Read Misery Bay: A Mystery for Free Online

angled in to the larger craft; Garrett jumped aboard and tied the cutter fast. Despite all the expensive equipment, the boat itself was nondescript, stripped down, practically devoid of any attempt to provide comfort or décor. The owners clearly didn’t want to attract attention and were prepared to abandon the craft if need be—so why waste money on niceties?
    “Think they already offloaded their cargo?” Garrett asked.
    “Possible. Though there wasn’t much time between the tip and our arrival. That speedboat couldn’t hold more than two or three people. There’s got to be something here to justify abandoning the larger boat.”
    They quickly searched the wheelhouse. It had been stripped of papers, permits, everything. Garrett went below and came back shaking his head. “Nothing.”
    “It doesn’t make any sense,” said Tom, exasperated.
    “Perhaps …” suggested Garrett, “they planned to pick something up instead of dropping off. Maybe we got here too soon. But if that was the case, why run off?” He raised his hand. “You hear something?”
    Above the pounding of the surf against the side of the ship, there was a faint sound, like a low murmur.
    “It’s coming from over there.” Tom pointed to the far end of the front deck, where there appeared to be a large white tarp. They hadn’t noticed it at first because it was the same color as the deck.
    Cautiously, they approached the tarp. The heavy canvas seemed to be moving slightly, sort of twitching. Tom pulled his revolver out. He nodded to Garrett, who reached down and threw the covering to one side.
    Tom took a step back. “Mother of God!”
    Garrett just stared, unable to move. Lying facedown on the cold decking were the bodies of four young girls. They had each been hastily shot once in the back. They wore shorts and simple shifts on top. They all had long, black hair and olive skin.
    One of the bodies quivered.
    “This one’s still alive!” Garrett dropped to the deck and turned the girl over, cradling her in his arms. She was clearly Asian, not more than thirteen years old. Her eyes flickered open and stared at him blankly, then the light went out of them forever. He felt for a pulse, knowing it was a waste of time. Gently, he lowered her body next to her companions.
    “Sick bastards.” Tom leaned on the railing, looking like he was going to throw up. “Why’d they have to do that?”
    “No loose ends. The girls might have been able to finger them or at least give information about their pipeline. These kids were probably destined for the escort services in Halifax. From what we’ve seen lately, Asians have been increasing in popularity.”
    Garrett stared out at the evening sunset. It was beautiful and peaceful and made a mockery of the scene on the deck. “I can’t stomach this,” he said bitterly. “If we hadn’t shown up, these poor girls might still be alive.”
    “Maybe,” said Tom. “But after a few weeks of what life had in store for them, they might have preferred to be dead.”
    He knelt, put one hand on the head of one of the children for a moment, then pulled the tarp back over the tiny bodies.
    “I can probably navigate her back to port,” Garrett said quietly, “if you follow behind in case I have any trouble.” He thought about Tuttle’s comment that he’d be able to spend more time on his boat in his new job.
    This wasn’t the sort of recreational boating he’d had in mind for his retirement.

6
    B ALES OF MARIJUANA WERE ONE thing. The bodies of four young girls were another altogether. The media had a field day. There was no way to keep something like this under wraps.
    Deputy Commissioner Tuttle was on the phone to Garrett half a dozen times in twenty-four hours. “I said get a handle on things, Garrett. Not start a bloody damned war! Reporters want to know your role in this, whether you’re representing a police presence on the Eastern shore or just happened to be in the old hometown. What the