Chapter 42 #16
“Rachel Nightingale had a post office box and came in once a week to collect her mail—and she usually had a small carryall filled with books she was picking up from or returning to the library,” Laci said.
“This morning she collected her mail and filled out a change-of-address card, effective immediately. Her mail is being forwarded to a post office box in Lovecraft.”
“Not Penwych?”
“You were expecting it to be Penwych?”
“Maybe.” Grace’s cell phone rang. “Markus? Anything? Issue a be on the lookout notice for Nightingale’s companions. I’ll meet you back at the precinct, and we’ll review everything we know.” She ended the call.
“Problem?” Laci asked.
Grace shivered and hoped there was a different explanation to Rachel Nightingale’s behavior. “Probably.”
30
Grace Russell studied the evidence laid out on the large table in what she thought of as the war room.
A picture of Rachel Nightingale with two women whose fingerprints were on file because they were “party girls” who had previous scrapes with the law but had wealthy patrons who sent expensive lawyers to make sure the girls didn’t have time—or a reason—to talk to the cops.
A picture of Rachel Nightingale and an unknown woman whose body language made Grace shiver because there was something not quite human about her.
A picture of Rachel Nightingale with another woman at another bank.
A picture of the steps and the standing lions at the main branch of the King’s Hill public library and notes from an interview with the librarian who had held on to the phone for the young detective from Penwych.
Four sightings of Rachel Nightingale at the same time.
Laci Tower approached the table and laid another picture at the end.
“From another King’s Hill precinct. Some workers taking a smoke break around the loading docks of a couple of businesses near the river spotted these items and called it in.
The cops reported a blood trail leading from the items right to the river. ”
Grace studied the items in the picture. “A handgun but no holster. A cell phone. A wallet.”
“Identification in the wallet is for a Jeremy Swayne,” Lacy said.
“Any money in the wallet?”
“Several hundred dollars.”
“Not a robbery, then. So where is Jeremy Swayne?” Not her puzzle to solve, thank God.
“Markus is escorting Detective Sheina Kali to the war room. She works in Jackson, and she claims to have information about our BOLO that she needs to share in person.”
Markus and Detective Kali entered the room. After Markus made the introductions, Grace skipped to the main event. “You have some information about the women we’re looking for?”
“I have a question about them,” Kali replied. She opened her phone to a picture, then set it on the table facing Grace. “Why did you put out a BOLO this morning for women who have been dead for several days?”
Grace leaned over the table and stared at the picture of three bodies laid out on a dock. Then she looked at Kali. “Explain.”
“This morning, we got a call from some men who were taking their boat out early and saw bodies tangled in old fishing net that had gotten caught on part of the dock. When our dive team retrieved them, we discovered three women who had been dead for several days. Lots of predation, and the Jackson medical examiner thinks they might have washed up somewhere and then were relocated to the marina in Jackson.” Kali paused.
“The divers said the net was secured to the dock, indicating that someone wanted them found.” Another pause.
“So why did you put out a BOLO now? They must have been missing for several days.”
Grace turned the three time-stamped pictures showing Rachel Nightingale and her companions so that Kali could see them.
Kali stared. “That’s not possible.”
“We know,” Grace replied, then thought, Damn it. Damn it!
“Are we going overland or by water?” Laci asked.
“Water. Contact the patrol boat.” Grace studied Kali. Midthirties? Not new to police work, but…“How long have you lived in Jackson?”
“We moved here a few months ago,” Kali replied. “My husband has a job at Jackson University. I’ve been with the Jackson police department for a couple of months.”
“So this is your first experience with the strange?”
“I’ve earned my detective’s shield, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Better if Detective Kali gets her feet wet with me and my people instead of stumbling on her own. “Inform your captain that you’re coming with us to Penwych’s thirteenth precinct.”
“Shouldn’t I tell him why?”
Grace gathered the pictures and tucked them into a folder. “As soon as you tell him you’re going to the thirteenth precinct, he’ll know why.”
31
Flint, the captain of the fishing trawler, stared at Jeremy Swayne as the crew gathered to decide the man’s fate. Carver and Skinner had already hamstrung the bastard and searched him for weapons, so Swayne wasn’t going to be much of a threat to his men.
