Chapter Eleven

"Catherine Overly worked the day shift as a server at the Blue Crab," Ty told Owen. "Her last shift was Friday and ended at three o' clock. Coworkers said she talked about a spicy date that night. She didn't show up to work Saturday or Sunday. Manager called and left voice mails and texts. Said it wasn't like Catherine."

They'd searched online for Catherine wheels, a white spidery-legged flower. Asa and Violet hadn't returned from interviewing the Overly family. Selah was combing social media accounts.

"Did she say who the hot date was? Name? Description?" Owen asked as he entered new information into the geopattern location system.

"He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. According to the staff, she had been talking to him for a little while, and noted he was a mystery she wanted to solve."

Owen opened a box of pushpins. "I'm not a fan of the mystery."

"O, that's literally your job description. You solve mysteries." Tiberius took a long pull from his bottle of water.

"I mean in relationships. I don't want a woman of mystery. I want someone to tell me what they're thinking, where they want to eat, and not to use cryptic words like ‘I'm fine.' Because they never are fine."

"Women are cold cases. We ain't ever gonna solve 'em." Ty massaged his temples. "I have a perpetual headache. I had to buy a roll of antacids yesterday. Popping chalky pills to help with emotional heartburn ain't working."

"We gonna solve this one, though." Owen's somberness echoed Ty's. "You got a son, man. A son. What's that feel like?"

The emotion was hard to describe for someone who didn't have a lot of good words. "Like I'm having the best dream after living in a nightmare. Except I can't act on it. Can't do anything but play video games and try to steal glimpses of him. He looks like me. It's weird. I made this little being who's lanky and kind of disrespectful, but funny."

"So he takes after you in all areas." Owen grinned. "I want to meet him. Meet the little Granger. God help us all." He shoved a pin where the Blue Crab was located.

"We gotta find this guy before the hurricane. I won't leave without my son knowing he has a father. Who..." His throat tightened. "Who loves him. I've known about him for a hot second, but I do, man. I love him. Like...it's crazy and weird and how does that even happen?"

"It's called being a dad—a good one. You'll make a good father, Ty. For real. My dad was never around. My uncles stepped up though."

"I don't know how to be a dad," Ty admitted. "My dad was sick in the head. He never harmed me physically, but he had weird ideas about God and life and women. He was all into control—controlling his church, his people and his family. I will never be controlled again, and I'm not gonna control what my kid believes either."

Owen remained silent.

"You'd think that Bexley would run far from organized control, and yet she's got that boy in church, teaching him another patriarchal system that exploits women and steals your money in the form of tithes."

Owen raised his eyebrows. "You actually think that?"

"You know I do."

"It's not true. What you think about God." Owen sighed. "I gave my life to Jesus at church camp when I was fifteen."

"Every teenager gives their life to Jesus at church camp. They condition you to do that."

"No one conditions them." He laughed. "I'm not one to preach even though my maternal grandfather was a pastor. Little Missionary Baptist Church in Greenwood, Mississippi, where I was born and raised."

Ty peeled the paper from his water bottle. "I never knew that about you—the church thing, not the delta."

"I don't share it. Because...there's some shame there. I think, I think maybe I was supposed to be a preacher. Ran from it. I get geographical locations down pat, but my heart is a bit directionally challenged, and I think yours is too, bruh. You've been given a compass. Maybe pay attention to where it's pointing."

Owen's words burned in his heart, drilling into deep shadowy places, exposing what he'd hidden. Pain. Disappointment. Fear.

"Maybe I will. We ain't gettin' younger."

Ty had a seventeen-, almost eighteen-year-old son. Life had changed overnight. His running around and vacations alone—gone. Not that he did much running around these days. O had been his weekend party pal, but he'd dialed his late-night activities way down, and now Ty understood why. He was in some kind of crisis of faith. Ty was having another kind of crisis. One that pitted him against a killer who had time working for him.

"I'm gonna tell you right now, I'll risk everything because I have to find Ahnah and protect my son—and Bexley. She pulled some crummy stunts, but neither of us is innocent. And once this is over, I'm taking my son fishing."

"After you tell him you're his dad, that is. And hope he doesn't lose his mind on you." Owen picked up his coffee cup and stood.

"Well, I imagine he'll be madder at his mother for keeping a secret. I didn't know. I thought she was dead. That's my saving grace." Truth? He had no clue how Josiah would respond to the news. Could they make up for time lost? Would Josiah want to? Could Ty return to Memphis without him?

Owen grunted as a group text from Asa came through.

