Ocean- Part 10

            “Sometimes, it really sucks being right,” Chief Thomas Grady grumbled. 

The inside of the Lander home looked like a battlefield, blood everywhere. Soaking in bath of bleach and bloody water, right there in the kitchen sink, was a top of the line, executive chef series Santuko knife.  Next to it, a tire iron rested halfway in the sharply scented liquid. 

            “Chief! I got something out here!” Kline called from the patio. 

With a pair of BBQ tongs, Kline lifted out a partially-burned designer label dress still reeking of lighter fluid.  The charred tag read size six.  A quick check of Rosalyn’s closet revealed that she also wore a size six dress. 

            “It’s almost so deliberate that it looks like a plant, ya know, like she’s being set up.” Kline muttered. 

            “I know what you mean,” the chief replied. “For her sake, I hope she’s got an explanation for this mess.  Wait, do you hear something?”

The sound grew louder as Kline and Grady searched for its source. Sandwiched in the sofa cushions, they uncovered the latest, top-of-the-line iPhone. The alert chimed that a new voicemail was received.  Moments later the phone rang again and the Caller ID simply read, Emily.

            “Do you think we should answer it, Chief? We might get some more evidence.”

Grady pulled his latex glove tight and pressed the “answer call” button.  He was still fumbling to press the speaker phone option when a woman’s voice came through the speaker.

            “Mitch?  Mitch is that you? I’ve been worried sick! Where are you? Was there an emergency at the hospital? Why didn’t you call me or send a text or something?”

            “Ma’am, this is Chief Grady. To whom am I speaking?”

            “Oh God! Chief Grady is he alright? Was he in a car accident? Oh…sorry, this is Emily Fontaine. Mitch and I, um, he was supposed to meet me last night but he never showed.”

            “Do you two work together?”

            “Among other things, yes. Mitch and I have been seeing each other for a while now and last night he was meeting with Rosalyn to tell her he wanted a divorce. Afterward he was supposed to come to my place to spend the night.”

            “Oh…” Grady sighed. “ Ms. Fontaine, do you have an alibi for last night? Can anyone confirm you were home alone?”

            “I wasn’t exactly alone but, wait, did you say alibi? Oh God! What happened? Where. Is. Mitch? Tell me, damnit!”

            “Ms. Fontaine, would you kindly give me the address where you are right now? I have a few questions for you?”

     Within a couple of hours, Chief Grady returned to the station accompanied by Miss Emily Fontaine.             

            “Chief, am I glad to see you!” Poole exclaimed. “Rosalyn Landers is getting downright hostile in there. She’s demanding that I let her go home.”

            “She can wait. Where is Myra Goldstein?”         

            “She’s still here. Do you want me to bring her to your office?”

            “Yes, please and then I want you take Miss Fontaine’s statement.”

At Chief Grady’s insistence, Myra sat down in the chair directly across from him. 

            “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Goldstein.  May I call you Myra?

            “Of course, Chief.”

            “Please, call me Tom. You’re among friends here, Myra. I just have a couple of quick questions for you then you’re free to leave, okay?

            “First, I want you tell me everything about your morning from the time you woke up until I saw you on the beach. Can you do that for me, Myra?”

            “Sure, Chief, I mean…Tom.  Well, I woke up this morning, the same time as usual, and I made breakfast for Ben and the kids. Breakfast burritos for the kids and an egg white breakfast sandwich on flatbread for my husband.  After they left, I had a cup of coffee and a Greek yogurt then I put on my yoga pants and this t-shirt. I was planning to go for a run through the neighborhood.  After the other day, I didn’t want to go back to the beach but….” Myra paused, as if carefully reflecting on the words she wanted to speak. “When I stepped outside, Rosalyn was sitting on her front stoop. It almost seemed like she was waiting for me.  She jumped up, calling my name and waving. Then she begged me to go jogging on the beach with her. I told her I didn’t want to. If I never set foot on that beach again it will be too soon but she was so insistent.  I remember, she took my hand in hers and she looked so sad, so lost, and she said if I really was her friend, I would come with her. It was so strange, almost like she had a premonition that Mitch was down there and she didn’t want to go alone.  She held my hand, even as we reached the beach, and pulled me back as I started to work up to a jog. Usually we run close to the water’s edge but she held me back, said she wanted to stay away from the water. Then, all of the sudden, she squeezed down real hard, it felt like she was going to crush my bones and she said, ‘Oh my God, look’. Next thing I knew, she was calling the police station and you showed up.”

