Robert Walker - Darkest Instinct

He found himself missing Jessica, missing her company, their partnership and camaraderie. Being apart from her now these several days, he realized just how important to him their friendship was, how much he valued her trust and respect. He admired the way she had barged in with regard to the investigation, and even her attitude toward the release of information which she believed vital to the well-being of others. It showed she had courage and heart, a brave heart. She had shown such backbone, that one…

Around him people buzzed; Ford was trying desperately to keep a lid on things, guiding IAD officers through the maze of what had happened here, and how it had happened, finally leading them to a still shaken Detective Bear. Ford seemed a good man, a solid cop.

Once more Eriq’s thoughts floated away to where Jessica might be. He might easily have taken a hard-nosed approach with her for having released information to the press without his express consent, but he hadn’t, for the simple reason that he had secretly agreed with her move. If the damned agency and the damned politicians would let him do his job, if they’d stop roping his hands behind his back, he most assuredly would have released everything they had on the Night Crawler himself the night Jessica had done so. Maybe then she’d see him in a better light, maybe. It had become extremely important that she not view him as the enemy, and that she continue to hold a positive opinion of him.

Once the proverbial shit had hit the proverbial fan- when Jess had chosen to release the artist sketch and APB on the killer-Eriq had simply told himself to hell with it, but that attitude hadn’t lessened in the least the amount of flak which he’d had to endure from above. He had taken a great deal of crap for Jessica’s actions; half or more of it she would never know.

Now however, here in Naples, removed from the situation and from Dr. Jessica Coran’s presence, he wondered if there weren’t more to it-the admiration and respect he held for this fine woman of science and integrity. Despite the fact that they actually had not accomplished a great deal here in Florida, Eriq found himself admiring her at every turn, and he’d come to realize that he didn’t want ever to lose her trust and friendship to bureaucratic bullshit, neither now nor in the future. Still, something else had been nagging at him all day, and sitting about with Samernow hour after dour hour had given him a great deal of time to think. So he had begun to wonder… If it were any other agent than Dr. Jessica Coran, would he have behaved in the same calm, polite, accepting manner that he had? Anyone else and he most likely would have lobbed off the head and sent the body to Siberia, or at least to Pocatello, Idaho.

He wasn’t sure what his feelings meant or precisely how to deal with them, but one thing he was increasingly sure of: This chief agent in Hawaii, James Parry, was a fool to have lost Jessica.

The radio on Captain Elliot Anderson’s charter boat crackled with stories about arrests taking place overnight in and around the Naples area; apparently authorities everywhere were on a full-scale effort, or so reported WKIK- Kick Radio-in Naples. Jessica learned of the heart attack victim, “who,” the reporter said, “was arrested after he expired, police taking no chances… and every precaution…”

The joke wasn’t lost on either Quincey or Anderson, who shook their heads over the announcer’s words and tone.

Other outlandish arrest stories followed: One female- male impersonator, one African-American, one man with an Austrian-not an Australian-accent. This fellow was a man named Neubaurer who was on holiday, just come from Mickey Mouse Land in Orlando only to be accosted by police in Naples. “The moment he was released,” the radio announcer said, “Neubaurer rushed directly to the nearest law office to file a complaint in the hope of winning the great American dream, a fortune through litigation.”

Along their watery route to Naples, Captain Elliot Anderson had been studying all manner of charts and maps, but now he had snatched down a gazetteer-styled map of the entire state of Florida and its waterways. He spread the map across the top of the cabin of his charter vessel and asked Jessica and Quincey to give him the exact locations where each of the Night Crawler’s victims had washed ashore.

This done, Anderson placed an overlay onto the map which showed precise ocean currents and drift factors. From a small black journal, he factored in wind coefficients and velocities on or about the day of each gruesome discovery. He then began a startlingly intelligent geography of the crimes using educated guesses as to the location of the killer’s boat at each instance a body was, as he put it, “launched” from Patric Allain’s craft.

Given the degree of wind and water current in from the sea, Anderson’s projections were startlingly on target.

Even as an approximation, the map of killings revealed a great deal about the movements of the killer-a great deal more than the large map on the wall back in Miami had ever revealed. Anderson’s quick hand and expert eye had created a clear picture of a ship that’d sailed from the Keys north to Miami and back again along a certain time line. Given the northward drift of the eastern coastal waters, a body that had been discovered as far north as Pompano Beach, north of Fort Lauderdale, which police had not put together with the Night Crawler’s heinous collection could, according to Anderson, be among the victims if the killer had toured at all toward Fort Lauderdale. Jessica looked out over the emerald-green waters of the peaceful Gulf of Mexico and away from the white buildings and red-tiled roofs of Naples on the port side of the bow now.

“ As to your earlier question,” said Anderson, “there is a taxidermist of considerable reputation here, name of Buckner-rather famous, actually. Does all kinds of animals, even does this thing where he puts the head of a gator onto the body of a blue- or yellowfin, or the head of a possum on a fish, names the things and sells ‘em to the highest bidder.”

“ There you have it,” said Quincey. “Maybe our guy’s come to see Buckner’s special creations.”

“ We haven’t had any sort of uncanny luck before in this case, so why should we now?” Jessica asked. She momentarily wondered if Santiva wouldn’t soon be throwing it in her face, that it had all been a wild-goose chase coming here. She wondered if Eriq had determined with any degree of certainty if the handwritten note from the killer postmarked Naples was indeed the same handwriting as earlier notes.

Anderson tried to soothe Jessica’s fear that perhaps the killer had taken another direction altogether and that they were now pursuing a copycat killer. Anderson said, “If the SOB did come this way, he took one of the channels up, just as we did, and we’re in his wake now.”

Jessica remained cynical, crossing from one side of the boat to the other, pacing as she spoke. “Even if we were sure that we were in his wake, as we came along the southern tip of Florida there were literally thousands of islands amid which he might have hidden. We’re working blind here, gentlemen, and I can honestly tell you that I don’t believe I’ve ever worked a case with so little to go on but frustrated efforts…”

“ But if his ship is a seventy-footer and as beautiful as you say it is… “ Anderson rejoined.

“ No,” she corrected him, “we only know what witnesses have said about the boat, and Quince, we both know how unreliable witnesses are. We can’t even be sure if our sketch of the man is accurate, much less his boat.”

“ On the other hand,” Anderson continued as if speaking to himself now, “we’ve passed some of the most gorgeous sailing vessels ever to frequent these waters-there are so many here fitting your description.”