The Water Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE WATER

  First edition. April 1, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Nancy Jackson.

  ISBN: 978-1386944904

  Written by Nancy Jackson.

  The Water

  Nancy Jackson

  As always I must dedicate my work to my family. Being a wife and mother has been the greatest pleasure of my life.

  * * *

  I want to dedicate this book as well to my greater cheerleader and publicist, Mickey Bunal. Her enduring energy and excitement has blown me through some doubtful clouds as a new author. There are not enough words to thank you for what you constantly do for me.

  * * *

  To Angela Westerman who creates my original book covers and graphics. Thank you for ‘getting me’! Look her up and hire her for yourself at AKOrganicAbstracts.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Authors Note

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The water was cold. It had slapped her face and had taken her breath away when he’d plunged her head underneath. The hands gripped her hair tightly and she could not resist the force he used to hold her head underwater.

  Her arms and legs flailed about in an effort to land on the object of her resistance. The need to breathe fresh air deep into her lungs mounted a fire inside them. She could feel the hands firm against her skull, but their lack of confidence was unveiled by the slight tremor which she felt vibrating through her body.

  Odd how she could notice such things at this moment which she knew to be her last. It had to be the adrenaline that surged through her body making her acutely aware of all things, such as his smell. It was a strong body odor masked by cheap big box store after shave.

  Finally, her body could fight no more and it relaxed, taking in the water that it had fought so hard to refuse. Peace came at last as her body slumped and her limbs went limp. He no longer had to fight to hold her head underwater.

  It was done now. He released her hair, letting her head fall. Stepping back, the realization that he had once again failed, hit him hard. She was not clean; she was dead.

  Chapter 2

  It had been three months since Randy Jeffries and Carrie Border turned the Senna Carter murder case over to the district attorney. The broken ribs that Carrie had received from a bar night out gone wrong were healed and she could even complete her workout regime faithfully each day now, when she had the desire to do so.

  But the internal trauma remained and taunted her every day. As she sat at her desk, she once again remembered that at her lowest point it was easy to resolve that her life must change, but somehow in the light of a new day, it seemed much harder to do.

  On the day of her parents' death eight and a half years earlier her life had changed in an instant. The news had sucked the life out of her. And without the slightest effort on her part her life, personality, and priorities had all changed.

  Now that she wanted her life to change for the better, she seemed powerless to make it happen. She thought of the shame that surrounded her when she was forced to tell others how she had wound up beaten and broken. Self-hatred was her constant friend and had dampened her spunky spirit.

  The bruises of the beating and sharp pain of the broken bones had been replaced for a few weeks by the abusive workout routine she had instituted on her own. She herself wasn’t even sure if it was a form of self-punishment or merely an attempt to distract herself from the mental anguish she couldn’t escape.

  But her strenuous workout routine had not lasted, and she was feeling the overwhelming pull of her old life. She knew if she would just relax her resolve even the slightest, she would be completely back where she had been months ago.

  “Good morning,” said Randy as he walked up to their adjoining desks.

  “Good morning,” Carrie replied.

  Randy smiled at her. It had been a hard year so far, but their working relationship had not only survived, but grown stronger. The bond was tighter and even though they both felt it, they never spoke of it.

  “Did you have a good weekend?” Carrie asked Randy.

  A carousel of emotions flickered across Randy’s face. He was thinking the entire weekend over in a flash, to determine an appropriate response before answering.

  Carrie smiled. Randy was a thinker, and the play of various emotions his face displayed was the external indicator that his mind was not only thinking of how he had felt now about different stages of the weekend's events, but how he felt during them. Not until he had weighed all events, would he determine the overall outcome of the weekend.

  With a slight outward puff of air he replied, “Overall, I would say it was good.”

  “Anything better with you and Sandy?”

  Randy nodded. The thought of his and Sandy’s separation was still sharp. “We're talking. She's been going to church and wants me to go with her to a marriage group.”

  Carrie was considering how to respond. She didn’t know what the best thing for them was and had no basis in her own life to give relationship advice. She certainly had no advice about church, as she hadn’t gone to church since she was very young.

  When she didn’t respond, Randy continued, “I love her and want our marriage to work, but I have never enjoyed going to church, and I'm not sure I want them meddling in my life.”

  “Is there any other option? Like maybe just a licensed counselor?” Carrie thought that sounded safer than airing one’s dirty laundry to a group of judgmental church people.

  “I’ve asked her, but she is convinced that this is the best way.”

  “Oh. Well, what are you going to do?” Carrie asked.

  “Not sure yet. Still thinking," said Randy.

  The sharp ringing of Carrie’s cell phone startled her back to the office and the work surrounding her.

