Maybe Chuck had the right idea—move to a secluded piece of property, settle in, live a simple, anonymous life. Of course, I’d have to start with a new identity and stay off the radar. I was no stranger to becoming invisible. I wouldn’t even tell Isabella, my handler at Cobra Company.
It was food for thought.
A thought that lasted half a second. Hiding out just wasn’t my style.
Eliminate all the bad guys… that seemed like a better option.
JD turned into the parking lot at Diver Down and pulled around to the dock. There was a little activity within the restaurant and bar.
I hopped out of the car and told him I'd catch up with him in the morning. He pulled away, and the engine howled as he disappeared into the night.
I ambled down the dock to the Avventura. Boats swayed in their slips, and the moon cast a pale glow over the marina. The calming sound of waves lapping against fiberglass hulls drifted through the air.
I crossed the passerelle to the aft deck of the superyacht and slid open the sliding glass door to the salon. I was greeted by an excited Jack Russell Terrier. Buddy bounced and barked. I knelt down and petted him and scratched his chin. I grabbed his leash and took him out for a walk before bed, then settled in for the evening.
Daniels called bright and early the next morning. Amber rays of sunlight blasted into my stateroom. I snatched the phone from the nightstand and swiped the screen. The sheriff's gruff voice filtered through the speaker, "Did you nitwits find some type of toxic waste in the ocean?"
"Yeah, what's going on?" I said in a scratchy, dry voice.
"I got a call from DEP. They sent a salvage crew to recover that barrel."
"They got on that fast."
"It seems they take that kind of thing seriously. Anyway, it contained a little more than toxic material. It's sitting in a warehouse at a containment facility. I need you and numb-nuts to get over there right now."
5
DEP had contracted with KNG Salvage. Among other things, they were a licensed hazmat removal and disposal operation. Fully bonded and insured and permitted with the state. They dealt mostly with boats that sank and had the potential to leak fuel and oil into the water. They weren’t the company to call if you had an oil tanker with a massive spill. But they were more than capable of pulling a steel drum out of the water and making sure its hazardous contents got disposed of in a way that didn't damage the environment.
The medical examiner's van was in the parking lot when we arrived. We parked the car, hopped out, and after a quick stop in the main office, we were directed to the scene. An employee named Thad escorted us toward a steel warehouse not far from the dock where a salvage tug was moored. The whole compound was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire.
Thad was in his early 20s. He had a slender build and dark hair. His eyes were wide with excitement. "I've been working here a few years, and we’ve pulled a lot of things out of the ocean, but never anything like this."
Gulls squawked in the sky, floating on the draft. The sun glimmered on the water. Deckhands hustled about the salvage tug.
We walked through the open bay door of the warehouse. The flash of a camera bounced off the walls as a forensic photographer snapped photos of the contents of the barrel. He wore an industrial respirator and a white PPE suit. So did Brenda as she hovered over the container, peering inside.
"What have you got?" I asked as we approached.
The stench emanating from the barrel twisted my nose, and I quickly realized why they were wearing respirators.
"See for yourself," Brenda said, her muffled voice filtering through the mask.
I held my breath, stepped close, and leaned over the barrel.
My face soured.
I stepped away and filled my lungs with a breath of fresh air when I was in the clear.
JD gave a gander as well. Curiosity had gotten the best of him. He didn't linger long and joined me a few feet away from the barrel.
Crammed into the sludge-filled container was a skeleton.
Surrounded by black goo, the flesh had completely decomposed. The remains looked like something out of a horror movie. It was the kind of barrel that was never supposed to be opened. The kind of container that could start the zombie apocalypse. I halfway expected the gooey skeleton to climb out of the barrel and start gnawing on flesh.
Brenda pulled off her mask and joined us. "You guys find the strangest things."
"Tell me about it," I replied.
"She's been in there for some time."
"She?"
Brenda nodded. "Hard to say how long. Looks like there’s a serial number stenciled on the barrel. I’ll see if I can track down its origin. The warning label says it contains sodium hydroxide—a common chemical used in industrial settings. It would have dissolved the flesh rapidly, leaving the skeleton mostly intact. I'm going to go out on a limb and say she didn't get in that barrel all by herself."
"Somebody killed her, stuffed her in a barrel full of chemicals, and dumped her at sea," JD muttered. "They almost got away with it."
"You haven't caught them yet," Brenda snarked.
"It's early. Give it time." Jack smiled.
A slight chuckle escaped her lips. "I'll let you know what I find out."
We left the warehouse and walked back to the parking lot.
Paris Delany arrived with a news crew. They hopped out of the van, and the cameraman shouldered his
