When the sun rises out over the Atlantic Ocean and dips its light into the Indian River Lagoon, sometimes it unveils the gruesome events of the night before. This time, a headless body rolled around in the water getting tossed against the sea wall behind a Merritt Island home. That’s where Detective Tom Sneed headed before he could finish his morning coffee and grits.
The fist of dread seized Sneed around his windpipe as he feared the worst. Sneed had gotten a call shortly before midnight from Maggie Kane, the wife of his poker buddy Matt Kane. Her husband hadn’t returned from a late afternoon fishing trip. After the murder investigation the prior morning made his first outing a wash, the son-of-a-gun vowed that he’d have a fresh catch for dinner that night. Sneed wondered whether someone had caught him first.
Sneed pulled alongside the first responder’s patrol car in the driveway. Summoning a deep breath into his barrel chest, he reached for the door. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. When he took command of a crime scene, he usually got an adrenaline rush like Bear Bryant leading the Crimson Tide onto the football field. This time, the black swoon reminded Sneed of that God-forsaken day; the day that he sped to the scene of an officer shooting and found his brother sprawled out on the pavement in a pool of blood. It took three men to stop him from shooting the nose ring off that punk-ass killer before they hauled him in front of a judge.
Brushing past the hysterical old man who owned the lagoon-side home, Sneed barged through the metal gateway and into the backyard. The moment he saw the sopping wet body, he knew. Kane had a tattoo on his left shoulder of his daughter’s name, “Angie” and her birthday. It matched the tats on the decapitated corpse.
“Matt,” Sneed muttered. Even if he was alive, his old buddy didn’t have ears left to hear him. Sneed raked his hand over his eyes and nose and then balled a fist over his mouth. He wished he could crack the jaw of the bastard who decapitated his friend-a father, a beer-guzzling jokester, a man who had tamed the lagoon like a rodeo champion.
Except, it seemed something in the lagoon had bitten Kane back. He had teeth puncture wounds on his right shoulder. Sneed had seen plenty of shark and gator bites, but that wasn’t one of them. Those wounds were left by flat molars that had barely pierced his skin.
“You’ve lived ‘round these parts longer than I have, Harrison,” Sneed told the towering officer who had arrived on the scene first. “What do you figure bit him?”
The lug nut scratched his curly head, as if waking up his brain and telling it to chip in. A former offensive lineman in small-time college ball, Clyde Harrison usually got the job done with his bear-like strength. At least he did as he was told, unlike some officers.
“Something pretty damn big, sir,” Harrison finally responded. That must have taken all his mental capacity. “I think his boat struck something mighty large too. I got a call from the Coast Guard. It turns out they found a capsized boat in the lagoon. The propeller was all bent and bloody.”
Knowing that his detective buddy would wipe his tickets clean, Kane had plowed over critters and kept on going many a day. One time, Sneed had been in the boat with him when Kane ripped open the back of a manatee. That jackal laughed as he sped away. Hell, Sneed had laughed right along with him. They had owned the fucking lagoon.
Running his eyes over the headless body of Kane splayed out on the grass at his feet, Sneed sure knew otherwise now. Kane had struck an animal so big that it flipped his boat over. That didn’t explain how he got bit on the shoulder or how he lost his head to a surgically precise blow.
This couldn’t have been a coincidence, Sneed realized. The four previous victims of the head snatcher appeared random, but this time the killer took out the first man who had arrived on the murder scene. Kane was the first person who found the girl hiding in the mangroves. Did the killer know about her as well?
Sneed’s windpipe seized up as the foul stench of his friend’s innards and bile wafted through the salty air. Pressing his hand against his chest, he coaxed the air out of his lungs.
“The killer is hacking up anyone who could help us on this case,” Sneed told Harrison.
“So you’re saying…”
“The girl.” Sneed nodded. “By now, the killer realizes she got away. Kane here didn’t even see his face. This girl is the only one who has.”
“I’ll guard her, sir. He won’t get by me.”
Sneed gazed down at his friend’s body. Kane had been tough-as-nails. He told Sneed in the briefing following the Gomez murders that he wouldn’t set out on the water again without a shotgun hitching a ride with him. If the killer could bag a skilled shooter like Kane, no one should feel safe.
Sneed wondered what possessed him to place the most precious commodity they had in the hands of an officer with a limp trigger finger and a fruit rollup for a backbone. She couldn’t round up a rowdy middle-schooler.
“The girl is in Moni’s care for now, like it or not,” Sneed said. Finally unable to stomach looking at his friend’s mutilated body, he turned away and mashed his palm into his sweaty forehead. “This is one good man who wouldn’t have died if that girl had opened her mouth. If Moni doesn’t hurry the hell up, I guaran-damn-tee you there’ll be more mornings like these.”