“Not even a day of taking that last breath, and you try to stick a knife in my back and take over my boat,” Flint said.
“He doesn’t deserve to keep taking his last breath,” Skinner said. “He doesn’t deserve a place on our boat, doesn’t deserve the time to make amends.”
Flint looked at his crew. He called them his men whether they had balls or breasts.
They’d all managed to reach this boat before they’d taken that last breath, and he accepted them as part of his crew for as long as they needed to be there—or for as long as it took to find a replacement.
The boat only took on so many, and it seldom went out with less. Now…
“If we let him go, we’ll be a man short,” Flint said, meeting the eyes of every one of his crew. “That means we’ll need two before another who is ready can go.”
“Better we wait, for however long we need to wait, than to have that with us,” Carver said.
Murmurs of agreement.
Flint nodded. “Very well. We’re almost at Susurration Sound. Carver and Skinner will finish the business there.” He gave Jeremy Swayne a nasty smile. “Anyone who thinks to look for you won’t find most of you, but we’ll make sure they know you’re gone.”
32
Grace sat in the stern of the patrol boat, looking straight ahead. Sheina Kali sat beside her, watching the land on the port side.
“Is that the Isle of Wyrd?” Kali asked.
“It is.” Grace refused to look at it, even from this distance.
Some people looked at that island and saw nothing but another piece of land.
For others—like her—there was a seductive, nightmarish beauty to the island that called to something in the deepest, most primitive part of the human mind—an invitation to remember things best forgotten.
That lure was the biggest reason she would never accept any promotion or advancement if it meant working in Penwych, the town that had a direct line to that island.
“My husband, Yaron, teaches courses in mythology and folklore,” Kali said. “He wants to go to Wyrd, but not the tame part created for tourists. He thinks he can rent a boat and go to another part of the island and see what’s really out there.”
“Tell your husband there are other people who thought that way. If they were lucky, they returned to their side of the river alive and sane—or close enough to sanity that they could still live a passably normal life.” Grace gave Kali a hard look.
“There is only one safe way to go to Wyrd. You go to the pier at Penwych, you pay your fare to ride the ferry, and you visit the pavilion and the park—and you don’t shrug off the warnings.
If your husband needs proof of the dangers of going out on his own, I can give him the name of a facility that specializes in dealing with the mental trauma that occurs when someone is careless while visiting Wyrd.
It won’t be pretty, and he should consider if breaking the rules and going where he’s not meant to go is worth spending the rest of his life in a facility like that—assuming he gets back at all. Not everyone does.”
“If the people who inhabit the island are so dangerous, why are they allowed to stay there?”
Grace stood. Then she hesitated and looked at Kali. “Because they were here first, and because the strange ripples through the world. It’s just concentrated here.”
“Captain?” Markus said. “We’re about to enter Susurration Sound.”
Grace nodded and moved forward to join Markus and the pilot, needing to be close to her people. A moment later, Kali joined them.
“Once we get through the sound, we’ll be back on the Fate River,” Markus told Kali. “Then…”
Someone screamed—or tried to. It was a gasping sound, as if the person didn’t have enough breath to convey the full measure of terror. Then something—a man?—appeared out of nowhere, hit the water, and sank.
A moment later, a piece of driftwood arced through the air and fell into the water. It went under for a few seconds, then bobbed to the surface.
The pilot slowed the patrol boat.
“We’re in the sound,” Markus said. “Don’t shut off the engine.”
“I know,” the pilot replied, idling the engine. “But I don’t want to find out what will happen if we hit whatever is ahead of us. Do you?”
“That piece of wood,” Grace said. “Can you snag it or push it out of the way so it doesn’t foul our engine?”
Markus grabbed the boat hook. “I see it. I can…Shit!” After a startled moment, he hooked the piece of driftwood and brought it aboard.
The pilot kept his eyes on the water ahead of them. Grace, Markus, and Kali stared at the two hands secured to the driftwood with a piece of old fishing net.
“They look fresh,” Markus said.
Grace stared at the water, refusing to hear the whispers that weren’t really voices, that were nothing more than the odd sounds made by this water.
Look at that tall ship, Gracie! Isn’t she a beauty, with all her sails catching the wind? I’d sure like to sail again one more time.