Heron Park Read online

  “Let’s go, boy.” She stood, and they followed the trail deeper into the woods toward the crashing waves.

  The sun peeked through the canopy of brilliant leaves over her head. The pines and oaks blocked out the rest of the world.

  Besides the morning chirps of birds and a few squirrels, she and Rooter were alone. Her watch showed almost 8:00. She’d roamed the park longer than she’d meant to. The dirt path ended and her feet sunk into sand, the bay only a hundred yards away. She’d come this far, she may as well take a quick look at the water before heading back.

  The wind picked up and she pulled her jacket shut across her chest. “Damn, Rooter. I wish I’d brought the car. I guess the few blocks to the condo won’t kill us, but it’s getting chilly.”

  Rooter turned at the sound of her voice, his little stub of a tail wagging in circles like a propeller preparing for take off. Tina laughed and gave him a playful pat on his rump, making him prance with joy in front of her.

  A whistle shrieked to their left. It rose in pitch and faded away. The songbirds fell silent. Rooter stopped short. His ears pricked up and his body tensed.

  Tina looked around. The noise reminded her of an obnoxious soccer mom after her kid scored a goal. It was a good way to get your dog’s attention though. She tugged on Rooter’s leash. He didn’t budge. Maybe she should get the person to teach her how to do it.

  The whistle blared again and Rooter erupted into a series of high-pitched yaps. Tina winced, unsure how a small dog could make such an unbearable sound.

  “Rooter. Knock it off. What has gotten into – ”

  Leaves rustled in the thick brush to her right. Footsteps? “Hello? Is anyone there?” The rustling got louder. She strained to hear over her dog’s incessant barking.

  A shiver danced across her spine, and it wasn’t from the cold. “Forget this, we’ve seen the beach before.” She dragged Rooter a few steps in the other direction and the rustling seemed to follow along with them. A row of dense bushes formed a natural fence between the woods and the trail. Was it the wind? An animal? “Hello?” Her voice trembled.

  The noise stopped.

  She listened for a moment longer then shook her head. A dull ache crept into her skull. “Enough with the yapping, Rooter! It’s probably just a deer and you’re scaring the crap out of it.”

  The dog cowered. His chest touched the ground, but his ears perked up and he put his nose to the wind.

  Tina had no idea what had Rooter going so ballistic and she wasn’t about to stand around to find out. “Rooter, let’s go.” She pulled on his leash, intent on getting past whatever lurked in the shadows.

  She moved to her left, giving it a wide berth. Rooter balked and found his voice again. His barking grew in volume as he lunged and strained against his collar.

  “For god’s sake.” She stooped down to pick him up, but stopped as the bushes shook. Branches cracked and snapped. Leaves flew in a frenzy to the ground. Something was muscling its way toward her and it definitely wasn’t a deer.

  Her body stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder toward the beach. Should they make a run for it?

  A mammoth dog burst onto the trail in front of them. It snarled and snapped its teeth. Tina took a step back, her heart pounding. “Oh my God…” Her eyes widened as the animal began a low rumbling growl. She back-pedaled and the leash slipped from her grip.

  Rooter took that opportunity to lurch forward. He charged at the menacing creature. Tina reached out for the leash and the nylon brushed her fingertips.

  She tried to scream, but before she could, the dog had Rooter’s body lengthwise in its mouth. Tina couldn’t breathe. Rooter’s squeal pierced her ears. His bones crunched.

  The animal’s massive head shook. Once. Twice. Blood splattered her face and she jumped back.

  Rooter’s body dropped to the ground. Deep lacerations covered his stomach. Pieces of intestine shimmered in coils in the dirt.

  The beast hovered over Rooter’s still form. Blood soaked saliva streamed down from its foaming jowls. Black eyes dared him to get up.

  Tina’s legs weakened, her feet felt rooted to the ground. It happened so quick. Could she have stopped it? Why hadn’t she tried? Tears sprang to her eyes. A strong breeze rushed against her face. She locked her knees as the smell of blood and feces assaulted her senses. She battled back the impulse to collapse.

