Two hours later

  Trans-Con Airlines Flight 69

  Dave reclines his head into the provided neck pillow, the steady drone of passenger voices lulling him into a comforting sleep. The chime of a message causes Dave to drowsily open his eyes. More time sleeping, and less time making love, would have been a good idea the previous night.

  Beside Dave, Detective Mackey is uncharacteristically quiet. The young detective has said very little since baring his soul in Deputy Newsome's hotel room. Dave's phone chimes again and he discreetly pulls the burner device from his left jeans pocket. Glancing sidelong at James, Dave unlocks his phone and peers at the received message. He is grateful that the man behind him is fast asleep and snoring. Hazel's less than prudish message is no better than the mermaid tattoo she claimed had been present on the late Sabrina Engle's left arm. In fact, Dave is certain Hazel is attempting to emulate it. And doing a fabulous job.

  Dave quickly closes the message and sneaks another glance at Detective Mackey. James is still staring forward, his mouth drawn downward in a solemn expression. Dave shoves his phone back into his pocket and forces a soft cough. James' brow arches and he turns to the deputy. He speaks in a low and emotionless voice.

  "Don't worry, Dave. I don't care about your secret phones and your secret love affairs. I won't mention it again. You have my word. And I won't disclose anything to the sheriff. It wouldn't be my place anyway."

  "Come on, James," Deputy Newsome says. "I wasn't serious about what I said before. It's like you said, we're cops. If we can't bust each other's balls, what the hell are we even doing? And I shouldn't have brought up your late wife. That was...Real low. Truth is...I'm a bit worried about you, James. You've been acting weird since our conversation back there. It's like you're a completely different person. I don't know if I like this person."

  "Well, you didn't like the other me either," Mackey replies, turning his head to frown at Dave. "You can't have it both ways, Dave."

  "I know," Dave admits, shrugging both shoulders. "It's just that, I'm not used to working closely with anyone. This is still kind of a new thing for me. I'm used to breaking up drug rings, busting down crack and meth house doors, doing stakeouts in my truck, watching the local malls during Black Friday rushes, and otherwise just keeping order. I've only worked a few seriously bad homicide cases. I mean, like murder-suicide type cases. Usually, cases like that are cut and dry. It's not real hard to find the clues to what happened. This Aquarius thing is very different. And...I'm now certain it will require a special kind of detective to solve this case. The Detective Mackey who traveled with me to Lich, Montana...Is just the kind of detective this case needs. The moping pile of dog crap sitting next to me...Won't cut it."

  Detective Mackey's eyes flash and he increases the intensity of his scowl. Leaning close to Deputy Newsome, James lowers his voice to a menacing growl.

  "At least, my woman...Never told me 'no'. And she never ran out on me at four in the damn morning. She knew I was just that good!" Mackey hisses.

  "Huh?" Dave says, eyes widening. "What the hell is your..."

  Mackey's face becomes one big grin and he slaps Dave on his right shoulder. Dave is unsure which James Mackey he is dealing with. He looks around uneasily, making sure that the other passengers are not staring.

  "It's cool, Dave. I told you, my wife's death doesn't bother me anymore. We had a nice life together. The best life, really," Mackey exclaims. "I tried to make Samantha's last days on this Earth some of her most memorable. The day before my wife died, the hospice nurses agreed we could all take a trip out to her favorite spot on the river. She wasn't able to eat solid food by that point. We pretended to have a picnic anyway. It was a struggle for Sam to speak, but she managed to tell me she loved me. I told her I loved her too. She died the next morning. I don't regret the time I spent with my wife. And when I'm ready, I'll move on. I'm not there yet, Dave. But I won't tease you anymore."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Dave averts his gaze and twists his mouth into an uncomfortable grin. James reclines back in his seat and closes his eyes.

  "Won't be long before we land," James says. "Gonna catch a quick nap."

  $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

  Detective Mackey opens the manila file folder on his desk. He carefully studies the first photograph of Sabrina Engle's brutalized body which happens to be on the top. The condition of her left arm is of most concern. Any sign of a sexy mermaid tattoo has been burned away by what looks like a strong acidic substance. The arm is badly mangled, as though a powerful animal or machine had attempted to wrench it from the socket.