  “Hello,” answered Carrie.

  “Hey there gorgeous.” It was Mike Brown’s smooth voice coming over her phone line. He was a detective with the Oklahoma City Police Department. A year or so earlier, while working a case together, they had gotten close. But when the case ended, so had their little tryst.

  “Hmm, it’s you.” Carrie was grinning. She loved flirting with Mike, but somehow the fun of it all seemed tainted since her attack. Her chair groaned as she leaned back to listen. Would he get to the point or continue to flirt, she wondered.

  Randy could tell who it was just by Carrie’s body language and the sound of her voice. He was in total opposition to their breaking protocol during a case. When it had ended, he was glad it had not come back to damage both her career and the case.

  “Well, we have a case they have asked us to bring the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation in. Are you where you can come to a crime scene now?” said Mike.

  All business, Carrie leaned forward now on guard and said, “Yes. Text me the address.” She was already standing and reaching for her keys when she heard the phone go silent. Looking at Randy she motioned in a nod towards the door.

  “That was Mike. They want us at a crime scene.”

  If they had not had to fight the reconfiguration of the Ce
ntennial Parkway and I-44 crossing, they would have made it to the scene in only ten minutes.

  As they approached the crime scene, the rectangular spires of the Chesapeake Boat House rose before them. Carrie remembered that just a few short years ago this area was a neglected and almost unliveable area.

  The small houses were so ramshackle and decrepit that it was hard to believe they were in the middle of a prosperous city. This part of town had always felt creepy to Carrie, too.

  She didn’t get scared, she would be any good at her job if she did, but there had been something that had just felt evil to her in this part of town. Of course that was long before those in charge had decided to make it a shining facet in this jewel of a city.

  Tucked underneath the eastbound I-40 overpass just west of I-35 was a crew of Oklahoma City police offers, crime investigators, a medical examiner, and a few other necessary individuals.

  At the end of a manmade canal feeding from the Oklahoma River there was a body. Carrie could see Rick Morris, a detective with the Oklahoma City Police Department, gesturing with his blue gloved hands, to Mike.

  “It’s not an easy place to get to,” said Randy as they walked the long distance from where they had to park. The noise was almost deafening underneath the busiest highway intersection in Oklahoma. Carrie just nodded to avoid having to yell a comment back to her partner.

  Rick turned towards them as they walked up and without thinking, used his shirtsleeve to wipe his sweaty brow, still keeping the blue gloves away from contamination.

  “What were you two discussing so animatedly?” asked Carrie.

  Rick shook his head and snapped off his blue gloves apparently finished with them. He looked at the two OSBI agents with a concerned look, two quick beats before speaking.

  “I hate to say it, but this looks and feels like another bad one. I don’t think this will be a one-off murder. I just have that feeling in my gut. Mike disagrees,” said Rick.

  “We can’t know that for sure yet. I just don’t want to jump to conclusions until we know more,” said Mike.

  “We were wondering why a single murder in your jurisdiction would warrant calling us,” said Randy. “What have we got?”

  “White female, mid-twenties. Appears to have been drowned, but we won’t know for sure until the medical examiner is done. She is wet from the shoulders up where she was apparently submerged in the water over there near the end of the canal.” Rick was reading from his notes and stopped to gesture to where the body had been found.

  “She is blonde and approximately 115 pounds. She is dressed as if she was out clubbing, but honestly her clothes don’t look like some rich girl out on the town. Her clothes are very worn and shabby. Her high heels are old and scuffed.” Rick took a breath and looked at Randy and Carrie.

  “Could she have tripped and fell in and maybe it was an accident?” asked Carrie.

  “Nah. I don’t think so. What would she be doing down here? No, no reason I can think of. This is just drainage and overflow for the river,” Mike responded.

  “My opinion is that she is a working girl, and it all went bad. He either brought her here for privacy or brought her here on purpose to kill her,” said Rick.

  Carrie stepped aside as the gurney approached with the covered body. They slowed as she motioned for them to stop. She took a breath and held it to prepare herself to see this young girl, once vibrant with life, now cold and void.

  As she gently and respectfully pulled back the sheet, the matted and wet blonde hair sat haphazardly around her pretty face. Even in death it was easy to see that she had been beautiful.

  Carrie replaced the sheet and motioned for them to continue on. Sadness over the ending of this precious life settled in. It was that sadness that would drive her to find who did this. Soon it would be replaced with die hard anger and determination, and she would use it to find the killer.

  As the body continued on to the transport vehicle, the four of them went to where the body had been found. Tall weeds, dry now from the hot August heat and lack of rain, lay strewn and windblown. Trash was everywhere.

