Dead Low Tide Read Free Page A

introduced himself as Officer McDonald and pointed toward a marine patrol boat motoring past the boathouse. A uniformed officer leaned over the side of the boat as though searching the water for a body. “We hope to know more in a few minutes.”
    “Oh my gosh, don’t tell me you think she drowned. Is that what you’re saying? That my daughter has drowned?”
    Dad sidled over and placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Sylvia, please. That’s not what he said.”
    Quickly Mom slapped Dad’s hand away.
    Dad said to the officer, “I’m afraid we don’t know much other than what my son told us. He claims our daughter was in a canoe that drifted away from that dock.”
    “Didn’t drift,” I corrected him. “Was pushed.”
    The officer jerked his chin in the direction of the teens. “The girl I was speaking with said she heard talking in the boathouse. Walked down the beach to check, heard a splash, and saw someone riding away on a bike.”
    “That was me.”
    Officer McDonald eyed me skeptically. “You were there, you saw what happened?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “He was with my daughter,” Mom cut in.
    My
daughter. As though she already had custody of Wendy. As though my parents were already divorced.
    “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to your son.”
    “Sure. Nick, tell the officer what happened,” Dad said.
    “Alone, if you don’t mind.”
    Before my parents could object, Officer McDonald walked me toward a makeshift command center, complete with tent, floodlights, and generator. Electrical cords snaked across sand. News crews began arriving. Already the dune separating the narrow beach from the golf course fairway was clogged with curious onlookers.
    “Don’t suppose you know anything about a canoe that went missing from the outdoor rec center?” Officer McDonald’s pale-green eyes looked at me from beneath the brim of a tan patrol hat. He had a broad-shouldered, muscular build that strained the buttons on his crisp brown uniform.
    “We only needed to borrow it long enough to paddle out to the boathouse,” I explained. “I was going to put it back as soon as we were done.”
    “How, is what I want to know? Those canoes are chained to the rack.”
    “Picked the lock.”
    He eyed me skeptically. “You?”
    “In my backpack is a KLOM lock pick set. Best forty bucks I ever spent. Takes some practice to learn how to trip the tumblers, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
    “You say that like it’s something to be proud of.”
    “No, not really, it’s just that … I needed to get out to that boathouse.”
    “Oh, why’s that?”
    I completely skipped over the part about wanting to see the spot where Heidi May Laveau had washed up days before and instead recounted how Wendy and I were killing time while our parents were at dinner. I told the officer my sister got bored, stepped into the canoe, and it floated off. When I got to the part about the body floating up, Officer McDonald stopped me.
    “Run that last part by me again?”
    “The person who took my sister was dressed like a zombie.”
    “Sure it wasn’t a stump or a log floating?”
    “It had hands and feet and a head. And it was wearing a dress. Look, I know it wasn’t a real zombie, okay? There’s no such thing. But it
is
my fault my sister is missing. I’m the one who talked her into coming with me to the boathouse. Come on, let me help. I can find her, I know I can. Put me in one of those patrol boats.”
    “No chance of that happening,” Officer McDonald replied coolly. “I’m still trying to decide if I should charge you with theft.”
    “But I’m the only one who saw which way they went. Please? Wendy’s probably scared out of her gourd right now.”
    Officer McDonald walked behind the generator and returned with my backpack, handing it to me. “You might want to consider getting rid of that lock picking set.”
    “Yes, sir. Good idea.”
    “Why is everyone still standing around?” Mom demanded, waving her