Page 7 of Nowhere to Hide
Not my problem. I probably would have fucked it up more.
I gave one last glance at the woman who was being worked on by two professionals. They had her hooked up to an IV and were rolling her onto the board. Her skin took on a gray tone.
She needed blood and fast. It wasn’t something that most ambulances had at the ready.
Something made me want to follow her up the pier to the ambulance.
I locked it down. I gave her a chance—all I could do.
Before they got too far, I shouted, “What hospital?”
What the hell was my problem?
The female EMT looked back. “North Shore.” Then she transferred her to the gurney to push her to the top of the parking lot.
“Sir?”
I turned to the cop. “Yeah?”
His hands were still in his pockets as he glanced at the decimated crime scene. I could tell he was pissed, but he quickly masked it. “Can you tell me what you saw? Also your full name.” He pulled his phone out and hit record.
Resigned, I nodded. “Locke Jordan.”
“Address?”
I pointed at the boat with my finger. “Knot on Your Life—with a K-N. Slip fourteen here at the marina. I was out on the water enjoying the sunset and the quiet. I like quiet.”
His lips ticked up a bit. “Same. No actual address?”
I rattled off my Boston address. Which I was still avoiding.
Maybe I should just sail back out into the harbor tonight and head up to Maine.
Far away from this mess.
I cleared my throat. “This is my slip for the next week or so. I was coming in to dock when I saw the man standing on my slip. I flipped on my spotlight and then saw the woman prone on the dock.”
Prone, such an innocuous word for what she’d been. Pinned and the struggling to survive. Whatever that piece of shit haddone to her pushed her closer to death as she tried to survive. Torture?
It threatened to dig into me. The need to puzzle it out. The need to know.
It had been so long since I’d felt even a kernel of interest in anything other than the sea.
I shoved it back down and let the facts roll over my tongue.”At first I thought she was unconscious, then I noticed the ropes. The guy took off. Tall, all dark clothing and gloves. He had a hood up so I couldn’t see more than a flash of a face. White guy if I had to guess, but there’re no facts there, just a feeling.”
“Feelings mean jack all.”
I nodded. “Fair.”
Pockets cop nodded. “Anything else?”
“I don’t know anything about whatever the fuck this was, but it didn’t feel like this was his first time. The knots were too...” I trailed off, the memory of her trussed up made my chest tighten. “The knots were intricate. The way her hands above her head seemed to be attached to the rope at her neck maximized the way it cinched tighter.” I shrugged. “Not sure how else to put it. When I tried to cut her free it tightened the rope on her throat. I didn’t notice she was bleeding at first. I was mostly worried that she’d been assaulted. Her dress was flipped up enough that her stomach was bare. When I knelt next to her...” My gaze locked on the blood.
Like all the blood under Milligan. Bigger pool.
I stared at my stained hands.
Just like that day.
