Tidewater Inn

by Colleen Coble

  Alec’s lecture died on his lips. “What kind of job?”

  “I’m delivering some supplies.” Zach glanced at him from under a lock of dark hair. “I know I was grounded, but Grandpa has been on me to get a job, and this was too good to pass up.”

  He wanted to ask how the job had come Zach’s way while he was supposed to be staying home, but Alec bit back the words. “School is starting again soon. Will the hours be okay?”

  Zach shook his head. “It will be over before school starts. It’s supposed to last from two to four weeks.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “I tried. You didn’t answer your phone.”

  Alec lifted a brow and pulled out his phone. Sure enough, it showed a missed call. Maybe when he and Libby had been in transit to the beach. It hardly paid to have a phone on the island. “Okay, but when you’re not working, you still need to be at the house.”

  Zach brushed past him. “I know, I know. Sheesh, give me a break. I’m doing the best I can.”

  Maybe he was. The boy was so much like Alec was at that age. Always pushing the boundaries, impatient to be his own man, looking at anyone in authority with derision. At least Zach had a job. That was progress.

  “Okay,” Alec called after him. “I’m proud of you for getting a job.”

  Zach just hunched his shoulders and bounded up the stairs to the deck overlooking the water. He plopped down in a chair and pulled an electronic game out of his pocket. The back door opened, and Libby stepped out onto the deck. Alec jogged to intercept her. She’d take one look at Zach and think the kid was a hoodlum. Alec reached the top of the deck as she stepped to where Zach sat.

  “You must be Zach,” Libby said.

  Zach didn’t look up from his game. “Yeah.”

  “Ready?” Alec said. “Your place is about two miles out of town.”

  Zach looked up then. “The old Mitchell place?”

  Libby nodded.

  “You’re staying there?”

  “I own it,” Libby said. “I’m Ray Mitchell’s oldest daughter.”

  Zach looked her up and down. “Boy, is Brent ticked. He had plans for that place.”

  “He’s twenty-two,” Alec pointed out. “What kind of plans could he have?”

  Zach slouched into his chair. “Forget it.”

  Suppressing a sigh, Alec touched Libby’s elbow. “Tom should be there any minute.”

  She resisted the pull on her arm. “I’d really like to hear what Zach has to say,” she said. “You probably already know this, Zach, but I didn’t even know I had a brother and sister until yesterday.”

  His head came up and his eyes widened. “No kidding? Brent didn’t say anything about that in the ice-cream shop. Just that some woman he’d never met was going to have the property. Said it was his sister.”

  “Did he know about me before our father died?”

  Zach shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I’d like to meet him. And Vanessa. Do they know I’m here?”

  “I don’t think so. He figures you’ll sell the place. There’s an investor after it hot and heavy.”

  “Oh?” There was interest in her voice.

  Alec had heard the rumors. Now that the land was out of Ray’s hands, everything was liable to change. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  SIX

  Sand drifted across the pavement in places. The island was unlike any place Libby had ever seen. Wild, remote, and unbelievably beautiful with whitecaps rolling to dunes on one side and tangled maritime forest on the other.

  She leaned forward as Alec’s truck crested the hill. She caught her breath when she saw the inn standing guard over the empty beach that stretched in both directions. A small but inviting dock jutted over the water. Her chest was so tight she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do more than take in the lovely Georgian mansion overlooking the Atlantic. Large trees sheltered it, and it looked as if it had been in that place forever. In a moment, she felt she knew the spot as if it had always been a part of her.

  She could almost hear the voices of previous owners in her head. Pioneers, business owners, statesmen. The inn was alive with the history of its past. She couldn’t wait to explore, to touch the woodwork and plaster walls.

  “Th-This is mine?” she asked, getting out the truck when it rolled to a stop.

  “So I hear.”

  The place clearly needed work, but she didn’t care. She stared at the front of the building. “You said it was an inn.” She eyed its elegant lines. “It looks like a mansion. It’s Georgian. Built in the late seventeen hundreds or early eighteen hundreds.”

  “It’s an inn now. Small, I know. About fifteen suites, I think.”

  There were two curving staircases up to the porch, one on each side. There had to be two thousand square feet of balconies and porches. Great arched windows looked out on the waves. The place was in serious need of paint, but her mind’s eye could see it restored to its earlier glory. How could she bear to sell it? But she had to. For her stepbrother. For Holladay Renovations.

  He took her elbow and guided her up the nearest steps. “It used to be a single-family home. There should be some stuff about it in the attic.”

  No wonder Nicole had said she would love it. Libby took in every angle, every graceful line. “It’s so large. Who would build such a magnificent place clear out here?”

  “I don’t remember all the history, but the builder had some kind of role in early government, and I guess he wanted to impress everyone. Though there weren’t many to impress out here but Hatteras Indians. This place is really the beginning of our history as we know it, so it’s in the school book about our island.”

  The porch was expansive, but the floor needed paint. Now that she was closer, Libby saw the signs of decay in the peeling shutters and rotting fretwork. It would take a lot of money to restore this place. Money she didn’t have. But oh, how she wanted to keep it.

  Alec opened the oversized front entrance. “The lobby is the room to the right.”

