Josh Lanyon - The Mermaid Murders

It took Jason a second or two to realize he was not in his own room—even in the gloom he could tell the difference between a Homer Winslow print and an Arthur Quartley—and then remember the turn of events that had led to him not being in his own room at…he peered at the clock…six thirty on a Wednesday morning.

He threw a glance at the bathroom, but the door stood open and the room was empty.

So…okay. Maybe Kennedy was making a run for coffee. That would be nice. That would be grounds for genuine affection, in fact.

Then he heard the keycard in the lock, the door swung open, and Jason saw Kennedy had been making a different kind of run.

He wore sweatpants. His navy FBI T-shirt clung to him, a sweat-dark line running centrally down to his midriff. His face was flushed and shining with exertion, pale hair dark with sweat.

“You should have—” Jason began.

Kennedy said, “Good. You’re awake. We’ve got to get down to the station. Another girl is missing.”

Chapter Fifteen

Candy Davies was twenty-two and, though she worked nights as a bartender at the Blue Mermaid, was an Olympic swimming hopeful. On Tuesday morning she had been taken from Holyoke Pond where she worked out every morning, practicing her freestyle.

“As near as we can figure, she’s been gone roughly twenty-four hours,” Chief Gervase said when they had all gathered in the command center. The chief looked bad. Gray-faced and exhausted. “Her car was sitting in the parking lot overnight. The lifeguard found her gym bag and beach towel right there on the grass where Candy left them.”

Holyoke Pond. Jason’s heart sank. Just like Honey.

Gervase said, “While we have to consider the worst case scenario, there’s always the chance Candy’s still alive. Finding her is our number one priority.”

Boxner was staring at Jason. Jason said, “I’ve got an alibi. Do you?” He shouldn’t have said it, not even in sarcasm. Trying to head off accusations before they were made was liable to lend credence to Boxner’s loony theory.

To his relief, Boxner turned his back on him.

Gervase said, “We’ll start the search at Holyoke Pond. I’ve already got a call into State, and we can always count on a strong showing of volunteers even though it’s a weekday. We’ve got storm clouds moving in, so we all need to exercise extra caution out there. If we do get rain, it’s going to turn these roads and trails into a mud bath.”

Kennedy said, “West and I will check out Rexford.”

Boxner said, “Rexford? He’s not going to leave her in the same place twice.”

“That ghost town has a lot of potential areas for concealment. He wouldn’t have to leave her in the same place. Anyway, it won’t hurt to make sure, right?”

“No, it won’t,” the chief said with a warning look at Boxner. “I think it’s as good an idea as any. We don’t know how this guy thinks.”

“He’s got to be smart enough not to hide his victims in the same place every time.” Boxner shrugged. Glanced at Kennedy. “It’s your funeral.”

“Rexford?” Jason asked when he and Kennedy were alone in their office.

“I can’t think of a better place to hide her body. Can you? It’s the last place anyone would think of searching now.”

“True.”

Kennedy shrugged into his vest. “I forgot you were heading out to Boston this morning. If you want to follow that trail, I’ll see if I can borrow a vehicle from Kingsfield PD.”

“I want to follow that trail,” Jason said, “but I’m going to Rexford with you.”

Kennedy’s smile was grim. “Even if she’s there, she’s not going to be alive, West.”

“I know that.”

Kennedy watched Jason performing his weapon check. “You’ve potentially got a good lead to follow up with those art dealers. I don’t know that you should waste time on this.”

Jason holstered his pistol. “The art dealers will wait. I’m going to Rexford.”

Kennedy looked up in surprise. He chuckled. “Do you think I can’t take care of myself?”

“I think there’s a good reason the Bureau partners agents in the field,” Jason said. “I think if I told you I was headed out to Rexford on my own, you’d have a thing or two to say about it.”

Kennedy grinned. “Maybe. You’re way too smart for a move like that, West.”

“I’m way too smart to answer that,” Jason said.

* * * * *

A lot of the undergrowth had been chopped back to allow the emergency vehicles closer access, but it was still a good hike back into Rexford.

The air was a little cooler, heavy with moisture, and Jason and Kennedy made good time, reaching the fork by the old mill by noon.

Kennedy took his binoculars out, studying the rooftops and chimneys behind the trees. The heavy cloud cover threw an eerie silver-green light over the wild terrain—did they call that witch light?—but so far the precipitation didn’t amount to more than a few drops.

“What do you think?” Jason asked. He took a drink from his water bottle.

“Looks quiet. There are some birds circling to the south.”

Jason nodded.

They moved on, their boots scraping rock and dirt. The only other sign of life was a fox trotting across the trail some distance ahead. The breeze blew in the opposite direction today, and even the sounds of the highway were hushed.

The rain began to pepper down harder when they reached Rexford. Fat drops pattered in the dust and darkened the peeling paint on the old buildings.

“North or south?” Kennedy asked. “Take your pick.”

Jason said tersely, “North.” He would prefer they did not split up, but that was impractical. They needed to split up in order to have even a chance of covering this much territory in an afternoon. Which didn’t change the fact that something about Rexford made him uneasy. Really uneasy. In fact, he was probably going to have nightmares about this town for years to come.

“You just want to see your girlfriend the mermaid again,” Kennedy said.

“Yeah, baby,” Jason replied. “I gots to get me some of that tail.”

Kennedy laughed. “Watch yourself.” He turned away and started down the street in the opposite direction.

Jason watched him, sighed inwardly, and started off.

As before, it was slow going, moving through each building, shining his flashlight beam into every nook or cranny large enough to conceal an adult female.

At least this time he had the advantage of having explored these buildings before. That was more of an edge than Kennedy had.

Jason came at last to the Lyceum of the Aquatic.

Jokes aside, he’d have been delighted to never see the inside of that place again, let alone his girlfriend the mermaid. Following Kennedy’s logic, the lyceum was the ideal place to conceal Davies’s body given it was the last place a sane person would hide her.

He went through the faux entrance, past the ticket kiosk and the pedestal with the old-fashioned diving helmet. As he reached the entrance to the main hall the assorted weird smells of the place hit him. The rotting taxidermy, the mildew and mold, the general air of swamp gas and malaise, all magnified by the rain.

He paused, pulled his Glock, ejected the magazine, squeezed the trigger, and racked the slide. He let the trigger out slowly, listening for the click of the trigger reset.

Click .

There was no problem with his pistol. There had been no problem four hours earlier when he’d last checked it. There had been no problem in Miami. The problem was not—and had never been—with his weapon.

And in any case, they were not dealing with a shooter.

Just do your fucking job .

He slapped the magazine back in, holstered his weapon, and entered the hall.