Primordial

Chapter 21

“This is going to take forever.” Joaquin scowled at the vial of liquid he’d just drawn from the lake. “Circle the entire lake testing salinity? That’s going to take forever. I don’t know where Holloway gets these ideas.”

“He got that one from me.” Aston took pleasure at Joaquin’s embarrassed grin.

“Sorry.”

“No worries.” Aston waved off the apology. “It might not work but it’s an avenue we haven’t yet tried.” They’d covered a large section of the lake countless times and performed scans of the lakeshore and bed, but despite some tantalizing clues, they were really no closer to anything definitive. If the creature, or creatures, lived here, there should be a lair somewhere, most likely in the warren of underwater passageways, but if the creatures were actually accessing the lake from the sea, that was a different story altogether. They could have their nest anywhere. Exploring every passage one by one was out of the question, but if they could find an area of high salinity, that might point the way to the ocean, and to the creature’s favored thoroughfare.

“No offense, but if it’s your idea, why am I the one stuck doing it?” Joaquin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. The guy clearly didn’t like doing what he considered grunt work.

“Efficiency, my man. I’ve got some places along the shore I want to inspect. Possible feeding spots, good places for a large creature to come ashore unmolested, the usual stuff. What’s more,” he clapped Joaquin on the shoulder, “I have complete faith in your abilities. There’s no one else on this ship I’d trust to do this job to my satisfaction.”

Joaquin laughed and flipped him the finger. “Whatever. Just don’t get yourself lost. We’re already down a crew member. If we lose any more, Holloway’s cheerful attitude is going to disappear.”

“You’re not afraid of him, are you?” Aston jibed.

“The hell with that. I’m afraid of losing my paycheck. If you’re loyal to him and, more importantly, if you get results, he’ll treat you very well. Let him down…” He didn’t need to finish the statement.

“Understood. Well, I’ll be off. I’m looking forward to seeing your results when I get back.”

“Yeah, and I’m looking forward to you kissing my ass.” Now the smile was genuine. “Bon voyage, Aussie.”

“See you, Septic.” Joaquin’s brows knitted and Aston laughed. “Aussie rhyming slang. Septic tank. Yank.”

Despite the brightness of the day, a dark cloud of trepidation hung over Aston as he rowed to shore. He’d lied about his purpose. He wasn’t checking out any sites, though he’d be sure to snap a few photos of random spots before returning, just to cover his ass. He still wasn’t certain he was doing the right thing, but he was going to talk with Superintendent Rinne because that’s what he’d promised he would do.

At present, Holloway was blinded by the thrill of potential discovery, and God only knew what Slater was thinking from one minute to the next, but Aston had mulled things over for the better part of the night and come away convinced that Dave hadn’t just taken off. Something must have happened to him, and if they wanted the help of law enforcement, they needed to be honest. At least as honest as they could be. He had a decent row in front of him, and then a long walk to consider how best to construct his story.

He hauled at the oars, taking pleasure in the simple task of propelling the boat across the water. The sun beat down on his skin, but a refreshing breeze kept him cool. The mundane nature of the task afforded his mind the opportunity to run free, weighing options, considering variables, and predicting consequences.

But by the time he arrived at the police headquarters, he still wasn’t certain how to approach the conversation. Did he begin at the beginning, and tell the officer about the monster hunt and the discovery of the severed foot? Or, did he stick to the missing person’s report? He had already decided to only talk about Dave, and not Gazsi. That guy had been gone even longer, and Carly had been right to mention him, but it was more likely he had just run off. Though as things progressed that seemed increasingly questionable. Regardless, Aston decided to concentrate on Dave, but how much did he tell?

The police station sat at the end of town. If its neat lines and solid brick structure served as a counterpoint to the local architecture, its diminutive size assured that it blended right in. It wasn’t much larger than the shops sat on either side. He pushed open the glass door and found himself in a waiting area. It was a spartan place, yellowed tiles beneath his feet, a sagging drop ceiling above his head, and a cracked Formica counter barring his path. A bare bulletin board hung from the block wall to his left. Three metal folding chairs backed up to the wall behind him. Aston had paid a couple of visits to jails in his youth, but this one was, by far, the least impressive.

There was no bell to ring and no one answered his loud “Hello?” so he lounged against the counter until a uniformed officer came in the front door, the aroma of bacon from the bag he carried preceding him.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Sam Aston to see Superintendent Rinne. I don’t have an appointment.”

The officer frowned, peering at him through dark eyes. “He’s busy, but I’ll let him know someone wants to see him.”

