Chapter two

Jenny won’t be expecting me, Sam thought, but she might worry that Lee didn’t call in to let her know he was on his way. It was about eight blocks to the beach condo. Sam knew the route well, but he stopped short one block away from Jenny’s home when he saw two unmarked police cars already in the driveway. One was from the Carolina Beach office. Sam didn’t recognize the other.

Sam made his way toward the condo through another’s backyard and snugged up close to the beachfront screened porch, thinking that’s where Jenny would most likely be this evening, but he heard Jenny sobbing in the living room, caught up in one officer’s explanation of what he thought had happened and congratulating her on her husband’s bravery. Adjacent to the screen door was a window to a small den; through the window, Sam could see somebody was rifling through the desk and closet.

“What the…?” Sam caught his voice before a sound escaped his lips. Making his way back to the front of the condo, Sam knocked before entering.

“Hi, Jenny!” he called as he entered the condo’s main room. “I came as soon as I could.” Sam walked directly to Jenny and hugged her tightly. When he released her, she sat robotically on the sofa.

“Word travels fast,” he said to Andy Keller, a fellow Carolina Beach officer, who stood to leave.

“Yeah, I picked it up on the scanner, Sam. Got over here as soon as I could.” He made his way to the door. “Glad to see you’re okay, man. Never know about the crazies anymore.”

“Have you heard anything? Why?” Sam’s question was unanswered.

“Don’t know,” Andy said. “Chief’s going to want answers, though. You want me to give you a ride to the marina?”

“No,” Sam said. “I’ll sit with Jenny a while.” Sam listened for movement in the den, but he heard none.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Jenny said haltingly. “I’ve called my neighbor to come be with me, so you go with him.”

“Call if you need me,” Sam said, his eyes searching Jenny’s for evidence of shock.

“I will…I think I’d really just like to be alone now, though.”

Sam hugged her, then got up to leave. He made an excuse of needing a glass of water so he could peek into the den. All he saw was a window left wide open. He went in to close it, and to search for clues, but he found none. Looking at the rest of the room, nothing seemed out of place. What was Lee into that would cause this kind of a ruckus?

“Come on, Sam,” said Andy when he returned to the living room. “I’ll give you a ride.” Sam mulled over why there could have been another policeman at Jenny’s, but he decided not to broach the subject with Andy—just yet. Call it shock, call it mistrust. Sam wasn’t willing to consider what the nagging voice in the back of his mind was telling him, though.

When Andy dropped him off at the marina, Sam made his way down the floating ramp to his dock at a fast clip to his boat—his home. His live aboard boat looked like it had been tossed and pummeled by a rogue wave: the hatch boards had been ripped off of their hinges, his propane stove on the stern railing was upside down, and each of the cockpit cushions Sam had just finished recovering in a smart Persian green Sumbrella fabric were slashed to ribbons.

Down below, things looked worse. The salon settee table was torn from the bulkhead, all of his books were off their shelves, and the finely-cut teak fiddles that had so neatly held them in place were splinters. Every bit of food Sam had stored in box compartments under both bunks was strewn around the galley and salon, and the PVC pipes under the galley sink were slashed.

“They were thorough,” Sam said to no one as he started to pick up the mess in the salon. “Wonder what they think I have?”

By the time he found his clock in a pile on the salon floor, he saw it was four o’clock in the morning. He pushed the books off the V-berth and fell into a fitful sleep.