Fangtooth

Chapter 10

“So you didn’t see anything?”

Bruce looked at the young police officer and shook his head. Shazam stood at his side, her hackles up and her ears cocked as she looked out to sea.

The officer made a couple of notes. “And you said Trent Zander went in search of…” he perused his notes, “Gaynor Dunn’s husband, Clive?”

“Yes, he swam out and looked for him.” Bruce stared across at Zander who stood at the edge of the water looking out to sea. “He came back a few minutes later.”

“And he didn’t find anything?”

“Nothing that he mentioned. But…”

“But what, Mr. Holden?”

“Well, when he came out the water, he was, I don’t know, pale. It was like he’d seen a ghost or something.”

The flashing lights of the ambulance washed over the sand to his side, and Bruce gazed across at Gaynor Dunn as the ambulance men helped her into their vehicle. She was in shock, which wasn’t surprising. She had just lost her husband, and those poor children, a father.

He twisted the wedding band on his finger and stared up at the cliffs where the silhouette of Lillian Brown, the madwoman he had discovered in his house, was discernible against the blue sky. He shivered. What the hell was she staring at? Perhaps moving here hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

He realised the police officer was speaking to him. “Sorry, could you say that again.”

“I said, will you be able to come to the station to give a statement?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes, sure. No problem.” An irrational fear struck him, fear for his son’s safety. He had been in bed when Bruce left the house, but that had been a couple of hours ago. Unlike Bruce, Jack was at home in the water, and he had mentioned only the other night how he was going to go swimming at the first opportunity.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go,” Bruce said.

The police officer looked at him for a couple of seconds and then nodded. “Just don’t forget to call in at the station.”

“Come on, Shazam.” Bruce jogged quickly back up the beach to the road. Shazam bounded along at his side. He stared up at the cliffs, but Lillian Brown was no longer in sight. He didn’t know whether her absence made him feel better or worse.

When he reached the house, he ran inside and called Jack’s name. Upon receiving no reply, he ran upstairs to Jack’s bedroom, only to find it deserted, the sheets tossed on the ground and the clothes he had been wearing the previous day missing.

Bruce knew it was taking a risk phoning Jack on his mobile, as the wrath of a son who feels he’s being spied on wasn’t worth thinking about, but Bruce felt anxious. The phone rang a number of times before the automated voice of the woman at the message centre cut in to tell him the person was unavailable. Bruce disconnected the call without leaving a message. He was just being paranoid.

But what if he wasn’t? What if Jack had decided today of all days to go swimming?

Today when there was something ravenous swimming in the depths. Something with a taste for flesh.