Yacht Games (Coastal Fury Book 22) Page 4

  “He was living here with you?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied as she reached over to pluck a throw pillow off the couch. She held it close to herself and played with the scraggly fringe along the edge as she continued her story. “He’d been having some issues lately. Normal stuff, you know? He had just turned seventy, and he was having some trouble remembering things. He couldn’t drive very well anymore, either. So, he came to live with us. It was an adjustment, but the kids loved having their grandpa close.” She smiled fondly again, the way she had earlier when she mentioned her kids.

  “So, what happened the day he went missing?” I prodded, and the smile slipped off her face.

  “I told him I’d be out with the kids for a while,” she replied. “I was a little worried, to be honest, since his memory seemed to have gotten worse lately. He’d forget where things were. He’d forget where he was. Sometimes, he would even look at me like he wasn’t sure who I was.” She paused for a moment, a somber expression on her face. “Anyway, that day, he seemed fine. He told me to have a great time and bring him back some candy. I left his room to get the kids ready, costumes, coats, their little treat bags. It was only an hour or so. I went back to let him know we were leaving, and he was just… gone.”

  A hushed silence fell over the room as she stopped speaking.

  “What did the police do?” Holm asked. “We read the report. They weren’t able to find anything?”

  “Maybe if they’d tried,” Marjorie replied bitterly, her face twisting into an angry grimace before falling again. “No, I guess that’s not fair. It was Halloween, after all. I’m sure they had enough to deal with. They told me as much, anyway, when I finally called to report my dad missing. I told them that he’d been exhibiting symptoms of dementia lately, but I guess a grown man wasn’t much of a priority. It wasn’t like it was a small child that had gone missing.”

  Though she said that, I could still hear the resentment in her voice. I couldn’t blame her. While most people might agree that a missing adult is not quite as pressing an issue as a missing child, the fact that the man wasn’t entirely in his right mind should have been a cause for greater concern.

  “Anyway,” Marjorie sniffled. “That was it. I followed up with them a few times, but they never had any information for me. It wasn’t until three months ago that I heard anything back at all.”

  “Three months?” I repeated. “What do you mean? What happened three months ago?”

  “Oh, the police didn’t tell you?” She looked up at me in confusion. “They found him. They arrested him for trying to shoplift from this high-end boutique store up in New York, of all places. When they ran his prints, they discovered that he’d been reported as a missing person.”

  “So, what happened?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. If he’d been found already, then how exactly had he ended up on Palm Island?

  “They lost him again,” Marjorie sighed as she reached up to massage her temple with the tips of her fingers. “I rushed up there, of course, as fast as I could. When I got there, they told me they would go and get him, only to come back a few minutes later to tell me that he was gone.” She laughed sadly. “Apparently, there had been some kind of mix-up. Something about shift changes and a miscommunication about who was supposed to be watching over him. And he was gone again.” She shrugged and looked up at me almost pleadingly. “It was like a slap in the face, to be told that they’d found him, and then suddenly he was gone again. I spent days looking for him, but New York is enormous and so full of people. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

  “I’m sorry that happened,” I replied.

  I couldn’t imagine how awful that must have felt, to hear news about your missing loved one after nearly a year, only to have your hopes crushed at the last moment.

  “Me, too,” Marjorie murmured. “Anyway, ever since then, I’ve assumed that he was living on the streets somewhere. It made sense, the idea that he just walked out of the house on his own, got confused, and just got lost. The fact that he was shoplifting proves that he wasn’t in his right mind. My dad was about as strict and straight-laced as they came. He would have never committed any kind of crime. In any case, I was shocked when I got the call that they’d found him… that they’d found his body off on that island.” She shook her head slowly as she stared off into space. “For a minute, I wondered if they’d made some mistake, but they’d run his DNA. I didn’t even know what to think. How could he have made it over there? He was homeless! And not in his right mind! He didn’t have money to travel. It just doesn’t make any sense!”

  She had a good point. It really was bizarre that an indigent man without any resources would have been anywhere near the small, private island. Then again, if the man had been taken there against his will, the fact that he’d been homeless, confused, and without a family likely would have made him a very easy target.

  “We’re going to do everything we can to figure out what happened,” I assured her. “To start, could you tell us which police station you went to that day? I’d like to speak with the officers who handled your father’s arrest.”

  “Sure,” Marjorie replied as she nodded fervently. She got up off the couch to retrieve her purse from where it was sitting on the table. “I’ve got everything written down here in my journal. I’ll get you the address right now.”

  I was glad that we’d chosen to get the rental car after all. I had a feeling that our stay here was going to last a bit longer than we’d initially anticipated.

  5

  Ethan

  The drive from Burlington to New York City took a little over an hour, but getting to the police station took nearly three. New York City traffic was a force to be reckoned with, and I was woefully unprepared for just how extreme it would be. I’d been to New York before, of course, but on those occasions, I’d taken a cab or the subway, for the most part. Actually trying to traverse the city at street level was nothing short of a nightmare.