  The creature sat down beside his kill and watched something over her shoulder. Tina sensed movement behind her. Her subconscious screamed at her to turn around, to run, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the mass of flesh and fur of her beloved pet.

  Footsteps rushed up behind her. An arm snapped around her neck and a hand covered her face. A warm breath scorched her ear. A different fear took control. She didn’t want to die.

  Her elbow jabbed backward into a rib. It connected with a solid thunk. She kicked her leg out, but hit only air. She arched her back. Pressure built behind her eyes. Rivulets of tears rolled down her cheeks. She tried to take a breath and gasped as no air filled her lungs.

  She fought to keep her eyes open. Her lids fluttered. The pressure and fear eased as a velvet darkness swallowed her whole.

  CHAPTER 3

  Cassie walked out of Sergeant Hank Hernandez’s office, holding in the ‘phew’ that wanted to slip from her lips. He’d been pissed she was late, but he gave her no more than a slap on the wrist before staring back at the disheartening pile of papers on his desk.

  Phil peered over his computer screen as Cassie slid into her seat. His lanky frame and boyish looks helped give him the precinct’s womanizer award, three years running.

  She had known him forever. He and Sam went to high school together and were still close friends. The two men had a running contest to see who could get the most one-night stands. Cassie thought it was beyond nauseating.

  “What the hell?” Phil smirked at her. “You trying to give Hank, er… I mean the Sergeant, a heart attack his first week? I thought his head was gonna pop. Lucky for you the agent is running late.”

  Izzy walked past with a cup of coffee in one hand and smacked him in the back of the head with the other. “Shut the fuck up, Phil.”

  He winced and rubbed the spot. “Ouch, what the hell, Isabella?”

  She ignored him and flipped her short black hair before taking a seat next to Cassie. “Everything okay with the boss?”

  Cassie smiled at her partner. “Thanks. Love it when I don’t even need to leave my seat to give someone a good crack.”

  Izzy thumbed over her shoulder. “Oh, that? No problem. You know how much I enjoy beating on a dog.”

  Cassie laughed as Phil’s jaw dropped. “Everything’s fine with Hank. Sergeant Watz left a mess of files for him. Between that and not knowing exactly why the FBI is coming… well, you know.”

  “At least that douche Watz is gone.” Izzy frowned. “I hated that man, don’t even feel bad they gave him four months to live.”

  Cassie shook her head. A bit appalled that her partner would say such a thing, but not really surprised. “Come on, he wasn’t that bad.”

  “Are you kidding me? The way he ranted and raved all the time? If someone’s only way of communicating is telling people how stupid they are, they deserve to bite the big one.” Izzy’s fingers tapped against her keyboard. “If he sprayed me with his germ infested saliva one more time, I swear I was going to kill him myself.”

  There was no reasoning with her partner. It never did any good. Plus, she had a valid point. “At least he did one thing right by putting in Hank’s name for the promotion.”

  Izzy looked up. “I guess Watz thought that Hank deserved some sort of reward for putting up with Phil’s shit for five years.”

  Hank popped his head out of his office. “Just talked to the FBI agent. He’ll be here in an hour.”

  “Did he explain why he wants to speak with us?” Cassie asked.

  “No. He said he gave Watz all the information, but he’d go over everything again whe
n he arrived.”

  “What, does he think we have nothing better to do?” Phil grumbled.

  “Hey, enough.” Hank eyed Phil and Izzy. “I need everyone to be on their best behavior.”

  Izzy grabbed her chest in mock astonishment. “Who? Us? What do you mean oh, wise leader?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You two act like adolescent monkeys ninety percent of the time. Any other day I can deal with it, just not today.”

  Izzy bent forward in her chair. “But, Hank, I mean, sir –”

  “Please, Izz, I don’t have time for this right now.” He waved a hand at her and banged his door shut.

  “Wow.” Phil placed his hands behind his head. “He told you.”

  Glaring at him, Izzy slammed down the folder she was reading.

