Five Days in Summer

he could. She followed at a jog. He got in the driver’s seat without looking at her and started the motor before she got in. As soon as she had her door shut, he backed out of the driveway and sped down Plum Hollow Drive toward the main route.
    “Where?” She clicked her seat belt into place.
    “Everyone’s on their way.”
    “But where ?”
    The familiar frustration clawed at her but she wouldn’t let it bite.
    His eyebrows arched. “Forty minutes of sleep isn’t enough, is it?”
    She looked at her watch and was surprised to see that she had indeed been home for less than an hour.
    “Tell me everything, Al, please.”
    His eyes stayed on the road and he didn’t answer. Apparently he couldn’t talk and drive at the same time. She pressed back her desire to take over the wheel.
    “Drive faster,” she told him, and immediately regretted it.
    He slowed down. So he would perpetuate his grudge against her to the bitter end. She shouldn’t have been born Portuguese and brought her mixed blood back to his snow-white island. She shouldn’t have been promoted to his department. She should have refused his unmarked car when Kaminer assigned it to her. Or maybe she just should have had that romantic picnic on the beach with him like he’d wanted. Would that have scratched the itch for this loser? What did he want from her anyway?
    She held her tongue until she realized they were headed in the direction of Popponesset Bay, where they had found Bobby Robertson.
    “Here?” she said.
    He shook his head and slowed for an oncoming turn.
    She pressed back into her seat and waited. As long as he got her there, it didn’t matter. He picked up speed on Spinnaker Drive and Amy saw her first glimpse of ocean ahead. They had to be close.
    She was surprised not to see any other police heading to the scene. “Where is everyone?”
    He shrugged.
    That was it: when all was said and done, she’d have that talk with Kaminer. She couldn’t tolerate Snow and she’d have to tell her boss exactly why.
    They turned down Simons Narrow Road and stopped. There was no one there, just a dead end, a grassy knoll that spilled into a quiet bay — and a single boat.
    “We made it here first,” he said like he couldn’t believe it.
    She got out of the squad car and started down the hill. Snow was right behind her. Alone at a short sun-bleached dock was an unassuming white boat; but when she got closer she saw that the boat wasn’t the SeaRay Sundancer they’d been looking for.
    “This isn’t Bell’s boat.” Amy stopped short and turned to look at Snow. “What’s going on here?”
    “This is where they sent me,” he said. “Maybe they made a mistake about the boat.”
    She paused to watch Snow step down the hill carefully, so he wouldn’t fall.
    “Who sent you here, Al?”
    “Got a message from dispatch, said to pick you up and bring you to Shoestring Bay. This is it.”
    “But you said I was home forty minutes. Didn’t you get back to the station?”
    He blinked. Kaminer had told him to stop back at Dunkin’ Donuts and she could just see him parked on a stool at the counter, taking himself a break while he waited for the order to get pulled together. She looked at him and didn’t know what else to say. Just then a breeze spun off the bay and caught Snow’s comb-over by surprise, flipping it wrong-side over. He didn’t even bother trying to slick it back in place. Amy felt a twang of pity for him.
    She pulled her gun out of her holster. “Let’s take a look.”
    Snow followed her as they crept across the deck. There was a small hatch. Amy tried the knob; it was unlocked. She turned it and pushed the hatch open into the darkness of a small cabin. She was hit by the reek of urine. It was awful. She jerked her head back and took a sharp breath of sea air.
    “It’s bad, Al. There’s something in there.”
    “Want me to go first?” he asked.
    She didn’t bother answering. She felt around for a light switch but didn’t find one. Across the cabin she noticed a set of curtains that was drawn together, with a small amount of light filtering through. She leaned in and her eyes began to adjust.
    And she saw the still figure of a woman.
    Amy’s eyes gained focus and there she was, Emily Parker, naked, ankles bound, arms free, lying in her own waste. Her skin tone was bad and Amy didn’t detect any breathing. Emily was possibly alive but more probably dead. In front of Emily was the younger boy, Sam, bound in