Coryville, page 1
CORYVILLE
The Coryville Series
1
Latrell R. Morris
This book is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2023 by Latrell R. Morris
Published by Thick Books, LLC
Contact@thickbooksllc.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, written, electronic, recording, photocopying, or otherwise, without prior written permission by the author.
Cover Art by: Thick Books, LLC
Cover Photos by: Vukelic Jeca via Unsplash and Staffordgreen0 via Pixabay
Inside Design by: Thick Books, LLC
Inside Photos by: Aliaksei Design & OpenClipart
ISBN (paperback): 979-8-9865407-6-4
ISBN (eBook): 979-8-9865407-7-1
First Edition: July 2023
Printed in the United States
This book is dedicated to the people who are still looking for their place in this otherwise chaotic world.
Friday
“Are you ready for tomorrow? I heard you’ve got stiff competition,” Dereck said, closing the office door.
“Pretty much. I’m trying something new with the chili and I’m nervous,” Anthony said.
“Obviously, the pre-approval committee found it good enough. You’re a part of the top five, relax.”
“That’s true, but Calvin’s insanely good, and he already works as a cook. This is his dream.”
“But you won last year. You’re in this for two years now. You got this shit in the bag. I will say though, it would’ve been nice to know what it tastes like before everyone else. Being your cousin and all.” Dereck slinked down in the black, leather office chair, sitting opposite to Anthony. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.
Anthony ignored his statement. “What’s the matter, long night?” Anthony turned his attention to the computer monitor sitting on his desk.
“Yeah, T and I had dinner last night, then we caught a movie followed by…” He smiled and winked. “Man, what a night.”
“Okay, I get it. No need to go further into details.”
“Don’t hate me because I’m getting some. By the way,” he came closer, “I’ve been concerned about your, uh, health lately. Emotionally and sexually.” He leaned in even closer. “I mean, you’ve been barren since Veronica, right? That was like two years ago. How do you deal with that?”
Anthony shifted in his seat and continued looking at the monitor. He began typing, pretending he didn’t hear the invasive questions being thrown his way.
“Are you ignoring me now? I’m asking important questions here, Rosehill.”
Anthony sighed and turned his attention to Dereck. “Look, my health is fine, mentally, emotionally, and sexually. That urge to sleep with random women hasn’t manifested in me, which you already know that’s not how I roll. I’m a relationship guy. I’m not into one-night stands or friends with benefits, so let’s change the subject, okay?”
“You know, I just care about you, and I want you to be happy. Even though we’re cousins, you’ve always been like a big brother to me. I look up to you and you’ve always been there when I needed you. Hear me out. You’ve helped me with a lot, especially in the past few years. I just want to help, if you need it, and make sure you’re well. Are you really okay?”
The left corner of Anthony’s mouth perked up. “I appreciate you looking out for me. We all have our things. You have to live in the moment.” He brushed his dark hair back from his forehead. “Having a partner in my life sounds great, but I have other priorities holding my attention.”
“Ant, you’re thirty-seven, you’re not getting any younger. When the hell are you going to settle down already?” Dereck squinted his eyes. “You’re waiting for her, aren’t you?”
Anthony put his head down and began flipping through the scattered papers on his desk. “Something like that.”
“Realistically, you know, you’re not guaranteed to meet her. You may never meet her. So, why deprive yourself of meeting someone else who’s good for you in other aspects?”
Anthony chuckled and glanced over to him. “Interesting coming from someone who has ‘her.’” His mouth tightened. He shook his head and shifted his eyes back to the paperwork.
“Yeah, I got lucky, that’s for sure but, I was seeing other women before Tracey, and I became a couple. I didn’t limit or close myself off to other women just because they weren’t ‘her.’ Tracey appeared on a whim. She moved into town and bam, there she was. Plus, you hired her, which made things easier. Maybe that’s that fate thing folks love to speak about. Fortunately, we clicked, but I wouldn’t take back the years with my ex-girlfriends. The lessons learned made me a better person and opened my eyes to what I really wanted. I saw it as preparing me for her. But I get it. It’s important for you to be absolutely sure that you’re with ‘her.’”
Anthony remained silent. His eyes roamed from Dereck to the papers and back. He relaxed his jaw and sighed. “I had a freaking strange dream last night. I was standing in total darkness, looking around me. It felt cold and like I was outside my body, but I wasn’t. I could move my lips and make noise but, I didn’t know what was happening or what I was saying. My words came out like mumbles. Then, I heard a woman’s voice. However, I couldn’t make out the words she said either. They sounded jumbled, almost cryptic. Anyway, probably nothing important.”
“All dreams have a message, Ant.”
A loud clap of thunder rang out, alarming the dark-blue sky. A bolt of lightning followed, revealing the dampened landscape left behind by an evening storm. The smell of rain-soaked grass lingered in the humid air; likened to a tropical rainforest. Dark waters glistened under the moonlight, but the melancholy situation interrupted that picturesque state.
