Surfer fic, dude! Gnarly!
May. 7th, 2007 12:26 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngreg“A New Perspective”
Rating: PG-13 (for language and suggestive talk)
Summary: A vacation out of Vegas doesn’t mean an escape from murder.
A Day At the Beach
Nick had to keep reminding himself that he’d promised. He’d promised over and over again through the years, pretty much thinking it would never be payday…but now payday was here. Coughing up yet another mouth full of sandy surf, he dragged the stubborn surfboard still tethered to his ankle a little farther onto dry land. He needed a break.
He had, to his secret shame, not really believed Greg when he had told him years ago that he surfed. “Dude, I rip!” he’d said. And while it had taken a while to shake off the more than six years in the desert, it was clear that he did indeed ‘rip’. Nick never tired of watching this new Greg he’d never seen before; commanding the waves, riding them nearly to the shore.
The surf that morning had been something of a disappointment to the small group of dedicated boardheads that had found this remote beach. It was supposed to be the ‘holy grail’ of surf spots, but today Greg declared it ‘slushy’. Nick, Nick declared it a day. He ached in places he hadn’t known he had, and there was an unhealthy amount of sand in places he was all too keenly aware of.
Nick felt more than saw a shadow fall over him. Looking up, it was yet another body double for Greg. Tall, slender. All lean muscle, whippet strong. “Nip out?” Newcomer asked, using that annoying insider language that left Nick confused and frustrated. He didn’t respond, just yanked the Velcro tether off his ankle. He was saved from asking what the hell Newcomer meant by Greg’s arrival on the shore.
Newcomer, clearly deciding that Nick was smoking the wrong stuff, turned his attention to Greg. Nick watched his appreciative eyes travel down Greg’s wet, gleaming torso and felt his hackles rise. “Nip?” There was that word again! Was this guy some kind of racist?
“No, the waters’ pretty warm,” Greg answered. “You won’t need your wet-suit. Slushy, though, and some churly-churly.” Newcomer beamed at this sign of intelligent life and wandered a little farther down the beach.
“Churly-churly?” Nick asked. Really, what was wrong with people? Didn’t anyone speak English anymore?
“The tide’s starting to kick up some sand and stones. It can get pretty painful, if it really starts swirling.”
“Why didn’t he just ask if it was cold…why didn’t you just tell him the tide was making it messy out there?” Nick was tired. He knew he was acting like a two year old, but couldn’t seem to stop. “What’s wrong with English, man? I expect to see Pauly Shore any minute.”
“Pauly Shore isn’t a surfer, Nick.” Greg sighed. Nick was extremely resistant to change. Any kind of change. Greg was used to the process he had to go through to get Nick in the mood to try new things, but it was always exhausting. Once, after watching Greg jump through the necessary hoops to ensure cooperation from Nick, Papa Olaf had commented that it was like herding a stubborn goat through a minefield. It was an altogether apt simile.
“We have our own language in the lab.” Greg smiled at his tired love. “We have another language at home, kind of our own shorthand.” Nick nodded. That was true. “This is just another area of expertise, with it’s own language, too. You’ll pick it up.” Nick gave him the patented Stokes Stare Of Death. “Or, I’ll just interpret for you!”
“How do you get cold out of nip?” Nick hated feeling out of his element. Here, in what was clearly Greg’s world, he felt like a stranger. He realized he liked being the one Greg looked to for answers; he didn’t much like asking for them himself. He was a little afraid that Greg might decide Nick was too old. Too boring. Too not in touch with what Greg thought was cool.
“Nipple, Nick. You know, when you’re cold…” Greg trailed off when recognition dawned in Nick’s eyes. “Let’s go get something to eat, and wash off the sand. Okay?” Here he wasn’t going to face any resistance. The two started gathering their belongings, stopping when the sound of screaming drifted up from the far side of the beach.
Greg fumbled around in the pockets of the cooler they’d brought with them to find their cell phones. Cells in hand, the two sprinted towards the growing commotion about twenty yards away. On reaching the edge of the crowd, they pushed their way through to the waters edge. There, bobbing gently in the swells was a girl of about twenty. Sun burnt, pretty, and definitely dead.
