Invitation: The Call, The Haunted, The Sentinels, The Girl Page 16

  I looked over at him, grateful for his concern. “Thanks, Tank. I really appreciate your help, by the way. Not many people would agree to come out here and help me scour the beach, especially if they had a broken toe. The professor came only because I threatened to surprise him by translating his next speech into binary code.”

  “Shucks, Andi, I’m from a place where there ain’t no beaches, so this is a treat for me. In fact”—he lowered his head so I couldn’t see his face—“being with you is a treat, too. All week, most weeks, I’m with a bunch of rough, rude football players, and none of them can hold a candle to—well, none of them are much fun to be with after practice. So I’m glad you called. I’m glad I’m here.”

  He looked at me then, and in the golden glow of sunset I saw hope, happiness, and sincerity shining in his eyes. I’d seen that look in his eyes before, so maybe I realized what he was up to even before he did. If you took one innocent, good-hearted lug, added in a decent-looking girl of the right age, and multiplied the mood with mystery, danger, and a gorgeous sunset, you ended up with a guy who didn’t know the first thing about having a girlfriend but was awfully eager to learn.

  I knew one sure way to nullify this equation before things got out of hand.

  “Tank.” I stopped and met his open gaze head on. “I appreciate you so much. I’ve never had a brother, so I think I’m going to like having you around.”

  I gave him a sweet smile, punched his rock of an upper arm, and strode toward the house, leaving him and the professor on the beach.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Dr. Mathis?”

  We looked up from our pancakes when the professor raised his voice. His cell phone had rung during breakfast, and he hadn’t bothered to leave the table.

  I felt a tingle in my stomach as the professor listened to the marine biologist.

  “Are you quite certain? . . . Um-hmm. Nothing else could have done that? I mean—”

  I grinned when the professor fell silent. Judging from the disgruntled look on the professor’s face, Dr. Mathis was standing his ground.

  “I see,” the professor said. “Well, we appreciate the information.”

  He disconnected the call, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and picked up his knife and fork.

  “Well?” I leaned toward him. “What did Mathis have to say?”

  The professor began to cut his pancakes. “He necropsied the birds and fish last night. He could find no reason for the fishes’ demise, so the man is obviously not very good at his job. Apparently your aquarium needs a more qualified marine biologist.”

  I bit back my impatience. “Professor! Is that all he said?”

  Finally, he met my gaze. “Though he did not know what killed the fish or removed their eyes, he did determine that the birds died from blunt trauma. He believes the impact may have forced the eyes out of their sockets.” He lowered his knife. “May I eat my breakfast now?”

  I shifted my gaze to Brenda. “Blunt trauma? Like someone hit them?”

  “Or they hit somethin’,” Brenda said, thought working in her eyes. “Maybe they hit a jet.”

  I shook my head. “There were no jets overhead. Flights coming into Tampa International circle Tampa Bay, not this beach. Believe me, I’ve flown into Tampa enough times to know.”

  “It could have been a small plane,” the professor said. “Any small plane could have been buzzing around and flown through a flock of birds. You have to admit, Andi, there’s nothing strange about that. Airplanes and birds are always colliding in midair.”

  “A flock,” I said. “A flock is what—twenty birds? A hundred? Thousands of birds fell on our beach, Professor. I heard one of the guys from UT say there had to be at least ten thousand dead blackbirds. That’s a big flock.”

  “Maybe they hit, like, a thunderhead.” Tank lifted his orange juice. “That’s up in the sky, isn’t it?”

  The professor opened his mouth, but I kicked him under the table, knowing he was about to remark on Tank’s intelligence. The big guy couldn’t help it if he spent more time in the locker room than in his books.

  “A thunderhead,” I explained gently, “is a cloud. It may be dark, it may have winds and lightning, but I don’t think birds could kill themselves by running into one.”

  “So maybe this marine biologist guy is wrong,” Brenda said. She poured two sugars in her coffee, then closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma. “Fresh ground coffee in the morning. I tell ya, I could get used to livin’ like this. What do you think, Dan?”

  I looked at the boy. He had gotten up to eat breakfast with the rest of us, but he kept glancing toward the sliding doors as if he expected to see Abby at any moment.

  “I know, Daniel,” I said. “I’m waiting for her, too.”

  “Did you check the SPCA?” Tank asked. “Someone might have taken her to the lost and found.”

  “I’m going to call this morning. I’m also going to go out again and talk to people who live near the beach. She’s such a nice dog, she’d have gone with anyone. But she’s wearing a collar and tag, plus she’s microchipped, so I’m hoping someone will call. I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.”

  Brenda shrugged. “I hate to tell you this, but where I’m from? A good-sized dog like that would end up in the center of a fight pit as a bait dog. I have to say, though, last night your dog looked like she could give those fighting dogs a run for their money.”

  I stared at Brenda, horrified by the thought of Abby in a dog fight. I knew Florida had its share of such horrible crimes, but this was Pinellas County, home to thousands of retirees. None of our neighbors would be involved in something so despicable, but you never knew who might be strolling down a public beach.

