Dead Asleep by Jamie Freveletti

other displayed a view of the small airport immigration office and its baggage claim area, which was open air and covered only by a roof.
    A dark-skinned man in a short-sleeved white shirt with an Island Security logo on the front sat at one of the nearby desks. He looked about thirty-five years old, with neatly trimmed hair and a tiny earring in one ear. He stood. Emma placed the skull on one of the desks and couldn’t help but think how incongruous it looked in the sunny office.
    â€œI’d like you to meet Waylon Randiger. He’s my second in command here.” Moore indicated the man in the short-sleeved shirt. Emma removed the socks and shook his hand.
    â€œIs it real?” Randiger asked.
    She shook her head. “No.” She put the socks back on her hands and turned the skull over. There was a smoothed edge of the skull that bore the remnants of a manufacturer’s stamp that someone had tried to file off. “It’s fake. A good fake, but fake nonetheless.”
    â€œYou took pains not to get your fingerprints on it,” Randiger said, “but I’m sorry to say that we’ll not be able to take an impression here. We don’t have the tools.”
    â€œI think it’s teenagers playing a prank,” Moore said.
    â€œThe man in the garage was no teenager,” Emma said.
    Randiger looked at her in surprise. “What man?”
    Moore gave Randiger a sidelong glance. “Ms. Caldridge was attacked by a man when she interrupted him in the process of destroying some of her things in the garage.”
    â€œAnd a woman who claimed to be a voodoo priestess.”
    â€œVoodoo? Was there an offering?” Randiger said.
    Emma nodded. “A dead rooster and now this,”
    Randiger frowned. “Whoever is doing this has to be stopped.”
    Moore waved her into a chair next to his desk.
    â€œCan you give me a detailed description? I’ll enter it into our database.”
    Emma glanced over and saw that the office had a Springfed watercooler in the corner. For a moment she toyed with the idea of telling Moore about the deliveryman’s comment, but decided against it. What the man had said wasn’t relevant to the investigation, and she decided to stick to the facts. She ran down the intruder’s basics, including the keening noise he made while chasing her. She described his strange, twitching face and upturned eyes.
    â€œWas he staring up at the sky?” Randiger asked.
    Emma nodded. “All the while he was swinging at me. It was creepy.”
    â€œIt sounds as though he was mentally unbalanced,” Randiger said.
    â€œHe had dreadlocks.” Moore said this as if it was significant.
    â€œSo not an islander,” Randiger said.
    â€œWhy not? Do none have dreads?” Emma asked.
    Randiger shook his head. “None. And we don’t have anyone claiming to be a voodoo priestess living here. They must have come from off island.”
    Moore frowned at the skull. “We’re just past peak season, which ended on January sixth. Most of the owners have left already. Gone back to their main houses. While we register everyone arriving by plane, it is possible some could dock at night and sneak in that way. Doubtful, ” Moore emphasized the word, “but definitely possible.”
    â€œAnd the staff?” Ellen asked. “How do they arrive?”
    â€œBy boat if they come from a nearby island, or plane if not. It’s not likely that they would bring troublemakers, though, because jobs here are coveted. Every staff member is given a thorough background check by us before they are allowed to accept a position.” Moore shook his head. “I’m still inclined to think the skull is the work of a teenager. Maybe one that is still home from school and wants to create some excitement while here.”
    â€œIf he’s not an islander and not staff, how else could he have gotten here? Boat?”
    â€œMaybe from