d sat only hours before, happily fishing. Peaceful. Doing the one thing that brought her the most joy in her life since losing her mother. I remembered her waving to me on the beach.

  How had it happened? Had he come up on her and lured her away? Did he know her? Or had he swum under the dock and grab for her legs, pulling her under?

  “Shame,” Logan said. His voice sounding deceptively sincere. “About the little girl.”

  I chose my words carefully. “You’ve been here your whole life. Did you know her?”

  “No. I didn’t know her. But I’d seen her on the dock over there. She was there every day. Quite the little fisherman.”

  I bet you did see her every day. Like a fisherman who keeps the small fish because he didn’t catch any big ones, you wouldn’t leave without something. You weren’t going to be beaten. I knew in my heart they wouldn’t find her in the water. I was relieved about that, because there was still a chance that she was alive.

  “That’s what has you down, isn’t it? The disappearance of that little girl.” Logan slid closer to me.

  I fought the urge to slide farther away from him. “Yeah.” I chose my words carefully. “Detective McCool says that she was on the dock every day, all day long. She wouldn’t have fallen into the water.”