  “So . . .” I pushed away from the table and tapped my fingers on the edge. “We’re stuck, huh? We don’t know what killed the fish, we don’t know what killed the birds, and we’ve lost Abby. This weekend is turning out to be an unmitigated disaster.”

  My cell phone jangled. I pulled it from my pocket and stared at the unfamiliar number, then pressed Receive. “Hello?”

  “Andi? Are you ready to give me your last name?”

  I blinked, caught off guard by the question. But the voice evoked a distant memory, and suddenly it all came back: the white van on the beach. The hazmat guy.

  “That all depends,” I said, glancing at the professor. “Were you able to learn anything about why those animals died?”

  “Do I get a name if I tell you?”

  “You’ve already got my number,” I reminded him. “So let me hear what you have to offer.”

  “The fish—unknown cause of death,” he said. “The birds—COD is blunt trauma.”

  I closed my eyes. “So what caused the trauma?”

  “I wish I could tell you, darlin’. But truth is, that’s all I’ve got. That’s all anybody’s got right now.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Goldstein,” I told him. “My name’s Andrea Goldstein. And thanks for the answer.”

  I put my phone on the table and folded my hands. “Dr. Mathis’s opinion was just confirmed by a guy from the University of Tampa’s biology department. The birds died because they ran into something solid, and from the sheer number of dead birds we can surmise that the thing they ran into must have been huge. But there are no jets, wind turbines, or skyscrapers along this stretch of the beach.”

  “Okay, then.” Tank slapped out a ta-da-boom on the table. “We have a confirmed fact. We’re making progress.”

  Brenda snorted. “Dial it back, CSI. We got a big pile of nothin’.”

  The professor lifted his coffee cup as if to say touché, but even though we had another piece of the puzzle, I had never felt farther from the truth.

  “Andi, I appreciate your intellect, I am grateful for your technological assistance, and I admit you’re pleasant company, but I simply cannot believe that you would ask us to go door to door like encyclopedia salesmen.”

  “Ease up, Professor,” Brend
a drawled. “The last encyclopedia salesmen died years ago. Nobody goes door to door anymore, especially in Florida.” She turned to me. “Isn’t this the state where people can shoot you if you knock on their doors without an invite?”

  “No one’s going to shoot you.” I lifted my chin, struggling to overcome my rising irritation. “All I want you to do,” I said for the fourth time, “is go up and down the beach and ask people about two things: have they seen Abby, and did they see anything odd on the day of the fish and bird kill. Is that so hard?”

  The professor grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t speak again. Once he left the house, though, I knew he’d fill someone’s ear with complaints.

  So I’d have to go with him.

  “Brenda”—I pointed south—“why don’t you and Tank go that way? You can take Daniel with you. The professor and I will head north.”

  Disappointment filled Tank’s face for an instant, but he smiled at Brenda and stood back as she and Daniel went down the stairs. The professor merely lifted his brows when I looked at him. “Ready?”

  “You are a clever girl,” he said, leading the way over the deck. “Pairing that lovesick boy with Brenda.”

  I nearly laughed aloud. “Tank is not lovesick,” I said, grabbing an umbrella from the stand near the back door. “He’s just infatuated or something.”

  The professor snorted. “Be careful, Andrea. Inside the biggest men reside some of the softest hearts.”

  “Did you make that up?”

  “I would never write something so maudlin. I probably read it on a Hallmark card.”

  We walked the fifty or so yards to the closest house, then approached the back deck. All the beach houses in this area had welcome mats at the front and back doors, since residents spent so much time on the beach. The professor remained a good ten feet behind me, undoubtedly embarrassed by the possibility that someone might think he was some kind of solicitor. Dressed the way he was, in long pants and a tweed sport coat, complete with elbow patches, he did look like a guy who might be peddling Dyson vacuum cleaners.

  “Hello?” I knocked on the screen door. “Anybody home?”

  A moment later an older woman approached, a wide smile beneath her curious gaze. I searched my memory for her face, but she must have arrived after I left for college. “Hello?”

  I introduced myself, said I was staying with my grandparents next door, and asked if she’d seen Abby. The woman was distressed to hear the dog was missing and promised to call if she spotted her.

  “One more thing,” I said. “Did you notice anything unusual the day the fish and birds died?”

  The woman blinked rapidly. “They died right in front of us, isn’t that unusual enough? I called 9-1-1 the day it happened, but they wouldn’t send the police until we were practically suffocating from the stench.”

  “Did you see anything else unusual? Did you, for instance, see anything in the sky?”

  The woman tilted her head, then opened the screen door and joined us on the deck. “I didn’t see anything,” she said, “because it was raining and I tend to stay inside when it’s damp and cold outside. But my nephew was out here that morning, and he said he saw something. He sounded crazy, though, and then the birds and fish started dying so I forgot about what he said.”

  “Is your nephew around? I’d love to talk to him.”

  The woman’s smile faded. “Of course he’s around. He’s unemployed, lazy, and he sleeps until three o’clock because he stays out drinking with his pals all night. He’s around, all right.” Her face brightened. “Want me to wake him?”

  “He wouldn’t mind?”

  “Of course he’ll mind. But I won’t.” She winked. “Just a minute, let me get the lazybones out of bed.”

