Salt (15 page)

Ch
apter 23

Eva wiped the sea spray from her face, squinting against the low-hanging sun. The bright light glinted off the ocean, creating a dazzling panorama. She and Marcus Graves made their way from his yacht across boards and planks, from boat to boat, through narrow passages and up ladders to taller ships until they reached the edge of the main flotilla and made their way across to the Alonsa.

Tons of trash had floated in on the previous night’s tide.

It always seemed odd to Eva that one of the most enduring remnants of humanity were tennis balls. Every tide that brought the sea of plastic, wreckage, and myriad bits of human detritus to gather at the edges of the flotilla and the Orizaba peak invariably included dozens or sometimes hundreds of tennis balls, footballs, and basketballs.

But mostly tennis balls.

The one thing they and the sheer amount of plastic brought into sharp focus was just how much time, energy, and resources had gone into making pointless crap. Fitting that the pointless crap was what had outlasted humanity.

The flotilla’s group of teenagers, some twenty in all, had woken, bleary-eyed, to their duties: cleaning off the trash. The group chatted lazily as they took up their positions. Using fishing nets and hand-winches they brought it all in and separated it, filling the containers on the Chinese container ship with the organised materials.

Burnables were placed in one, plastic and other non-usable items in another. In the time Eva had been in the flotilla, they’d filled nearly ten large containers with plastics.

A group of them smiled and waved at Eva as they headed to the far east of the flotilla to start their work. Eva nodded her head, but found it difficult to return a smile.

The pain in her ribs, although considerably better for her night’s rest, still provided the proverbial thorn in the lion’s paw. And with Jim’s news… well, that was never great to wake up to. She didn’t feel like she had woken and hoped this was just a nightmare. She thought that every morning when she woke to the sounds of lapping waves, creaking boat hulls and the distinct lack of Emily.

“Gotta be the same geezer, right?” Graves said. He helped her across the divide, watching that she didn’t slip or crack her head on the edges of the opening. “I mean, it’s not likely we’d have a copycat.”

“Can’t rule anything out yet. Got to keep an open mind, see the crime scene first.”

Eva let go of his arm when she had successfully traversed the gap. She walked past Graves further into the cruise liner, hiding her sudden feeling of grief. Thinking of Mike’s death as a crime scene brought tears to her eyes.

Despite the bright sun outside, the level at which they entered remained dark and cold. The once gloriously decorated hallways and rooms were now ramshackle and barren, having been stripped for materials. Ducting, wiring, pipework and elements of the boat’s infrastructure showed through the panelled walls like the arteries and bones of some great, long-dead beast.

After descending the central staircase to the level below, they passed a pair of old-timers. Marlene and Chad, the oldest left on the flotilla. They were both in their seventies, and every morning they came down to this level, which used to be a dining room and dance hall.

After their breakfast of fish and seaweed, they’d take to the dusty, water-damaged ballroom dance floor and tango, reliving their honeymoon night.

The last night before the world drowned.

Chad, bald and dressed in his tatty suit, gave Eva a wink as he led Marlene around the dance floor with a grace and agility that defied his age. Eva managed a smile for him and nodded back, despite finding the scene profoundly sad.

At least they had each other, she thought. This brought her back to Mike. At one time she had thought she had loved him. Well, that wasn’t true. She
knew
she loved him, but since he had returned, she had wondered whether those feelings were honest or whether they were some hopeful attempt at connecting with someone.

She felt like a magpie stealing from someone’s nest.

If you were to face the end of the world, it would be easier to handle if you had a loved one to be with. Like Jean and Mike, or Marlene and Chad. Now the first two were gone, taking Eva’s chance with them. She thought of Danny, wondering how she would tell him.

“How do they do it?” Graves said as they left the dining hall and entered the corridor that led toward the medical facility. “Every damned morning.”

“I guess they do it to survive, to keep going. By remembering their night before the event, reliving it, they can remain hopeful. A few hours of happiness to offset reality.”

Graves shrugged. “I’d rather sleep in.”