  “You even called him sir,” Phil continued. “What’s it gonna take for me to get that kind of respect around here? I mean, I’ve been here what? Three years longer than you two? You guys should be serving me coffee and making me cookies.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. Here we go. Nothing got Izzy’s blood steaming faster than Phil’s sexist remarks. She couldn’t believe he’d start in again. Last time, Izzy had put him in an arm bar and nearly broke his elbow.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Izzy said. “You really want to go there?”

  Phil smirked at her. “Better yet, you two should be home popping out kids and doing laundry. Playing detective might cause you to break a nail or something, and we wouldn’t want that.”

  Cassie glanced at Izzy. Her partner’s face reddened, her full lips drew together in a line. Here come the fireworks. “Izzy, you know he doesn’t mean any of that.” She paused. Her partner wouldn’t buy that. “He’s not worth it. Ignore him.”

  Izzy leaned forward. “Phil, never in your lifetime will anyone ever be calling you sir. The only reason they haven’t taken your badge and put you behind the cafeteria lunch line yet, is because Hank always protects you. You suck at your job. The whole precinct knows it, even you know it.”

  “I’m just kidding around.” His nostrils flared. “Why do you have to be such a bitch? Like you should talk. The only reason you’re still here is because your daddy plays golf with the mayor.”

  From the look on Phil’s face, Cassie knew he regretted his words. Izzy had made it to the academy by literally a hair. She was at the minimum height requirement. It was true her father had a lot of pull. But Izzy had worked her ass off to gain the respect that her curvy, pixie frame took away. One on one, the girl could take down any guy in the precinct.

  Not to say Phil wasn’t telling at least the partial truth. Izzy had more complaints from suspects than the entire precinct put together. If it weren’t for Izzy’s father, she’d have multiple suspensions, might've even been demoted by now. Instead, she took anger management classes once a week with Dr. Barr. He said she was improving.

  Cassie held her breath.

  Izzy closed her eyes and inhaled. “One… two… three… four… five… six…” Her tense facial features relaxed. The lines faded. She glanced at Phil who had a hand over the Joker smile plastered on his face. “Screw this!” She jumped from her seat.

  Cassie glanced at Hank’s door. Was she serious?

  Phil leapt to his feet and ran away as Izzy darted after him, chasing him into the men's room. His grunts and her laughter soon drifted out. Working with the two of them was like dealing with a couple of ten-year-olds. She bet Izzy was making a good attempt at shoving Phil’s face into a urinal.

  The office door flung open, making Cassie jump. “Logan,” Hank yelled. “Get those two clowns out of the restroom. There’s been a change of plans. FBI is meeting us at Heron Park in fifteen.”

