Siren's Secret Page 19

Tillman gritted his teeth. “I’ve got this under control. Let it go.”

  “One more day. That’s all you’ve got. If the case hasn’t broken, Shelly Connors has a date in the interrogation room.”

  “With all respect, I run this ship, sir. If you don’t like the job I’m doing, run for sheriff next election.”

  If Carl was offended, he kept it well hidden. “Maybe I will. So what happens now?”

  “I’ve put a rush on the crime lab to see if the DNA on the newest evidence matches the sperm samples from our first two victims. If it does, we can arrest Pellerin and search his house.”

  Carl nodded. “Do we switch our stakeout from the Bosarge house to Pellerin’s?”

  “Switch the focus to Pellerin. I’ll drive by the Bosarge house every hour or so tonight. Hopefully, this case will be wrapped up shortly.”

  “It better be,” Carl warned.

  As his deputy pushed out of his chair and left, Sam, his old partner from Mobile P.D., called.

  “How’s it going in the boondocks?” Sam asked.

  “’Bout the same. How’s life in the mean city streets?”

  “That’s why I called. You told me to let you know if something came up with missing persons. I don’t know if it’s related to your cases, but we had a twenty-five-year-old Caucasian female reported missing by her friends.”

  Tillman felt his nerves tingling. “A prostitute?”

  “No known record. But she was last seen at a dive bar close to the docks where prostitutes hang out. Name’s Alice Hargrove.”

  “Thanks, Sam. Let me know when or if she’s found, okay?” Tillman rubbed his chin. If it was Pellerin, his crimes were falling closer together and he may have broadened his net. Not a good sign at all.

  * * *

  Melkie stood among a row of bookshelves, secretly surveying the computer room across the hall. This was the slowest time of day, between lunch and the after-school stampede. He bided his time, pretending to look at book titles, until he spotted an opportunity. An elderly woman left the room without signing out on the computer. Casually, Melkie strode into the room and sat down in front of the monitor, still displaying a New York Times crossword puzzle. The library’s policy was simply for users to log in on a screen with a patron card number. No sign-in sheet required.

  Melkie pulled up his Hotmail account and saw he had an unread message from mermaidchicka. After a quick glance to make sure no one was watching—they weren’t—he opened it and read the message.

  Boatman. The knife is yours. No tricks this time. Please. I just want to be left alone. How about we meet at Harbor Bay? You say when, I’ll be there.

  His lips curled upward. She was afraid now. He minimized the screen while he considered his response. He’d thought to end it this evening, but an arranged meeting tomorrow might be easier.

  Harbor Bay. He couldn’t have chosen better himself. Nearly a hundred boats of all shapes and sizes from commercial and family-owned shrimping vessels to sailboats and bass boats were anchored along a heavily wooded shoreline. Rows of small wooden docks were interspersed along the bay.

  Melkie typed.

  Meet me at the last dock of the bay that’s closest to the Trident shipyard. 7:00 p.m. tomorrow.

  He hit Send, erased the internet history and closed his Hotmail account before shutting down the computer. Keeping his head lowered and avoiding eye contact with the other patrons, he left the library and headed to the truck. A familiar dark blue sedan was parked across the street. A man inside wore dark sunglasses, but Melkie knew those eyes were focused on him.

  Son of a bitch.

  He backed out of his parking space and turned right on Shell Belt Road. Sure enough, the sedan followed. Melkie unrolled the driver’s side window to flip him off, but stopped at the last moment. Stay cool. Take care of business tomorrow night and it would be over. Once the mermaid creature was laid to rest at the bottom of the sea, he would cash in the stolen jewels and coins and leave Bayou La Siryna forever.

  * * *

  “Throw the ball to Jason,” Shelly said.

  Eddie held the ball to his chest. “Mine.”

  “Jason will throw it back to you. We’re playing a game.”

  Jason splashed in the water and held up both hands. “My turn.”

  Rick laughed. “Then me.”

  Eddie turned his back on all of them, ball clutched possessively in his hands. “Mine,” he repeated louder, walking away as fast as he could in the water.

