Chapter 14 #2
“No, I swear,” she says, looking between the two of us. “I didn’t tell the cops much, but…I actually am starting to get worried. We have our fights but he always calls me, especially when he’s drinking. I haven’t heard anything for over a week. And that’s not like him.”
“What about his friends? Have you reached out to them?”
She shakes her head.
“Would you mind giving us a list of his friends? We’d like to try and contact them as well.”
“Of course. I hope you find him.” The worry in her voice is real as she pulls out her notepad. Her feelings for him might be complicated, but she still cares. She quickly scribbles down a list of names. “These are the guys he usually hangs out with. They’re the only names I actually know.”
“Thank you, you’ve been really helpful.” Alex tucks the paper in her pocket as she stands.
I stand with her, already knowing she’s on the same page as me.
“Will you let me know if you find out anything? Tell him to call me if you find him at least? I just want to know he’s okay.” Aria’s eyes well up slightly.
And a pang hits me in the chest. This guy clearly treats her like shit, but she still loves him. I hope she develops more self-esteem as she gets older and finds someone who values her. “Of course,” I lie again.
We thank her again, but instead of heading to the parking lot, we both step out onto the dock next to the restaurant.
“We’re checking out that yacht, right?” I ask.
“Hell yeah. God, poor kid,” Alex mutters.
“Right?” I pull the hood of my jacket over my head as an icy wind rolls over us and tug on my gloves. As we reach the opposite end of the marina, the difference in the type and size of boats is immediate.
The difference in activity is also clear. Unlike next to the restaurants, where most of the fishing and pleasure boats were docked, I can’t see anyone on these monster boats.
“That’s us.” Alex subtly nods at what I’m guessing is a forty-five footer.
“Not as obnoxious as some of these.”
“The name is.”
I snicker because yeah, Wet Dream is such a ridiculous name, but I’ve seen it at my fair share of marinas. Apparently that sense of humor is universal. “So how do you want to play this—” I stop as Alex simply jumps onto the back of the vessel.
Okay then, we’re just going to board it. I’ve still got my hood pulled up but I glance around again, looking for anyone who might be watching us.
“This one’s just a cruiser,” Alex says as she tries the sliding glass door on the back deck.
“I didn’t realize you know so much about boats.” I know port is left and starboard is right, and that is where my knowledge ends.
She shrugs as the door opens easily. “My dad used to sell them. Then he retired on one.”
I don’t respond as we step inside, and she goes silent too as we cautiously walk through the sitting area. It’s an L-shaped lounge with a grilling area and a galley (oh, I guess I do know another boat word).
Alex turns and holds up a finger to her mouth and I tense automatically.
I’ve got pepper spray and a Taser with me, so I pull out the Taser.
When I’m staying at Cara’s, I don’t bring anything more heavy-duty.
Though to be fair, I rarely do. Just on intense jobs.
I find that guns are more trouble than they’re worth.
Alex lives by a different motto and pulls out her nine-millimeter as she steps down into what has to be a bedroom or living area.
I glance over my shoulder, making sure we’re still alone before I follow her. But I pull up short as I reach the bottom of the set of stairs.
Alex tucks her weapon away and I realize why.
Cory Powell’s very dead body is sprawled in the middle of the bed, fully clothed, his glazed eyes staring up at nothing. Someone shot him a couple times in the chest and the blood has pooled around him, staining the cream-colored comforter a dark crimson. A faint metallic scent fills the air.
“He hasn’t been dead that long.” Long being relative because it doesn’t stink in here and the scent of blood is still fresh. There aren’t any blowflies on the body yet either, and those things move in fast. I don’t like to make guesses like this, but he may have been killed in the last hour.
“Come on. We’ve got to call Garcia.”
I give her a look, one she thankfully reads.
“Jesus, Sloane, we can’t contaminate the crime scene.”
Technically us being here is contaminating it. Humans shed so much hair and skin cells all the time (humans are so gross). Not to mention we probably brought stuff in on our shoes. But we’re here, and if we can find something that will nail Cara’s killer… I don’t want to lose this opportunity.
“I’ll be careful.” I grab a pen out of my pocket, and gently pull open his pants pockets, one after the other, to see what’s inside.
I have to disassociate from the fact that this is a dead body, but it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve done this. I don’t find anything in his front pockets or in his jacket pockets. “Not even a phone,” I say.
“There’s no way he doesn’t have a phone.” Alex frowns as she closes one of the drawers, because she was searching too. “My money’s on the killer taking it.”
She likes to give me grief sometimes, but there’s no way we can pass up an opportunity to scan this place. Not that I think we’re actually going to find anything.
“He wasn’t staying here. Or he doesn’t have any bags here,” I say after looking in the closet and then in the little bathroom. “No toiletry bag or anything either.” It looks like he was sitting on the bed, or maybe standing, when someone shot him.
“He could have been meeting someone here. And we really do have to get out of here.”
I nod and pull out my phone, already calling Garcia. The cops will be able to find out what type of weapon killed him and hopefully that will lead them back to the killer.
I just hope it leads us closer to Cara’s killer if they’re one and the same.