  Cassie rose from her chair. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Teenager found a dead dog chewed to shit, and what looks to be a woman’s running shoe covered in blood. The FBI agent seemed pretty hyped-up when I told him. He asked to tag along. I think we’re about to find out why he wanted to speak with us instead of Missing Persons.”

  ~~~

  FBI Special Agent Rick Sanders pulled into Heron Park’s entrance in Babylon and flashed his credentials to the cop at the gate. The older officer gave him a curt nod, wrote his badge number and time of arrival in the logbook then stepped aside.

  Rick parked his car, and popped two Tums into his mouth to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He hated to say he was excited, but after six months of desk duty he was eager to get back in the field. Especially since he’d originally only come to New York to ask a few questions about some missing girls. He thought it would be a dead end. His heart had nearly vaulted from his chest when Sergeant Hernandez called to tell him about the possible crime scene.

  Hernandez had said he’d meet him at the welcome sign. It looked like Rick had beaten them there. He scanned the information on the wood-framed map of the park. It was eighty acre’s with two parking lots, three large fields, and acres of wooded trails that ended at two miles of beach.

  It was visited every day by joggers, high schoolers, pre-schoolers and everyone who owned a dog in a ten-mile radius. Yearly, egrets and herons came to nest, making it a pretty big tourist attraction in the spring.

  He stared at the tree line. No wonder the place was so popular. A crisp breeze ruffled his blazer, bringing a hint of saltwater in its wake. Bright colors of fall surrounded him. Fiery reds, burnt oranges and sunshine yellows all danced in place on the limbs of their oaks.

  Bob Ross came to his mind and one of the artist’s quirky lines. ‘Happy little trees.’ All the landscape needed was a little cabin, and a friendly rock or two, and it would’ve been one of the painter’s masterpieces. Heron Park didn’t seem like a place a killer would lurk. But then again, if he was as intelligent as they thought, this would be the perfect place.

  A blue heron flew across the field. It glided to the middle of the park and disappeared behind a half dozen massive weeping willows. Rick stepped forward, shielding his eyes from the sun. He could just make out a pond behind the drooping branches. Eerie sounds rose up from it. A mix of birdcalls that could only be compared to human screams. The steady pitch carried on for five seconds, stopped, then began again. Egrets and herons. Talk about some noisy-ass birds.

  He turned away from the pond and concentrated on the trail openings, counted fifteen. An ambulance and a group of officers congregated far to his left.

  Multiple doors slammed behind him. Two women and two men headed his way, dressed in dark suits. Rick rolled his shoulders back as they neared. He eyed the tall, lanky detective. It was hard to tell how he’d be received. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak with them in detail about why he’d come.

  There was always at least one detective on a team that figured Rick was there to step on toes and take over investigations. The young, tall guy leered at him. He would be the one.

  Rick reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a pack of Reds and bumped one out on his palm. In one calculated motion he lit the match and then his cigarette. The sweet smell of nicotine teased his nose. Smoke swirled, hovering around him before dissipating in the breeze.

  The detectives stopped in front of him. “I’m FBI Agent Rick Sanders,” he said, hoping his smile would at least soften the women as it usually did. He shook each hand in turn. Sergeant Hank Hernandez. Detective Isabella Betz. Rick’s eyebrows arched skyward when he got to Cassandra Logan. She was only a half-head shorter than him and had intoxicating blue eyes. He found it impossible to move on to the next introduction before giving her a quick once over. Hopefully, it wasn’t an obvious one.

  Phil Larson’s knowing glare made it clear he hadn’t been as slick as he thought. Shit. Caught.

  “What we got, Agent Rick Sanders?” Phil asked, lighting a cigarette.

  “Call me Sanders, or Rick if you’d like.”

  The detectives continued to frown at him and he sighed. “Okay, listen. I appreciate you letting me come along. I’m only here
to observe and help if I can. And only if you need me to.” He ground his cigarette out on his boot heel and tossed it into a garbage can.

  Phil blew smoke out of his nose. “Help with what? I thought you were coming to ask some questions about missing women. This seems a bit different than that. If you did your research you’d know homicides aren’t such a big problem around here. We have a few, but we handle them just fine on our own. Don’t need no big shot, pretty boy – ”

  “Hey,” Hank interrupted and Phil’s eyes dropped to stare at his shoes. “Please excuse him. He’s got a lot of heart and no brains.”

  Rick shrugged, not really blaming the guy for being defensive. He’d fill them in and hope that the dead dog wasn’t connected to his case. “We had some women go missing in Virginia. It was a lot like what happened here last year. They were out walking their dogs and never came home. The only difference in our cases is we found their dogs ripped to shreds. Initially, I wanted to ask if you found anything like that. Also, I wanted somebody to take me to the park where they went missing, so I could see if there were any similarities in the areas.”

  Hank ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “We’re here and there’s not much to show. We didn’t even find any blood. Two rainstorms hit on the nights the women supposedly went missing.”

  A chill zigzagged its way up Rick’s back. Storms were a common thread on his Virginia case too.

  Hank looked toward the ambulance. “The dead dog here, you’re not thinking that this could be the same guy, are ya?”

  “Not originally I wasn’t, but this new development has me thinking it’s a possibility.”

  “Well,” Hank said. “Let’s go take a look and find out.”

  A heavyset man with bright red hair and a face full of freckles met them at the trailhead.

  Rick read his name badge. “Officer Ryles.”

  “You must be Agent Sanders,” he said and held out a gloved hand.

  Rick shook it. He knew he should stay quiet and let Hank lead, but if this was the same guy… “Any leads? Did anyone see anything?”