  She went back inside the house, her slippers shuffling over the tile floor, and I turned to study the horizon. The professor stood facing the water, too, his arms folded, his eyes intent on the sky.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice flat. “And you know it’s preposterous.”

  “Nothing’s preposterous, Professor. What is it Sherlock Holmes always says? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’”

  “You haven’t ruled out a small plane, a weather balloon, and a fireworks display. Those birds could have run into any number of things within a few miles of this place. The storm gusts could have picked up their bodies and dropped them here. Stranger things have happened before.”

  “Yes, but let’s hear what the nephew has to say.”

  A few moment later I heard the slap of bare feet on the tile, followed by the squeak of the screen door. “Yeah?”

  I turned. The nephew—in his early thirties, stubbled, bed-headed, and wearing only a pair of cargo shorts—squinted at us, his round eyes bleary and bloodshot. On the side of his neck I saw a tattoo—a scorpion.

  For a split second, the world seemed to sway on its axis, then I grabbed at the strings of reality and held them tightly.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” I said, knowing that the conversation would be significant, “but your aunt mentioned that you saw something odd the day of the mass fish and bird kills. Would you mind telling us what you saw?”

  “Why?” He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “Nobody believes me.”

  “I’ll believe you,” I said, looking steadily into his eyes. “I’ve found myself believing a lot of unusual things lately.”

  He looked at me for a moment, then the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “It was early,” he said. “I’d been out partying and I’d had a few drinks, if you know what I mean. I walked up to the house this way, ’cause I didn’t want to wake Aunt Edna. The sun was just coming up behind the house, so I dropped into a chair to chill out for a minute. That’s when I saw them.”

  “Who?”

  “Balls of light. Orbs, I think they’re called. Three of them were bouncing around near the waterline. It looked like they were playing tag or something, but they never went far, just in and out, up and down. Then one of them zoomed right up here and hovered next to the porch railing. I was more than a little freaked. I couldn’t move, so I just sat there while it sort of hung in the air and studied me. Then suddenly, zip! It flew out over the water and disappeared. Its buddies went with it.”

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “Don’t think so. Maybe a little varooming sound, like the light sabers in Star Wars. Or maybe I just I thought I heard that. I don’t know.”

  “How long did the orbs stay around? Five minutes? Ten?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. It was like time stood still, you know? When I shook myself out of my daze, the sun had come up and everything looked pretty normal, except for the rain. I thought I must have been dreaming or somethin’, but when all those fish started washing up right after, I wondered if those orbs had anything to do with it.”

  “They were only balls of light?” I asked. “Nothing tangible? You didn’t see metal or wood or vinyl?”

  “Nothin’ like that. Just light. But not mindless light, if you know what I mean. They knew what they were doin’. The one came over and studied me like I was some kind of specimen in a jar.”

  I slipped my hand into my pocket so he wouldn’t notice that I had begun to tremble. “So they were autonomous.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” He scratched absently at his chest, then looked at me. “You think they had anything to do with all that stuff dying?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I did.” I nodded, then smiled. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” As the professor and I turned to walk away, he followed us to the edge of the porch. “Hey, if you need something to do tonight, we’ll be gathering down at the corner bar. We got everything we need for a party—”

  “Thanks!” I waved, then joined the professor on the beach.

  CHAPTER

  11

  An afternoon shower sent all of us scrambling back t
o the house. “I thought Florida was supposed to be warm and sunny,” Brenda groused.

  “It is,” I assured her, “but this is October, so you never know what you’re going to get. It can be hot one day and cool the next—and it can rain almost any time.”

  After drying off, we went into the kitchen to make coffee and hot cocoa. I had to admit, the warmth of the liquid in my cup took the edge off the chill I’d felt ever since meeting Edna’s nephew and hearing about what he saw on the beach.

  The professor shared the nephew’s story with the others. “But he was clearly drunk, and probably delusional,” he finished, “so his story is not credible.”

  “I disagree,” I countered. “He may have been drunk, but drunks still see things.” I lifted a brow and lowered my voice. “With all due respect, Professor, you should know that.”

  The professor pressed his lips together, then looked over at Brenda and Tank. “I’m not sure what you’ve picked up, but you might as well know that I am a recovering alcoholic. And Andi is correct, of course. Drunks do see things. Sometimes they see things that are actually present.”

  “I would have believed him if he said the moon was made of green cheese,” I said, then made a face. “Well, not really. But I knew he was going to tell us something important the minute he walked out on that deck.”

  “Because you noticed another pattern?” the professor said, softly mocking.

  “Because I’d seen him before—on Brenda’s aquarium program.”

  Brenda sputtered into her coffee mug, then set it down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re kidding.”

  “It was the same guy, down to the scorpion tat. You saw him.”

  Brenda didn’t answer but stared at her mug.

  “The guy saw orbs?” Tank made a face. “Somebody better fill me in.”

  “Technically, an orb is a sphere,” I said. “Lately the term has caught on with ghost hunters and UFO researchers. When they speak of an orb, they are talking about a ball of light that moves independently and shouldn’t be part of the scene.”