  James removes the photo and holds it up for closer inspection. After a moment, he places the photo on the desk and takes up another. The second photo is a closeup of the bruises and lacerations on Sabrina's once gorgeous face. Mackey finds no use for that particular photo and puts it aside. He has seen enough mutilated faces to last a lifetime. The third photo is more intriguing. It is a closeup photo taken from the phone of Sabrina's former roommate. The infamous sexy mermaid.

  Mackey's eyes widen and he stares transfixed at the image. For all intents and purposes, the mermaid is nothing more than a fantastical version of the dead Sabrina Engle. Maybe with a breast augmentation or two, and very lifelike. The few pictures James has seen of Sabrina, before her tragic murder, do the young woman slightly less justice than the mermaid tattoo which once decorated her arm.

  James quickly shuts the manila folder as Chief O'Leary exits his office. No good can come from admiring the imaginary tits of a dead girl. Maybe he does need to get out and see the world. A familiar voice wafting across the operations room chills Detective Mackey to the bone. Mitch Turner, reporter for Channel 8. Oh great.

  Chief O'Leary intercepts Mitch and his camera crew as they attempt to enter the unauthorized area. Chief O'Leary extends an arm to prevent their passage, eyes narrowed dangerously.

  "Nope. Cameras back outside!" O'Leary barks.

  "You have no right to impede our search for information, Chief. The public has a right to know what's going on. Why did Detective Mackey fly to Montana, Chief? What did he expect to find there?" Mitch yells.

  Detective Mackey climbs from his seat and approaches where Mitch is putting on his dramatic performance. He scrutinizes the reporter with slitted eyes.

  "I found what I was looking for, Mitch. And astronomers have known there's water on Uranus for decades. Why don't you wait like everyone else? We're not going to endanger the lives of countless more young women because of one little pissant looking to make a name for himself. The Aquarius Killer is dangerous. We need to get him off the streets. Impede my investigation anymore, Mr. Turner...You'll be behind bars. That I promise you."

  Chief O'Leary shrugs behind Detective Mackey, a thin smile on his lips. Mitch's face twists into a scornful grimace.

  "The public has a right to know, Detective Mackey," Mitch growls.

  "And they will. When the time is right," Mackey says.

  Mitch whirls on his heels and storms up the hall, his three-man camera crew in tow. Chief O'Leary shakes his head at Detective Mackey.

  "Water on Uranus? Really, James?"

  "It was the best I could come up with on such short notice, Chief! I tried," Mackey says.

  "Right," Chief O'Leary mutters with a soft laugh.

  James grins as the Chief returns to his office and shuts the door. Few people can make crotchety O'Leary laugh. Yet another ability James can add to his growing list of accomplishments.

  Detective Mackey turns back to his desk, eyes wandering to the manila folder sitting smack dab in the middle of it. He briefly closes his eyes, inhaling deeply and ballooning out his cheeks. Releasing the inhaled breath after a ten-count, Mackey walks back to his desk. He opens the folder and sighs heavily. Using the tattoo as a reference, James tries to imagine Sabrina Engle's face the way it should be--not the way it looked after Aquarius got finished with it. How much more beautiful her body must have been; before being allowed to rot--and left in a watery ditch for nearly twenty-four hours.

  "Oh, Sabrina," James whispers, his mouth twisting in self-recrimination. "Oh, Mackey. You're in love with a dead woman. Or...Part of her, anyway. What is wrong with you?"

  James quickly closes the manila folder a second time. He hastily climbs to his feet, throwing on his trench coat as he hustles out of the operations room.

  Disclaimer: I will simply say, I am not naive about love. I speak on what I know. You don't have to watch certain things online to understand the nature of love and lust. My catharsis comes how I choose. Let others write how they wish. As I have said before, I am asexual for reasons. I choose to write and let write. And I have a little fun doing it. Much different than my day to day life. So why not?