Heath had mentioned it’d been towed out of the marina to an old slip by the light house, waiting for some company or other to come get it and take it who knew where.To sell maybe, or pass along to the next wealthy person who wanted to pretend to be a sailor.I told myself it was pure coincidence I was meandering towards the shore but instead of veering left to go to Shore Drive and the short way back to Witte House, I went right, towards Mariner’s Rest Memorial Park and the narrow walking path that led towards the old lighthouse.The lighthouse had been unused for years aside from being a small, fussy tourist stop and popular site for locals to take school photos and wedding pictures.It was a narrow spit of land leading to the lighthouse, few trees lining the path and those that were there were scraggly, battered by salty winds and stunted by sandy soil.It was a great place to see most of the cove, though.Especially the race that should be wrapping up in the hour.It took less than twenty minutes to make my way from the New Yacht Club to the lighthouse overlook, passing by only a handful of people who could’ve stepped out of one of those early 1900’s paintings of a scrubby, gray coastal town.
Why would anyone want to watch a bunch of rich people zoom around the cove on a cold, rainy day I wondered, picking my way down the uneven old path.It had been paved once, but time and wear and a lack of funds had left the once-smooth walkway jagged and a little risky, at least if you weren’t paying attention.Like the person barreling towards me, a fast-food sack from a franchise nowhere near Lester Cove clutched in one hand, a laptop case dangling from the other.They were larger than me, but with weirdly skinny legs propelling their thick upper body at an angle, like it was too heavy for those toothpicks to handle.The path wasn’t wide enough for two people and we were at the part where the land fell away on either side, the cove to my right and a finger of water to my left.It was just over a few meters wide but grew broader the closer to the end of the path you went, the rapid change in width and depth making it choppy and probably more of a hazard than I wanted to think about.A glance showed me it was full of rocky edges and prickly, dangerous things that I didn’t want to meet up close and personal.“Hey there,” I called, drawing to a halt and turning sideways.“Nice day for it.”
The person didn’t look up, just kept their head down and strode forward even faster, practically jogging now.I turned sideways, giving them space to move past, and they swerved towards me, just a little jink of their stride that set them moving diagonally across the walkway.“Hey,” I called again.“Watch out!”I started moving backwards, heart picking up to an uncomfortable rate as they kept heading for me.“Shit, shit, shit!”I turned and started running, aiming for the head of the walk where there would be, if not a soft landing, at least a landing without rocks and choppy water.The sound of their steps behind me drove me faster but it wasn’t enough.Long arms grabbed me from behind, jerking me to a stop.“Nope,” I growled, twisting in their grip to try and face them, only making it halfway around before they jerked hard on my shirt to pull me back against their torso.Their verysquishytorso.Their coat was heavily padded, I realized, and their hands, that I thought were bare at a distance, were covered in thick, beige leather gloves.Far too warm for the cool but not biting weather we were having.
Definitely a disguise, or an attempt at one.
I threw my elbow out anyway, hoping enough force would make it through the padding to get them to let go or loosen their hold enough for me to break free.They just grunted and jerked me in a half-circle, until I was facing the narrow finger of water alongside the walkway.I went limp, but instead of dropping me they lifted me.It wasn’t very high, just enough for my feet to clear the ground, but that was all they needed.A few lumbering, struggling steps brought us to the edge of the walkway.“Help!”I managed to shout, my voice swallowed by the sound of the waves and the distant cheering for the incoming boats.“Help!”Scrambling at their arms, I tore at one of the puffy coat sleeves, making them grunt again as they gave me a little shake.I kicked, my heels hitting their shins but the rubber soled sneakers I wore doing little damage.In a last-ditch effort at freedom, I worked one hand back and grabbed for their head.The knit cap slipped off easily and I gripped it like a life preserver as they adjusted their grasp more tightly across my middle, making it hard to breathe.
The memory of a stunt coordinator onSayles’ Sales Sails, a short-lived sitcom about a department store aboard a massive cruise liner, telling me not to inhale when I was pushed into the pool during a chase scene.If you breathe in, you’ll get a lungful of water and Jerry will kick my ass, got it?Breatheoutwhen you fall.I needed to find him online, I thought wildly, and send them a thank you card, because that is exactly what I did as my assailant gave me a heaving shove over the edge.I missed most of the jutting rocks and broken concrete, but didn’t entirely miss the jagged piece of old sidewalk at the bottom.The sharp pain of my arm hitting it was almost enough to make me gasp aloud but I clenched down hard, hitting the water with a cold slap.