A couple of days ago, Moni couldn’t imagine she’d have an eight-year-old girl sharing her home. After the hearing before the judge that morning made it official-at least temporarily-her unforeseen dream came true.
Even though she still couldn’t make her speak, Moni saw the sparks of life returning to Mariella. She studied the children’s books she bought her on the way home from the courthouse. Mariella copied the pictures and words almost exactly with her colored pencils. The girl didn’t make another mistake in the bathroom, although Moni couldn’t get her to fall asleep in her office. Mariella stayed awake all night and hardly seemed tired.
The girl appeared to be comfortable with Moni’s house, with the glaring exception of Tropic the red-haired cat. While she shot him a distrustful stare, he dashed under the bed at the first sight of the intruder.
Someone isn’t the baby of the house anymore. Sorry, fiery fur ball.
The officers who had swept Mariella’s former apartment gave her some of the girl’s old dolls, but Moni decided the girl should do without those for now. Anything associated with the life shattered a day ago could unleash the debilitating memories inside the girl’s head. Moni didn’t think she could handle them yet. Mariella should adjust to her new surroundings first.
A few minutes after entering the unfamiliar house, Mariella headed for the sliding glass door leading to the back porch. Moni had an elevated deck overlooking a creek that fed into the Indian River Lagoon. Despite her ordeal by the lagoon the day before, Mariella didn’t appear threatened by the creek. She’s getting over this already, Moni thought.
Sitting on her back porch under the mid-morning sun, Moni watched Mariella draw a long gray boat on the water.
“Nice boat,” Moni said. “Does it have a captain?”
Mariella shot Moni an obliging glance. She drew a stick figure. It wasn’t in the boat, though. It was under water. The girl had drawn a picture last night that looked similar, except it had a manatee too.
“It looks even better this time,” Moni said.
Mariella nodded and reached for Moni’s hand, where she held a folded letter. Moni hadn’t let go of it since pulling it off her front door.
“Oh this? It’s nothing, baby,” Moni said. “If you want, I’ll get you some clean paper to draw another pretty picture on. This one is a little dirty.”
Mariella shook her head and made an opening motion with her hands. Ain’t it something that the silent witness insists that the police officer doesn’t keep secrets, Moni thought.
“Alright. Alright,” Moni opened the letter.
Before she even saw Darren’s handwriting, she knew he had left it. In this day of e-mail and text messages, only he would pin thug mail to her door with a stick of gum. It’s not that he didn’t use computers-his wannabe hip hop act made its own ring tone-Darren made sure that Moni knew he wasn’t done showing up at her door. Telling him, “Get the hell out of my life,” couldn’t chase him away after seven years.
Moni unfolded the letter halfway and read the first few lines. They sounded like the deep growl of his voice inside her head:
You made a big mistake ignoring me. You’re my girl. Next time I call, you answer me.
This is my house. You better give me the new key. Maybe I’ll find my own way in.
He should have written her an apology after she caught him banging that ho doggy style in the back seat of a purple Cadillac on her late night sweep a couple months back. Darren had just assumed she’d forgive him, like she had the times she’d caught him flirting around in clubs. But not that time. Not after she saw him groaning uncontrollably as he yanked on the girl’s spiky hair while he laid it to her.
Moni crumpled up the letter, tossed it on her grill and lit it up. The paper crackled in the fire. The words were burned away as if they never existed.
If only she could banish the real Darren so easily. She loved his laugh and his take-no-shit attitude. With arms of black steel and tribal tattoos, Darren made sure no one messed with her, especially her father. With a deranged killer lurking out there, Moni could use some extra muscle by her side. Too bad she didn’t hit the weights more before volunteering as a foster parent.
She rested her hand on Mariella’s shoulder as the girl stared at the gas flames consuming the letter.
“Don’t worry. That’s not what’s for lunch today,” Moni said. “I’m just sending somebody up in smoke.”
The girl nodded. Returning to her seat with an easy gait, she seemed happy that Moni had burned the letter, even though she couldn’t have seen what had been on it. When Moni’s cell phone rang with the Dueling Banjoes tone for Sneed’s caller ID, they both frowned. Moni thought she had the day off so she could make Mariella feel comfortable in her home and, Sneed hoped, wring some information out of her. Surprise, surprise, the big man didn’t trust her to make it to noon.
“Mariella has been making some progress,” Moni said as she answered the phone. “Just a few minutes ago she…”
“Can it. You’re too late, girl,” Sneed said. “The killer has struck again-Matt Kane. He was the guy who found the girl first. He left a wife and kids-a damn good fella.”
Moni pressed the phone against her thigh so Sneed wouldn’t hear her whimper. She went black for a second, as if she were taking a plunge inside a powerless elevator. A man had died because of her. She sat on her porch nurturing this girl instead of using her to thwart another murder. The so-called sworn officer had failed to protect him.
