Alki Point Read online

  Kim headed down the hallway to her room as Terry came back into the living room from the other direction and flopped onto the leather couch next to Michelle. He looked pensive as he swirled the drink in his glass, “I’m no detective, but something doesn’t seem right about the drowning this morning.”

  The flames reflected off the hardwood floor and mesmerized him as Michelle rubbed his shoulders. He continued, “I’ve seen my share of suicides. Even though they are always tragic, they are typically straight forward. Jumpers, shooters, hangers, wrist cutters, and pill takers. It is rare for someone to drive into the water to kill themselves, though it definitely happens.”

  After a pause he continued, “There was no suicide note in the car.”

  Michelle stopped rubbing, “She may have left one at home. I’m sure if there is something suspicious the investigators will find it?”

  “Of course.” He said.

  Michelle resumed rubbing his back and asked, “And if it wasn’t suicide, what do you think it was? Maybe a drug overdose?”

  Terry thought, “Maybe, but it would be a huge coincidence for someone to take drugs in their car while sitting at the top of a boat launch ramp with the car facing the water and still in gear, and then accidentally overdose, pass out, and drive down into the water.”

  Michelle smiled, “It does sound like a bit of a stretch when you put it that way.”

  She put her arm around her husband and the two sat in silence as rain pattered against the living room windows, the random pattern only occasionally broken by the hiss of a car passing the house, slick tires raising curtains of spray as they tracked through the streams of water coursing the street.

  Kim walked into the room, more subdued than when she had come home earlier. She looked at her father and said “I heard you were at the launch ramp today. Can you talk about it?”

  Terry pushed himself up and off the couch and walked over to his daughter to give her a bear hug. “We can talk over dinner. Grab your coat and we’ll go right now.”

  Normal

  He pulled on his own jacket and waited for the girls. Outside, the family climbed into the Jeep and headed through the rain to a neighborhood steakhouse about ten minutes away. The small restaurant was an older establishment that had probably seen its best days in the 60’s when it was called a supper club, but it still served great beef and seafood with style and the prices were reasonable. The tables were covered with linen, the waiters and waitresses wore black pants and white shirts, and the lighting was set low to create an atmosphere of sophistication.

  Terry thought the subdued lighting was also to cover up the threadbare carpet and aging furnishings. Seeing the true state of the establishment would probably put one off their dinner. Even though the restaurant continued some pretense of being an upscale venue, the current diners ran the gamut from those dressed up for a special evening out to those in jeans and tee shirts.

  An older hostess with platinum blonde hair and too much make-up led the three to a cozy booth in the far corner of the room near a fireplace that was built into a river-rock stone wall. Terry guessed that she had probably held her position here since the restaurant opened and wondered if she missed the days when she would have seated women in their formals and caught the eye of young businessmen in their best suits. Despite her obvious advanced age, she still showed grace and a little flirtation as she led them across the room.

  At the booth, Michelle and Kim slid across the worn brown vinyl bench seats opposite each other and Terry sat down next to Michelle. The table butted up to large leaded glass windows with a view over the shipping lanes on Puget Sound. A wavering glow from the fireplace filled the room and illuminated a broad assortment of maritime memorabilia that included fishing nets with colored glass floats, models of sailing vessels, and a brass deep-sea diver helmet. The space was warm and comfortable, and the view of the water and marine traffic always had a calming effect on Terry.

  Shortly after the three were seated, a lanky young bus boy with his white shirt-tail half untucked walked over to the table and filled their water glasses while stealing a few sidelong glances at Kim. She was totally unaware of his attention or, at least, gave that impression. After another few minutes, a college age waiter came over to take drink and dinner orders. He also seemed a little too interested in Kim for Terry’s liking, looking only at the teenage girl as he read the evening’s dinner specials from his notebook.

  Terry forced the boy’s attention back to him by immediately ordering his usual Prime Rib with extra Horseradish, and then asking Michelle what she was having.

  As soon as they had ordered, and the waiter left, Kim looked at her father and spoke up. “The news reports aren’t saying who drowned in the car. Just that it was a girl. Was she from West Seattle? Was it anyone I know?”

  Terry was always amazed at how young people can forgo all small talk or pretense and go straight to their current point of attention.

  “Thank you, my day was fine. How was yours?”

  Kim looked only slightly apologetic. “Sorry. I already know your day pretty much sucked. I just want to know if the girl is anyone I might know.”

  Terry considered how much he should share. By now the next of kin had most likely been notified so he felt safe telling Kim and Michelle the identity of the girl. The crime scene team had found a driver’s license in the car that matched her face.

  “I don’t think it is anyone you would know. She was seventeen; same as you, but her driver’s license has a Gig Harbor address. That’s almost an hour’s drive from here.”

  Terry did not expect the reaction he got from his daughter, “Did you say Gig Harbor? Dad, I think I might know who it was. What was her name?”