            “I see,” Grady responded. “So, would you say her behavior seemed…peculiar?

            “Yeah, definitely.”

            “Have you noticed anything unusual about the Lander’s behavior of late? Did Dr. Lander seem more withdrawn? Were they fighting more? Did they seem to have any…”

Grady’s sentence was cut off by a high-pitched scream.  He sprang from his desk and Myra followed at a safe distance. There in the middle of the station, Rosalyn Lander was having a meltdown.

            “What’s SHE doing here? Don’t believe a single word that lying whore has to say! She’s made up all kinds of lies about me and my husband. In fact, I’ll bet it was her. She’s the one who murdered my husband!”

            “Murdered?” Chief Grady questioned, hoping she’d play right into his hands. “I thought you said he was attacked by a shark just like the other bodies found on the beach.”

The realization that she’d deviated from her own story struck Rosalyn Lander like a ton of bricks. She tried to back-pedal, stammering and hurling accusations at the “lying home wrecker”.

            “Home wrecker?” Emily Fontaine sneered. “You murdered your husband because he wanted a divorce, you crazy psycho! If your home is wrecked it’s your fault.”

            “That’s a lie!” Rosalyn shrieked. “Mitch loved me and ONLY me!”

            “Really? Then why did he leave a copy of THIS at my place?” Emily pulled a thick packet of papers from her purse and waved them in the air.  “Petition for Divorce, name of person filing for divorce, Doctor Mitchell Everett Lander.”

            “You bitch! I’ll kill you too and then the both of you can rot in HELL!”

            “Rosalyn Lander, you have the right to remain silent.” Chief Grady recited.  “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and to have him present with you while you are being questioned. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to represent you, if you so choose. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand each of these rights as I have explained them to you?

Rosalyn stood there for a moment, eyes blinking wildly, as if still trying to comprehend what had just happened. 

            “Rosalyn, do you understand your rights?” Grady asked calmly.

In a flash, she bound across the room with claws bared. Her fine, manicured nails dug deep into Emily’s flesh. The station was in a state of chaos, pandemonium had broken loose, stunning the deputies.  With lightning fast reflexes, Chief Grady removed the Taser from his pocket and hit the deranged Mrs. Lander with 50,000 volts. She dropped to the floor, muscles spasming, as she lost control of her bladder.  

Ocean- Part 9

            Look, do me a favor, Hooper, just keep quiet this time. I don’t want any misunderstandings with the locals but I want you to be able to see the body before anyone else touches it, okay?”

            “You have my word, Chief. Not a word unless you ask me a direct question. Fair enough?”

The two men walked in silence to the latest sighting.  Even from a distance, Grady recognized Rosalyn Lander and her neighbor, Myra Goldstein.  Ugh, not those two again, he thought silently, while hiding his thoughts behind a professional smile. 

            “I see you haven’t given up jogging on the beach yet, ladies. I commend your dedication to fitness.”

Grady hoped his fake flattery would distract the community’s biggest busy-bodies from paying too much attention to Hooper. His concern had been in vain. Rosalyn Lander was an emotional wreck.  Her eyes were puffy and red, matching her raw and irritated nose.  She’d been wiping at both rather vigorously to remove excess moisture. 

            “Oh God,” she sobbed. “It’s-It’s M-M-Mitch.”