  Sand and salt had scoured the wood floors. Libby ran her fingertips along blistered paint on the plaster walls. She could repair it. She went down through the foyer to what would have been a parlor on the right. Ceilings soared to twelve feet. She glanced up and saw that the plaster drooped in places. It needed to be put back in place with plaster washers and screws. Or replastered altogether.

  The reception counter was made of driftwood and marble. The woman behind the counter was in her early thirties. Her dark hair was up in a ponytail that curled down her back. She wore no makeup, and her strikingly beautiful skin didn’t need any help. She smiled when Alec introduced Libby.

  “I’m Delilah Carter, Ms. Holladay,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your trouble. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.” She rose with a key in her hand. “Let me show you to your friend’s room.”

  “I see Tom outside,” Alec said. “I’ll join you upstairs in a minute.” He walked back the way they’d come.

  Libby fell into step beside Delilah. “Did you get a chance to talk to Nicole?”

  The woman stepped into the foyer and started up the steps, easily six feet wide. “Oh yes. Lovely girl.”

  Libby mounted the steps with her. “Did she tell you why she was here?”

  “For business, so she said.” Delilah inserted the key into the lock and turned it. She opened the door and stepped aside for Libby to enter. At the first sight of her friend’s familiar pink suitcase, Libby’s eyes burned. Nicole’s pajamas were in a heap on the floor. Her clothes spilled from the top of the suitcase. In the bathroom, her makeup littered the sink counter. Libby picked up her friend’s hairbrush and caught a scent of the shampoo Nicole used.

  She swiped fiercely at the moisture on her face. Crying wouldn’t find Nicole.

  Alec intercepted Tom on the porch. “Any news?”

  Tom’s lips flattened. “Not about Nicole.”

  “What’s that mean?”
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  “Ms. Holladay hasn’t been truthful with us.” Tom took off his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “The reason I can’t view the video of the abduction is because it was wiped off the server. The computer’s IP address was traced. Libby did it.”

  Alec’s gut clenched. Though he’d known her only a few hours, he would have sworn her innocence and concern were genuine. “So there is no proof her story is even true. The cell phone could have been planted. The car could have been left out there by anyone. We know she only came to town today though, right?”

  Tom nodded. “I talked to Earl Franklin and his wife. They met her this morning. But I’m questioning all the charters I know of to make sure she didn’t get here a few days ago to lay out her plan.”

  Alec marshaled all his objectivity. Since when had a pretty face blinded him? “When was Nicole last seen?”

  “I was about to question Delilah. No one in town saw her yesterday.”

  “What about Vanessa? Libby claims she was meeting Nicole.”

  Tom returned his hat to his head. “I haven’t spoken to her yet, but I will. Right now I want to look through Nicole’s room and talk to Delilah.”

  “You haven’t gone through her belongings yet?”

  Tom shook his head. “My first priority was to find her.”

  “Delilah just let Libby into the suite.”

  “Great, just great.” Tom jerked open the door and rushed into the house.

  Alec followed. He’d sure botched that one.

  “Libby?”

  Libby put the hairbrush back onto the sink when Alec called to her from the bedroom. “In here.”

  When she stepped into the bedroom, she found identical expressions on the faces of the two men in the doorway. Alec was making an obvious attempt to mask his suspicion, but the sheriff’s gaze bored through her. She took a step back.

  “What have you touched?” the sheriff demanded.

  “Nothing but the things in the bathroom.” She stepped out of the doorway so he could brush past her. “What are you looking for?”

  He glanced around the small bathroom. “You had no business coming in here until I had a chance to clear the scene.”

  “It’s not a crime scene,” she said.

  “There may still be clues to what happened to her.”

  He hadn’t been nearly so unfriendly at his office. And even Alec was tense. “H-Have you found her?”

  The sheriff whirled and glared at her. “You mean her body? Is there something you want to tell us?”

  The kidnapping had changed into a murder, and she was a suspect. That was the only possible reason for his change of demeanor. “You found her body, didn’t you?”

  “What was on that video that you were so eager to make sure no one saw?” the sheriff asked.

  His accusing tone made her swallow hard. He knew she’d erased the video. “It was an accident. I was trying to save it so I could show it to the police. The screen went blank and it was gone.”

  “I might have believed you if you’d admitted it from the first. But you said nothing about it when you were in my office.”

  “I was going to, but—”

  “Right.” He turned around and stared at the room. “Delilah, did she touch anything in here?”

  “No, sir,” Delilah said. “I could see her when she was in the bathroom too. She didn’t do anything.” The phone rang in the distance. “I’ll be right back.” She dashed out of the room.

  “Alec, take a look in the suitcase. I’ll go through the drawers.”

  Libby curled her fingers into her palms and prayed that he would find something that would lead them to Nicole and those two men. “Just so you know, I did touch the hairbrush.”

  Tom looked her over. “Thanks.”

  Alec pulled shorts and tops out, then dumped out a bag with suntan lotion, sunglasses, and other sundries in it. The sheriff was opening the furniture’s drawers and looking through them.

  Libby spied Nicole’s laptop on the desk and picked it up. “Maybe there’s something on this.”

