Moni had no idea who could manipulate animals like that. But Sneed had a strong notion.
“How did the Lagoon Watcher react when he saw what was left of Robbie?” Sneed asked. “I can’t imagine an honest scientist would have seen such a sight before.”
“I was too, uh, emotional to pay that guy much mind,” Randy said. “Eventually, he tapped me on the shoulder and told me we should bring the body on board before a gator or shark rips it apart. Now when he saw it, the Watcher didn’t seem disgusted at all. Hell, he was fascinated by it. It reminded me of the first time I watched my dad gut a deer.”
“So you think the behavior of the Lagoon Watcher, Harry Trainer, was unusual?” Sneed asked as he leaned close to the microphone. When Randy agreed, he pressed on. “I suppose that’s not a stretch. His role in all of this is questionable, if you ask me. He got there eighteen minutes before the Coast Guard. You didn’t see any other boater on the water. So he was the only person in your proximity when your brother went under. Now I don’t know how the killer slices up his victims, but I’m sure your timeline of events would give the Watcher plenty of time to do some carving.”
“You think that he…” Randy gasped. His face whitened.
“Hold on.” Moni blocked the conclusion from leaving his lips. “If this guy with the corny name was the killer, why would he rescue you, Randy? You said yourself that you were vulnerable out there on the skiff.”
While Randy shook his head and shrugged, Sneed answered for him.
“Maybe it’s because he knew the Coast Guard was on the way. The Watcher had time for one victim, but he figured he couldn’t put both through the meat grinder before the searchlights came out.
“And this wasn’t the first time he’s been conveniently near one of these murder scenes,” Sneed continued. “My old pal Matt Kane, may God bless his soul, he saw the Watcher just before he found those two Mexicans dead. And then Kane became the next victim.” Sneed pounded his fist into his palm. “I best have a word with him.”
Moni couldn’t deny that it made tremendous sense. The Lagoon Watcher had been some type of environmental scientists who went a little whacko. Maybe he developed the mutated bacteria and set it loose, Moni thought. Yet, if the psycho scientist had beheaded Kane because he saw something at the murder scene, what mutilation did he envision for the young girl who had witnessed the closely-guarded secrets of his killing method?
The pickup truck that lingered outside Mariella’s school yesterday-who had been behind the wheel with binoculars? Whether it had been the Lagoon Watcher or some other kind of watcher, Moni knew exactly what he wanted.
“What types of vehicles does Trainer own?” Moni asked Sneed.
“I gotta check up on it,” he replied.
She didn’t need an answer. Moni just knew.
Chapter 12
Aaron felt as smooth as James Bond when Professor Swartzman rang him up at six in the morning and told him they were wanted at the sheriff’s office for some top secret caper. When he got there and poured through the police report about the purple-eyed gator, Aaron’s bravery flew out the window.
His head kept replaying his last dive in the lagoon. The water management lady said she saw something huge, but he had brushed it off and stayed in there. If he had swam a little longer that day, maybe they’d have crime scene photos of his body all burned red by acid with a gaping hole in his neck.
“We better be more careful around the lagoon from now on,” Swartzman said as he pointed out the witness’ description of a monstrous gator.
Aaron realized that saying they’d be more careful didn’t mean the professor would refrain from ordering someone-namely his least-favorite student-into the water in the name of ground-breaking research. The admissions officer should have told him that the tuition payment included his life. Too bad his dad wouldn’t buy that as an excuse for quitting.
Lead detective Sneed summoned them into his office for a briefing on the biological jigsaw puzzle of this case. They weren’t the only scientists he invited.
Harry Trainer looked totally wiped out-like he had just nosedived off his long board from a 20-foot breaker. His thin blond hair barely clung on the peripheries of his dome. His forehead glowed red, but not with his usual over-the-top tan. The Lagoon Watcher had lost his cool.
“Harry, have you gotten any sleep since you rescued the boater?” asked a noticeably concerned Swartzman.
“Rest? These people don’t believe in rest,” he replied with the veins in his neck flaring. “They think endless cups of cheap, bitter coffee are a proper substitute for sleep.” He faced Sneed. “I beg to differ.”
The detective let the man’s griping roll off him with a regal jutting of his chin. Much like a lion rules its terrain, Sneed ensured that his dominance resonated through his personal office. He sat behind a manly oak desk with broad legs. On it sat four glass-encased antique revolvers. One looked Civil War era and had a Confederate flag imprinted on the white handle. Aaron wondered how many men that baby had blown away on the battlefields.
The detective had lined his walls and shelves with framed press clippings from Georgia papers about murderers getting arrested or convicted. The photo that really caught Aaron’s attention featured two young police officers with bad ‘70s mustaches standing with their guns drawn like a poster from an old Western movie. Upon second look, Aaron recognized one guy as a much younger detective Sneed. Both men had the same last name on their badges, through.
“Is that your little brother?” Aaron asked Sneed as he pointed out the photo. “Is he still an officer in Georgia?”
The bitter glare Sneed pelted him with nearly knocked Aaron out of his chair.
“This is not a damn barbecue. We ain’t here to reminisce about family times,” Sneed said. Swartzman started apologizing on behalf of his student, but the detective buried his gesture. “We’re here because there’s a killer on the loose and it’s pretty clear that the bacteria in the lagoon and the crazy shit it’s doing to the animals are his signatures. All of you have seen it. You’re supposedly the experts. So you tell me how someone could pull this off.”
The three scientists exchanged perplexed glances. Swartzman hadn’t made up his mind and Trainer clearly didn’t want any part of this. After a sleepless night out on the lagoon and a morning getting batted around the sheriff’s office, Trainer wouldn’t hear any complaints from Aaron. He figured that if anybody should take the fall, the rookie might as well stick his arm out before the hungry jungle cat.
“I’ll tell you, between the manatee, the hawk and the gator, I’d say the bacterial infection makes animals aggressive,” Aaron said. “And it takes way lots to hurt them. The manatee brushed off a propeller. The gator took a shotgun blast like a mosquito bite. In both cases, the water turned acidic, but it was a hell of a lot more potent in this last case. I doubt there’s a living thing left in the waters of Palm Bay besides the bacteria. So if you boil it down, someone has introduced this freak show bacteria into the lagoon so they can make infected animals bring victims to them. It’s all about dissecting them and harvesting the organs.”
With an incredulous gasp, Swartzman swiveled his chair toward his student and let him have it.
“You just leapt so high to reach that conclusion that you’re standing on the moon. If this gator was infected, and we have no confirmation that it was without a sample, it still doesn’t mean the bacteria made it attack those men. Gators are naturally aggressive. That’s what they do! And to think someone could train a gator to fetch and catch like a hunting dog-that’s a complete joke.”