Her friend Myra awkwardly attempted to console the grieving widow as Grady and Hooper moved up the beach toward the remains.  Already, red flags went off on his head. The previous remains had been found close to the waterline but this body was closer to the street on the powdery sand. Sure enough, it was clear that the body belonged to Dr. Mitchell Lander. Strike two, Grady’s mind insisted. He immediately began photographing the body and noticed that, with the exception of blood, the doctor’s clothing was bone dry.  The final nail in the proverbial coffin was the body itself, the wounds were entirely different. The previous bodies looked as if something had chewed them up and vomited them onto the beach.  Dr. Lander appeared to have been hacked up, a crude combination of blunt object and perhaps a knife or ax.  After a few more photographs and a couple of quick text messages, Grady addressed the two women. 

            “Ladies, I don’t think you two need to be down here looking at this. Deputy Poole is on his way down here now. He’s going to drive you both to the station for statements. After what you’ve been through, I don’t think you ought to drive.”

            “Yes, I understand, Chief Grady.” Rosalyn sobbed. “I think you’re right. Thank you for your kindness in th-th-th…”

Overcome by emotion, she was unable to finish her sentence. Instead she dissolved into in a fresh wave of tears.  She whimpered piteously until Poole and the other two deputies arrived on the scene and then she broke down again for their benefit. 

            “Poole, would you please drive these ladies to the station and get their statements?” Grady commanded.  “I’m going to handle a few things here and then I’ll be there to speak with you Mrs. Lander and also you Mrs. Goldstein.  So please, sit tight at the station until I get there.  If you need anything to eat or drink, Poole will take care of it, won’t you, Poole?”

            “Sure thing, Chief!  Ma’am, if you’ll just follow me, we’ll get you two taken care of right away.” 

            “Kline, you stay here with me. Barker, I want you to help Poole and under no circumstances do those two leave the station. Got it? See if you can question Mrs. Goldstein alone. I’ve got a feeling ol’ Roz will try to prevent that but try anyway. Don’t push it though, I don’t want them getting suspicious.”

Barker raced off while Kline and Grady continued gathering evidence. Within minutes, he’d gotten the Municipal Judge to issue a search warrant for the home of Dr. Mitchell Lander.  Little specks of blood could be found leading away from the body and back to the Lander’s spacious beachfront home. 

            “Hey, Kline…use the video on your phone and go from the body to the house. Make sure you zoom in on each blood spot. After that we’ll scoop it up tag it for evidence. I’m pretty sure this is the doctor’s blood and we’re gonna find plenty more in the house.”

            “Hooper, I’m afraid I won’t be needing you right now. What we’ve got here is a good, old fashioned murder. Granted, they tried to copycat whatever is attacking people on the beach but this isn’t even close to the carnage from…well, from whatever it is.”

            “I guess I’ll see if my room is ready over at the EconoLodge and we can catch up later, Chief.”

            “Tell ya what, Hooper, I’ll stop by there later and pick you up. We’ll have dinner at my place. My wife is an amazing cook.”

***Be sure to come back, Monday, April 7th for the next installment of Ocean*** 

Ocean- Part 8

     Police Chief Grady along with Deputies Poole, Barker and Kline were at the station bright and early.  Their paperwork had gotten seriously out of hand. In the past couple days, fourteen deaths, each attributed to shark attacks had occurred. They had been so deeply engrossed in their work; they hadn’t heard the soft knock at the door. 

            “Excuse me, can any of you tell me where I might find Chief Grady?” A short, stocky man in a woolen cap announced.

            “I’m Grady.  How can I help you?”

            “I believe my assistant at the Oceanographic Institute contacted you yesterday. Rumor has it you have a shark problem and sharks are my specialty.” The man stepped forward and shook Grady’s hand. “The name’s Hooper, Max Hooper. Hopefully we can work together and get this resolved before anyone else is harmed.” 

            “Really?” Grady chuckled.  “Your name is Hooper and you study sharks?”

            “Yes…I know. Ha-ha. Just like the movie, Jaws. Yeah, I never get tired of hearing that.” 

            “Sorry, Hooper, I meant no offense.  At least your first name isn’t Matt, right?”

Max Hooper’s lips pressed together in a firm line as if he was biting his tongue to hold back a scathing retort.  Instead, he nodded his head and attempted to change the subject.  

