Dead Storm Read online

  In a slip at the marina of Carrabelle, the 50-foot catamaran bobbed and rocked hard in the palm of Mother Nature. A stack of plates and two cups slid out of the cupboard and crashed on the floor, snapping Skylar out of sleep. Dressed in nothing but black panties and bra she pawed at her tired eyes as daylight flooded in through the open drapes. It felt like she was on one of those mechanical bulls that she’d seen in a bar in Miami. More plates smashed as she scrambled to her feet and tried to save what remained. Skylar slammed the cupboard closed and secured it with some twine. She’d been meaning to get that one fixed but hadn’t got around to it.

  An empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s rolled across the floor and clinked against two bottles of Bud.

  “Well, morning sexy,” a rugged voice said. She twisted around to see a muscle-bound guy at least five years younger than her. He had a shaved head, and the body of a GQ model. She could tell he was naked from the waist up but the covers were still covering the rest of him. She tried to remember his name but for the life of her couldn’t think where she’d met him.

  “Yeah. Um.” She jabbed her finger at him as she made her way over. A sudden jolt of the boat and she felt herself sliding to the left and stubbed her toe. Skylar let out a shriek and grabbed at her feet before toppling over and landing on top of the stranger. He wrapped his large arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss but she turned her lips away at the last second. She heard buzzing. “Oh that’s me.” Her phone. Where was it? She couldn’t recall where she’d put it. As she rose, he pinched her butt cheek. “Where the hell is that phone?” The buzzing stopped. It was inside the cookie jar. How the heck did it end up there? she thought as she checked her voice mail. Three messages from Harvey. “Oh, no.” Her eyes darted to the clock.

  She grabbed her clothes and told the stranger to let himself out. He muttered something along the lines of did she want his number but she was already outside by then. She gasped as the wind took her breath her away and nearly knocked her overboard. She grasped the side railing and hung on for dear life. Water sloshed and slapped up against her boat and it surged in splashing over. The marina was practically empty except for a couple of boats. Most had already been warned to take theirs out and put it down at Martin Marine out on Highway 67 or take it further downstream. She’d planned to do that but had got involved with a case of a guy strangling a women along US-98. “Oh man,” she said as she balanced precariously and tried to get into tight-fitting leather pants that she’d worn the night before. Trying to hold on to the boat and put her legs into the pants while being rocked around was virtually impossible but somehow she managed to do it and hopped off the boat.

  “Ah Skylar, good morning. I see you are opting to stay. Do you think that’s advisable?” Donnie Wu said as he finished closing up his shop. She was already in the process of getting her phone out and trying to get hold of Martin Marine to see if she could pay someone to come down and collect the boat.

  “I’m not staying, Donnie, I’m just a little behind schedule.” She glanced off towards the gray brooding skies. “By the way, you got any coffee available?”

  “We’re closed. I’m heading up to Atlanta for the week. My brother lives there so I thought I would make the most of this storm and catch up with family.”

  “You couldn’t make an exception, could you? I have a cracking headache.”

  “When don’t you?” he asked with a smile as he climbed down off his small metal ladder. “Come on in. I have a brew already going for my own cup.”

  “Donnie, you’re a life saver.”

  “Not according to Barb, I’m not.” He grinned and held the door open.

  She ducked into the safety and warmth of his café, hoping the day would get better. It was odd to see the café empty. Chairs were overturned on tables and the sweet smell of coffee lingered in the air. Donnie went around and tossed a filter into the garbage and started heating up the kettle.

  “What’s that?”

  “A V60. I’m trying out the classic pour-over. You had one?”

  “Can’t say I have,” she said glancing out the window, distracted by the sight of her previous night’s conquest. It niggled her that she couldn’t recall his name or even how she’d met him beyond a few fragmented memories blurred by alcohol. Donnie noticed her looking at the beefcake as he hurried along the dock, pulling a leather jacket up to his ears and making a mad dash for his SUV.