Melanie shook her head as she looked down at the somewhat mud-covered body, lying face up in the grass, mere feet from Lake Monae. Judging by the body’s condition and the preceding storm, investigating was looking to be hellish. Her stomach churned. Intuition was something she had a lot of and trusted more than anything. Cases like this were rare, a body turning up after a storm, but when it happened, it always posed as an additional problem in collecting evidence. These were the crime scenes detectives dreaded.
She hovered over the body, taking in the features of his face. Handsome. The victim, a white male who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. Thick, dark, and matted hair stuck to his forehead from the rain. Messy, dark eyebrows and a goatee in the middle of his chin comprised of the only facial hair. A crooked nose, possibly from a previous injury, sat centered on his svelte face. His lips were thin with a blue tint, an unmistakable sign of death. Tall, probably around six feet, maybe a little shorter. Melanie moved closer, noticing a small scar on his left cheek. It seemed recent but not fresh enough from this evening. He wore a green, military-style jacket and distressed black jeans with shredded cuffs. A small wallet in the right pocket of his jacket was barely visible.
Melanie pulled out a pair of blue rubber gloves and slipped them on her hands. She leaned down and removed the wallet from his jacket pocket. Worn and distressed; the black faded to gray in most areas. Upon opening the wallet and looking inside, there were three credit cards with the name Oscar Williams embedded on them. Approximately $150, and a small picture of a little boy. “No ID,” she said, shoving a lock of her brown, curly hair from her face. “Weird!” Melanie reached into her back pocket and retrieved an evidence bag, placing the wallet inside. Her eyes flowed to the victim’s feet. No shoes. But something quite unusual caught her eye. Her eyebrows raised, and she cocked her head. There was something abnormal about his feet. “Webbed feet?” A mutation, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Eyes glued to the unconventional appendages; it was mesmerizing. Melanie crouched down and reached out a hand, longing to touch them. Her shoulders jumped slightly after hearing a booming voice behind her.
“What the fuck is wrong with his feet?”
Pulling her from the trance, such colorful words could only come from her colleague, Detective Joshua Ramos. Ramos walked up to Melanie, holding a hot, paper coffee cup in one hand. His dark hair somewhat blended in against the night sky. His usual adoring smile was on full display. That smile he claimed made women swoon. It only made Melanie’s eyes roll. No doubt Ramos was a handsome man and had no trouble getting women’s attention, but his efforts proved fruitless on Melanie. Even the most handsome of faces couldn’t quite penetrate the tallest of walls. Not to mention, being coworkers was a huge “no” in her book.
“Does he have webbed feet?” Ramos asked, while taking a sip of his coffee.
“Obviously looks that way,” Melanie said as she continued examining the body.
“Who found the body?”
“The two anglers standing over there.” She pointed to two men standing by a small rowboat. “They were coming for a late-night fishing trip, and they found him like this. So they say.”
“Anglers?” He laughed. “I forgot you have a bachelors degree. Using these fancy words. My little ole associates can’t measure up to that BA of yours. Anyway, have you spoken to them?” Joshua slurped and laughed again.
“Of course,” she said with annoyance in her voice. “I’ve only been a detective for seven years.”
“Whoa, calm down there, Smith. Anyway.” He bent dow
“Yeah, I’ve heard of people being born with webbed feet, but never seen it in person.” She continued searching his pockets, leaving Ramos focusing on the webbed feet.
“Bingo!” Melanie called out, pulling something from the victim’s pants pocket. After gazing over the contents, Melanie announced, “I can confirm his name is Oscar Williams. I just found his driver’s license. It’s kind of battered. He’s not local. His address is in Coryville, Maine.”
“Maine! Ah, snowbirds, don’t you just love them? Hmm, but it’s springtime. They seldom make it down here until the fall. I wonder what he was doing down here?”
“I didn’t know they regulated northerners to visiting in the winter. He could’ve been here for spring break. Seasonal vacations exist, Ramos. It’s not unusual for other people to come in the spring.” Melanie pulled out another evidence bag and placed the license inside.
“I was just kidding, Smith.”
It took roughly two hours for Melanie to examine the body and the surrounding area to her liking. She found sprinkles of blood in the grass leading to Oscar’s head. Melanie lifted his head and found an inch-wide gash, bringing her to the conclusion, this was the reason for his passing. They conducted a search around the body but found no object that would cause a wound so significant. They searched around the lake’s surface and a small perimeter of the woods that resided east. Nothing! Lake Monae was the only area left to search, but the darkness made it hard. The sun could give a better visual of the deeper waters, but, even so, there could be anything in there that could cause a gash so wide. Plus, the waters could wash away any fingerprints left. It wouldn’t be much help, but they’d have to try anyway.
With the credit cards and money still intact, Melanie ruled out a robbery gone bad. Given the circumstances of the crime scene, the case was delicate and needed to be vetted thoroughly. Oscar’s body was off to the medical examiner for further examination.
“Smith,” Ramos said, as they strolled back to their cars, “you have quite a case on your hands. I’m available to help if you need it.”
“Thanks, Ramos, but I think I got this one for now.”
He raised the corner of his eyebrow. “You going to hit me with the independent woman stuff? I get it.”