“Everybody just take a step back.” Nick took charge; at least this was language he understood. “Anybody know this girl?”
“She was just Gidgeting. Watching the buoy that was out there all morning,” responded a boy clearly not old enough to be on the beach on a school day.
“Gidgeting? Watching what boy, do you see him around?” Nick frowned when the boy laughed. “What?” He was going to make sure Greg would never get him to the beach again. This was torture.
“No, Nick. Buoy, not boy.” Greg fought to control his smile. He had no wish to antagonize Nick, and a crime scene wasn’t really the place for humor. “He means the girl was just sitting on the beach, watching someone out in the water.” Greg turned to the helpful boy. “Just being a decoy? Soaking through all the sets?” The boy nodded. “How long? Have you seen him before?”
“All morning. Like maybe three or four hours, just bobbing, duck-like.” Here the boy paused to think. “I think he’s been here before, at least someone else sat out there before. It might not have been the same guy.”
“When was that?” Greg asked, wishing he had a notebook. The kid shrugged, clearly not sure. “A week? Maybe? I didn’t really pay that much attention. It’s just kind of Monty when the ducks line up, you know?” Obviously, there had been something else different about their mystery surfer besides his waiting out beyond the waves. “He was kind of Bolshoi. I think.”
“Ducks, as in plural? How old do you figure?” Greg knew Nick was ready to explode, but he wanted to be clear before he let the kid stop. “Yeah, I think there were two today…but I only remember one before.” The kid scrunched his face in concentration. “Old. Maybe thirty-five…forty.” Nick grimaced at the reference of forty being old. He had scavenged an empty envelope from one of the by-standers and gave it to their witness to write his name and contact information. Once the police arrived, they’d want their own detectives to ask more questions. Information in hand, he turned to Greg.
“What the hell did all that mean?” He tried and failed to keep the petulant twist out of his voice. “According to our witness,” Greg leaned over a little to read the name off the envelope Nick was holding. “Chris. Chris says this girl was sitting on the beach all morning watching someone, presumably a man about our age, sitting on a board out beyond the wave line. He just sat there, riding swells up and down, for hours.” Greg looked perplexed. “Sometime during those hours, another man joined the first. Just sitting in the water.”
“Sitting in the water…like a buoy.” Nick felt a small surge of victory for figuring that out. “Yeah. Buoy, duck, decoy…all the same thing.” Greg smiled. “Looks like lunch will have to wait until after the cops get here.”
Nick was okay with that. Looking down at the dead girl and wondering how she’d ended up that way, he’d pretty much lost his appetite anyway. “Let’s see if any of these other kids saw anything relevant.”
The local sheriff arrived about ten minutes into the questioning of the crowd. The appearance of uniforms was like letting the plug out of the tub; kids flowed away, as fast and inconspicuously as possible. By the time the sheriff and his one deputy arrived at the shores edge, only Nick and Greg and the pretty but dead girl remained to greet them.
“Sheriff. I’m Nick Stokes; this is Greg Sanders. We’re with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, here on vacation. We’ve tried to preserve the crime scene as much as possible, but you’ll no doubt want to get more people out here and set up a perimeter.
“Stokes, Sanders,” the sheriff gave them a brief handshake. “I’m Sheriff Prescott, this is my deputy, Bob Martin.” Here, he eyed the two warily, “Just what makes you think this is a crime scene?” The sheriff was deep into his re-election campaign. The last thing he needed was a dead tourist and two noisy law-enforcement outsiders.
Nick and Greg exchanged a look. This was going to be interesting. “She’s got ligature markings on her neck,” Greg pointed to the area, not touching. Not that much physical evidence was left after her bath in the sea, but they could get lucky. “Plus, what witness accounts we were able to get placed her on the beach only. She never ventured close to the water’s edge.”
“Hmm,” was the sheriff’s only comment. Damn. This wasn’t going to be something that just went away. It was going to make the news, and it could get really messy. He had a two-man department. Up to now, the biggest crimes they encountered were petty theft and drunk and disorderly. He felt distinctly out of his element.
