Page 12 of Nightshade

Stilwell and Lampley stepped back, raising their hands in surrender, and watched as the big man hoisted his upper body up over the edge of the deck. His dark suit and slicked-back hair made him look like one of the seals that often sunned on the deck in the mornings. He dragged himself out of the water and rolled onto his back, seemingly exhausted by the effort.

“Goddamn it!” he yelled. “I bet you loved that, Stillborn.”

“Actually, no,” Stilwell said. “Because now we have to worry about you getting dry clothes instead of working the case.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sure.”

Stilwell turned to Lampley, whose eyes were wide with what he had just witnessed.

“When he’s up, take him to the sub,” he said. “Get him a hot shower and some clothes out of the court closet—if anything fits. I’ll stay here. Call me when he’s ready and I’ll come over if the recovery team is finished.”

Ahearn was pulling a wet wallet out of his back pocket.

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “You could have warned me, Stillborn.”

“You mean about wearing your Men’s Wearhouse oxfords on a boat dock?” Stilwell said. “Yeah, I guess I could have.”

Ahearn slowly started to get up, dripping water from every thread of his suit. He immediately slipped again and went down to one knee.

“Goddamn it, help me up!”

Lampley offered him a hand and Ahearn grabbed it and intentionally tried to pull him down, but the young deputy was able to hold his ground. Ahearn let go and got up on his own. He looked up at the pier and saw several tourists aiming their phones at the skiff dock.

“Great,” he said. “All I need. I want every one of those phones collected and the videos deleted.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Stilwell said. “Just go to the substation, get a shower, and put warm clothes on. We’ll talk then.” He looked at Lampley and nodded toward the gangway. “Take him,” he said.

Lampley held out his hand to help Ahearn get to the gangway, but the detective slapped it away and crossed the deck with tiny steps, looking like someone on a pair of ice skates for the first time. Once he got to the rubber matting of the gangway, he was safe. He turned and looked back at Stilwell as if to say something but thenthought better of it and headed up the ramp. He kept one hand on the railing but held the other up, offering his middle finger to anyone still videoing his embarrassment.

Stilwell watched them go until his phone started to buzz with a call from Tash Dano. She had seen Ahearn’s deck slide from the harbor control tower.

“Wow, that was embarrassing,” she said. “Was that the man from homicide?”

“It was,” Stilwell said. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. What’s up, Tash?”

“Does that guy’s splash delay things? How long until I can bring the last boats in from the bay? It’ll be dark soon and they’re getting a little pissed off sitting out there.”

“Hold on.”

Stilwell put the phone in his shirt pocket and then took the radio off his belt. It was set to the dive team’s frequency, so there was no need for him to speak in code to the topside deputy, Gary Saunders, whom Stilwell had known for years.

“Gary, how long we talking now?”

He waited for a return voice on the radio.

“Uh, yeah, they’re bringing her up. They already bagged her and we have the curtain up, so no worry on the lookie-loos. We’ll get her on here and then we’re done. Chuck already did a floor search. There’s nothing. She was dropped somewhere else, probably in the bay, and the tide brought her in here.”

“Roger that. What I thought.”

“The weight belt is yours?”

“I borrowed it.”

“Okay, we’ll bring it to you.”

“Thank you.”

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