Read SS 18: Shark Skin Suite: A Novel for Free Online

picnic table. He groaned and pulled out a sticky peanut—“Now I can hear better”—then he looked down at himself.
    “What’s this?” He plucked the note off the front of his shirt, staggered over to the office and knocked. No answer. He pressed his face to the glass. No lights on. He stumbled back to the cabin and tried the knob. Locked. He sat back down on the picnic table. Something licked his hand. He fed the deer a peanut . . .
    . . . Inside the No Name, Brook lit up and raised a finger of epiphany. “I’ve got it! I know another way out of this!”
    Serge guzzled the rest of his water. “Like what?”
    “Look at me.”
    “Yeah?”
    Brook got off her stool and stood in front of him. “I want you to beat me up.”
    “This is no time to joke.”
    “I couldn’t be more serious. Hit me. Hard!”
    “What’s gotten into you?”
    “It’ll make them believe the kidnapping tale,” said Brook.
    “There’s no way I’m hitting you. That’s final.”
    “I’ll say it’s what you did to me after my escape attempt,” said Brook. “Then I tried again and succeeded the next day. That way you won’t have to turn yourself in, and we can later secretly reunite and be together.”
    “Even if we did try your plan—which we’re not—cops always see right through that,” said Serge. “Someone makes a murder look like a robbery by giving themselves a flesh wound in the meaty part of their arm. Really convincing.”
    “It’s convincing if you beat me badly enough.”
    “You’re wasting your breath. My freedom is a small price to pay for your happiness.”
    “Serge, I love you and can’t let you do this for me,” said Brook. “Remember a minute ago when you mentioned a choice that defines a life? That’s a two-way street, and I’ve made my choice.”
    “This conversation’s over.” Serge brusquely hopped off his stool and threw open the screen door.
    The couple didn’t speak on the trek back toward the cabin.
    Suddenly, a whoosh of wind went by.
    The sight stopped them. Flickering blue lights. A police car skidded around the corner into the fishing camp. Then another whoosh and more flashing blue.
    “How’d they find us so quickly?” said Brook.
    Serge didn’t answer as he took off running toward the camp.
    Brook shouted ahead into the night: “What are you going to do?”
    Serge silently sped up.
    Brook broke into her own sprint. “Don’t turn yourself in!”

 
    Chapter SIX
    CABIN NUMBER FIVE
    S erge reached the corner, and sure enough, both police cars were parked at impromptu angles in front of his cottage. The rest of the cabins had emptied a crowd of onlookers that surrounded the eventfulness.
    He walked purposefully toward one of the officers.
    Brook snapped a whisper from behind: “Don’t confess or I’ll get mad!”
    Serge ignored her and strolled directly to the closest uniform. “Good evening, officer. Is there something I can help you with?”
    “Actually there is,” said the corporal. “Are you staying in this cabin?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    The officer opened a notebook. “What’s your name?”
    “Serge A. Storms.”
    “We’ve been looking for you.”
    “I’m sure you have,” said Serge. “I’ll tell you everything. Where do you want to start?”
    Brook stood horrified in the background. She made her right hand into a fist and gave her chin a light test punch. “Ow.”
    Serge pointed at the officer’s belt. “Shouldn’t you get out your handcuffs?”
    “Depends on how things go.”
    “That’s an enlightened view.”
    The officer waved. “Follow me.”
    They walked around the back of the cottage to a tipped-over garbage can. Above it was a jimmied-open window with a pair of thick legs protruding outside. The window had slid closed on the middle of a generous derriere, apparently trapping someone trying to get inside. Legs kicked with anemic energy and rhythm.
    The officer looked back at Serge. “Recognize this man?”
    He nodded. “I’ve seen those