“What do I do, Dad?” Austin asked, as I handed him the kite.

  “Let me show you.”

  I had barely finished my sentence before the phone rang in my pocket. At first, I thought about letting it ring. This was my time with the kids, but then I remembered it might be about the case. When working a big case like this, I couldn’t just fall off the surface of the earth.

  “One second,” I said, and grabbed the phone in my pocket.

  “Ryder.”

  It was Weasel’s raspy voice.

  “We have another one.”

  I swallowed hard. “Say what again?”

  “Another dead body on West Bay Drive. You won’t believe it. It’s right across the street from the Bennetts’ house.”

  26

  OCTOBER 1984

  IT WAS A SMALL wedding. Just for the family. Annie’s mother wanted it to be that way, since it was obvious to everyone why they were getting married.

  Annie never told her family that Victor wasn’t the father of the child she was carrying. There was no need to. It would only upset them. Besides, Victor wanted to be the father; he wanted everyone to think he was the father, so they both pretended and kept smiling.

  “Victor is such a nice guy,” Annie’s mother told her after the ceremony, when they were eating appetizers from their plates in the backyard of Victor’s childhood home, where his parents insisted the ceremony be held.

  They didn’t seem as fond of Annie as Victor was. Especially not the circumstances under which the marriage had been arranged.

  “And he has money,” Annie’s Aunt Anita whispered and swallowed one of the salmon appetizers. “Nice score. So what if he isn’t among the handsomest of men? At least he’s loaded.”

  Annie couldn’t stand hearing her mom and aunt go on about Victor and how perfect he was. As a matter of fact, she had a hard time going through with this wedding at all. The baby as growing rapidly inside of her, and it was very visible now. Victor’s mother couldn’t stop staring at it in contempt. Annie felt that her white dress was too tight. She felt like she was about to suffocate. And, worst of all, she couldn’t stand what was ahead of her. She couldn’t stand the thought of having to spend the rest of her life with that geek, Victor, and having a child when she wasn’t sure who the father was.

  At least you don’t have to go through it alone. At least he cares for you. At least he’ll make sure you never need anything.

  “Are you all right, darling?” Victor whispered, as he rescued her from her mother and aunt. He took her hand and pulled her away from them. They took a stroll in the garden. It felt good to get away from the people and the pretending. Behind the estate was a small park. They found a bench and sat down. Annie didn’t care if her white dress got dirty, but could hear her mother’s voice tell her to never sit on a dirty bench wearing white. Would that voice ever leave her head? Would she ever be free from her parents?

  Part of her couldn’t stand the future she had in front of her. Looking at Victor, it felt like she had just married her parents. It was nothing like she had planned. Her life wasn’t going to turn out anything like she had planned on those lonely nights in her bedroom as a child.

  “You look pale.” He kissed her on the cheek.

  The kiss made her shiver in disgust. She lifted her eyes and gazed at him. Then, she forced a smile. Just like she had when he had told her he would marry her and make an honest woman of her. Just like she had done when the priest had told him he could kiss the bride and Victor had lifted the veil. She faked it.

  “I’m fine, darling. I’m just really tired. That’s all.”

  Victor smiled calmly. “That’s the pregnancy.” He put a hand on her belly and felt it. His touch made Annie shiver again. She tried to hide it and lowered her eyes.

  “You’re probably right. I feel so tired all the time lately. My doctor says it’s normal. And with all the throwing up, it’s only natural to be tired.”

  “You have a life growing inside of you. It’s a big thing, darling. You need your rest. Our baby needs his rest.”

  Annie gasped lightly and looked into Victor’s smiling eyes. It was the first time he had mentioned the baby between them as being his. Annie looked into his eyes, wondering if he really meant it or if he was just acting. Was he really capable of forgetting how this baby had come to the world? Would he really be able to consider it to be his? Never once had he asked about the circumstances. All he knew was, Tim had gotten Annie pregnant and wouldn’t take responsibility. It was like he didn’t even want to know more.

  “There you are,” Annie’s mother chirped and grabbed Annie’s hand. “The photographer is here. You two love birds better get back to the party.”

  Annie looked tiredly at her smiling mother, who was standing slightly tipsy with a glass of bubbling champagne in one hand and Annie’s hand in the other.

  Oh, my God. She was enjoying this, wasn’t she? She was happy to see her daughter marry a guy she didn’t love. A guy that could support her. A guy from a good family. A guy with money to secure her for the rest of her life. This was exactly the kind of man her mother had wanted her to marry, wasn’t it? Feeling like the dress was getting tighter, she found it harder to breathe; she pulled out her hand from her mother’s.

  “Is something wrong?” her mother asked.

  Victor chuckled and shook his head. “No, Mrs. Greenfield. Everything is perfect, he said. “It’s just the pregnancy. It’s wearing her out, poor thing.” He stroked her cheek gently, while looking at her with compassion.

  Annie felt like throwing up.

  “Oh my,” her mother said and grabbed Annie’s arm. She helped her get back to her feet. Then, she stroked Annie’s cheek as well. Annie felt like screaming.

