Read Dark Waters (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) for Free Online Page B

could do more than wail in pain, the bat slammed into my shoulder, knocking me to my knees.
    The bat arced high once more and crashed into my temple. I tried to raise myself as solid ash connected with my skull once more.
    And then like an explosion, everything was obliterated by a blinding white light, and once again I felt myself spiraling upward into the cold dark sky, away from this life, away from everything I knew and loved … forever and ever and ever.
    I’d been awake for a full seventy-six minutes, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come again and had been sorely disappointed. My cat, Herschel, grunted in his sleep and nestled closer to my chest. It was the same damn dream — nightmare — that haunted me. First the mugging — always in greater detail than the last time — then the vision of spiraling into scalding white light. It bothered me that the light wasn’t welcoming. That instead of salvation it offered obliteration. And how the hell did I know that?
    I’d never been much of a churchgoer. I’d left that to my guilt-ridden alcoholic mother. She’d trudged off to mass three or four times a week, seeking peace but never finding it. I had no use for the institution. It was nothing more than a place of empty rituals. Sit, stand, kneel, reel off prayers in a monotone before I could get the hell out of there and back to my basketball or classic Trek reruns.
    That said, it was the dreams that made me decide that it might be a good idea to talk to someone who might have insight on such things. For some reason I still can’t fathom, a part of me needed to hear a theologian’s assessment, if only to rule out that what I’d experienced was indeed a religious experience.
    Before I could ponder much more, the phone rang.
    Ten minutes later, a rather frantic Richard stood on my doorstep holding a large take-out coffee.
    Twenty minutes after that, I’d drunk the last of Tim Horton’s best brew as we stood on the dock at Sundowner’s Marina and peered into the ruined salon of Richard’s beautiful boat.
    “Who could have done this?” he asked, “and don’t you dare say Da-Marr. He was with us at the house last night — flipping channels until I thought Brenda would go insane.”
    “I’ve got a bad feeling whoever did this is someone even more sinister than Da-Marr — and that’s saying something.”
    Richard studied my face. “What do you mean?”
    “Until you get the title, we have no idea who owned this boat, but we do know it was seized for criminal activity — be it tax evasion or some other unsavory act.”
    “And you think someone believes there’s buried treasure on this boat?”
    “I don’t, but somebody must. I mean, none of the other boats was vandalized. That means someone was targeting you — or at least your boat.”
    Richard sighed. “Insurance will take care of the damage, but that’s not the point.”
    “Do you think you can get a claims adjuster out here today? Otherwise this baby is going into mothballs without us getting a chance to see what she’s really got.”
    “What she’s obviously got is a reputation. And not a good one at that.” He stared at the ruin, looking depressed. “Have you got any ideas?”
    “I’d love to just jump inside and give it the old touch test — to see if I can pick up any residual vibes — but that’s not a good idea until after the cops take a look and test for fingerprints. My guess is they’ll find nothing.” The fact that they hadn’t already made it to the marina, meant they’d had other more important incidents to deal with.
    Richard shook his head, looking heartsick.
    “I take it you haven’t said anything to Brenda.”
    “You’re damn right I haven’t. And don’t you say anything, either. I’m worried about her. This was not the time to have guests arrive, and she’s doing too much trying to make Evelyn happy. A lost cause, if you ask me,” he muttered.
    I wasn’t about to offer an opinion on that