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Popeye, the previously friendly black cat that guarded Madre’s Mayhem, stared down at Miriam as if he meant to eat her, his alert eyes jerking with every move she made at the bottom of the ramp.
She hollered up the ramp for Bark but got no response.
“He lives on a boat?” Macy asked.
“I don’t know if he lives here. But this where I met him.”
After yelling his name again without any success, Miriam started up the ramp. Macy grabbed Miriam’s wrist, stopping her progress.
“What are you doing? You can’t just walk into someone’s house!” Macy protested.
Miriam considered Macy’s position. Technically, it would be trespassing, but it was a boat, sitting out in the water. It’s not like she was going to steal anything. Bark was old, and it seemed likely that maybe he just couldn’t hear her.
Miriam pried Macy’s hand loose. “You stay here. Keep watch. I’m just going to poke my head in. See if he’s below deck or something.”
Macy’s eyes burned with defiance, and the slightest bit of anger. “I am not comfortable with this.”
Miriam didn’t understand Macy’s discomfort. Finding Tanner meant investigating, after all.
“Don’t you want to find Tanner?” Miriam pleaded.
Macy looked up the ramp at the deceptively menacing cat, then back to Miriam. “I do. But trespassing? That’s illegal.”
It felt kind of nice for Macy to be the buzzkill for once.
Before Miriam could try to convince Macy to let her go up the ramp, her pocket buzzed. Once. Twice. A phone call, not a text. She didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” Miriam asked, tentatively.
“Ms. Brooks. Detective Wallace. I’m here at your hotel. Needed to talk to you.”
Miriam felt her heart jump in her chest. Had he found Tanner?
“I’m not at the hotel. Macy and I are down at the docks. Did you find him?”
Wallace paused and cleared his throat. “It’s best that we talk in person. I’ll come down and meet you in the Shady Shark parking lot. Does that work?”
The elation that Miriam first felt at hearing the detective’s voice started to abate. This didn’t sound like good news. Good news didn’t have to be delivered in person.
“Um, yeah,” Miriam stammered out. “W-We’ll be there.”
As she slid the phone back into her pocket, Macy looked at her with wet eyes. Though she hadn’t heard the conversation, she seemed to sense what might be coming. Miriam turned away from Madre’s Mayhem and headed toward the parking lot of the Shady Shark Motel.
“Is it Tanner?” Macy asked as she strode alongside.
Miriam only nodded.
***
Detective Wallace pulled up beside them as they leaned on Macy’s old beat up Sentra. The two hadn’t exchanged many words since the phone call, but Miriam could only assume that Macy felt the same trepidation bubbling in her stomach. They both stood to greet Wallace, but as he came around the front of his Crown Vic, he didn’t offer any handshakes. He looked sad. Worried. Apprehensive.
That could only mean one thing.
Miriam didn’t expect her voice to crack when she tried to ask the question. She had to stop and try again.
“Tanner? Is he...”
She couldn’t complete the sentence. She couldn’t bear to honor the possibility with words.
Wallace swallowed hard, speaking slowly. “We’re not sure.”
Miriam felt her chest loosen a little. “Not sure” meant that Tanner still had hope. It suddenly became easier to breathe.
“This morning,” Wallace continued. “A jogger found a severed leg on the beach. It might be... could be... It’s from a male. About Tanner’s age.”
A leg? Could Tanner survive losing a leg? The odds seemed low, but if anyone could do it, surely Tanner could find a way.
“So, that doesn’t mean he’s... gone,” Miriam said. “Just maybe injured.”
Wallace didn’t seem to want to participate in the hope. He took a beat, reached into his pocket and pulled out an old-fashioned cloth handkerchief. He handed it to Macy, and only then did Miriam notice the tears streaming down Macy’s face. Miriam refused to cry. Not yet. It wasn’t over yet. She needed Macy to be strong right now. Like her.
Detective Wallace continued, “If you don’t mind coming down to the ME’s office with me, maybe you can identify whether it’s his leg? There’s some identifying marks that we think might be able to prove it for sure.”
“Like what?” Miriam asked.
“A tattoo. On his calf.”
Miriam took a deep, unrestricted breath.
***
“I can’t do it.” Macy’s eyes were swollen and red as she stared out the windshield from the driver’s seat. “I want to support you, Mir, I really do. But I just...”
Miriam understood. How could she not? It’s not like she looked forward to seeing a severed leg, but it couldn’t be Tanner’s. Miriam felt sure of it. Detective Wallace had come to her sad and dejected, but the minute he mentioned the tattoo, Miriam knew that she had nothing to worry about.
Macy turned to Miriam and finished her thought. “I’m not a superhero like you. I can’t just look at icky things and be ok.”
Superhero? Is that what Macy thought of her? Miriam couldn’t decide if Macy meant the label as a compliment or an insult, but she felt a swell of pride in her chest, nonetheless. Miriam spent so much time comparing herself to others — to Macy, specifically — that she found a deep level of comfort in knowing that she had enviable qualities. Though, being able to “look at icky things and be ok” could hardly be qualified as a superpower.
“Just stay here,” Miriam offered. “I’ll go in. Tell him it’s not Tanner’s — because it isn’t — and then I’ll come back out here, and we’ll get some lunch.”
For the briefest moment, Macy looked like she might be sick. “Ew. You’re gonna go eat lunch after seeing a severed leg?”