  “And how did that go last night?”

  “What?”

  Donnie made a gesture with a nod of his head while he poured hot water over the coffee grounds. “GQ model out there.”

  “Oh, him. I wish I could remember.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “If he does, I don’t recall.”

  He stopped pouring and squinted at her. He set a timer beside him and placed both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “There is an old Chinese proverb that says, do not fear going forward slowly, fear only to stand still.” The timer dinged and he began to pour. Once again, he had dropped one of his quotes on her. There was a rarely a day that went by when he didn’t have something insightful.

  “When you lost your wife, Donnie, how long did it take before you started seeing people again? I mean one person?”

  “I never have.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope. Not because I don’t think I can, but because I don’t wish to. My wife was an important chapter in my life and now I’m enjoying another. I kind of like it. But the question shouldn’t be when is a good time to move on, as I think the heart knows when, but the question is why?”

  She pondered that as he finished pouring out her coffee to go. She topped it off with some milk and took a sip.

  “How about that?”

  “Wow, that’s one hell of a coffee, Donnie.”

  “The good stuff takes time. It’s okay to take your time, Skylar. Don’t be in a rush.”

  She smiled, thanked him and headed out into the wild weather.

  2

  “Well look at what the cat dragged in,” Harvey said, placing a hand on his hip and nodding with a smirk as Skylar exited her beat-up truck with rust along the side. There were a couple of Carrabelle’s boys in blue on the scene taking statements from curious onlookers, along with EMTs just waiting to whisk the guy off to the ME’s office. She ducked under the yellow crime scene tape that cordoned off the area. A heavy wind rustled nearby trees, and a flock of birds wheeled overhead. Harvey was decked out in in his yellow sheriff raincoat. “Reid. Glad you could find your way to answering my messages. I have been meaning to ask you. Why do you have a cell phone if you don’t answer it?”

  She sipped at her coffee and looked past him to the stiff lying near his truck.

  “Facebook,” she replied.

  He rolled his eyes. “What is it with you ladies? You spend more time checking your newsfeed than you do answering phone calls.” He turned towards the body. “My Elizabeth is addicted. Seriously. Every time I look up she has her nose buried in that darn thing. She says she’s using it for the marketplace and wants to see if some of her antique items are selling but that’s hogwash. I swear social media is dumbing people down.”

  “I hope you didn’t say that to her,” Skylar said. “Here, have a taste of this, tell me what you think,” she said passing it off to him and then crouching down to get a better look at the victim. Deputy Oliver Hanson was just finishing up taking photos. “Adding this one to your shrine?” she asked.

  “Not you as well. For your information I cleared out my locker.”

  “Yeah, after Davenport caught wind of it,” Harvey said handing Skylar’s coffee back. “That is a damn fine cup of joe. Donnie make that?”

  She nodded. “He has some new brewing system. The V60.”

  Harvey laughed. “Which means Barb will have one by next week.”

  “How is she anyway?” Skylar asked. “I should really get in there but have been so busy with…”

  Harvey waited for her to finish
but she never did. Instead she asked Hanson who the guy was as she eyed the purple bruising around his neck. “Jason Matthews, fifty-two years of age, a Marine veteran, and local of Port St. Joe. According to the owner of the hotel, he’s a regular. Usually stays one night every week.”

  “Alone?”

  “He books in alone though the hotel is used to seeing a blonde every week heading up to see him.”

  “We got a name for that blonde?”

  “We’re working on it.”

  Deputy Jevan Reznik pushed against the wind as he made his way over. “Okay, I’m digging those tight leather pants of yours. Where do I get a pair?”

  “Unfortunately, the department could only swing funding for me but I’ll be sure to put a word in,” she replied, glancing up at him. All four of them were being blown around by the strong wind. A light rain fell, soaking the ground and making every second outside miserable. “So, someone strangled him?”

