Nightshade

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The marine layer was as thick as cotton and had formed a thousand-foot wall that shrouded the entrance to the harbor. The Adjourned was late and Stilwell waited for it in his John Deere Gator by the fuel dock behind the Casino. The harbor was almost empty, the red-and-orange mooring balls floating free in lines across the glass surface. Stilwell knew that as soon as the layer burned off, the weekenders would start arriving. The harbormaster’s office had reported that it would be at full capacity for the first big weekend of summer. Stilwell was ready for it.

He heard another cart pull up behind his. An electric. Soon the seat next to Stilwell was taken by Lionel McKey.

“Good morning, Sergeant,” he said. “I thought I might find you here. Waiting for the Adjourned?”

“What can I do for you, Lionel?” Stilwell asked.

“Anything new to say about the mutilations up at the preserve? I’ve got about four hours till my deadline.”

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