James Swain - The King Tides

“But it’s a school night,” his wife protested.

“Jon said that Nicki needed to stay home until this situation gets resolved. No harm in staying up late if we don’t have to get up in the morning.”

“Aren’t you going to work tomorrow?” his wife asked.

“I’m not scheduled for any surgeries. I’ll ask one of the other neurosurgeons to check up on my patients and make sure everyone’s okay. If there’s a problem, I’ll run over to the hospital and deal with it. Otherwise, I’m staying right here.”

Nicki tugged on his wrist. “Can I pick the movie?”

“You most certainly can. Do you have something in mind?”

“ Blind Date IV . I hear it’s really funny.”

Pearl shot his wife a look and saw Melanie roll her eyes. It felt fantastic to be talking about normal things again and not dwelling on the dangers that lurked right outside their door. He said yes, and his daughter squealed with delight.

The doorbell made them jump. Pearl stuck his eye to the peephole. A Latina wearing a tan-colored pantsuit stood on the other side, a detective’s badge pinned to her jacket lapel. Her partner was a Caucasian male with afro-style hair.

“Who is it?” his wife asked.

“Looks like a couple of detectives with the Broward police,” he said. “Maybe they’ve made a break in the case.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Let me talk to them. You and Nicki have been through enough.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” his wife said. “Come on, Nicki. Let’s go make some popcorn to eat with our movie.”

Pearl waited until they were gone before ushering his visitors inside. The female detective was named Vargas, her partner Gibbons. They were about as friendly as a pair of junkyard dogs, and he got the distinct impression that they would have been happier belting back a stiff drink at a local watering hole than talking with him.

Vargas reeked of cigarettes, the foul smell pouring off her skin and breath. She produced a sheet of copy paper and held it up to Pearl’s face. On it was a photo taken off a surveillance camera that showed Pearl and Lancaster riding in the Donzi.

“Your neighbor called 911 earlier and reported gunshots,” Vargas said. “Same neighbor has a surveillance camera pointed at her dock, and got a video of you and your friend flying by in your boat. That’s a Donzi, isn’t it?”

Pearl nodded while staring at the photo. It had been taken before Lancaster drew his gun and shot at the kidnappers. “I filed a report with the sheriff’s office about what happened. What does this have to do with it?”

His words carried the hint of accusation. The detectives stiffened.

“We read your statement, Dr. Pearl, and it didn’t mention that you’d hired Jon Lancaster,” Vargas said. “That was a mistake.”

“Who said I hired Jon Lancaster?” Pearl said.

“He was with you in the boat. We assumed you had.”

“Well, you assumed wrong. I’ve spoken to a number of security companies, including Lancaster’s. Jon happened to be in my home when Nicki was abducted, and he jumped in the boat with me. He was actually quite helpful.”

“Then why did you leave Lancaster out of your statement?” Vargas asked.

“I didn’t realize that I had. My apologies.”

“Did he fire his gun at the kidnappers?” Vargas asked.

“Not that I remember.”

“I think you’d remember a gun being fired,” Vargas said.

“The engine on my Donzi is quite loud. If Jon fired a gun, I didn’t hear it.”

The detectives looked stymied. They seemed intent on pinning a charge on Jon when none was warranted. Pearl hid a smile, feeling proud of himself. Jon had mentioned there was a pair of detectives he was on bad terms with, and he guessed this was them. Pearl didn’t know what the dispute was, nor did he care. Jon’s quick thinking had saved his daughter, and Pearl was going to protect him however he could.

“Are we done?” Pearl asked.

“Are you planning to hire Jon?” Vargas asked.

“Why is that any concern of yours?”

“Because hiring Lancaster is a bad idea,” she said. “He’s mentally ill and suffers from a delusional disorder. He thinks he’s the greatest cop that ever lived, and is happy to tell you so. But it’s not true. Lancaster was a terrible policeman, and had to be let go.”

There were six common delusional disorders. The one Vargas had described was called grandiosity and was more common in men than it was in women. Jon had talked a good game, and was certainly good with a handgun, but had it all been a show?

“Why was he let go?” Pearl asked skeptically.

“He had a drinking problem and anger issues,” Vargas said. “His folder was filled with complaints filed against him by citizens and by other cops that he worked with. It finally got to be too much, and he was asked to turn in his badge.”

“He was fired, is what you’re saying.”

“Yes, he was.”

“There’s a video on YouTube of Jon rescuing a young girl from a pair of kidnappers. How do you explain that?”

“That was his shining moment,” Vargas said, her tone softening. “Lancaster happened to be in the right place at the right time, and saved that little girl’s life. He was a hero that day and did the sheriff’s office proud. But trust me, Dr. Pearl, it could just as easily have broken bad, and that little girl been wounded or killed. He’ll tell you he’s the greatest marksman in the world, but he’s not. It’s part of his illness.”

“But he was a Navy SEAL.”

Gibbons laughed under his breath. Vargas shot her partner a disapproving look before turning her gaze on Pearl.

“Another delusion, I’m afraid,” Vargas said. “Lancaster was in the navy and tried to become a SEAL several times but failed the physical exam. I don’t mean to be cruel, but he doesn’t have the physique. A SEAL is required to do a thousand push-ups in an hour, among other things. He simply isn’t capable.”

“You’re saying he was a washout,” Pearl said.

“That’s right. Only he’s convinced himself otherwise. That’s what makes him so dangerous. He thinks he knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t.”

Pearl’s shoulders sagged, and he let out an exasperated breath. Jon’s promises had seemed too good to be true, and for good reason. The poor man was off his rocker.

“I see. Well, I appreciate you taking the time to come by and tell me.”

“We thought it was best you know. Goodbye, Dr. Pearl,” Vargas said.

Pearl escorted them outside to where a gray Buick LeSabre was parked in the driveway. Vargas took the keys out of her pocket, then spoke. “Did Lancaster discharge his firearm when he was on your boat? Please be honest with us.”

Pearl’s mouth tightened. The detectives wanted to take Jon down, and Pearl’s admission that Jon had shot his gun would be enough evidence for them to do that. But he wasn’t going to rat him out. Jon might be a fake, but that didn’t change the magnitude of his courage that afternoon, nor lessen the debt that Pearl owed him for saving Nicki.

“No, he did not,” he said firmly. “By the way, has the sheriff’s office made any progress in my daughter’s case?”

“The department’s working on it. We’ll be in touch.”

Pearl watched the detectives drive away before going inside. Melanie awaited him in the foyer with Nicki by her side.

“I was right, there is something wrong with him,” his wife said.

Pearl wanted to have this conversation alone with his wife. Only the fear had returned to Nicki’s eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to go to her room.

“Daddy, is Jon a bad man?” his daughter asked.

“If those detectives are to believed, he’s mentally ill,” Pearl said.