Aston selected the least suspect of the chairs by the wall and settled in. Rinne kept him waiting for ten minutes, though Aston was certain the man couldn’t possibly have a lot on his plate. How much enforcing did one really have to do in such a tiny place? The longer he sat, the angrier he grew, until he resolved to only tell the bare minimum. By the time he entered the superintendent’s office, he had half-decided he should head back to the boat, but not before telling Rinne to fuck off.

The superintendent sat behind a large desk in a swivel chair, with his back to the door, an unlit cigarette in his hand resting on one plastic arm. His desk was neatly organized and adorned with a telephone, desk calendar, a single pen, and two framed photographs. One was a wedding photo of Rinne and a surprisingly attractive woman; the other an old, black and white number of a man who could have been Rinne’s double. His father, Aston supposed.

“Please sit,” he said, not turning around. He rolled the cigarette back and forth in his fingertips, shifted in his seat, and let out several agitated grunts. Finally, he turned to regard Aston with faraway eyes and a bored expression on his face. “How can I help?” His tone said he could not care less about being helpful.

Aston took a deep breath and barreled forward. “We’re missing a crew member. He disappeared a couple of days ago and no one’s heard from him since.”

He’d considered a few ways in which Rinne might react: anger at not being told sooner, perhaps a cold yet professional attention to the details, but he was unprepared for utter apathy. Rinne stared at him, his heavy lids almost closed, still fiddling with that bloody cigarette.

“We asked after him in town,” Aston continued. “We thought maybe he’d just decided to have himself a night off, so we talked to all sorts of folk. But no one’s seen him.”

Still no reaction from Rinne. It was as if the man were staring right through him.

“Well?” Aston asked after an uncomfortable pause.

“I beg your pardon?” So the man was awake.

“Are you going to take down a missing person’s report, or whatever you call it here? I mean, the man is missing.”

Rinne puffed out his cheeks, straightened in his chair, and laid the cigarette on his desk. “Perhaps your friend grew tired of working for that buffoon, Holloway, and decided to leave?”

“He doesn’t work for Holloway. He works for Slater.”

“And she works for Holloway.” Rinne grinned as if he’d scored a point. “How well do you know this… what is his name?”

“Dave.”

Rinne paused and fixed Aston with an expectant look. “Dave what?” he finally prompted.

Aston frowned, embarrassed. “I don’t know actually,” he admitted at last. “Slater knows, obviously. I can get the name for you.” He felt suddenly foolish. Nothing like destroying your own credibility with someone from whom you wanted assistance and a measure of respect.

Rinne raised one eyebrow. “So I’m guessing you haven’t known this Dave very long?”

“No, but he’s worked with some of our team members for a long time and they say it’s not like him just to fuck off like this. Sorry, I mean, leave.”

Rinne arched the other eyebrow. “And yet it is you who is here making the report. How very odd.”

Aston felt heat rising on the back of his neck. “Does it really matter who makes the report? The others are busy. The man is missing and we need your help to find him, or to find out what happened to him.”

Aston saw something flicker in Rinne’s eyes. Perhaps a flash of curiosity?

“What makes you think something happened to him?”

“I just told you. He left and never came back. It’s out of character. And Holloway might be,” he paused right on the precipice of calling the billionaire a ‘colossal asshole’, “overbearing at times, but he pays well and is no more demanding than most of the bosses I’ve had.”

Rinne smirked, picked up his cigarette again, and held it in front of his face. “I quit smoking years ago, but I keep one of these in my desk at all times. I like to take it out and hold it just to remind myself I have the will to resist.” He lapsed into silence for a span of five seconds and then gave his head a shake as if trying to wake from a dream. “We will ask around after your friend, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. After all, there isn’t much to do here except drink. This town is small, but we have plenty of lonely wives with ample free time on their hands while their husbands are off working on fishing boats and the like. He probably fell in with one of them and is embarrassed to face you all again. Or, he’s still enjoying himself. It’s happened before.”

“I don’t think so.” Aston bit off each word.

“Of course you don’t. Now, unless you have anything more to tell me, I have work to do.”

Aston knew a dismissal when he heard one. He sprang from his seat a bit too fast, upending his chair. He didn’t bother picking it up; he was angry with Rinne for not taking Dave’s disappearance seriously and furious with himself for having bothered. He stalked from the room, stopped just outside the doorway, and turned around.

“There is one more thing. Dave rowed to shore, but when we got to town, his dinghy wasn’t there. We’ve also been all over the lake and haven’t found it anywhere along the shore or floating on the water. If he got here safely, wouldn’t his boat be somewhere nearby?”

Now he had Rinne’s attention. The superintendent rose halfway to his feet, palms flat on the desk. His flinty eyes bored into Aston. Finally, he sank back into his chair.

“Thank you for that. I’ll look into it. Please close the door behind you.”

Aston complied. It took all his willpower not to slam it, but he managed. What the hell, he wondered, was Rinne’s problem?