“Wow. You constantly know the proper words to say. I’m shocked you’re still single.” Melanie started her car and drove off.
“Oscar Williams died from blunt force trauma to the back of the head.” A short, plump, brown-skinned woman said, walking over to Melanie. “Whoever it was, hit him pretty hard. That wound was quite deep.” Dr. Tiffany Shaw was Morgan County’s medical examiner for over ten years. Highly revered by the state and county governments, her knowledge, and accolades crossed county lines. Business was strictly her rule, “we leave personal problems at the door.” Stern, but she got things done. People respected and trusted her, and departments outside the county constantly requested her to work on their bodies. She always reminded Melanie of her eighth-grade English teacher.
Tiffany put her chubby hands on her hips and turned to Melanie. “From what I examined, everything else seems to be intact. There were no other fresh wounds I could find. I noted a few older cuts and bruises. But, I will say, though, of the twenty years I’ve been a medical examiner, I’ve never seen webbed feet before.” She pushed her black, square eyeglasses closer to her face and handed Melanie a green file. “Happy reading. You know where to find me if you have questions.”
“I do. Dr. Shaw, by any chance, do you have any idea what they hit him with?”
“That, I can’t really tell. Could’ve been a brick, a hammer, or pretty much anything that’s heavy.” She turned and walked over to the whiteboard pinned next to her desk. There was an outline of a body with markings on it. Above the head, she wrote “force=heavy object=death” and circled the head of the body.
Melanie sighed. “Got it. Thanks, Dr. Shaw. If you find anything else, just call me.” Melanie turned to walk out.
“No problem.” Her eyes shifted from Oscar to Melanie. “Oh, Melanie, before you go, there’s something else I should inform you about.” She walked over to Melanie. “Off the record, this is the strangest body I’ve ever examined. Besides the extreme webbed feet, his blood,” she hesitated, “it’s peculiar.”
“What do you mean, peculiar?”
“Well, there are some abnormalities I’ve never seen before. It’s not drugs of any kind. It looks to be natural, but not entirely human DNA. He has extra strains that I can’t find in research, at least not from a human standpoint. Not a mutant.” She looked over at Oscar’s body. “Probably why he has webbed feet but, I’m going to investigate further. Make a couple of calls and talk to a former professor of mine.” Her head spun back to Melanie. “I’m telling you this because I trust you so, let’s just keep this between us, don’t need this getting out to others, okay?”
The two glared at each other. Melanie’s brown eyes narrowed, and she curled her lips. She opened the green file and glanced over the information. Dr. Shaw didn’t include that bit in the file, so it truly was something she wanted to be hidden.
“I’m taking a gamble. Do you mean, alien?” Melanie frowned.
Dr. Shaw blinked rapidly. “Not quite, I don’t think. I mean, heck, I don’t know.” She looked from corner to corner and leaned in closer. “If he is an alien, I don’t want the FBI swarming this place. He has human blood, but only partly. Very strange man, Oscar Williams.” Tiffany swallowed. “Like I said, off the record and between you and me.” She pulled the bridge of her glasses down, peering into Melanie’s eyes.
“Yes, Doctor.”
Dr. Shaw turned and scampered back toward the whiteboard.
Melanie glanced at Oscar’s file again, glanced at Dr. Shaw, turned, and walked out of the examining room.
Melanie couldn’t use the extra information Dr. Shaw provided to her for the case. Would she even want to? Dealing with a homicide on top of the undocumented makeup of Oscar’s DNA sent the wheels in her head spinning. Her gut told her something was off about Oscar Williams and this new information was doing nothing but confirming her intuition.
A week flew by, and no leads came in about Oscar Williams’s case. The police department plastered the case over the local news in hopes someone recognized Oscar. National news outlets picked up the story, more so for Oscar’s unusual, webbed feet. Despite the bulletin, no eyewitnesses came forward, and no evidence washed up at the lake. The lack of evidence and no eyewitness accounts was shifting this case toward being cold. Yet Melanie’s unusual fascination with Oscar wouldn’t let that happen. Even Dr. Shaw’s former professor was at a loss. Hours of sleep missed, thoughts raging about this case, more so Oscar. Webbed feet. Atypical DNA. Of all the cases she’d worked on, this one was her most mysterious and fascinating.
The case piqued her interest to the point she had random thoughts flowing through her mind on how to solve it, who to question, and where she’d go to question people. That’s it! I’m going to go to Coryville. Surely, there must be some answers there. This idea kept her up the past two nights, like a whining baby, desperate for milk. The information at her fingertips felt far too little compared to what she needed. The picture of the little boy in his wallet meant something; a son, a nephew, someone important enough for them to be there. After doing a search, Melanie found a phone number tracing back to Oscar. She called the number and left a voice message. Over the course of a few days, she’d called and left several voice messages, but never received a call back. This would’ve frustrated other detectives, but for her, it just added to the mystery of Oscar Williams. She kept coming back to the picture of the little boy in Oscar’s wallet. Who is he and why are my voicemails being ignored? Surely, if a loved one passed away, they’d be clamoring for answers.
