nibble.
“ Whoever did this to Allison Norris wants for power. craves control of the ultimate-life itself. He kills to show that he has the power in his hands to do so,” Jessica said.
“ He takes their manna, their being,” Santiva agreed. “At least, he thinks he does, and so long as he believes he does, he’ll continue to kill.”
“ He takes their power away from them, takes power from another living creature and claims all that power for himself. I’ve seen it before.”
“ I know you have. That’s why you’re here on the case with me. Now, if you don’t mind…” He indicated the picture, his queasiness threatening a return.
She closed the file jacket, leaned back in her cushioned chair and rode out the remainder of the storm.
Forty-nine minutes later, below a silver spray of rain shimmering in bright sunlight, they landed on a newly blackened, rain-slicked, glassy runway at Miami International. A smoother landing Jessica had never experienced, and when the captain came on the intercom to give himself a cheer, saying that after twenty-seven years of flying he’d finally made the perfect landing, everyone offered a spirited hand-clapping and hooting reply-at least those who were able to.
After this and the taxiing to the airline terminal, the usual deplaning chaos ensued. Everyone wanted off as quickly as possible, wanted to feel their feet on the solid construction of the airport walkways. But one man was forcing his way onto the plane, holding up a gold shield and shouting Santiva’s name.
Santiva waved the heavyset, middle-aged man with the balding head and Gene Hack man features forward. As the passengers thinned out, the Miami-Dade homicide detective managed to shuffle down the aisle and come alongside the patient FBI team he’d come to welcome to Miami.
“ You’re Eriq Santiva,” he said, smiling, extending his hand, the gregarious grin remaining on his face even as he vigorously shook Santiva’s hand and then exchanged it for Jessica’s. “And you must be Dr. Coran. What a pleasure, an honor, really, to meet you both. I’m Detective Charles Quincey, MPD. Just call me Quince. Everybody does. I was sent ahead with Mark, my partner”-he indicated a man in a gray suit who’d held back at the exit-”you know, to kinda escort you out of here and onto the waiting helicopter for Islamorada, or if you prefer to take a little time, freshen up; we can arrange that as well.”
Santiva turned to Jessica and muttered, “Helicopter… isn’t there any other way to this Isma-whatever-Key?” She stifled an urge to smile. “Not if we’re going to make time, no.”
Eric’s frown brought the enthused MPD detective down. “Escort away,” Eriq told him, “and as for taking a little time, yes, by all means, and thank you, Detective.” Jessica grabbed her carry-on and the round Detective Quincey made a grab for it.
“ No thanks, Detective. This one stays with me.” He realized that it was her professional black bag. “Ahh, yes, Dr. Coran, and may I say on behalf of the MPD, we’re extremely glad to have you on the case.”
“ That would be a refreshing attitude,” she replied.
“ It’s true, Doctor. We’re at wit’s end and we know it. This makes the ninth victim in the state to wash ashore in as many months. I mean this bastard’s doing ‘em on average of one a month, maybe more. We’ve had a lotta strange disappearances.”
“ The disappearances outnumber the bodies, I understand,” she replied.
“ ‘ Fraid so, yes ma’am… er, Doctor.”
Outside the plane but inside the exit ramp, which was like a sauna in Miami in the springtime, they met Charles Quincey’s partner, a well-proportioned, tanned and tall man with piercing blue eyes and the rugged good looks of an outdoorsman, perhaps a fisherman or maybe just someone who spent a lot of hours playing volleyball at South Miami Beach. The younger man’s level of enthusiasm was nil, contrasting sharply with Quincey’s attitude. Obviously, Quincey’s partner did not share his appreciation for having the Feds come in on the case, for this detective offered no handshakes, nor could he be bothered to open his mouth, more or less groaning his name, Detective Mark Samernow.
Jessica thought that Samernow looked as if he’d slept in his clothes; perhaps he’d pulled an all-night stakeout, or simply an all-nighter.
Samernow was disheveled, whereas Quincey had obviously put some hair gel and some thought into their meeting. Quince was together, perhaps for the first time in his career as a detective, his hair slicked down, his tie in a knot around a neck that didn’t easily take to it, reddening and swelling and about to burst; even cuff links showed at his wrists. Samernow, by comparison, had a wild shock of dark hair lying over his forehead and one eye, his tie snatched viciously away from his neck, a short-sleeved white shirt with a jacket carelessly tossed over his shoulder, making Jessica wonder where his gun was.
Samernow began kidding Quince about how his thick neck looked like ten pounds of sausage in a five-pound bag, and how, when it burst, the buttons were going to go like shotgun pellets. Samernow warned Jessica and Santiva to duck when the thing blew and then laughed at his own joke.
Quince told his partner to shut up.
Now the two detectives warned of the press just ahead, and they weren’t kidding. Along the corridor, there was a retinue of police uniforms and authorities in suits, all waiting along with a small army of newspeople with notepads, recorders and huge microphones extended on lances, their cameras held overhead like loaded cannon flashing the fire of battle. “I guess things are kinda slow in Miami these days,” commented Jessica.
“ Looks like we’re tomorrow’s headline.”
They stopped long enough to assure the reporters and the people of Miami and south Florida that the FBI was making the Night Crawler case a number one priority. Cameras flashed in their faces as they fielded a handful of questions, each one of which required more assurances.
Quince parted the sea before them and led them to a private room in the airport, where Santiva composed himself and Jessica lingered at a window, staring down at a helicopter waiting below to take them to Islamorada Key.
For a time, Jessica wondered if she would ever get Eriq on board the helicopter, telling him at one point that he should stay behind and get familiar with the case from Miami’s point of view, and that she would rejoin him as soon as she could. But he proved too stubborn to leap at the opportunity she extended him, begging another Dramamine patch instead.
And now finally, here they were, at the shark research facility that had tipped them off to what appeared to be quite a cache of body parts, the pathological evidence they had come for. To Jessica, it appeared a kind of dark gold mine.
“ Precious is a nickname given Allison Norris by her father,” said Eriq, just returning from a hurried phone call. “That’s according to Quince in Miami. Quince will call to confirm if Allison wore a bracelet inscribed with the name, but it seems an almost foregone conclusion, given the circumstances.”
Jessica paused in her work over another body part. “Still, a tissue match will be necessary to verify the fact beyond a mirrored shadow… to lay solid foundation against the man who fed Allison to the sharks.”
“ Well, sure…just thought you’d like to know.” She nodded. “Thanks.” Jessica would also have to return with any and all other body parts which Wainwright and company had unearthed here, and tests would have to be run on each, with an eye to matching them to other bodies that had incongruously washed ashore along Florida’s blindingly bright, pastel-colored, idyllic-looking coastal waterways.
Wainwright came to her with yet another bundle of body parts. “There’re a few more small pieces in the freezer, but you’ve got the bulk of it now, at least till we continue our work on the sharks again maybe…”
“ I want to see everything you have, Dr. Wainwright, every specimen, all of it,” she announced. “And I’ll need a larger area in which to work, if you don’t mind.”
“ That’d have to be our main lab, where we do most of the sharks.” You can’t use it,” said Insley suddenly. She’d obviously gotten hold of herself and had returned from her bed. “That would disrupt our entire operation.”
“ I believe, Dr. Insley, that your entire operation here has already been interrupted,” countered Jessica. “I’ll need the space for at least the next twenty-four hours, and if your people discover more human tissue or bones, I’ll want you to turn these over to us as well.”
“ Then I did the right thing, calling you in?” asked Wainwright, solely for Insley’s benefit.
Jessica nodded solemnly. “That you did, Dr. Wainwright… that you did.”