            “It would be helpful for me to see the bodies first so I can get a better idea of what type of shark you’re looking at.  If you could you point me in the right direction, I’ll get outta your hair.”

            “I’ll do you one better,” Grady responded. “I’ll take you there myself and fill you in on what’s been happening on the way.”

            “I’d be much obliged, Chief.”

On the ride across town, the two men became better acquainted and bonded over their mutual hatred of the New York Yankees.  They arrived at the Coroner’s Office just as he was pulling into the parking lot.  Grady made the introductions as they reached the door. 

            “Bob, I’d like you to meet Max. He’s an oceanographer, here to help us with our shark problems.  He said he can get a better idea of what we’re dealing with if he can see the bodies. You know, bite radius and stuff like that.” 

            “Oh…I wish you’d have let me know in advance. I don’t generally allow the public to tour my office, Tom.”

            “Look, we’re both here on official police business. This isn’t, ‘take your kid to work day’, for God’s sake. We’ve got a problem and Hooper here can help so….why don’t you let us in and let’s see those remains, okay?”

Reluctantly, the coroner opened the office and let his visitors inside.  He took his time puttering around and setting up the coffee pot.  While the coffee brewed, Bob organized forms and booted up his computer. 

            “C’mon already, Bob, let us do what we came to do and we’ll get out of your way,” Grady proposed. 

Finally, he was out of stall tactics and he begrudgingly took the men to the refrigeration room and opened all the drawers of the shark victims. 

            “What the hell is this?” Hooper demanded.  “You’re kidding me, right? You called this a shark attack. Let me tell you something, this wasn’t any shark attack and it wasn’t boating accident either.”

            “Really,” sneered the coroner.  “What qualifies you to determine cause of death? These remains have been scavenged by every imaginable creature in the ocean and on the beach. But by all means, please, in your expert opinion what was the cause of death? I’d be fascinated to hear your theory because I’ve never seen anything like this and I’ve been doing this job for over thirty years!” 

Before the heated argument could escalate to blows, Chief Grady decided to intervene as the voice of reason. The last thing he needed was to arrest the two men who would be able to help him the most.

            “Hey! If we’re going to keep people alive, we’ve got to work together. Besides, I’ve already got more than enough paperwork without having to arrest you two knuckleheads for assault. Now, you boys play nice while I take this phone call, ya hear?”

The two combatants nodded in agreement. Before either of them had the chance to utter a word, Grady was already in action.

            “Hooper, come with me.  I just got a report of another body on the beach!”  

Ocean- Part 7

    Just a few minutes before 5:00 PM, Chief Grady walked through his front door in search of his wife.  He found her in the kitchen wrist-deep in her famous meatloaf mixture as she thoroughly incorporated the ingredients.  He kissed her on the ticklish spot of her neck, knowing she couldn’t stop him while her hands were all goopy.  She squealed as she pulled away, playfully scolding him for taking advantage of her defenseless state. 

            “You know, it’s not a smart idea to mess with a woman who has a knife in her hands,” She teased.  “You’re home early. I wish I’d have known; I would have started dinner sooner.”

            “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’m not very hungry right now anyway.”

            “Rough day?”

            “Yeah, you could say that. I hate being the bearer of bad news and telling the Millers and the Crayburns that their kids are dead is just about the worst news anyone could bear.”

Sharon Grady quickly washed her hands then hugged her husband tightly.  After twenty years of marriage, she knew there was nothing she could say to ease his heartache but healing often came from the moments with no words. She could feel the tension from his shoulders releasing as she kneaded the heel of her palm into his knotted muscles.   

            “You always know exactly how to make me feel better,” he murmured. 

They worked together on the dinner preparations then, as the meatloaf baked, Sharon and Thomas Grady snuggled on the sofa.  As master of the remote, he reached over to snatch his plastic wand from the coffee table and pressed the power button.

            “And in local news, twelve area teens have been reported missing. Our own Sue Taylor is live on location at Jefferson High School where many of those teens were last seen.”