“I’m going to have to ask you two to stick around for a while.” He needed time to think. “Stay in town until I say you can go.” Nick gave him the name of the hotel they were staying at.
Nick had the distinct impression that the sheriff had no clue how to proceed. They were out of their jurisdiction, out of their own state. They could, and would cooperate as much as possible, but without a request and permission, they were outsiders here.
“No problem, Sheriff.” Nick held out his hand for a final shake. “Just let us know how we can be of assistance.” With that, the two headed back up the beach to collect their boards and cooler. Neither had a good feeling about leaving the scene unprotected; neither had any idea what to do about it.
Nick was still thinking about the dead girl after his shower. He waited for Greg to finish getting cleaned up so they could grab some dinner. While he waited, he dug out Greg’s laptop to do a little background check on the local police department. The ten minutes it took Greg to finish up was eight minutes more than Nick needed to read all that was available on the subject. He was mildly disturbed to learn that this was election year for the sheriff, and that he was in a tight race for reelection. That didn’t bode well for the still unknown dead girl. Murder and reelection never mixed well.
“Ready?” Greg asked, exiting the bathroom. Nick didn’t respond, still staring at the screen in front of him. “Nick?” Nick finally looked up at Greg. He liked what he saw, but his growling stomach was putting all other thoughts aside for now. He closed the computer and rose to exit the room with Greg.
“Our friend the sheriff is up for reelection in three months. I did a little snooping on line while you were in the shower.” Greg looked over at Nick, brow furrowed in thought.
“That means this all will be handled fast. He’s going to want it out of the way, settled soon, so the voters won’t associate him with a murder on his watch.” They both knew that was a bad thing for the victim. Not that she was in any position to complain.
They decided to walk the short distance to the Mexican restaurant on the corner. Nick was so hungry, he was sure no matter how bad the food was he’d enjoy it.
Sitting in a back booth, staring across at Greg while he finished his fish tacos, Nick couldn’t help but think about the girl on the beach, and the way the locals had responded to the scene. He knew Greg was more than ready to let it go. He knew he should to. He didn’t think he could just walk away. He had to find a way to get some answers without stepping on any official toes.
Later, as they settled in for the night, Nick wondered aloud what the unknown surfer could have been looking at for so long. Greg sighed and sat up. “Let it go, Nick.” He really didn’t expect that to happen, but he had to try. “It’s not our case, our jurisdiction.”
“I know. It’s natural to wonder, though. Aren’t you just a little curious?” Nick waggled his eyebrows at Greg, getting him to smile. Score!
“Sure I’m curious. I’m also on vacation! The first vacation we’ve had together in five years. I’m not ready to give that up just yet.” He snuggled next to Nick, pillowing his head on Nick’s shoulder. Nick sighed.
“I know, I know.” He did understand how Greg felt. He felt the same, but that young girls face was haunting him. He wanted justice for her, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to get it.
“We could paddle out there tomorrow, if you want,” Greg ventured. “I doubt it will tell us much, but at least it will eliminate some possibilities.” Nick grinned, kissing the top of his head.
“Thanks, G. That sounds like a plan.” He was really pleased until he realized that meant he had to get back on a surfboard again. Nick groaned, Greg laughed.
“Good night, Nick.”
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Date: 2007-05-07 12:14 pm (UTC)There is going to be more right?
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Date: 2007-05-07 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-07 02:30 pm (UTC)Lovely fic!!^_^!
I want more now...please?!*puppy eyes*
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Date: 2007-05-07 02:39 pm (UTC)Yes, this is at least two parts...I couldn't fit it all into one. Thanks for reading, and I hope you like the rest as well.
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Date: 2007-05-07 06:28 pm (UTC)Isn't it ironic, I've just come back from a surfing trip and there happens to be a surfing fic waiting for me?
So cool!
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Date: 2007-05-07 07:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-07 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-08 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-07 11:49 pm (UTC)BTW, Nick in wetsuit=yummy <3 great job
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Date: 2007-05-08 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-22 05:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-22 02:16 pm (UTC)