Page 3 of Water's Edge

Cove.

Floater

A floater is a tasteless but accurate descriptive term we use for bodies found in water. I haven’t been on the job very long—two years—but this is the first time I’ve heard of a drowning in the little cove of Mystery Bay, Marine State Park.

“Homicide?” I ask.

He gives a little shrug. “They want a detective. You tell me after you get there.”

I grab my windbreaker that doubles as a raincoat, thinking the sheriff is done.

He’s not.

“Detective Carpenter, meet Reserve Deputy Marsh.”

A younger version of me, but with red hair instead of blond, steps in front of my desk with her hand held out. A smattering of freckles high on her cheekbones are visible through the makeup she’s applied. The hand is perfectly manicured.

Those nails won’t last the day, I think.

I can’t help but notice my own hands just then. My skin is dry, tanned from spending time in the sun. Nails somewhat chewed but practical for this kind of work.

I already don’t like her, but, to be fair, I don’t know her.

I remind myself to get to know her first and then not like her.

Her grip is like water, soft. She is wearing a blue pinstriped suit with a white silk blouse billowing out in front. She probably got the idea for her getup from a television show where all the female cops are busty, with longish styled hair, and dressed in high heels. Her ridiculous outfit will last about as long as her nails before it’s ripped or covered with mud or puke or blood.

“Ronnie Marsh,” she says.

“Nice to meet you, Ronnie.” I don’t mean it. I’ve got a case to work, and in my mind I’m already heading to Marrowstone Island. I let her hand drip through mine, and I slip into my windbreaker. As I turn for the door, Sheriff Gray stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I don’t like to be touched, but I’ll make an allowance for him.

“Take her with you, Megan.”

I work alone. Always have. I work alone for a reason. I don’t want complications. I don’t want relationships. Working together qualifies as a relationship. Relationship equals abandonment. That’s what life has taught me. My brother Hayden hates me because I left him in Idaho with a veritable stranger. My mother betrayed and lied to me in the worst way.

Everyone does eventually.

Reserve Deputy Marsh can ride along with me for today, but that’s it.

“You’ve got her for a week.”

I shoot him a look. I don’t care if the reserve sees it or not.

“I’m swamped, Sheriff. I can do today. Maybe you can give her to someone else?”

“Swamped with what?”

I stay mute. He already knows the answer. I’m tempted to say,Sheriff, you and I both know I’m not working shit right now. So why don’t we save some time here and you hand her to someone that wants to work her.But I don’t say that because Sheriff Gray gave me a job when probably no one else would. Because he knows things about me. Because he has helped me erase some of my past mistakes. And, more than anything, because he is about the only person I can trust.

He doesn’t remove his hand from my shoulder. “You might as well take vacation time, Megan. It’s so dead around here.”

I wish he wouldn’t use that word: “dead.” It has a way of multiplying trouble. Like a virus.

Just then, Nan, Sheriff Gray’s assistant, shows up. She is also wearing a suit. She and Marsh could be twins. I change my assessment of where Marsh got the idea for her attire. She must have seen Nan.

That doesn’t bode well for her.

“Sheriff,” Nan says, “Marine Patrol wants to know if they need to respond to the drowning.” She’s looking at me, smiling at Marsh, and talking to the sheriff. She’s perfected multitask ass-kissing. “Should I tell them you’re both with a suspect and can’t be disturbed?”

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