            “Thank you, Dave. The mood is somber here. Friends and family of those missing have already begun to erect a memorial to their lost loved ones.  As you may remember, it was just a few days ago when some local joggers found human remains on the beach and the next day, even more severed body parts were discovered.  It is believed that these teens have befallen the same fate as Adam Miller, age twenty-four and his longtime girlfriend, Erin Crayburn.”

            “For crying out loud!” Chief Grady growled.  “How did they get those names so fast?”

            “Maybe we should just put a movie in or something. We don’t need to watch th….” His wife froze mid-sentence as her husband’s face filled the television screen.

            “Earlier today, Chief of Police Thomas Grady issued a statement.”

The cameras made him look even more exhausted as he told the room full of reporters that the coroner’s office declared the cause of death to be a shark attack. 

            “You missed your calling, Tom.  You should have been an actor. Look how sexy you are on screen.”

            “Shar, you should’ve been a politician. Only a politician can lie that convincingly!” 

She reached over and clicked off the television before pulling her husband to his feet and dragging him to their bedroom. 

            “We’ll just see who’s lying, Mister Sexy.”  

Ocean- Part 6

     Lurking outside the police station, Josh Austen, the Neighborhood News’ newest intern kept watch for Chief Grady.  He figured that getting a jump on the hottest story in town might lead to a permanent job. Since the chief said he still needed to notify the families; Josh planned to follow him for the rest of the day and get his inside scoop.  Twice he’d seen Grady peering though his office window, waiting for the reporters to disperse. Josh did his best to look inconspicuous and eventually Chief Grady exited the station. 

     As the chief pulled his vehicle out of the lot, Josh carefully tucked aside his newspaper and pulled on a pair of sunglasses before trailing Grady from a safe distance.  Each turn presented a challenge and as they wove through the town, both drivers felt pangs of anxiety stabbing into their heart.  When Josh’s cell phone rang, he nearly swerved off the road. 

            “Go for Josh,” he spoke into his Bluetooth while steering back to safety. 

            “Where are you?” His editor demanded.  “You were due back here an hour ago.”

            “I’m getting you the names of the first victims so that you’ll have it before anyone else, even those big time papers but, if you want, I’ll come straight to the office.”

            “You really are a smug little twerp but if you get me those names before anyone else, and it is one hundred percent accurate then you’ll get a permanent position here.”

            “Done!” Josh vowed then hung up. 

    Chief Grady turned left onto Oceanview Drive and pulled up in front of house number 419, the home of George and Elisabeth Crayburn.  His heavy heart ached for them; learning that their only daughter was killed would be devastating.  Still, the chief knocked on the door and accepted the invitation to go inside.  Once Grady disappeared inside the home, Josh casually strolled down the street paying close attention to the name on the mailbox.  Crayburn, his inner voice noted.  At the end of the block he turned around, just a guy taking a stroll in the sunshine.  As he drew closer to the Crayburn’s home, Grady was just exiting. 

            “Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. Erin was sweet girl. She’ll be missed.”

Josh’s ears perked up. Erin Crayburn, he thought, she’s victim number one.  Resisting the urge to run, he walked slowly, casually, back to his car. Once inside, he dialed his editor and gave him the news. 

            “So far I’ve got Erin Crayburn,” he said confidently.  “Uh huh, Chief Grady just walked out of the Crayburn’s house and I heard him say, ‘sorry for your loss’ and ‘Erin was a sweet girl’. So, yeah, I’m positive.  Hey, he’s on the move. I’ll call you back with the second name as soon as I’ve got it.”

            “It was most likely Adam Miller then,” the editor replied mournfully.  “He and Erin have been together for ages. If the Chief heads straight to 156 Driftwood Lane and goes inside then Adam was victim number two.  That’s where his parents live.”

Sure enough, Grady turned left on Bayside and took that all the way out to Driftwood Lane.  When he reached house number 156 there was a woman sitting on the front porch, reading.  The police chief hadn’t even stepped foot on her property and the old woman was already sobbing. 

            “Oh no, no, NO!” She cried before slumping back into her chair. 

Josh had seen enough.  He hightailed it back to the office, wiping an errant tear from his eyes as he sped across town.  His new promotion was hard earned and had left him feeling empty instead of elated.  