  “It’s okay,” Shelly told Jason and Rick. “I’ll get you another ball to shoot in the basket.” She swam to the pool steps and dug out another one from the plastic container. “Catch,” she called as she tossed it.

  Shelly snuck a peak at the bleachers as she made her way to Eddie. Hard to tell what Portia Angier was thinking behind her dark sunglasses. She sat several feet away from the other moms and rebuffed their attempts to draw her into conversation. The woman had emotional walls as thick as Eddie’s, only hers were a deliberate choice to remain isolated.

  “Let’s practice our swimming,” she said, catching up to Eddie. He cast a suspicious look over his shoulder, still guarding the ball. Shelly laughed. “I don’t want it. Just put it over there for now.” She pointed to the cement floor a couple of feet away. After making sure Jason and Rick weren’t close enough to take it, Eddie put the ball aside and mimicked Shelly as she demonstrated arm strokes.

  Now for the hard part. Eddie had down the arm strokes and kicking, but he refused to put his head in the water. “Watch me. Inhale.” Shelly took an exaggerated deep breath and puffed out her cheeks before dipping her face in the water. Then raising her face out of the water and to the side, she loudly blew out the breath. “Exhale.” She repeated several more times. “Your turn.”

  Eddie did a perfect imitation, inhaled with puffed cheeks and exhaled noisily with his head tilted to the side. Only he did it above water level, refusing to submerge his face.

  She really should be discouraged, but she enjoyed a good challenge. She studied Eddie, catching that indefinable something that marked them as brothers.

  Tillman. Her thoughts always circled around to him.

  Seniors from Water Babes and Buoys entered the pool area. As soon as Eddie spotted them he headed to the steps, knowing his time was over. Shelly gathered the ball from Jason and Rick and rushed after Eddie. She beat him out of the pool by a mere second, and draped a towel around his waist before he came out of the wet bathing suit.

  Portia minced over in strappy high heels. Shelly exchanged pleasantries with the other moms as the seniors entered the pool. She eyed Portia nervously. When she’d dropped off Eddie an hour ago, she’d been an ice bitch. Which meant Portia was furious after the last session, when Shelly had prevented her from driving.

  “Eddie, before you go, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Shelly scrambled over to her tote bag and pulled out a snack-sized Cap’n Crunch cereal box. “Good work, today.”

  Eddie’s face lit up as he accepted the gift.

  “No.” Portia snatched it from his hands. “This will ruin your appetite for supper.”

  Eddie bellowed and grabbed it back.

  Portia glared at her. “What do you think you are doing?” Her shrill voice echoed in the suddenly silent room.

  “I...I’m sorry. Guess I should have checked with—”

  “Yes. You should have. I don’t know who you think you are, young lady, but I don’t appreciate your interference in either of my sons’ lives.”

  Shelly’s skin flamed scalding-hot from embarrassment and anger. Jason’s and Rick’s moms watched the display with mouths open. Lurlene Elmore’s face darkened and Fred Gusset, one of the Buoys, climbed the pool steps, looking ready to do battle on her behalf.

  “Maybe we should discuss this later.”

  “We’ll discuss it right now.” Portia’s voice escalated a notch higher. Eddie clapped his hands over his ears and rocked back and forth on his heels.

  Shelly cocked
her head toward Eddie. “Your son is getting upset.”

  “That’s your fault.” Portia jabbed a finger near her chest.

  Fred stepped between them. “Perhaps it would be best if you left, Mrs. Angier.”

  “I’m not finished! This...this pool girl had the nerve to call Tillman and make trouble.”

  “Enough!” Lurlene Elmore hauled her considerable girth out of the water. “You should thank Shelly for taking your car keys. You’re a menace to the entire community driving that town car three sheets to the wind.”

  Portia gasped, mouth open in outrage.

  As much as Shelly appreciated the defense of her character, everyone needed to stop. Eddie was on the verge of a major meltdown.

  Eddie wailed.

