The Night Swim(75)

An article about Kelly Moore’s testimony was pinned prominently on the wall. Sections of text were circled with a ballpoint pen. As Rachel moved closer to read the text in the dim light, the door banged shut behind her. It cast the room in an opaque blackness that made it impossible for Rachel to see.

Rachel instinctively moved blindly in the direction of the door, shoving it hard with her shoulder. The door swung open violently. Rachel tripped and stumbled out into the bright glare of morning and straight into the naked chest of a man.

The right side of his bare torso was horribly disfigured with severe burn scars, puckered and patched by skin grafts. The parts of his chest unmarred by scars were covered with tattoos. Rachel recognized one as a homemade gangland prison tattoo. She raised her head to look at the stranger’s face. Vince Knox’s eyes were narrow and they burned with rage.

“What are you doing sneaking around here?” he rasped. His lip lifted in a half snarl as Rachel moved back in surprise.

He lurched toward her as if to scare her. It instinctively made her want to step back to put space between them, but she resisted the urge. If she stepped back then he’d be able to corral her into the boat shed and lock her in. Rachel took a step to the side, which at least offered the possibility of outrunning him across the sand dunes.

Except Rachel didn’t run. She didn’t need to. He’d turned his attention away from her and bent down to caress a quivering seagull, which was bundled up in a plaid shirt near his feet. His gentle touch and the deep concern that creased his face as he tended to the bird was a sharp departure from his anger toward Rachel a moment earlier.

“I didn’t know that someone lived here,” Rachel said, by way of an apology. She figured that the only way to defuse the situation was to act normal. “I thought the boat shed lock had broken off.”

“I left the door unlocked when I went for a swim.” He rose, looming over Rachel to intimidate her again. She held her ground. “What are you doing here? You’re not a cop, are you?” he hissed. “I hate cops.”

“I’m a reporter covering the trial. I saw you testify for Scott Blair. You didn’t look like you were enjoying it. After you left court, I saw you talking to some guy who works for Greg Blair. Did Greg Blair buy your testimony, Mr. Knox?”

“No,” he said. “Everything I said in court was true. Scott Blair saved that kid’s life that day. Swam out and pulled him in. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

“Then what’s the connection between you and Greg Blair?” Rachel asked.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” he roared. Realizing that he’d startled the bird, he bent down again to soothe the frightened creature in a hushed voice.

“Maybe it’s not my business,” said Rachel. “It is the business of the prosecutor, Mitch Alkins. He might be very interested, especially if Greg Blair paid for your testimony.”

“Every word that I said was true. That trial, it ain’t got nothing to do with me,” Vince Knox said. “I don’t have time for your dumb questions. I need to put a splint on this bird’s wing before she goes into shock.” He moved into the boat shed and returned a moment later with a box of bandages. He squatted down and expertly repaired the injured bird’s wing with a crude splint and bandages as Rachel watched.

“How long have you been living here?” Rachel asked a few minutes later as he cut up scraps of fresh fish with a pocketknife which he fed to the injured gull, now swathed in bandages.

“I stay sometimes in the summer. Get paid to keep an eye on the boats. There’s a shower and toilets. A coin barbecue so I can cook. That’s all I need.”

“Where do you live in the winter?”

“I get by,” he said. “If I make enough money in the summer then I rent a room. Mostly I mind my own business. You should try it sometime.”

Rachel flushed. He was right. She had no right to barge into this man’s life with her questions.

“Tell me about how you know Greg Blair and I’ll go,” she said.

“I knew Greg once,” he said. “He remembered me. Asked me to testify for his son about that time I saw him save that kid from drowning. Said if I didn’t then he’d remind people of something that I did a long time ago. All I want is a quiet life, so I agreed. Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true in court. I made sure of it.”

“I had the feeling that you know more than you said in court. That you were holding back on something,” Rachel said softly.

“What makes you think that?” He stared at her with an expression that she couldn’t decipher.

“Instinct,” she said.

“Your instincts are wrong,” he snapped.

“How did you get your injuries?” Rachel asked as he put on his plaid shirt and buttoned it up to cover the puckered burn scars on his chest.

“Knife fight,” he said, pointing to the scars that slashed the side of his face.

“What about the burns? They look pretty bad.”

“They’re from a childhood accident. Have I satisfied your curiosity now?” he asked. “I might not look like much. And I might not have much. But there are a lot more dangerous people than me in this town. They wear suits and look respectable, but there ain’t nothing respectable about the things they’re willing do to get what they want. Nothing.”