“The last of the romantics, eh?”

“I don’t go in for sentimentality. I survive by staying focused.”

“Well, I hope the cynicism keeps you warm and comforted when you’re the last one left.”

Eva didn’t say any more until she entered the medical facility and found Jim comforting Dr Singh’s young assistant, Annette. They were stood to the side of the room. Behind them, between the overturned desk and chair, was Dr Singh’s body. Her arms were outstretched; the blood, now drying to a dark crimson, surrounded her. Her head lay at an angle.

Graves and Jim muttered something about a job, but Eva wasn’t listening, she was analysing the tableau. There were distinctive and recognisable footprints where someone had walked in Singh’s blood. Though some were smudged, they got clearer as they left the body and headed towards the quarantine section.

Eva turned to Annette. “How many people have come through here?”

“Just me, Jim and Stanic.”

Eva looked at her shoes, and then at Jim’s. Neither were the large, heavy boots of the prints. She recognised them as being the same as the ridged prints left on the fishing boat during Jean’s murder. This was as messy as that time.

The killer certainly wasn’t a careful craftsman. A man of rage, she thought.

Someone who killed with fury and anger. She instinctively moved her hand to her ribs, knowing she had felt that fury first hand.

“Where is Stanic? I’ll need to rule him out.”

“He’s on the Bravo,” Jim said.

“Good. I’ve got to see Danny. I’ll catch up with him then.”

“I’m going there now,” Graves said. “I’ll let him know you want to see him.”

“You think this could have been Stanic?” Annette said. “He was in engineering this morning; it couldn’t have been him.”

“I doubt it was,” Eva said. Stanic had been nothing but exemplary, but if he was there, he might have seen someone or something.

“Some of Faust’s lot was here when I arrived,” Jim said.

Eva thought about it for a moment. It just didn’t make sense.

As far as she knew, none of them had any issue with Jean or Mike, let alone Dr Singh. It also didn’t match with the evidence currently leading to an American male with engineering experience. After assessing the scene, she’d have to go through the manifest and narrow down her list of suspects.

The scene itself was fairly straightforward. Eva had seen it a dozen times before while working in homicide.

Singh had taken several blows to the head before having her throat cut. The wound looked rough, ragged. Wasn’t likely to be a particularly fine knife.

Possibly a gutting knife or a hook.

Given the prints leading down the length of the office and their spacing—Eva stepped next to each one, making her walk with long strides—the killer had likely rushed forward, probably run.

Being careful not to disturb anything, she pushed the door open with the tip of her foot. The prints carried on, fading as they went, until they reached the door to Mike’s room. The plastic flapped in the sudden movement of air.

As she passed the other rooms, most of the people inside were either asleep or drifting in and out of fever-induced unconsciousness.

A terrible thought came to her as she wondered why they kept them alive. The bacterial infection was a slow but efficient killer. It seemed cruel to keep these people locked away while they slowly approached death. But it seemed the idea of euthanasia still remained unsettling for most despite the lack of any need for governmental regulation.

Specks of blood spotted the edge of the plastic covering.

Probably Singh’s transferred there by the weapon the killer had used to cut away the plastic. She looked through the window to see Mike slumped forward, his head clearly caved in.

It seemed the killer had two weapons: one for cutting, and another for bludgeoning.

The same prints were evident on the tiles of Mike’s room, just in front of the bunk on which he once sat. The room was still well tidied: the bunk unruffled, the nightstand still had a glass of water and a book upon its surface.

The only thing that had been disturbed was Mike.

Eva’s throat closed up as tears obscured her vision. She blinked to clear them, but more came. She reached her hand out, pressed her palm against the window, and let out a sob. She collapsed, then clenched her fists and struck the door, letting out a scream of anger mixed with grief.

This was far worse than when he’d left. Then, she had hope that perhaps, despite the odds, he’d return. Only he had. And now this.