  Portia hissed at Shelly. “See what you’ve done? I’m going to have to call Tillman to help me drive Eddie home.” She took out a cell and punched in a set of numbers, all the while shepherding Eddie to the bleachers. Once seated, he banged his head on the hard aluminum steps with a sickening thud.

  Everyone rushed to help, but the noise and the close proximity of so many people at one time made Eddie worse. Shelly bent on her knees in front of him and sang. She couldn’t hit a note, but it distracted Eddie. Shelly motioned the Babes and Buoys back to the pool.

  It seemed Tillman would never get there, yet she sang on, her voice more and more raw and raspy. Thankfully, Portia didn’t order her to shut up. She sat close by, nervously twisting the handbag in her lap and casting anxious looks at the clock. After what seemed hours later, Shelly caught sight of a pressed brown uniform making its way over.

  Tillman squatted down beside her, eyes locked on his brother. “Hey, buddy. Heard you’re having a hard day.” His tone was level and he smiled at Eddie as if nothing was wrong. “How about we get you in some dry clothes and go home?” He pulled a towel out of Eddie’s bag and wiped the tears off his face.

  Shelly’s own eyes watered at the gesture. He was a wonderful man, a good man—even if his tenderness and understanding for her fell short of what he gave his brother. If only they’d had more time together before the killer had forced her to reveal her shape-shifting. Maybe then Tillman would have fallen in love with her the way she had with him. As far as she was concerned, the events of the past couple of weeks were so intense and extraordinary that it forced her to quickly recognize and acknowledge her feelings.

  She’d probably been a little in love with Tillman before he’d ever kissed her, although she’d convinced herself it was a mere sexual attraction. Shelly had watched him for months, watched his interactions with his family, the seniors, the physically challenged clients and their families. Not once had he been anything but unfailingly polite and kind, often going out of his way to bring a smile to their faces.

  Tillman stuffed the towel back in the bag. “You can take a hot bath while Mom makes a big pot of gumbo. Sound good?”

  Eddie sniffled and nodded. “Home.”

  Tillman stood. “Dry clothes first.”

  Eddie obediently walked to the locker room, Tillman close by his side.

  A collective sigh of relief came from the Babes and Buoys. Portia crumpled, burying her head in her hands. Shelly hesitated, then placed a hand over Portia’s. “He’s okay now.”

  To her surprise, Portia didn’t pull away but pressed her fingers into Shelly’s palm and held on. “I upset him. It’s my fault.” She raised her head and looked at Shelly with eyes the same shade of gray as Tillman’s. “I know everyone thinks I’m a coldhearted bitch, and maybe I am, but I do love Eddie.”

  “I know you do.”

  Portia managed a wobbly smile. “We got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to invite you to dinner. Are you free tomorrow night?”

  Everything was too volatile right now. “Maybe a later date,” she hedged.

  Portia nodded. “I’ll have Tillman call you and make the arrangements.”

  Tillman and Eddie emerged from the locker room and Tillman raised an eyebrow in surprise at the sight of his mother and Shelly holding hands. For the first time since the fiasco on the boat, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

  The steel edge in his eyes softened and she couldn’t stop the stirring of hope that danced butterflies in her stomach. For her own sake, she had to find a way to stop hoping. Tillman had emphatically rejected her and been repulsed at seeing her in mermaid form.

  All that mattered now was that he found Pellerin.

  Chapter 14

  Two feet under

  In a shallow grave

  Unmarked, undone

  Past being saved.

  Sleep eluded him. Tillman rubbed his face and threw off the sheets. A few hours of shut-eye before night-patrol duty would have been ideal, but he was too wound up for rest. Adrenaline and caffeine would supply the needed stamina for tonight. A shower and a clean uniform would also help.

  In the kitchen he packed a thermos of coffee. The pine boards upstairs in Eddie’s room creaked, which meant he was pacing.

  “You’re going to work in the middle of the night?” Portia sat at the table. “I’d have made coffee if I’d known.” She propped an elbow on the table and rested her head in the palm of her hand. “I used to do that for your father.”

  “I remember.” He pointed toward Eddie’s room. “He’s still up.”