  “We can’t have widdle Annie-bannie get tooo tired-wired, can we now? No, we can’t.”

  27

  JANUARY 2015

  I LEFT THE kids with my parents, then jumped inside my Jeep and raced to Snug Harbor. Luckily, it was only a three-minute drive from my parents’ motel. The medical examiner’s van was already parked next to the van from the Sheriff’s crime scene unit, an ambulance, and several police cars.

  “Hey, Jack,” Weasel yelled, as I arrived and parked the car. She seemed tired and her face longer than usual.

  “So, what have we got?” I asked, as we walked under the tape and into the house. “Another homicide?”

  “It’s on the second floor,” she said, and we grabbed plastic gloves in the foyer, then walked up the stairs. Through the window on the second floor, I spotted the Bennetts’ house that was still blocked by police tape, and wondered if this killer really was so stupid as to strike twice in the same neighborhood.

  “Woman, age sixty-seven,” Weasel said, as we walked through the hallway and into a big bedroom with bamboo furniture. We stopped at the body on the light carpet. Her face was unrecognizable; blood was sprayed all over the carpet. A gun was lying on the carpet next to her hand.

  “Her name was Rhonda Harris,” Weasel said.

  “Looks like she shot herself?” I asked.

  The Weasel nodded. “That’s what the ME said.”

  “Yes, I said that,” a voice said behind me.

  I turned and spotted Yamilla. She was hard to recognize in all her equipment. I moved and let her get closer to the body.

  “I will have to examine her further in my lab, but yes, so far, it’s safe to say it was suicide. Shot herself right through the temple.”

  I got up and looked around. I looked at her computer, her notebooks, and her many books spread all over the floor and tables.

  “Looks like she was quite the avid reader,” I said.

  “Sure does,” Weasel said.

  “All John Platt books, huh?”

  Weasel looked confused. “Well, I hadn’t noticed, but I think you might be right. All the open ones are.”

  I threw a glance out the window at the house across the street.

  Weasel rubbed her forehead. “Second death this week in this neighborhood, one of the nicest in town,” she sighed. “Gonna be another late nighter for us. If this keeps happening, I’m not going to be so popular around here anymore.”

  I patted her shoulder while staring at the Bennetts’ house. The case had started to haunt me…now more than ever. There was no way these two deaths weren’t related somehow.

  “What’s going on around here?” Weasel asked, wiping her sweaty forehead with a tissue. It was a very moist evening.

  “It never used to be like this,” she continued. “What do you make of it?”

  “Let’s just say, I hardly think it’s a coincidence that she is a big John Platt fan,” I said.

  “You think she knew something?” Weasel asked. “You don’t think she…she killed Laura?”

  I shrugged. “I think she might have known something. Something important. Who was she? What do we know about her?”

  “She used to be a reporter for Florida Today, but retired early four years ago,” Joel said as he approached us. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just spoke with her daughter up in New York. She’s on her way down. Caught a late flight out. Should be here late tonight.”

  I looked at Joel. He seemed a lot more together than the last time I had seen him. He was still sweating heavily, but we all were.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Have her come and talk to me tomorrow morning. And I need everything secured from Rhonda Harris’ house. Every notebook, her computer, everything she has in those drawers. If she has a knife, I want it checked for blood or Laura Bennett’s DNA.”

  28

  JANUARY 2015

  THE WAVES WERE crashing on the beach when I woke up the next morning. I had slept with my window open to the balcony. They were luring me in. The sound was intoxicating. They were definitely calling for me.

  I felt exhausted when I finally sat up. I didn’t arrive to pick up the kids from my parents’ place till around nine-thirty the night before. Emily had gone back to the condo by herself, but the twins were fast asleep, so my mother suggested they stay for the night. They had decorated a bedroom for them with bunk beds and SpongeBob posters and everything, and the kids loved sleeping over, so I told her all right and went back to spend the rest of the evening with Emily. We watched a movie together and I made popcorn. I got the feeling she enjoyed it, even though she didn’t say so. It was just like back in Miami before the twins had come into our lives. Just Emily and me. I couldn’t help looking at her when she didn’t see it. I saw so much of her mother in her, more and more every day now. I missed Lisa. She had been the best colleague and friend I had ever had. I was happy I got to see her daughter grow up.

  When I woke up at six, I put on my wetsuit, but left the upper part hanging from my waist, grabbed my board, and ran with it across the beach to my parents’ motel.

  “Daaad!” Austin smiled happily when he saw me. They were sitting on the wooden deck eating waffles. I kissed them both.

  “Where were you last night?” Abigail asked. “You never came back.”

  I sat down next to her and grabbed a waffle for myself. My mother brought me orange juice in a glass. It was freshly squeezed. Nothing beats Florida oranges. “I had to work,” I said.

  “Did you catch the killer?” Austin asked, excited.

  I shook my head and took another bite of my waffle. My mom brought me coffee. “Thank you,” I said, and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “Dad’s still sleeping?”

  She nodded.

  “So, did you?” Austin asked again.

  “Nope. Not yet.”