  Terry was skeptical that his daughter would know the girl. Kim was levelheaded and would be classified as somewhat conservative, just the opposite of the drowning victim. What reason would either of them have had to run into the other, let alone know each other.

  “Her name was Marissa Archer.”

  Kim slumped down into the seat. “My God.”

  Terry looked surprised, “You actually knew her?

  His daughter didn’t hear him, “What happened? Did she commit suicide? No, that can’t be. She seemed okay that way.”

  Terry could see the moisture building in Kim’s eyes, flickering with the reflection of the small votive candle that rested in the center of the table.

  “You always surprise me Kim. How do you even know this girl? She didn’t exactly look like the type you would hang out with.”

  He looked over at his wife, “The girl in the car had blue hair and one side of her head was shaved. Not exactly normal if you ask me.”

  His daughter glared back, “Normal? What is that supposed to mean? Define normal. Am I normal just because I dress and make myself up according to your definition of normal? You don’t know anything about Marissa, and you are judging her.”

  Terry remembered why he avoided talking with his seventeen-year-old daughter even though he wanted to be closer to her and be more involved in her life. It seemed that she constantly challenged whatever he would say no matter what the subject was. He tried to move the conversation along and asked Kim how she knew a girl that lived over forty miles away.

  Kim answered “I didn’t really know her that well. She was a friend of Keith Martin and he introduced me to her after school one time.”

  Kim paused and thought. “I saw her and Keith several times after school out by the track and practice field. They were always laughing and smiling.”

  Terry knew the location. Even when he had attended the high school there was a group of boys and girls that would stand out by the running track, several of them smoking, mostly cigarettes, but a sweeter blend of smoke would also carry over from the area.

  It was there that you could find almost any contraband you desired and were inclined to try. He knew that this was still going on and he regularly patrolled the area in his police car. He would cruise past the
high school and there would be the current group of teenagers huddled in a cluster until they spotted the marked car and quickly dispersed. Some things never change.

  Terry asked, “If it turns out she didn’t commit suicide, do you think she might have been doing drugs with that boy? Those kids that hang out by the track are no saints. If she overdosed by accident while she was with him, he could have staged the scene at Alki to throw suspicion away from him.”

  Based on what Kim had just said, an overdose scenario now seemed probable to Terry.

  Kim answered “No. He doesn’t seem like the type to be into drugs. He is just a little different. You know. He always has his hood pulled up and he wears earphones whenever he isn’t in class. It’s like he is trying to block out the noise. And he is introverted. He never talks very much. But when you talk with him, he is really smart and seems like a nice guy.”

  “So how is it that you talk with him if he is so different?”

  “He’s my lab partner in chemistry, first period. He might skip some of his other classes, but I know he loves chemistry. Weird, huh?”

  Not too weird, Terry thought. He had been involved in some meth lab busts and an interest in chemistry would fit for someone running a lab. He began to feel more suspicious of Keith, despite his daughter’s view of the boy.

  “Yeah, that is a bit of a coincidence. Did he ever talk about Marissa to you?”

  Kim perked up, “Yes, all the time. I think she may have been his only friend and he always talked about how special she was. The only problem was that her dad did not like him. He blamed Keith for changes she made to her appearance, like dying her hair and shaving one side. He also accused Keith of getting her into drugs.”

  Terry asked, “Why would her father think that?”

  Kim answered, “I don’t know. But Marissa’s father told her to stop seeing him and banned Keith from their house. Since he couldn’t go to her home to see here, she would sneak over to West Seattle and spend time with him behind her father’s back.”

  “Maybe her father had good reason to be concerned.” Terry wondered if the boy was as innocent as his daughter seemed to presume.

  The waiter came with their meals and Michelle suggested they change to a lighter topic during dinner. She took Terry’s hand in hers and said, “You know, my thirty-year high school reunion is coming up in July. And I do plan to go. With or without you” She smiled.

  Terry always complained about going to the high school reunions but had to admit that he enjoyed the get-togethers despite himself. They had attended the ten year and twenty-year reunions with Reed and Angela and always spent the evenings laughing at how much or how little people had changed. The girls seemed to laugh most over the balding men and the two guys marveled at how some of the most attractive girls in high school had become dowdy and how many of the so-called Plain-Janes had become so attractive.

  “I’m meeting Reed for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll ask him if they want to go with us again this year.”

  Michelle smiled again, “No need. I already talked with Angela and they are going, whether Reed knows it or not.”

  The rest of dinner was spent talking about the reunion and other day-to-day business. Terry did not want to dwell on the accident anymore. Besides, it sounded like Keith would be a good place to go for answers. Terry would call an investigator on the case first thing in the morning and tell him about the boy.

  Sweet Sixteen

  Becky Rose lived in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho in a household that neighbors described as the model of family values, love and balance. She was an only child and her parents doted on her, enthusiastically supporting her interests in soccer and acting. She was exceptionally smart and mature for her age and school studies came easy to her, so she had no problem balancing schoolwork with a full schedule of afterschool activities that included regularly being cast in local community theater productions and the heavy rehearsal and performance schedule that ensued.