  “It appears so. His eyes are blood red from where the blood has been forced into the whites of the eyes. There is also bruising to the back showing that his attacker applied pressure on him while strangling.” Hanson demonstrated how he thought it went down in a theatrical fashion. “I managed to get a fiber that was embedded in his skin. We’ll run some tests on that and see what we can come up with but it looks like your typical run-of-the-mill garrote.”

  “Used by someone who had to be strong,” Skylar said, noting that Mr. Matthews wasn’t exactly out of shape. Just under six foot, he filled out his clothes. Ex-Marines weren’t an easy target.

  “A possible theft?” Harvey asked.

  “We won’t know until we chat with his wife. But his wallet, phone and credit cards are still here. The keys to his truck were found over there,” he said pointing to one of the yellow evidence triangles with black numbers on them. They’d had to put up large sections of chipboard around the area to prevent them from being blown away.

  Skylar pointed to his left hand. “Seems our military boy was married. Unless his wife is blond, we may have a player on our hands.”

  “Cheating on his wife. A bit clichéd, don’t you think?” Reznik said.

  “More common than you know,” Harvey remarked, his brow furrowing.

  “Aren’t you meant to save that for your deathbed confession?” Hanson replied as he rose to his feet. Harvey flipped him the bird. Reznik and Hanson cracked up laughing. Skylar had a flashback from the previous night. It came to her in snippets. The Marine Street Grill sign, drinking alone, several bottles of beer in front of her and the guy she woke up with. She couldn’t help but feel a level of guilt she hadn’t experienced before. A sense that seeing someone else so soon after losing Alex was a betrayal, even if he was no longer alive. The sound of their voices around her meshed together, just a blur.

  “Are there no cameras on the outside of the hotel?” Harvey asked.

  Reznik shook his head. “None.”

  “So no one saw the murder?”

  “There isn’t a single witness.”

  “And this blonde. When did she leave?”

  “They saw her arrive but no one saw her leave.”

  “How’s that possible, wouldn’t she walk through the main lobby?”

  Hanson pointed to the rear of the hotel. “There are two more exits. One in the rear and one on the west side.”

  “Great. So we have a stiff with no witnesses. Let’s find out if any of the homes across the road have surveillance. I need to know where he worked, if he worked at all, and who he is when he’s not bedding women in another town, and…”

  Skylar could hear Harvey talking as she stared at the ring on Matthews’ hand but none of it was registering. “Skylar. Earth to Skylar!” Harvey said placing a hand on her shoulder. She whipped her head to the side.

  “Sorry. I was…” She took another gulp of coffee and rose. “I just need a moment to collect my uh…” She didn’t finish what she was saying but walked back to her truck. She hopped in and reached across to her glove compartment and pulled out a small flask of Irish Cream. She took off the cap from her coffee and poured some in, put the cap back on and took a hard swig on it. More memories of the night before came rushing back in — staggering towards her boat, arm in arm. Laughing and tripping as they boarded the catamaran, and then her pushing him up against the cupboards in her kitchen and unbuttoning her shirt.

  A hard knock on the window and she snapped back into the present moment. Harvey was outside, squinting with his shoulders up in an attempt to protect himself from the worsening weather. Skylar brought the window down.

  “Can I get some more of that coffee of yours?”

  “What happened to your pickup from Barb’s this morning?”

  “She already had the place closed up by the time I got there. Businesses are shutting down, preparing for landfall. Anyway,” he said holding out his hand like a beggar on the side of the road. There wasn’t a chance she was handing it over, not with Irish Cream in it. Harvey had already been on her case about how much she’d been drinking. Skylar took the top off her coffee and downed it in one go.

  “Skylar.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry, there were only a few dregs left.”

  He put a hand into his pocket and then slipped her a piece of paper with an address on it. “Listen, you think you can chat with his wife? I have someone else I need to see.”

  “Who?”

  He looked embarrassed to say. “We’ll meet up later.”

  “Harv, what about…”

  He waved her off as he darted towards his truck. “Hanson and Reznik are on it.”