Ethan Lantrip has returned to the police station with new information. Meet me and Violet there ASAP.

"Guess he had a change of heart about cooperating," Owen said.

"Maybe." Ty wasn't so sure. Ethan Lantrip gave him the selfish-piece-of-trash-who-wouldn't-come-forward-with-squat-unless-it-was-advantageous-to-him vibe. "Guess we'll find out."

"Let me talk to him," Ty said to Asa, who stood outside the interview room with Deputy Dorn. "I have a less intimidating approach than you."

Asa rubbed the silvery scruff on his chin and cheeks, same silver streaking his dark hair and temples. Then his gunmetal-gray eyes met Ty's. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Did Violet rat him out?

"No. But if this is the Fire Ice Killer, I want lead. If it's not, it's someone using him, and it's personal to me. I can't stand behind the glass and watch."

Asa finally nodded. "Okay. I'm going in with you though."

"Fine." He glanced back, and Violet and Owen headed for the room behind the glass to observe. Inside the small interview room, Ethan Lantrip perched on a metal chair with a can of Coke, a white captain's hat on his head.

"Skipper," Ty said, calling him by the personal nickname and trying to gain camaraderie. "What brings you in today?"

Removing the cap, he brushed back his long dark hair that touched his collarbone, then laid his hat on the table. "I may not have been forthright with ya last time."

"May not or weren't?" Ty asked, removing his sports coat and draping it on the back of his chair. Asa remained in his stiff suit coat.

"Wasn't." He batted his gaze between him and Asa, his body language screaming discomfort. "First off, nothing was illegal. It was all consensual," Ethan said.

That's what most sexual deviants claimed. "Alright." Ty opened his notepad and put the pen to the paper. "Go on."

"I do fishing excursions, but I got a side hustle for real good cash money."

"You're a male prostitute?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Because you said it was consensual and I assumed you meant sex. Then you said you got paid for it."

His cheeks turned red, and a bright blue vein popped on his forehead. "Well, that wasn't what I meant. My part is simple. I give the girls a boat ride from the marina to their job."

"What job is that? Be specific so I don't have to assume."

Ethan ran his finger on the inside of the neck of his Skipper Fishing T-shirt. "For a price, men—and women—can fulfill their fantasies. I give the girls a ride to fantasy island."

Ty exchanged a look with Asa. "Fantasy Island like the show?"

Ethan shrugged one shoulder. "That's how I met Amy-Rose. I picked her up and shuttled her to a stretch of the island that's secluded. When I'm texted, I return and pick them up. I make money, and they make a killing. End of job. What goes on in the house, I don't know. Amy-Rose and I hooked up after one night. Can't be in a real relationship with a woman who does what she does for a living."

"Prostituting?" Ty asked. "I thought we were being specific."

Ethan's face reddened again. "Sometimes, but...it's weird stuff. One time...she said all she had to do was dress like a schoolgirl and paddle a bad schoolboy." He scrunched his nose. "Some people have dark and dumb fantasies, and there's a guy who makes it happen for a steep price."

Ty had seen far sicker things than that in his career. "You think whoever is behind making these fantasies happen killed Amy-Rose and Lily Hayes?"

Sweat popped along Ethan's brow and upper lip. "I need a deal."

"We can't offer you a deal. We can put in a good word, though. If what you say gets us somewhere," Asa said.

Skipper picked up his hat and forced it on his head. "Deal or I don't say another word and walk."

TV was wrecking interviews for them. Bad guys demanded deals. Actors playing cops and district attorneys handed them over. Why not use the TV shows to his advantage? "We'll talk to the DA. Tell us what you have first."

"Three months ago, I boated a girl named Jenny Davis out to the house. I have no idea what the fantasy was. But about two hours in, I get a text to come ASAP. When I get to the house, I think I'm taking Jenny back to Blue Harbor. But I'm not. Whatever went down in there went sideways. Jenny died, and I was paid four grand to dump her body. And I did."

Okay, he was not expecting that. Did Jenny have a flower for a middle name?

"Who gave the order? Who is in charge of this freak show?" Ty asked.

"Patrick Swain. Real rich dude. Lives on the southern tip of the island."

"Where did he ask you to dump the body?"

"The water." His lip quivered. "I dumped her in the water."

Ty itched to talk to this Patrick Swain. Sounded like he could be their guy, or maybe the killer was one of his clients. "Did you know any of the other girls besides Amy-Rose?"

He nodded. "Not all of 'em. But I knew two other girls. I lied last time you asked. I did know Lily Hayes."

"And the other woman's name?"

"Ahnah Hemmingway."