  In addition to being intellectually advanced, Becky was an early developer physically. At age eleven, she began to show obvious curves that did not go ignored by the boys at school. Several teased her and some of the bolder boys tried to touch her breasts. Fortunately, her parents had instilled in her a strong sense of good self-image and her self-confidence enabled Becky to deflect the young boys’ advances and ignore their comments. She focused on her interests and looked forward to the future.

  This changed during her eighth-grade year. It started one evening after a theater rehearsal when Becky’s father accidentally walked in on her just as she stepped out of the shower. Startled, the young girl screamed and yelled for him to leave immediately as she drew the towel across her chest and body, more embarrassed than angry. A look flashed across his face that she had never seen before, and he paused a moment before leaving without saying a word.

  A few days later her father visited her bedroom late in the evening after her mother had fallen asleep. He told her how beautiful she was and asked her to stand naked before him. She hesitated and he repeated the request, saying it was okay and that he was her father and wouldn’t do anything that was wrong. She reluctantly complied and pulled her nightshirt off over her head while he told her that she would be a famous actress one day with her beauty and talent and that she should be proud of her body. After a few minutes he left. This became a regular routine, sometimes occurring several times a month. He would wait until her mother was asleep, come to her room and sit on her bed as he watched her undress. He would praise her, tell her how much he loved her and then say goodnight and leave. She knew what they were doing was wrong, but she loved her father and justified the ritual by telling herself that he was doing no harm. After all, he never touched her.

  That was until Sunday. It was Becky’s sixteenth birthday and her parents had thrown her a big party at their house with several of her friends from school. The gathering was a raucous event with the girls singing songs from the current school musical, Mary Poppins, and talking in their best English accents. The last of her friends left at nine o’clock and Becky was in her PJs and under her covers by nine-thirty, ready for a good night’s sleep. As she drifted off, she was could just make out her parents talking through the bedroom door and heard her father saying goodnight to her mother. She didn’t know how much time passed before her father came into her room like he had many times over the past three years and touched her shoulder, rousing her out of her slumber. She knew what it meant and, despite overwhelming drowsiness, got out of bed, stepped out of her pajama shorts and pulled the t-shirt up over her head. But this time something was different. She could smell alcohol on his breath, and he looked at her in a new way. After she stood naked for a few moments he asked her to come over and sit by him on the bed. She pulled on her robe and sat next to her father.

  He put his arm around her shoulders, “You know, soon every young man around is going to want to go to bed with you.”

  She blushed, “Dad.”

  “And you will want to have sex with them too. I bet you already do.”

  “Dad, stop. I’m not stupid. I don’t need ‘the talk’.”

  “No, I am sure you don’t.” He pulled her closer, “But you deserve to know what good sex can be like before some bumbling boy messes it up.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You are sixteen and I think it’s time. I am going to teach you tonight.”

  Her head swirled as he opened her robe. She didn’t know what to feel. She was afraid, but she loved her father. This was all wrong. He had always been good to her. She went numb and her mind was a fog. Her father laid her down and took her virginity.

  Afterwards, he told her how much loved her and then added that if she loved her mother, she would never to tell her or anyone else what happened. After he left the room Becky cried throughout the night. She was in pain and overcome with guilt and confusion. The next morning, she had a late-start day at school. After her parents left for work, she would stuff some clothes a
nd a sleeping bag into a backpack and grab a small camping tent from the garage. Then she would go out to the highway and hitch a ride to Seattle where she could hide and decide what to do next.

  Chapter 3

  The Market

  It was nine o’clock Monday morning and the Pike Place Market was waking up. The smell of fresh produce and cut flowers mingled with that of fresh caught fish as local farmers set out their harvest and fish mongers created elegant displays of seafood on mounds of white shaved ice. Soon, thousands of tourists speaking a variety of languages from around the world would pack shoulder to shoulder as they wandered through the open stalls and shops in a state of sensory overload.

  Reed preferred the market early in the day before the throngs arrived. He enjoyed visiting with the artists, farmers, and fish mongers while they set up their stalls, and would often buy a colorful bundle of flowers for Angela along with fresh salmon or Dungeness crab for that day’s dinner. The Grey Kraken was less than three miles from the market, and he could make the bike ride in fifteen minutes or even less if he pushed it.

  This morning, he chained his bike to a pole outside of the original Starbucks and crossed the street to his favorite place for breakfast in the market. Inside the restaurant, he walked up a set of stairs to the second floor and sat down at a table by the large windows that provided panoramic views of the water and mountains.

  From several window tables that ran the length of the room, diners could look out to the west over the waterfront piers to watch white and green ferry boats plying Puget Sound to and from the Seattle Ferry Terminal. Just across the bay sat the community of West Seattle, with its peninsula jutting out from the Duwamish flats.

  Only a few minutes after taking a seat, Reed spotted Terry walking up the wooden stairway and called out, “Hey little brother. Good morning.”