  Great, he might as well have said Laurel and Hardy.

  3

  The small town of Port St. Joe sat at the intersection of US Highway 98 and State Road 71 in Gulf County. By her GPS estimation, it would have taken her just under an hour to get there if she hadn’t stopped outside Ben Walker’s residence on the way over. It had been a couple of months since they’d spoken with each other, since Sam’s temporary suspension for fighting. She understood his frustration but she thought it would all blow over. It didn’t. After a few more sessions, he felt it was best that she found a different therapist in town. She tried to get him to talk about it, and even apologized again for teaching Sam how to protect himself, but it didn’t matter. Now she was in the habit of parking outside his home, each time contemplating going and speaking with him. She was okay if he didn’t want her as a client but not cool with there being some issue between them. The problem was she hadn’t got the nerve to walk up his driveway and knock on the door. She had no problem dealing with criminals head-on but when it came to relationships, matters of love, logic went out the window.

  Her windshield wipers whipped back and forth, pushing away the heavy rain that was beating down. A strong wind blowing off the Gulf Coast made the truck rock from side to side a little. Parked across the road from his long driveway, she once again tried to summon the courage to speak to him. What is the matter with you? she asked herself. Get a grip. He’s just a guy. Through the rain wiggling down her driver’s side window she spotted a blur of black and then saw his Lexus crawling out of his garage. Skylar watched as it spun around and then drove down the winding driveway, stopping at the mouth of the entrance, just across the road from her. She ducked down in her seat, hoping he didn’t see her.

  Too late.

  The SUV swung around, and pulled up beside her truck.

  “Skylar. Skylar!” Ben bellowed over the howl of the wind. Palm trees bowed under the strain, and the long grass on either side of the road danced with the wind.

  She peered over the rim of her door, brought the window down a crack and acted all nonchalant about seeing him. “Oh, hey. Long time no see.”

  “Right. You in the habit of parking outside people’s homes?”

  “Me? No, I just stopped to catch up on some paperwork.”

  “In a storm?”

  “Seemed like as good a place as any other.”

  “Ou
tside my house?”

  She peered around. “Oh, this is where you live. Been so long since I’ve been here, I forgot.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow and she straightened out in her seat. “Well I better get going. Lots to do.” She fired up the engine.

  “You look well. How have you been?”

  Look well? The last time she caught her reflection she looked as if she’d been dragged through a bush backwards. Her hair was in a state and badly in need of a cut, and makeup? Well makeup hadn’t touched her face in… She groaned, remembering she had been in such a rush to get out that morning that she hadn’t even put any on. On the other hand, Ben looked better than ever with that designer stubble, fashionable glasses, dark, swept-back hair, jean shirt and those baby brown eyes. She shrugged and tried to not look him in the eye. “Oh, you know. I guess.”

  “Heard you went and saw Giles Parish.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t work out.”

  “He said.”

  She nodded. “Though I did see—”

  “Judith Weatherby.”

  “Oh. You heard.”

  “We get together from time to time. Swap stories.”

  “I bet she had a few to tell.” Inwardly she grimaced. Having to find a new psychologist wasn’t easy. Certainly, there were plenty out there to choose from but none that quite made her feel as relaxed as Ben had. Skylar pursed her lips and looked through the deluge of rain blurring the road ahead. “Look, Ben, I was hoping we could…”

  His phone started ringing, and he scooped it up and put a finger up.

  “Yeah. I’m just leaving now.” A pause. Ben smiled at her and she felt something turn over inside her. She hated to admit it but Ben, Harvey and Donnie were the only three people she really got on well with. And since her falling out with Ben, she’d missed him.

  Ben ended his call.

  “Listen, it’s good to see you, Skylar, and I would love to chat but I’m kind of running behind. I’m supposed to head up to Tallahassee just until this storm blows over. Sam is already up there with his grandmother. You got a place to stay?”