  “I know.” Portia sighed. “I probably should have asked Dr. Saunders to prescribe Eddie a sleeping pill when he examined him. That knot on his forehead must hurt.”

  Jeff Saunders, the retired doctor who also served as county coroner, was an old family friend who could be counted on to see Eddie when needed.

  “At least he doesn’t have a concussion.” Tillman set a mug down in front of Portia and poured her a cup. “I’m not the only one with a long night ahead.”

  She added two sugars and stirred. “I owe you an apology.” Portia kept her gaze on the coffee mug. “I’ve acted a bit...foolish this past week.”

  A bit? Tillman stifled his impatience. Apologies from Mom were rare and he needed to take advantage of the opportunity. He didn’t want to have this conversation now, not when he had to leave for work in five minutes, not in the middle of the turmoil from his job and not when she was making an effort at control. At dinner, she’d had only half a glass of wine.

  Too little too late. It had to be done.

  “Mom.” Tillman sat in the chair beside her. “You need to get help for the drinking.”

  Portia stiffened and drew away. “I am not an alcoholic. I don’t need anybody’s help.”

  “Yes. You do.” He wasn’t backing down this time.

  “I deserve my occasional cocktails and wine at dinner.”

  “Occasional? No. When you start driving drunk I have to draw the line.”

  “Just that one time. So I made a mistake. Shoot me.” She stood and lifted her chin. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It can’t happen again. You’re putting your life in danger, Eddie’s life, and whoever happens to be on the road at the same time with you.”

  Portia’s eyes welled with tears. “Your father never spoke to me like this.”

  “There were a lot of things Dad never talked to you about,” Tillman muttered under his breath.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He stood and hooked his thumbs through his belt. “Never mind. You’re getting worse. Admit it.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. Whatever will people think of me if I—as you put it—‘got help.’”

  “Your true friends will be relieved. Anyone else doesn’t matter.”

  She bit her lower lip. Tillman sensed her wavering. “Talk to Jeff and see what he recommends. No one else has to know.”

  “But if he says I need a—” she gulped and spit out the word “—clinic, what would we do? I can’t leave Eddie that long.”

  “We’d manage. Dad left him some money in a trust fund. We’d use it to hire fill-in staff while I’m at work.”


  “But what will Eddie think if I’m not home? You know how he is about his routine. He might have a major episode every day.”

  Have Shelly and Lily come sing to him. Tillman shook off the whimsical notion. “Don’t borrow trouble. Talk to Jeff and let’s look at what we’re dealing with.” He placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “Will you do it?”

  “Oh, all right,” she conceded with a huff.

  “Great.” Tillman picked up the thermos and car keys, feeling much lighter. “I’ll be in and out until morning. I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

  * * *

  After checking the Bosarge house and seeing no signs of an intruder, Tillman swung by Happy Hollows and parked the cruiser on the potholed road in front of Pellerin’s ramshackle house. Officer Donnell’s cruiser was across the street as it should be. Tillman cut the lights and ignition and turned sideways for a better view. Behind the drapes, a TV screen flickered and he made out the dark figure of Melkie sipping a can of something on the couch. His mutt barked and poked his odd face against the window for a moment.

  A night owl. Well, why not? The guy was unemployed; he might as well stay up all night and sleep all the next day with no job demanding his presence.

  He half expected Pellerin to come outside and demand to know why his house was being watched, and half wished he would. These cat-and-mouse games bored him. After unpacking the thermos and pouring a cup of coffee, Tillman sipped and drummed his fingers against the dashboard. For damn sure he would call the crime lab in the morning and pressure them some more on completing the DNA tests. He hoped to hell Pellerin had nothing to do with the missing woman in Mobile. Because if he did, that woman was dead.

  After finishing his cup of coffee, Tillman left. Might as well check back in at home and see if Eddie had stopped his pacing.

  * * *

  “Here, Reb.” Melkie called his dog away from the window and checked his cheap plastic wristwatch— 1:00 a.m. on the dot. By this time tomorrow he’d be hundreds of miles away from the bayou.