Why not? She’d seen all manner of dead things. Not very many humans, admittedly.
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Miriam tried to couch her answer so as not to seem too freakish.
As she stepped out of the car, she turned and tried her best to give Macy a reassuring look. It didn’t seem to work.
Miriam took off towards the glass doors of the medical examiner’s office, spending the time thinking about whether her complete lack of fear made her weird. Probably. But it wasn’t the only thing.
Detective Wallace waited inside the door, leaned up against the wall and staring at his cell phone. When Miriam stepped in beside him, he shoved it into a hidden pocket inside his suit jacket.
“You ready for this?” he asked.
Miriam nodded and followed as he led her to a room labeled “Examination Room A.” He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. All the lab’s chemical smells came rushing out, reminding Miriam of biology class and the hours she’d spent dissecting animals. She found a strange comfort in it, even though she knew that most would find the smells objectionable.
On a metal table in the middle of the room sat a leg, as promised. Long and strong, Miriam could see why someone might assume the leg belonged to Tanner. It certainly belonged to someone close to Tanner’s build. Maybe a little shorter, by the looks of it, and maybe a little less toned. Though she had to admit that she’d spent very little time studying her cousin’s legs.
As they approached the table, a man in a lab coat joined them. He offered an outstretched hand. “Dr. Gearhart. Nice to meet you.”
“Miriam Brooks,” she responded while shaking his hand.
Gearhart seemed more like her, indifferent to the smells, or the severed leg sitting on the table. Detective Wallace, on the other hand, looked as if he meant to run away.
“So, this is what we’ve got,” Gearhart said. “White male. Probably 6’3” or so. Exercises a lot, I think. Oh. And this—”
Miriam eyed the circular wounds along the thigh, but Gearhart didn’t draw attention to them. Did they honestly think she wouldn’t notice? Tanner or not, the owner of this leg had encountered the kraken.
Gearhart took the time to pull on latex gloves before twisting the leg around on its side so Miriam could see the back of it.
He motioned to a picture on the leg’s calf. “Tattoo. Pretty set. I think it’s been there a while. Months, at least.”
That ruled out the slim possibility that Tanner had surreptitiously gotten himself inked in the last few days. Miriam read the inscription and studied the ferocious image of a tiger. Same mascot as their old university, but Tanner didn’t play any sports there. State Champs implied high school.
“A high school tattoo,” Miriam said. “Probably football? Based on the size of the leg.”
Gearhart smirked, seemingly suppressing a full smile. “Astute. Yeah. Good theory. But, uh... is it your cousin’s?”
Miriam hadn’t even considered it, really, because she was so certain that it couldn’t be. But Gearhart and Wallace couldn’t read her mind.
“No. Can’t be,” Miriam said. “Tanner doesn’t have any tattoos. And our high school never won state in anything.”
Gearhart shot a glance at Wallace. Back to square one for them, Miriam supposed. She found it intriguing, though, that someone else had encountered the kraken. Still, severed limb or not, she wouldn’t believe that Tanner might be dead.
“The kraken did this?” Miriam asked. “Ripped his leg off?”
Gearhart looked surprised at the question, waiting for a nod from Wallace before answering. “Uh no. I think it was sawed off. Before the kraken, I think.”
Sawed off? What the hell kind of place was Cape Madre where people were getting dismembered? At least this meant that she could hope to find Tanner intact, though maybe with some broken ankles.
Reminded of his injury, Miriam pointed towards the ankle on the leg. Not that they needed any more proof. “Ankle looks fine. The kraken grabbed Tanner by his ankles. There’d be injuries there.”
Wallace looked surprised. “Damn. That makes sense. You told me that. Sorry. I should have noticed.”
Miriam didn’t take offense, shrugging at his unneeded apology.
She liked mysteries, but typical homicides were outside of her wheelhouse. She’d have to leave that to Detective Wallace, but the crossover with the kraken did stoke her interest. Was it merely a coincidence? Did someone kill a guy then toss his body parts overboard only for the kraken to happen upon it?
“Maybe whoever did this meant to feed it to the kraken,” Miriam suggested. “Clearly the kraken got its tentacles on it after the victim’s death, since there’s no bruising.”
Gearhart raised an eyebrow, sending a brief wave of embarrassment over Miriam as she remembered her atypical knowledge of these weird things. She could tell immediately that neither Gearhart nor Wallace cared for the implication. Wallace, in particular, looked distracted, seemingly lost in thought. She supposed he had a lot more to worry about now, the first of which would surely be identifying the actual owner of the leg.
In truth, Miriam didn’t like the implication, either. If the kraken dined on people, then she would have to confront the possibility that Tanner hadn’t turned up because he’d been eaten. She pushed the thought from her mind, forcing herself to remain impartial. To be a scientist. Especially here, with strangers.
When Wallace didn’t engage, Gearhart answered, “But it hasn’t been eaten.”
“True,” Miriam said. “But this is just a part of the body.”
Wallace finally zoned back in. “Thanks for the help, Ms. Brooks. I need to get going. I have some things to take care of.”
He ushered her to the door as Gearhart offered her a wave. She nodded in response.
Once they were out in the hallway, Miriam took off for the door, eager to tell Macy that she didn’t need to worry. Wallace clomped along behind her.
She turned before she stepped outside. “My offer’s still on the table, Detective. I can help you catch this thing.”
Detective Wallace pursed his lips and nodded.
