“I know. But it still sucked. I’d put all that behind me. And now it’s all right there again.”
“Do you think Morrow is still looking into his second death?”
I shrugged. The official narrative was that my father was spotted on the deck of a boat just seconds before it exploded. Of course, his body wasn’t recovered because due to the blast, there wasn’t much left over the size of a quarter. And retrieving any body parts from an ocean explosion was mostly a fool’s mission. But a couple weeks after his ‘death,’ I’d received a gift that I was certain had come from him. I’d told Carter, Ida Belle, and Gertie about it because someday, he might be the catalyst for trouble again. But I hadn’t told Morrow. I didn’t agree with the way my father had handled things but I couldn’t fault his accomplishments. I was sure he figured ‘dying’ was the best possible outcome for both of our futures. And he was probably right.
“If Morrow’s looking into anything, he’s not telling me about it,” I said. “But I’m sure at some point Jesus Redding will rise once more and we’ll get to play ball all over again.”
“Hopefully, next time he can leave you out of it.”
“As long as I’m his daughter and he’s breathing, I’ll always be in it.”
Carter frowned. I knew he wasn’t happy about the situation. Neither was I. As long as my father was alive, there was always that chance that something would surface again and drag me back into my former life. It didn’t mean I was going to spend my time looking over my shoulder. Neither was Carter. We were both trained professionals. If anything was off, we’d know it long before it was visible. I had to believe that intuition would alert me if things ever shifted. Otherwise, every day would begin with a cloud over my head, and that’s not the way I chose to live.
“What’s the plan for today?” I asked. “Are we going on land since it’s daylight?”
“No. I know no one wants to hear this but I’m going to do a couple more drags of the lake at the opening of that bayou and some surface scouting, but then I’m calling it.”
“Is that going to fly?”
“Yeah. No one likes it but everyone knows the score. Molly isn’t the first person that’s come up missing in those bayous and she won’t be the last. She’s not even the first this year. I’d say we haven’t found a body over half the time in circumstances like these. It’s hard but it’s reality.”
“What about the anchor? They’re testing it, right?”
“You know I can’t comment about that,” he said.
I sighed. “Your job and your ethics really get in the way of all the good gossip. But have it your way. When you start an investigation, we’ll all know it was murder.”
“I’m really hoping it wasn’t. This town has had enough bad things happen lately. It would be nice to have something be just a tragic accident.”
“We have plenty of those—but mostly Gertie causes them and usually no one dies.”
He gave me a small smile as he stood. “Anyway, I just dropped by to check in. I’ve got to get down to the sheriff’s department and coordinate those sweeps. Then I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to start on. I assume if I ask you to stay off the water, you’ll completely ignore me, so instead, I’ll just ask that you call me immediately if you feel that anything is off. Anything at all. Your intuition is better than most people’s eyesight.”
I nodded and he leaned over to kiss me, then left. I waited until I heard the front door close, then poured the rest of the coffee in my mugs and started another pot. Then I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Ida Belle and Gertie.
Meeting at my place whenever you’re up and moving. Just started another pot of coffee. Use your key. I don’t want to get out of the chair again.
About fifteen minutes later, the front door opened and I heard them arguing as they walked toward the kitchen.
“I’m just saying that a bouquet would be nice,” Gertie said. “No one’s telling you to carry a bush around. You’re so drama these days.”
“I already told you that these hands carry exactly two things when I’m wearing camo—guns and dead things. I’m guessing neither would be appropriate for a wedding.”
Gertie threw her hands in the air and flopped into a chair as Ida Belle poured them some coffee. They both looked as bad off as I felt.
“Looks like we could all use another round of sleep,” I said.
“I had cucumbers on my eyes for thirty minutes,” Gertie said. “I finally gave up and pulled out the Preparation H.”
Ida Belle gave her a look of dismay. “Those kinds of problems have nothing to do with a lack of sleep. And we don’t want to hear about them.”
“I put it on my eyes,” Gertie said. “It reduces inflammation. Doesn’t matter if it’s your eyes or the thing you don’t want to talk about. Those beauty pageant girls have been doing it for years. I’ve told you about this.”
“I probably zoned out when you got to the Preparation H part,” Ida Belle said.
Gertie shook her head and looked over at me. “I have some in my purse if you’d like a swipe before Carter sees you looking like a Walking Dead extra.”
“Carter has already seen me,” I said. “I sent that text right after he left and since he didn’t look any better than we do, I’m calling it an equal rights thing and moving on. Plus, I don’t care, which pretty much solves everything.”
Gertie looked at Ida Belle and sighed. “She’s you. A younger, better, prettier you.”
Ida Belle grinned.
“So what did Carter have to say?” Ida Belle asked. “Are we on search duty again? What time are they starting?”
“They’re not,” I said and relayed what Carter had told me. They both frowned but neither seemed surprised by the news.
“I figured we’d go out and do our own thing, though,” I said. “I mean, if you think that’s the best plan.”
“What do you think?” Ida Belle asked. “Does this feel like something more than an accident?”
I shrugged. “I don’t have enough information to know. But I don’t like it. Molly seemed more than capable of handling herself but if you combine her disappearance with that phone call, then it doesn’t sound good. I’d love to know if that blood on the anchor was Molly’s. Because if it was, and it was recent, then no way she slipped and hit her head on it, then fell overboard but somehow managed to put it back in the storage bench before she drowned.”
“Seems like a really stupid thing to do if you were the killer,” Gertie said. “Why not just throw it overboard?”
“Because most criminals are dumb as rocks,” Ida Belle said. “And thank God for that.”
“It might be nothing,” I said. “For all we know it could be from fish or an older injury.”
“If Carter keeps investigating, then we’ll know, right?” Gertie asked.
“I thought the same thing earlier,” I said, “but now that I’ve had a couple cups of coffee, I’m not sure. I don’t know anything about insurance and estates and all that legal mess, but I’d think anyone standing to gain would have to have some sort of evidence that Molly was deceased. I mean, the CIA has its own set of criteria for operatives, but I figure it’s got to be worse for civilian cases, which means he’ll need as much information as he can get for a report, right?”