Eva sat back on her heels and tried to compose herself. Tried to remember who she was and what she was. Eva Morgan, detective. Of course, back then she never had to investigate the death of a loved one. Now her best friend and the man she had grown to love were gone, there would always be that involvement.

Was it her fault? Had she not paid enough attention?

“Eva, are you… okay?”

A shadow enveloped her. She looked up. Jim stood behind her, with his hand held out. She took it and stood.

“No, Jim. I’m not.”

Jim brought her in close, wrapping his arms around her.

At first she resisted, wanting to be the strong one, especially after finding Jim last night, but she realised none of them were the strong ones any more. Everyone was just as broken. She hugged him back, allowing herself to be consoled.

Minutes ticked by, and memories of Mike came and went. The good times faded. Replaced with the image of his body slumped over.

She heard his weird mutterings, remembered what Jim had said last night about the other group of boats, and wondered just what the hell Mike had seen and whether it related to the documents he had, and whether it was ultimately the reason for his death.

Releasing Jim, Eva stepped back and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Whoever it was,” she said, “must have the infection too, or at least knows something about it. You wouldn’t go in there with Mike in the condition he was if you weren’t already ill. Why risk it?”

“Maybe they just don’t care?” Jim said. “Do psychopaths think about those kinds of things?”

“We might not be dealing with a psychopath. As brutal as these murders are, they could have been done like this for a reason. Either way, we need to test everyone on the manifest.”

Eva and Jim left the quarantine and joined Annette at the front of Singh’s office. Eva noticed Graves had left without saying a word. Just typical of him.

“Can you take samples from everyone on this list?” Eva said, handing Annette a copy of the manifest with all the main names she had identified as possible suspects.

“I’ll have some of my crew come with you,” Jim added. “Just to make sure you’re safe, and in the meantime, you’re welcome to come and stay with us on the Bravo.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that. What should I do here, though?”

Jim looked to Eva. “We could take the supplies and move to a different location.”

“Probably wise,” Eva said. “What about the bodies?”

“I’ll have them looked after,” Jim said. “I’ll get some of my crew to come back for them. We’ll give them a proper sea burial, unless you need to examine them further?”

Although Eva worked in homicide, she wasn’t a coroner or medical examiner and only knew the basics when it came to biology. From the looks of the bodies and the way the blood had clotted, she had a good idea that they were killed in the early hours of the morning. The wounds and causes of death were entirely obvious.

“I’m good,” Eva said. “Better to deal with them now.” She hated how cold that sounded, especially with regards to Mike. But if she dared to open her feelings, she’d be no good in finding his killer. She had to remain distant. Or as much as was possible.

“Annette, if you come with me, I’ll have you escorted back and accompanied while you take the samples. Have the other patients been taken care of?” Jim said.

“Yes,” Annette said. “I kind of did it all in a panic, like autopilot, I suppose. After I saw Singh, I freaked out, but the routine took over.”

“What do we do with them now?” Eva asked. “With no Dr Singh to analyse them, isn’t it cruel to just wait for them to die?”

A hush descended between them as they considered the thought of euthanasia.

“We could move them somewhere else, but we can think about it more later,” Jim said. “Let’s just get the bodies moved and the samples taken first. There’s no need to make any rash decisions. We treat them as human beings as normal until we can decide on how to proceed.”

“What about their families?” Annette said. “They usually come by in the afternoon.”

“I’ll put out a bulletin to the families and have someone stationed on the door to make sure they’re safe.”

“I don’t think we should move them,” Annette said. “And, well, I’d like to carry on Dr Singh’s work. I don’t think there’s any risk to me. It seems like whoever did this wanted to get to Mike, and well, Dr Singh got in the way, I suppose.”

“That’s how it looks,” Eva added, impressed by the girl’s stoic attitude and ability to think. There was certainly no motive to kill Dr Singh other than she blocked any access to the quarantine. “I think she’s right, Jim. It would be too much upheaval to move the patients somewhere else. We don’t have another place as well set up as this. Can’t you get some of your people to guard it until all this blows over? Let Annette here carry on her work?”