  The Millers came down the stairs and grabbed the table next to us. I smiled and nodded. My mother brought them breakfast while they discussed Blue Springs State Park, where they were going today.

  “We hope to see some manatees,” Mrs. Miller said.

  “You should be able to,” my mother replied, while pouring coffee for them. “At this time of year, there are a lot of them up there at the springs. They like that the water stays the same temperature all year around, you know?”

  “So, are you going to catch the killer today?” Austin asked with his mouth full.

  I chuckled. “I hope so.”

  “It’s not that easy, Austin,” Abigail growled, sounding like the true big sister she was with her fifty-eight seconds. “First, they have to gather all the evidence and talk to a lot of people before they can put him away. It’s not all like in the movies.”

  Austin made a grimace at his sister. She threw a waffle at him.

  “Hey, hey,” I stopped them. “I won’t have you fighting. You hear me? We’re family. We need to stick together. Now, did you have a good time with Grandma and Grandpa?”

  Austin and Abigail both nodded.

  “Good. They will pick you up today from school again. It’s early release day, and I have asked them to step in, since I’ll be busy with the big case. All right?”

  They looked at each other, then cheered.

  “Yaay!”

  I walked them to the school bus and kissed both of them goodbye as Mrs. Sharon opened the doors to the big yellow bus.

  “Now, be good today. Don’t get in trouble, all right?” I said.

  “You too, Dad,” Abigail said, and kissed my nose as I bent down to look into her eyes. “Stay out of trouble.”

  I laughed and waved as the bus disappeared, then I sprang for my board and threw myself into the waves.

  29

  JANUARY 2015

  “SHE LEFT A NOTE.”

  I looked at Kate Mueller, sitting across the table from me. From the pictures I had seen of Rhonda Harris, I’d say the daughter took more after her father.

  I pushed the note in the small plastic bag across the table so she could see it. She leaned over and put on her glasses.

  She read it, then looked up at me.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked. “Why would she write this? Why would she write I can’t live with myself? I’m sorry? I don’t quite understand. What did she do, Officer?”

  I leaned forward in my chair. My wet hair fell onto my face. I removed the lock and pulled it all back. I thought for a second about my mother, who always wanted me to cut my hair, and now Abigail had started saying it too. But I liked having long hair, even if the girls in my life didn’t think it was suitable for a detective.

  My blood was still pumping fast through my veins from the surfing. The exhaustion was gone. I felt more alive than ever and more determined to solve this case than ever. Nothing like a good surf session to clear my brain.

  “That’s kind of what I was hoping you would clear up for me.”

  Kate Mueller shook her head. Her blond hair was set in a ponytail. Her face looked terrified.

  “I don’t believe any of this, Officer. My mother…my mother would never kill herself. She was so happy lately. The last couple of years, she has been so happy. We were going on a cruise next month. She invited us…she was the one who wanted to spend more time with her grandchildren.”

  “Can you verify it is her handwriting?”

  “Yes. That is my mother’s handwriting.”

  “Good. Now, returning to what you just said. I take it you wouldn’t say she had been suicidal?”

  “Not at all, Officer. Not at all. On the contrary.” Kate Mueller’s blue eyes stared intensely at me. “I have never seen her happier.”

  I wrote her statement on my notepad, then looked up at her again. “I hate to ask this, but I have to. Do you think she would be capable of committing murder?”

  Kate Mueller looked at me, baffled. She put a hand to her chest. “Murder? You think that’s what the note meant?”

  “Her neighbor from across the street was found killed just two days ago. It does come off a little suspicious.”

  “I…I have never…no. Not my mother. She was the sweetest old lady. We might have had our differences, but not…that. She couldn’t.”

  I nodded and wrote it down. I wasn’t expecting her own daughter to tell me her mother was a murderer anyway, but I had to ask. I moved on with the interview.

  “She used to work at Florida Today as a reporter, you say? But she retired early?”

  “Yes. My mother was a writer. Always had been. Before she had me, she dreamt about being an author, but as you know, most people can’t live off of that, so she had to work as a journalist for a living to support me. She was alone with me. My dad died when I was seven. Up until then, she hadn’t worked a day in her life. But then she had to. She was lucky to get the job there, even though she didn’t like it much.”

  “Why didn’t she like it?”

  Kate Mueller shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t like to have someone telling her what to write and what not to write. She wanted to make up her own stories.”

  “So, she liked to read as well, I assume. We found all of John Platt’s books in her bedroom. Was she especially fond of him?”

  Kate Mueller looked surprised. “Not that I know of,” she said. “She never liked thrillers or mysteries much.”

  I showed her a picture of the many books spread on the rug and on her desk. “It seems to me she really enjoyed reading his books, don’t you think?”

  Kate Mueller stared at the photo, then back at me. “I don’t know what to say to that. People change their taste, I guess.”

  “Okay,” I said, and put the picture away. “You say she retired early. How come?”

  “I…she was tired of working for the paper, so she told them she wanted to retire. I think it was good for her. She became a much happier person afterwards.”

  “And that was four years ago?”

  “Yes.”

 

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