'Really? You'd do that?' He sounded like a little boy, suspicious that he might be tricked.
'Sure. If you throw in a ride back to the beach to get my car.'
Walter proved more cooperative than Liz expected. He seemed to think Scott was an old navy friend of his. He kept mumbling something about Phillip Norris's kid. But once they got him inside his bedroom, he clicked into his routine. He mumbled and shuffled as he took off his shoes and put them where they belonged in the closet. Then he emptied his pockets into the valet tray on his dresser. Liz kissed him goodbye on the cheek and he waved her out of his bedroom.
At the funeral home Scott rolled the generator out the back of the SUV like a pro. Liz helped him fill it with gasoline. He talked too much, either because he was tired or because he was uncomfortable being alone with her. Or--and she hated that she jumped to this conclusion--because he'd been drinking. It didn't matter. She just wanted to finish here, get her car, and catch some sleep. The storm's outer bands were predicted to kick up winds and the downpour would start sometime tomorrow afternoon.
She showed Scott all the basics--how to choke the generator and how to calculate the wattage of each appliance he connected. All the while he rambled on about the new air-conditioned walkway he'd installed between the two buildings and his huge walk-in refrigerator.
'I added all this stuff only to find out none of it is connected to a backup generator. Can you imagine not having a backup for the cooler? In a funeral home?'
Finished with the instructions, she helped him pull the machine into an outdoor supply shed. It was only ten feet away from the building, hidden behind some trees.
She waited in the doorway as he spread a tarp over the generator and used bungee cords to fasten it. That's when she noticed the battered white stainless-steel cooler. It was huge. The lid had been left open, leaning up against the wall, and Liz noticed the fish-measuring ruler molded into the lid. A tie-down hung from the cooler's handle, a rope made of yellow-and-blue strands.
Liz felt a little sick to her stomach. This cooler looked exactly like the one she had pulled out of the Gulf.
CHAPTER 44
'Oh my God, that feels good,' Maggie told Platt as he settled beside her on the edge of the bed.
'You're going to have to stop talking about this case so you can relax and enjoy this.'
What Maggie couldn't tell Platt was that she had to keep talking because as soon as she thought about his hands on her bare back she felt herself getting aroused.
'There's an area right around here,' he said as his hands slid to her lower back. 'This should put you to sleep.'
She closed her eyes. He didn't have a clue. Or if he did, he was better at hiding it than she was.
'You didn't answer my question,' she said and wondered if she sounded just as breathless as she felt. He was right. It was starting to be difficult to concentrate but not because she was falling asleep.
'Why wrap the body parts?' Platt's hands continued without interruption. 'Maybe he's adding to a collection.'
'This fishing cooler is huge.' His fingers kneaded her skin, a combination of pressure and caress. 'Where do you buy something like that?'
'Sporting goods store? Or a place that sells boats?'
'A boat. I didn't even think of that. He must own a boat.'
'This is probably why you can't sleep,' Platt said. 'You won't let your mind shut off. You're still trying to figure things out.'
'The subconscious does continue to work through problems and then find--' His thumbs pressed into the middle of her back and took her breath away.
'That's better,' Platt said.
'So you're purposely ... trying ... to shut me up.'
'Exactly. Just for a few minutes, okay?'
'You talk then.'
'Really? You don't like silence?'
She nodded or tried to.
'Okay. If it's going to help relax you.'
He started telling her about a place where his family spent vacations when he was a boy. A cottage on the North Carolina shore. The kitchen overlooked the beach. Bright-yellow curtains and a tablecloth to match. He'd stay inside on the afternoons that his mother baked. She'd tell him to go play in the sand but he wanted to be there when the cinnamon rolls or peanut-butter cookies drizzled with sugar came out of the oven. So she'd let him help. He measured and stirred while they talked about the books he'd brought to read during vacation. They'd discuss the powers of wizards, the discovery of the Titanic, and whether sea dragons really existed.
At some point Maggie heard the sound of waves. She smelled the salt water, and for a second she thought she could even smell cinnamon. She had a light-headed sensation of floating on water. In her mind she saw the waves rolling, capped by white foam. Felt the spray on her face. There was nothing but water all around her. No land in sight. Just the gentle rocking of the water.
CHAPTER 45
Liz sat in her car on the beach. Scott had dropped her off almost half an hour ago. She needed to drive home, take a shower, get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a long, hard day. And yet here she sat, staring out at the waves, her mind still reeling. Before leaving Scott, she had asked about the marine cooler, keeping her voice light and casual.
'A friend left it here. Just for a day or two,' he told her.
'A friend in the business?'
'Yeah, why?'
'No reason. I just ...' She had found herself stumbling because she could still see the plastic-wrapped body parts. 'I've never seen one with a measure molded inside the lid like that.'
'Oh yeah. I didn't notice that.' He had walked around to the front of the cooler to get a better look. 'I bet Joe didn't notice it, either. He doesn't exactly use it for fishing.'
'Really? What does he use it for?'
That was where she crossed the line. She saw him shut down, a hint of suspicion replacing his need to charm and inform. In the end he shrugged like it was no big deal.
'I don't know. Whatever you use a cooler like that for.'
Then he walked her out of the shed.
Liz had already called Sheriff Joshua Clayton only to have one of his deputies call her back, saying this wasn't of an urgent nature.
'We've got a hurricane on its way,' the deputy told her. 'Sheriff Clayton has already determined this case is on hold until after the storm.'
He was right. Finding a fishing cooler that looked like the one filled with body parts didn't seem urgent. But something about finding it in the back of a funeral home kept Liz from dismissing it.
She could see the top floor of the Hilton. She pulled out her cell phone again. Punched 411 and asked for the phone number.
'Hilton Pensacola Beach Gulf Front. This is the front desk.'
'Yes, I'd like to talk to one of your guests. Maggie O'Dell.'
'All of our guests have checked out. Oh, wait. O'Dell. The FBI agent with Mr. Wurth?'
'Yes, that's right.'
'She is here until noon tomorrow.' Then he hesitated. 'Is this urgent?'