  Carrie looked from where she stood and carefully did a 360-degree turn looking for something, anything that might help lead her to the perpetrator. Nothing, she could determine from there.

  The water's edge was concrete at this point. This was a manmade canal that fed from the river. The ground was now dry, but it was easy to see where it had become wet and where the ground had been disrupted in a struggle.

  “I don’t think she went willingly,” said Carrie. “The ground over here is a horrible mess.” She motioned for the guys to come closer.

  “I would bet this is where her feet were digging into the ground as she tried to gain a foothold. And here,” she walked closer to the edge and slightly to the side. “He could have been here, and these indentions were where he was digging in with his knees or feet to press her hard into the water.”

  Mike squatted down by her and gently moved the flattened grass aside with his gloved hand looking, hoping. Finally he stood and snapped off his gloves too.

  His brow was deeply furrowed as he looked around. “Hopefully forensics will turn up something. Let’s see if we can find out who this girl is and find out more about her.”

  The four of them walked up the slope towards where they had parked. They were solemn, and each one was looking around as they walked, hoping to find even the smallest of clues. But the debris of countless passerby's was everywhere, so who could know what was relevant? It would take more time than one might want to take to sift through all of this, but they would.

  Once back at their cars Carrie began, “Well, what is the plan?” She was shielding her eyes from the sun. She needed her cap to keep the sun from coming in through the tops of her sunglasses, but had forgotten to bring it.

  “We’ll have Sylvia gather missing persons as usual,” began Rick. “Then get with the coroner.”

  “Let us know when they do the autopsy and we’ll be there,” said Randy.

  “Will do,” replied Rick.

  They all turned to make their way out from under the overpass and loaded up in their respective vehicles.

  Carrie was deep in thought. Her mind raced through a variety of reasons why this girl would have been murdered. Of course, she quickly realized that the list was virtually endless, and until they knew more about this girl, there was no way to narrow that list down.

  “Are you up for a little detour?” asked Randy.

  Carrie looked over at her partner wondering what he was up to. “Sure.”

  Randy pulled the car onto Reno Ave. and headed east a few blocks. At a rundown shanty of a place with an old neon sign out front that said Lulus, he pulled in and parked.

  Carrie snorted a laugh. “Where have you brought me?” She leaned forward to get a better view of the front of the building through the windshield.

  Randy opened his car door, so Carrie did likewise. Just once, Carrie wished her job would take her to somewhere really nice like the Petroleum Club for an elegant evening out, rather than one more below the belly bar. But then I feel right at home in a bar, don’t I, she thought.

  The parking lot had been graveled, but over time the gravel had been pushed deep into the mud and huge holes and dips had formed. The building looked as though it might fall down at any moment. There were literally patches of random wood boards and sheets of tin nailed all along the front in what appeared to be an attempt at repairs.

  Carrie wrinkled her nose and put her wrist up to block the stench. “What is that awful smell?” Her head was swiveling from right to left to locate the violator.

  Randy’s nose was wrinkled up too even though little got to him. She followed him as he walked to the side of the building where the odor grew stronger. As they turned the corner, a hoard of flies assaulted them.

  “Whoa!” Carrie stepped back quicker than she had stepped in and was flinging her hands and arms wildly to fight off her attackers. She turned and ran bac
k to the car where only a few dedicated flies followed.

  She stood by the car still swatting when she saw Randy come around the corner. “What on earth was back there?” Carrie asked.

  “A dead dog.”

  Carrie’s mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me? Who wouldn’t know it was there and not move it? I can’t believe it's good for business.” She looked up and around. “If there is any business.”

  “There is,” said Randy as he headed for the front door. He tugged on the knob but it was locked, so he pounded.

  “Hey Lenny, you in there?” Randy stopped to listen, but heard nothing, so he pounded and called again.

  “What are we here for?” asked Carrie.

  “I have a hunch.”

  “A hunch,” mumbled Carrie. The smell of the dead dog was still strong and making her feel sick to her stomach.

  The squeak of the rusty hinge brought both Randy and Carrie to life as the door came open an inch or two. “What you want?” It was an old voice, a man’s voice.

  “Hey Lenny, it’s Randy.”

  “Randy?” The voice asked.

  “Yes Randy Jeffries, with the OSBI.”

  The door inched open a little further and a fluff of gray hair peeked through, then a wrinkled face with wise eyes. The eyes frowned at Randy, then recognition surfaced and a smile crossed the old face.

  “Randy. I remember. Come on in.” The door opened wide and Randy and Carrie followed the old guy into an almost pitch dark room. The only lights were a few neon beer signs. The old man led them to a round table after flipping on a light over the bar.