Ocean- Part 5

     Chief Grady sat in the Coroner’s Office, on the off-chance he might manage to steal a few moments of the busy man’s time. The situation had escalated and he desperately needed a reasonable explanation; so he personally brought over the most recent bodies from the previous night’s seaside disaster.  More mangled remains had been discovered on the beach. This time, Grady was positive that there had been multiple victims. Of the severed and seemingly chewed up body parts, the vast ranges of skin colors, including tattoos and piercings, indicated a large number of victims.

     The phones at the station had been ringing off the hook; concerned parents reporting their teens as missing.  After each call, Deputy Poole sent Grady a text message, apprising him of the situation.  By the time the coroner was available for a meeting, the chief had already counted twelve new Missing Persons reports. 

            “Hey there, Bob.  Thanks for squeezing me in,” Grady said as he extended his hand to the coroner.  “I know you’re busy but I’m really in a bind here. I’ve got to know what the heck is tearing people up on my beach. The story has spread and the whole town is crawling with reporters.  You’ve got to give me something to tell them.  For crying out loud, the new mess I brought to you could have remains from as many as twelve kids.”

            “Well, the consensus here is that it was a shark attack, Chief.  There’s really not another viable alternative.  On the plus side, we were able to confirm the remains from the first attack belonged to Adam Miller and Erin Crayburn.  Your deputy told us the prints lifted from some glasses had been theirs and the DNA matches.  At least you can tell that to the reporters.”

            “Thanks, Bob.  I owe you one.  Now, I guess I’m off to meet up with my own sharks.  They might not have fins but, by God, those reporters can sense blood in the water.  If I’m lucky I’ll get away without being chewed to pieces too.”

            “Good luck with that, Chief,” Bob laughed. 

Chief Grady offered up a half-hearted chuckle as he headed for the door. More than any other part of his job, he hated press conferences, especially when prompted by an influx of dead bodies.  The drive across town was brief. He hadn’t even made it out of his car when a mob of television reporters swarmed him in front of his parking spot. 

            “Ladies and gentlemen, please, follow me inside and I’ll answer all your questions.”

To Chief Grady it was clear which of the reporters were seasoned professionals and which were the “young guns” still trying to make a name for themselves.  The latter couldn’t wait until they’d made it inside. They were hurling questions as they ran along with the pack.  Grady simply shook his head and pressed on until they reached a large conference room.  He took his place at the front of the room and motioned to the chairs for the reporters. 

            “I just came from the Coroner’s Office and they have named the cause of death as a shark attack.”

            “Can you identify the bodies, Chief?” A young reporter called out.

            “Hmm, yes, they did identify the bodies; however, I have not had a chance to notify their families. Once they’ve been notified, I’ll be able to release that information.”

The questions continued until Deputy Poole interrupted them claiming that there was an urgent phone call for the chief.  Seizing his chance, Grady dashed out of the room and headed straight for his office with Poole trailing directly behind him.  Behind closed doors he could breathe again. 

            “Thanks, Poole.  That was perfect timing.  Which line is that call?”

            “There’s no call, Chief. I just figured you needed a way out.”

            “You’re a good man!  I certainly owe you one. Wow, do I hate press conferences.” 

            “Can I ask you something, Chief?  Did the coroner really identify all those bodies?”

            “The first two were identified. As for newest victims, well, Bob’s got his work cut out for him. In the meantime, I’ve got to make a visit to the Crayburns and the Millers. I’d almost rather be holding a press conference…almost.”  

Ocean- Part 4

            “Shh, quiet or my mom will hear you.” Tracy Westbrook whispered to the throng of teens waiting for her in the alley.  “And quit shining your flashlight at the windows or I’m gonna get caught.”

She tiptoed out of her house and crept through the yard.  A mere foot away from the alley, the flood lights clicked on and Mrs. Westbrook poked her head out the back door.

            “Tracy Ann!  You get your butt back in this house right now!”

