Chapter 26 Peg Leg

Chapter 26

Peg Leg

Before I left Sidney Barbour’s brig cell, I locked eyes with the most terrifying woman I would ever know, and she stared back through the cold blue-gray eyes of her father, Dr. Robert “Rocket” Richter. I gave a shake of my head that was more of a thought than an action, and she read the gesture perfectly. Her eyes softened, but they did so with a subtlety almost no one else in the world would notice. I’d fallen into those eyes more times than I would ever admit, and yet, I’ll never regret those tiny moments so far from everything and so powerful that my heart may never heal.

As the echo of the steel door closing behind me rang in my head, I feared everything. I feared we had the wrong man tied to a chair. I feared I might unleash Anya and Shawn to drag me descending into depths so near to Hell that the clawing demons might grasp my very soul. I feared I’d become wrapped inside a world I couldn’t understand—a world in which greed reigned on high and victims were somehow less than human—somehow nothing more than mere stones in the path beneath the feet of men so driven by excess and so consumed by lust for more that they would destroy any innocence and any purity that lay before them.

I climbed the ladder back to the decks above the dungeon of my own creation and saw the first beams of morning light streaming through the portholes and hatches of the Lori Danielle . Somehow, that light gave me hope and reminded me that no matter how dark the night, the dawn will come, and the creatures of the darkness will retreat into their dens to await the coming of another night when they can, once again, unleash their fury.

Had I become one of them? Had I longed for the darkness to envelope me and hide me away from the light as I plied my gruesome trade?

I collided with Dr. Shadrack near the hatch to sick bay and stumbled from my introspection and back into the reality of my world.

“Take it easy, Chase. Are you all right?”

I held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’m pretty tired, and I was a little lost in my thoughts.”

He wiped the coffee from his wrist that had abandoned the mug in his hand. “It’s okay. You looked a little out of it. Do you need something to help you get some sleep?”

I shook him off. “No, I don’t have time to sleep. How’s the DNA match going?”

“The preliminary analysis is done, and we’re comparing it against every known profile we have access to. It’ll return fifty thousand hits or so.”

“Fifty thousand? That doesn’t do us any good. I need you to narrow it down to one guy.”

He took a sip. “Relax, knuckle-dragger. It’s just the preliminaries. If we used a detailed sample to search every database in the world, that would take weeks. We start with a general preliminary sample and find a few thousand possibilities. That way, when we run the detailed search, we’re looking through fifty thousand potential matches instead of a billion.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Fine. Whatever. But I need a definitive answer two hours ago.”

“Without a time machine,” he said, “you’ll have to wait. We’ll likely get a match in a few hours, but there aren’t any shortcuts in science. You need some rest. Let me give you—”

“Not now. Let me know the instant you have a match. In fact, when you get your general sample pool or whatever, let me know if Sidney Barbour’s name is in the pool of possibilities.”

“That’s not really how it works,” he said. “It’s actually—”

I cut him off again. “Just let me know.”

My next stop was inside the CIC, where Skipper looked like a zombie. I stepped behind her and laid my hands on her shoulders. “Hey, go get some sleep. We need you fresh when the DNA match comes back.”

She sighed and laid her head back against me. “Rub my shoulders, please.”

Her neck and shoulders felt like gravel. The knots were hard and endless.

I lifted a handset from the console and pushed the medical button.

A voice came through the earpiece. “Sick bay, Shadrack.”

“Do you have a tech or a nurse who’s also a massage therapist?”

“We do.”

“Good. I’m sending Skipper down. She’s been at her computer way too long, and her back needs some attention.”

He said, “Send her down. We’ll take care of her.”

Skipper looked up at me from behind puppy-dog eyes. “Thank you.” She stood from her chair, groaning as she went. “Celeste will be here in a few minutes. I told her to expect to work the day watch.”

“I’ve got it until she gets here. Enjoy your massage.”

She kissed me on the cheek and turned for the door.

As I sank into her chair, fatigue overcame me, and I weighed a thousand pounds. Thankfully, Dr. Celeste Mankiller came through the door minutes later before I collapsed.

“Where’s Skipper?”

I stretched. “I sent her down for a massage and a nap.”

“A massage? Do we have a masseuse on board?”

“We do. One of Dr. Shadrack’s nurses is a massage therapist.”

“I want to get on that list.”

I waved a hand. “The ship and her crew are at your disposal.”

She grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

I asked, “Do you know anything about DNA?”

She laughed. “I’m a scientist, Chase. Of course I know about DNA.”

“I thought you might. Keep pushing medical to get a match, and wake me up when it comes.”

When I made it to my cabin, I found Gator knocking on my door. “You don’t have to knock. I’m not home.”

He flinched. “Oh, hey, Chase. Have you got a minute?”

