The Magic Shell

Chapter 1

1

Off the coast of Yachats, Oregon:

Present Day

Ross Galloway steered his trawler out of the marina and through the narrow inlet. Once out of the no-wake zone, he pushed the throttle forward. Even at full speed, it would take him an hour or more to get out to a good fishing spot.

He looked toward the shoreline and noticed a woman sitting on the beach. She raised her hand. He didn’t know if she was waving or just shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. He recognized her as Mike Hallbrook’s sister, Ruth. For six months, she had been plastering the town with Missing Person flyers, looking for her brother.

Mike’s disappearance had almost sealed Ross’s fate as a suspected serial killer. It was only Mike’s bizarre reappearance, his assertion that Ross wasn’t a killer, and some photos that had saved Ross from ending up on death row. Just because he had a history of having problems with authority and he knew everyone who was missing didn’t mean he was some kind of ax murderer. Still, once a rumor was started, it was hard to end it.

“She probably thinks I’m out dumping another body,” he muttered as he turned and stared out at the sea through the salt-crusted windshield.

He needed time to think. Ross hated to admit it, but lately he’d just felt lost. It was a feeling that didn’t sit well with him, especially since he wasn’t the type who usually took s**t too seriously.

He patted his pocket for his cigarettes before he softly cursed. He’d sure picked a hell of a time to quit smoking. If he hadn’t been on his old fishing trawler alone, he might have considered downing a couple of bottles of beer, but that luxury would have to wait until he got back to shore.

And it would only be a couple of beers – he was too afraid of ending up like his old man to drink more than two. Alcohol did strange things to certain people. Some could drink it and never feel a thing. Others could have one beer and be under the table. Then there were those who became more affectionate when they were drunk. Those kinds of people Ross could deal with, but f**k if he’d ever hang around another mean drunk like his dad. He shook his head and pushed the thought of his old man out of his mind. The son-of-a-b***h hadn’t died soon enough as far as he was concerned. Let the Devil deal with him now.

A little over an hour later, he carefully picked his way to the back of his fishing trawler. He kept the uneven outline of the rocky coast on his starboard and the beautiful Pacific ocean to the port side. He didn’t bother to set out an anchor since he planned to do some drift fishing. The first thing that he needed to do, though, was to check the nets to make sure they weren’t tangled. He looked up at the rigging and decided it wouldn’t hurt to climb up to double check the top lines as well.

It had looked like one of the lines was twisted from below. The last thing he wanted to do was to risk the line getting caught when he pulled the nets back in. It would be a b***h to fix, especially if the sea became rough as it tended to do at the most inopportune moments.

Half an hour later, he finally saw what the problem was, fixed the roller, and untwisted the line. Holding onto the rope, he stared out at the shimmering water. It wouldn’t stay clear and sunny like this for long. By mid-afternoon, the cold, moist air coming in off the water would hit the warmer surface of the land, and a fog would roll across, a thick blanket of it that would be almost impossible to see through.

He drew in a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and released it. It was no wonder he was restless, given the recent events. There had been a rash of disappearances over the last couple of years and most eyes had turned to him as the most likely cause. People assumed he was like his old man – or even worse.

Ross had known Mike Hallbrook, the Yachats Detective that had disappeared a good six months back. They had played pool and drank beer down at the local pub on occasion. There wasn’t much else to do around the area except fishing and hiking.

Hell, he had even known Carly Tate and Jenny Ackerly. It was kind of hard not to know everyone around when you lived in a town the size of Yachats your whole life. He had even dated Carly a couple of times.

Man, that was a mistake, he thought with a shake of his head.

Carly had to have been the clumsiest woman on the face of the Earth. She damn near burnt his boat down and emasculated him – all in the same day. He felt sorry for any guy who got mixed up with her. She was nice – and cute – but she needed to come with a death and dismemberment insurance policy.

Ross snorted. Funny how being accused of murdering three people paled in comparison to everything else going on. His mother had died a month ago. Her death had left him feeling like he was in a vacuum as he tried to deal with his grief and all of the paperwork and details involved with her estate. Taking care of all the bills, meeting with the lawyer, and arranging her burial had left little time for him to do much of anything else, including fish.

And if the death of his last living relative hadn’t been enough to make him question his life, seeing a real-life mermaid had. For a moment, he let his mind drift to that strange day just a few short months ago, smirking to himself at the irony of it all. He’d never believed in fairy tales as a kid, and here he was now, thirty years old, and he’d gotten to meet a mythical creature from another world. Hell, it was like something out of an old Twilight Zone episode, only this one didn’t look like half a fish. Magna the mermaid had been one exotic woman – one with gills.

Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket, out of habit, looking for a piece of candy to help curb his desire for a cigarette. He frowned when he felt something besides the change he had shoved into his pocket. Wrapping his fingers around the object, he pulled it out and looked at it.

He chuckled. Ross doubted the mermaid liked him very much, but she’d given him this gift the other day at the restaurant. It was a shell she’d found right there on the table, same as all the others, but the look on her face when she’d handed it to him…

“Good luck on your journey,” she’d told him, and god, her voice was haunting, like she’d had the pain, trials, and tribulations of a hundred lives. Yeah, it was just a stupid shell, but she had given it to him, and it made him think of her and the mysteries surrounding her. He wondered what her world was like.

The thought had no sooner formed in his head than the world suddenly shifted around him. Ross shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, and the rope he was holding suddenly vanished. With wide eyes, he swayed unsteadily, and desperately reached for something to hold onto when the trawler rocked as if a rogue wave had battered it from underneath. For a brief instant, his body was weightless as he was tossed through the air and over the side. His loud curse was cut off when he hit the icy cold water and sank as if he had his weighted dive belt strapped around his waist.

The weight of his water-soaked clothes pulled him even deeper. He struggled, kicking upward, but no matter how hard he tried, it felt as if his feet were embedded in concrete. Above him, he could see the hull of his boat. He stretched his arm out and splayed his fingers, hoping that by some miracle, a tow line had fallen overboard. As he stared up at his boat’s hull, the brief thought that he needed to clean and paint it flashed through his mind. Then the inane thought was replaced by a more sobering realization – he was about to join the list of missing people.

Only there won’t be anyone who gives a damn when I don’t come back. Ah, hell, I don’t want to die like this, Ross thought as he sank, struggling, into the inky blackness.