  “I thought Miami was bad,” Holm muttered as another driver swerved sharply around us, laying on the horn as he went.

  “It is bad,” I countered as visions of perpetually gridlocked streets flashed across my mind. “People here seem to take it personally, though.”

  I pulled off the road and onto a parking deck. We were still several blocks from the station, but I didn’t want to take the risk of trying to find a spot closer. I also just didn’t want to drive for any longer than I had to. It was amazing that we hadn’t been involved in a crash yet, and I knew that Diane was liable to kill us if we managed to wreck another car while in the field.

  “You think we should find a hotel here?” Holm asked as I pulled the car into a spot near the exit. “Assuming it takes us an hour or so to speak to the cops, it’ll probably start getting dark by the time we finish.”

  “That might be a good idea,” I replied.

  “I’ll give Diane a call then,” Holm replied as we both got out of the car.

  Even from inside the parking garage, I could hear the sounds of the city: car horns, shouts, and the faint thrum of construction going on somewhere nearby. They were all sounds I’d heard plenty of times on the occasions that I’d come up here to see Tessa, and something about the din made me think of her. As Holm and I made our way down the crowded street toward the station, it occurred to me that it might be nice to pay her a visit if we ended up having some spare time.

  I was brought back to reality as we passed a man sitting at the entrance of one of the buildings. Though the temperature was cold enough for pockets of snow to be on the ground, the man was wearing little more than a threadbare wool coat, and one of his shoes was missing its sole. He was slumped over and barely looked conscious, but his eyes were open, and his gaze briefly met mine as we walked past. I frowned as I wondered if that was the kind of life that Logan Clearwater had been living up until the day of his demise. Unfortunately, the homeless were a pretty prime target for becoming the victims of crime
. They lived on the outskirts of society, and most people just passed them by without sparing them a second thought. Whoever had killed Clearwater might have specifically chosen him because he knew he was unlikely to be missed.

  Then again, that only made the fact that he’d mysteriously turned up on a remote Caribbean island all the more confusing. After all, if your goal was to ensure that your crime went undetected, dumping the body somewhere where it was sure to be found like that was a pretty stupid choice. I tucked that thought away in the back of my mind for later as Holm and I entered the police station.

  The inside of the station looked pretty dull in shades of white and pale gray. It was also quiet, and the only sounds that permeated the uncomfortable silence were the faint clicking of keys and the occasional low murmur. It didn’t feel particularly welcoming, and my first thought was that I would hate to work in such a suffocating place. The female officer sitting at the desk up front looked at us with a cheerful smile as we approached.

  “Good afternoon,” she greeted us warmly. Her inviting demeanor was a stark contrast to the austere atmosphere of the station. “Did you need some help with something?”

  “Yes, I’m Agent Marston,” I replied as I pulled my badge out of my pocket to show her. “This is my partner, Agent Holm. We’re with MBLIS, an investigative agency that takes on international crimes. We need some information about a man who was arrested by officers here about three months ago.”

  “Well, let me see,” the officer responded as she turned to her computer and typed something in. “I’m not sure I have access to that kind of information… No, it looks like I don’t. Hang on just a minute, and I’ll get someone who can help you with that.”

  She smiled at us again before standing and walking off further into the back of the station. She returned a few moments later with another officer in tow, an older gentleman who, judging by the slight variation of his uniform, was a higher rank.

  “Hello, I’m Sergeant Kopernick,” the man introduced himself to us. “I heard that you had some questions. Why don’t we go talk somewhere privately?”

  “We’d appreciate that,” I replied as I reached forward to shake the sergeant’s hand.

  After getting through the pleasantries, he turned and led us further into the station.

  “So, what exactly did you want to know?” He turned to look at me as the three of us walked onto the busy main floor of the station.

  Officers in uniform sat at neatly arranged desks set up in clean rows. It wasn’t unlike the setup back at the office at home, but it seemed somewhat colder here. There was a tension in the air that I couldn’t quite place, like a cord ready to snap at the slightest provocation. The faces of the officers working in the large room were strained with worry and stress.

  Probably understaffed and overworked, I thought to myself as we walked by. It didn’t excuse the fact that they’d lost track of Clearwater, but it did perhaps explain how it had happened. They seemed to be a bunch of officers already stressed out and exhausted. If they’d been tasked with watching over a seemingly harmless old man, it was possible he’d just slipped beneath everyone’s radar.

  “We need information about a perp who was held here for a short while,” I answered. “We believe he’s the victim of our current case. His name was Logan Clearwater.”

  “Clearwater?” The man frowned in confusion before cracking a smile. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’m afraid I will need a little more than a name to work with. We get dozens of new cases every day. Can you give me some more information? Dates, maybe? What kind of crime are we talking about here?”

  He led us through a winding maze of desks as we made our way to a narrow staircase at the opposite end of the large bullpen we’d just passed through.

  “Three months ago,” I replied as we made our way up the stairs. “A homeless man was arrested for shoplifting from a boutique just a few blocks from here. He had dementia.” I stopped short as we made it to the top of the stairs. “Your officers lost him after discovering that he was listed as a missing person.”