“Sure. Go on in. I never lock it.”

He pressed through the door and planted himself on my footlocker. I shucked off the boot from my one remaining foot and disconnected my prosthetic from the other leg.

Gator quivered. “That still freaks me out.”

I raised my stump toward him, pretended to jab him with the titanium rod protruding just beneath my knee, and put on my best pirate voice. “Yar, matee. Ye capt’n be pegleg.”

He slapped at the rod. “Have you heard the saying about being as busy as a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest? You’re about to find out how busy that is if you don’t get that thing away from me.”

I plopped down on my bunk. “What’s on your mind?”

“I want to go see Cecilia.”

I cocked my head. “What’s going on in that head of yours? This isn’t a love-sick schoolboy request, is it?”

“No, nothing like that. I’ve got a feeling she knows more than she’s telling, and after my sexpionage class with Anya, I think I can get it out of her.”

“Sexpionage? Is that what that’s called?”

He blushed. “Yeah, well, we didn’t…you know.”

I wanted to jab a little more, but I gave him a break. “Yes, I know. She’s very good at…”

It was apparently his turn to throw a jab or two. “You’d know.”

“That was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. So, tell me about this gut feeling of yours.”

He said, “You were a catcher. You remember what it was like to look out on the field and know what’s about to happen. I was a safety. It’s the same thing. I see stuff nobody else does. I can read a quarterback’s thoughts before he has them. I know when a wideout is about to break. Cecilia’s no receiver, but she might just be a tight end who’s wide open.”

I was intrigued. “Okay, go see her, but let me give you a piece of advice. Calling her a wide receiver isn’t the best move.”

He shrugged. “It was an analogy.”

“I’ll let the captain know you need the Huey. Go find Disco or Gun Bunny to run you ashore.”

“Actually, I was thinking I’d take the RHIB. You know, take her for a boat ride and a picnic or something to get her guard down.”

“Did Anya teach you that?”

“No. I’m just a romantic guy, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Take the RHIB, but don’t get lost. Those bayous are puzzles with a bunch of missing pieces.”

He stood. “Thanks. Do you think maybe Dr. Mankiller could hook me up with a wire? If I get Cecilia talking, it’d be nice to have it recorded.”

I pushed myself from the bunk and balanced on one foot. “You’re learning, kid. Celeste is in the CIC. Now, get out of here.”

I swung my stump at him, but this time, instead of quivering, he grabbed the metal rod and shoved me back onto my bed. “Anya didn’t teach me that, either.”

To my surprise, sleep came quickly, and I avoided picturing what Anya may have taught the new kid.

* * *

I didn’t hear my cabin door swinging open, but I felt the soft touch of the obviously feminine hand resting on mine.

“Chasechka, you must wake up.”

Maybe it’s a dream. I’m not ready to wake up.

The gentle touch strengthened and morphed from a soft squeeze to a shake. “You must wake up. We have problem.”

Nope, it’s not a dream.

I opened my eyes and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Two thirty,” she said.

“In the morning?”

“No, in afternoon. Get up and put on leg. This is very important.”

I chuckled at the absurdity of putting on my leg. “Okay, I’m up. What’s the problem?”

She handed my prosthetic to me. “I had thought about telling truth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Perhaps we have correct person inside jail, but we do not have correct woman.”

I locked my leg in place. “I’m going to need coffee or alcohol if you don’t start making this a lot clearer.”

“Is simple,” she said. “Woman said, ‘That is not my husband.’ Perhaps she was telling truth. Perhaps man is Sidney Barbour, but she is not Mrs. Barbour.”

“I’m starting with coffee.”

The machine accepted the pod, and soon, the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled my cabin. “Want some?”

She scowled. “You know I do not drink coffee, but I would like tea.”

I threw the coffee pod in the trash and slipped a tea into the machine. When the cup was full, I said, “I don’t have any honey.”

She took the mug from my hand. “Is fine without.”

Back on the edge of my bed, I said, “So you think we’ve got the wrong woman and she’s telling the truth about Barbour not being her husband. Is that right?”

“This is possible,” she said, blowing across the surface of her tea.

“So, fingerprint her and find out who she is.”

“This is happening now,” Anya said.

“So, what’s the problem?”

She sipped. “When doctor did preliminary comparison for DNA match, no one with name of Sidney Barbour was on list of eighty-five thousand people.”

“I may have to switch to alcohol.”

“No, listen to me, Chasechka.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

She shook her head. “Do not be silly. Of course I will never stop because you like this, even though you say you do not.”

“Go on with your story. Barbour is not in the pool of possible matches, but you still believe we’ve got the right guy.”

“This is correct,” she said. “I believe we have correct person. This means we know who he is, but we do not know what he is.”