Her father’s words echoed: “You been fucking up my whole life, you little whore! All you do is screw up!”
Placing the phone back against her ear, Moni heard Sneed breathing with measured intensity. Instead of asking where she had been the whole time, he had waited her out.
“That’s horrible. I’ll be there right away, sir.” Moni stopped herself. She couldn’t take Mariella to another murder scene. “I’ll see you in the office and review the evidence. Were there any witnesses?”
“Witnesses?” Sneed huffed. “We only got one of those and you know all about that.” He let that dagger sink in. “The problem is; I reckon our killer does too. If he knew Kane had visited the murder scene, I bet he’s caught on that she survived.”
“He knows!” Moni gasped. Mariella gazed at her in bewilderment. She rubbed her hand against the girl’s cheek in a soothing gesture, but Moni’s palm trembled so much that it had the opposite effect. Mariella slumped in her seat, crossed her arms and raised her knees in a cocoon around her tender body. Those scrawny limbs wouldn’t protect her. The monster had devoured her parents. It wouldn’t overlook the succulent young one. It would pluck off her head as easy as pulling a grape from a vine. It would slurp out her lungs, her liver and her kidneys. The little girl would become another hollow corpse with the bloody water lapping over her pale flesh.
As a young girl, Moni had run and hid in her bedroom closet when she heard her mother screaming. She had cowered in the corner at the sound of her father’s earth-shattering stomps and prayed she wouldn’t be next. Too often, she was. Moni wouldn’t let Mariella’s turn come. Taming her nerves so her hand held steady, she stroked her palm through Mariella’s silky hair. Like a turtle slowly poking its head out from its shell, the girl unfolded her body and sat straight in her chair.
“I know you didn’t sign up for this,” Sneed said. “Why don’t I assign her to protective custody? Harrison can guard her. That man could stop a bear.”
She had seen Harrison take down violent drunks like bowling pins, so she didn’t doubt it. He’d follow Sneed’s orders, but he didn’t care about Mariella. He’d ask her uncomfortable questions about the murders and press her too hard, Moni thought. The girl could only blossom in Moni’s care.
“No thanks,” Moni told Sneed as she offered the child an assuring grin. “She’ll do just fine with me.”
“Yeah, I hope you’re right,” said Sneed. Biting her lower lip, Moni could feel that he hoped she was wrong. Sneed was itching to break the girl down under the hot lights of an interrogation chamber. “I’ll see you at the station after I clean up here. Bring your tampons, cause it’s gonna be a long day.”
Ignoring Sneed’s boorish advice, Moni packed an extra set of new clothes for Mariella into her new backpack and tossed in an extra notebook. The girl followed her warily to her car. Mariella took slow, gaping steps as if she were approaching the ledge of a cliff. Taking her hand firmly, Moni led her along. Mariella wouldn’t sit in the back seat, so Moni put her beside her in the front. Every time she got in a car since the event Moni had been by her side.
“It’s okay to do this, for now,” Moni told her as she slid into the driver’s seat and started her Ford’s engine. “But I can’t be there every second, baby. You’ll see that you’ll be okay even with…” Moni saw the beady black eyes in the rearview mirror and screamed. Mariella didn’t join in. The girl ducked underneath the dashboard. The officer turned around all the way and faced the raven pressed against her rear window with its neck twisted at a wretched angle. Its wings were flayed and torn. It looked like the bird had been steamrolled by a pickup truck and tossed on her car.
Moni stumbled out of the car and drew her gun. She didn’t see anyone besides the old man next door. He gazed at her all bug-eyed because, after all, the old white man saw a black woman with a gun. Moni lowered her firearm. After snapping a few photos with her cell phone camera in case they needed it for the crime lab, Moni reached for the tip of the raven’s wing. She pinched the fragile bone between her fingers and started peeling the stiff bird off her windshield. Its beak hit the glass. She figured its head had gone limp when it snapped its neck. The beak tapped the glass again-harder. The raven whirled its head around at her. It opened its mouth without making a sound and hacked up purple ooze onto her trunk.
“What the fuck?” Moni backed away and reached for her gun. The wings and talons that had been stiff seconds ago sprang alive. The raven rose from her windshield. She aimed the gun at its head, which still hung at an awkward angle. Before she could squeeze off a shot, the raven bounded from her car and launched into flight. It flew away crookedly-narrowly clearing the trees on the other side of the street. She would have assumed it had a broken wing if she hadn’t seen it up close. Only a few feathers remained atop Moni’s trunk and in her driveway.
Moni fitted her gun back into the holster. If that thing had really meant her harm-like pecking her eyeballs out-she wouldn’t have drawn in time. Much like Darren had left his message against her door earlier, someone else had left a message for the girl. Darren wanted Moni back. Someone even more sinister wanted Mariella.