A collective groan rose from the alley as the herd shuffled away.  Tracy’s boyfriend, Kurt, mouthed, “See ya tomorrow at school” before disappearing.  With angry tears brimming in her eyes, Tracy stomped back into the house and slammed the door.

            “I hope you’re happy, Mother.  I’m the only one who won’t be there tonight. You completely humiliated me!”

            “Tracy, I told you before…there was an incident at the beach and it is too dangerous. I made it very clear that you were not allowed to go out tonight but you tried to go anyway. Now you can be humiliated and grounded. Go to your room!”

     The battle raged on for several hours until, finally, drained and cried out; Tracy fell asleep.  The next morning, after hitting the snooze button several times, she stood under the steamy shower and tried to pry her puffy eyes open.  She spent a few extra minutes applying makeup to conceal the damage before storming downstairs to make a cup of coffee.  Just to spite her mother, she poured the entire pot into her travel mug then stomped out to the front porch to wait for Kurt to pick her up.  Ever since they became a couple, he always picked her up for school.  She checked the time and realized he was running later than normal.  She sent Kurt a text asking where he was but did not get an immediate reply.  What if he hooked up with Tiffany Maxwell at the beach party last night, Tracy wondered; that slut has had her eye on him for weeks, now.  As her mind churned out one horrible scenario after another, she grew increasingly anxious.  Her phone call to Kurt went unanswered so she left a frantic message begging him not to dump her for Tiffany or “any of the other skanks” at the beach.  Paranoid and furious, she raced back inside the house to scream at her mother, yet again. 

            “Thanks to you, Mother, now I’m going to be late for school and I probably lost my boyfriend to one of those hoes at the beach last night!” Tracy angrily screamed up the stairs.

            “Tracy, enough of the dramatics….honestly, I am at my limit with you.” Her weary mother replied. “If Kurt thinks so little of you that he would cheat on you, just because you weren’t allowed to go to that party, then you’re better off without him.”

            “That’s such a stupid mom thing to say! Why can’t you just….”

Tracy’s sentence was cut off by the sound of someone pounding loudly on the front door.  Believing it to be Kurt, she raced to the door only to be stunned by an angry tirade.

            “Where is he?  I know you two were together last night so don’t bother with the innocent act, girly.  He is in BIG TROUBLE.  Kurt? Kurt!”  His mom screamed at the top of her lungs.  “Get out here…now!” 

Startled by the screaming, Tracy remained silent.  Mrs. Westbrook raced downstairs to find out who was shouting.  Though she’d never met the woman face-to-face, she recognized Kurt’s mom, who continued to lash out at Tracy, screaming insults and curses.  The haggard woman looked like she’d been partying all night, just like her son, and it was common knowledge that she worked at the Gentlemen’s Club just off the highway. 

            “Excuse me,” Mrs. Westbrook interrupted. “How dare you burst into my home and scream at my daughter!  For your information, Tracy was home last night with me. I would not let her go out with your son…and those other delinquents he calls friends.  Maybe if you spent more time at home with your son instead of swinging from a pole, you’d know where Kurt is but that is not my problem, nor is it Tracy’s.  Now get out before I call the police!”

            “He’s really not here?  Please, do you know where he is? I’m worried sick.”

Kurt’s mother, typically hardened by alcohol and narcotics, broke down into pitiful sobs.  She confessed to working late the previous night but insisted that Kurt had never stayed out all night without calling.   

            “I know what you think… but Kurt really is a good kid,” she bawled.  “He’s not like me.  He wouldn’t just…Look, this morning I saw something on the news about dead bodies found on the beach.  Kurt was at the beach last night.  My boy…my baby boy…”

Wiping away the mascara streaks and tears; she straightened up, smoothed her micro-miniskirt and left without another word. 

     Mrs. Westbrook drove Tracy to school but the news vans and swarms of reporters buzzing around the parking lot told them everything they’d suspected.  There had been more deaths on the beach and, most likely, Kurt was one of them.  Without stopping, Tracy’s mother turned around and drove straight home. 

            “C’mon, baby girl, we’re both playing hooky today.”  

**Please come back Monday, March 31st for the next installment of Ocean**