The pain in my arm was wild, but the shock of hitting the water was a nightmare.For a moment, I didn’t know which way was up and my lungs screamed at me to inhale, to shout, to drown myself in my panic.Everything was dark save for a few green-gray blurs.Something touched me, or maybe I hallucinated it as I fought my clothes pulling me down.Then, as my lungs burned and screamed with desperation for air, my brain kicked back into gear.Kick off my shoes.Right.I hated to lose them—they were one of my three favorite pairs, a vintage set of green Chucks I’d found for a steal at a resale shop in Redondo Beach one summer Sunday—but if it was them or me, well I liked myself a tiny bit better than those shoes.My chest ached and head throbbed as my shoes drifted down.Struggling out of my jeans would take too long, too much but I could shed my sweater.A little less weighed down, I aimed for one of the green-gray splotches above and kicked, reaching upward, hoping to feel air.
The current buffeted me, pushing me back down and aside, my broken arm hitting a rocky jut along the bottom of the jetty or maybe it was the slope of land across from it.But with my good arm, I grabbed for outcropping, scrabbling on the slimy surface, hoping for purchase to push upward.Finally, I caught a break.My face broke water and I sucked in a lungful of air, the sweet burn of it streaking tears down my cheeks.It took several more minutes before I was able to pull myself up one-armed onto the rock itself, managing to sit atop it with water to my waist.Above, it was quiet.Over the rush of the waves, I could faintly hear cheering.Or maybe it was some more of my brain cells dying from hypoxia.Belatedly, I remembered my phone.“Shit,” I hissed to the ocean.“Two in one year.”I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the jetty wall.At some point, I’d have to climb up.Or hope someone decided to take a walk this way.In the meantime, I could just sit and breathe, sucking in slowly calming lungfuls of salt-seaweed-fish scented air and think about the fact someone had just tried to kill me.
Chapter 9
The hours between haulingmyself out of the drink and getting back to Witte House were the worst kind of blur.Someone in town for the regatta saw me from the path and called for help once they realized I wasn’t a sack of trash.After that, things moved in fits and starts.Heath arrived looking grim.I was jostled up the side of the jetty by two very robust young men who’d followed the commotion hoping to see something gruesome, disappointed when I started hacking up my lungful of cove water instead of dying messily.A ride in an ambulance to the small hospital in Malm’s Corner later, I was casted, relatively cleaned up, x-rayed, MRI’d, given a lovely dose of pain killer, very unflattering scrubs that felt like they were made of paper towels, and finally a cup of hot coffee and a stale bear claw thanks to a nurse who took pity on me and raided the break room’s stash of pastries.Not necessarily in that order.
When Heath caught up to me mid-bear claw, I felt a rush of relief.“Thank god,” I sighed.“Everyone here is great but I really don’t want to be here.”
Heath’s tight-lipped smile should’ve tipped me off this wasn’t going to be a pleasant interaction, but I lived in fuzzy-brained hope.“Well, I’m not here to take you back just yet,” he admitted.“Damien, what were you doing at the old lighthouse?”
“Nothing.I hadn’t even made it down the walk before someone freaking attacked me and shoved me in the water.”My hackles were twitching, words tumbling out before I could stop them.“I’ve foundanotherdead body this week, I’ve been pap stalked with pictures taken of meat homeand not just out and about, my dog is obsessed with a dead man’s cat, no one believes me about Anmorata Blue being sketchy, and now this,” I lifted my casted arm with a hiss and wince.
Heath’s sigh was heavy as he sank into the plastic chair beside my hospital bed, scratching at his heavy five o’clock shadow as he gathered his words.“The thing is, someone called in a report.They saw you—allegedly—leaving Tubbs’ boat this afternoon.That’s how I ended up finding you so quickly.I was on my way to check out the call.Figured you were snooping around...
“I didn’t even make it to the boat!And what the hell?You can check the security cameras and see—”
“The ones at the yacht club don’t pick up as far as the jetty, and the ones for the light house were damaged in that storm back in September.Town doesn’t have the funds to replace ‘em yet,” he added apologetically.“But the fact remains, someone claims they saw you trying to set fire to Tubbs’ boat, Damien.I know, I know!You didn’t do it,” he said, cutting off my panicked protest.“I know that, Damien.”
“There’s abut.You didn’t say it, but I can hear it.What is it, Heath?What’s the but?”
He smiled wanly.“I feel like I should make a joke there.”My glare was enough of ano.He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face, looking worn thin and frustrated when he finally focused on me again.“I can’t ignore this, Damien.I have to take you in for questioning.”
My brain, slowed from the nice dose of painkiller earlier, clicked over a gear and I realized what Heath said.“Wait, someone tried to set his boat on fire?After the yacht club fire and the one at the shop and—”