  Kopernick snapped his head around to look at me, his eyes wide with shock for a moment before his face lit up with realization.

  “Ah, right.” He pursed his lips together as he looked around awkwardly, as though afraid that someone might have overheard my accusation. “Of course, I remember Mr. Clearwater. That was a, uh… a terrible miscommunication. Something that never should have happened, of course.”

  “We're going to need some more details,” I replied dryly.

  I could tell by the look on his face that the sergeant knew precisely who I was talking about now, and I really couldn’t bring myself to feel bad for him. Not when Clearwater was dead now, possibly due to his officers’ ineptitude.

  “Of course.” Kopernick nodded stiffly. “Why don’t we go speak in my office?”

  He clamped his mouth shut tightly after that and gestured for us to walk through a small doorway that separated the management offices from the rest of the station. After Holm and I stepped through, he guided us to an office a few steps away.

  “Wait here, if you don’t mind,” he muttered quietly. “I’ll go and get the arresting officer from the case.”

  He turned and opened his office door to let us inside before walking off, back down the stairs, and into the bullpen.

  The sergeant’s office wasn’t quite as morose feeling as the rest of the station. Though still gray and utilitarian, a cartoon bobblehead set on the desk and a collection of colorful children’s drawings taped to the wall behind the desk gave the small office a hint of life.

  “Sorry about that, agents,” Kopernick huffed as he returned to the office, accompanied by another man. The new officer was a bit younger, and he looked a little green as he stepped into the office. His eyes were wide, and the tendons in his neck were tensed, as though he was very nervous about something. “This is Officer Naples. He was the one who brought the elderly man in.” He turned to look at us. “That is who you’re here about, right? Homeless old man, about six foot, seemed confused about where he was?”

  “That sounds like him,” I replied.

  “That’s what I thought,” Kopernick replied as he walked past us to his desk. “Please, have a seat, and we can talk.”

  “Thanks,” I replied as I took a seat in one of the chairs opposite the desk. Holm did the same, while Naples moved to stand by the sergeant’s desk,

  “His daughter was pretty upset after the incident,” Kopernick remarked.

  “You mean after you lost track of him?” I asked dryly.

  Maybe it was a little mean of me to phrase it so bluntly, but I was irked by the fact that they’d literally lost track of a confused elderly man who’d been in their custody. Maybe if they hadn’t dropped the ball, Clearwater would still be alive today.

  “Yes,” Kopernick replied reluctantly. “That is, unfortunately, what happened. There was a miscommunication. An officer who believed that someone else had taken over watching him left for the day, and the officer who was meant to be watching him misunderstood and left the vicinity as well.”

  “And one of those officers was Naples?” I surmised as I looked over at the young officer. He stiffened under my accusatory gaze, and he looked like he wanted to run from the room.

  “It was my fault,” he admitted nervously. “I should have double-checked to make sure someone was watching him.”

  “Well, that’s true,” Kopernick muttered. “But there’s not much that can be done now, I’m afraid. In any case, what did you want to speak to us about? Has something happened to Mr. Clearwater?”

  “He’s dead,” I replied flatly.

  Both of their eyes went wide in unison as their jaws dropped open. It would have been funny if it was a remotely laughing matter.

  “Are you serious?” Naples gaped at me. If he’d looked nervous before, he looked even worse now. His face was pale, and he’d broken out into a cold sweat.

  “I’m afraid so,” I replied. “
His body was found a few days ago, and it was positively identified through DNA. The only thing is that it was discovered somewhere it really shouldn’t have been. As far as we can tell, the officers here were the last people to see him alive, so it’s important that we know exactly what happened that day.”

  For a few moments, there was nothing but tense silence.

  “I see,” Kopernick finally replied. “Well, it started around noon, if I recall correctly. Is that right, Naples?”

  “Yes,” he replied as he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “We got a call from this upscale children’s clothing store that a man had stormed in and started trying to steal things off the shelves.”

  “A children’s store?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “That seems like an odd choice. Did he have any kids with him?”

  “No.” Naples shook his head. “He was completely alone when we arrived, yelling about how he needed the clothes for his friend.”

  “He was probably confused,” Holm muttered sadly. “So, you arrested him?”

  “Well, yes,” Naples replied. “He was pretty combative when we got there. He started throwing punches, and he was pretty strong for a guy that age. But we weren’t aggressive or anything. And once we realized that he was having cognition issues, we took him out of the cell and let him sit out in the bullpen.” He paused and then looked awkwardly down at the ground. “Then again, I guess doing that was part of the reason he was able to slip away so easily. We didn’t want him in the cage with all the drunks and drugged-out users, so we brought him out to sit at my desk. He was actually pretty mellow once we got back to the station. He asked for a glass of orange juice and told us we were doing a good job.” His face crumpled as he recalled what had happened, and I could tell that he felt guilty.

  “So, what happened after that?” I asked.