  The men glanced up. Tom scowled. “I told you not to touch anything. Alec, you know more about computers than I do. Have a look.”

  Alec lifted a brow and reached out his hand. “May I?”

  Surprised he was gentlemanly enough to ask in spite of the suspicion in his expression, she handed it over. “You know anything about Macs?”

  “I have one myself.” He set the laptop on the desk and opened the lid. Pulling out the chair, he sat down and began to peruse the files. “She has a lot of files on this.”

  Libby stood behind him and watched over his shoulder. “Sort by date,” she said.

  He did as she suggested, then leaned forward and read through the sorted files. “What’s this one?” He clicked on a file titled “Hope Beach.”

  The file opened with the picture of a woman. “Who is that?” Libby asked.

  “Your sister, Vanessa. Definitely a family resemblance,” Alec said, his voice distracted.

  Libby drank in the woman’s photo before the sheriff blocked her view.

  He bent down to read the document. “It’s kind of a diary. Ms. Ingram is talking about everything she saw and did since she came. Scroll to the bottom first. Maybe there’s an entry for yesterday.”

  Libby peered over his shoulder and read the entry.

  Someone was outside my door last night. He whispered my name. I think it was Brent trying to scare me into doing what he wants. I’ll have a talk with him tomorrow.

  Libby drew in a breath. “Would Brent have hurt her?”

  Tom straightened and stared at her. “Let me handle the investigation.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Look, Sheriff, I know it looks bad that I didn’t tell you about the file, but you’re wasting precious time by investigating me. I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance. I can prove where I was when she went missing.”

  He said nothing at first and continued to stare at her with those accusing eyes. “What kind of proof?”

  “For one thing, you can track the time on my cell phone when I called in the abduction.”

  “You could have disposed of her and gone back to Virginia Beach before you made the call. It’s not that far.”

  Delilah poked her head into the room. “Hurricane warning just came through. That smaller one has veered this way. We need to get the hurricane shutters in place.”

  “Is the Tidewater in danger?” Libby asked.

  “We’re on higher ground here so we’re safe from the surge,” Delilah said, “but we don’t know how much wind we’re going to get.”

  “I’d better check in at the station,” Alec said. “I’m off duty, but they may need me to begin evacuations. How long do we have?”

  “Twenty-four hours or so,” Delilah said.

  This was her place now. Libby roused herself. “I’ll help with the shutters.”

  The wind had freshened, but it was far from gale strength yet. The hurricane wouldn’t be here for hours, if it even hit. Storms were notoriously capricious. Alec strained to see any sign of movement on the tiny strip of land below as the helicopter powered toward it. He’d already helped evacuate several families to the mainland.

  “What’s wrong with McEwan?” he asked Curtis.

  “Said he thought he might be having a heart attack. The boat is too far away, so they called us.”

  Alec winced. “We’re nearly there. We’ll have Sara check him out.” She had a manner that generally soothed patients.

  The chopper reached an open field just past the pier on the small island below. Though the island had no official name, those in the Banks referred to it as Oyster Island, because some of the best oyster beds were found a few hundred feet offshore. Five families lived on it, all related in some way. McEwan lived in a shanty on the north side. He’d built the place when he was forty and hadn’t left the island since. He had to be in his eighties now. He relied on his son to go for supplies.
Alec had always liked the old fellow’s stories about life in the old days. Alec suspected McEwan had been a rumrunner back in the day.

  The rotors were still whirring when he ducked out of the helicopter with Curtis and Sara. They ran through the pelting rain toward the small cabin. The three of them rushed with the stretcher into the building, where they found McEwan moaning on his cot.

  “Took you long enough,” he gasped. “Ticker’s acting up.” He hadn’t shaved in several days, and the gray stubble added to his pallor. He wore a dirty T-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a month.

  Sara brushed past the men and knelt by the bed. “Let me take a peek.” She pulled out her stethoscope and listened to his heart. “I’m going to give you a shot to relax your arteries,” she said. “We’ll get you to the mainland where the doctor can look at you, but I don’t think it’s a heart attack. Might be indigestion or gall bladder.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have had those raw oysters,” the old man said. “They smelled a little nasty.”

  Alec grimaced. Oysters could contain dangerous bacteria when eaten raw, though oysters found offshore here were generally safe. It was hard to say what the old man had consumed. “We’ll get you taken care of.”

  Once Sara administered the shot, the pain lines around the old man’s face eased. Curtis and Sara got him onto the stretcher while Alec gathered a few items from the battered dresser by the bed. “Anything else you need?” Alec asked.

  “My gun.” McEwan pointed to a shotgun leaning by the door. “And the old suitcase under my bed.”

  Alec grabbed the gun, then reached under the bed for the battered old metal case. “Here, Sara, you take this stuff and I’ll help Curtis carry the stretcher.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.” Sara grabbed the bottom of the stretcher.

  Touchy. Alec raised his hands. “Suit yourself.” Sara leaned in to whisper in his ear. “We’d better take him to the doctor at Hope Island first. I don’t think there’s time to get him clear to the mainland. I don’t like the sound of his chest.” Carrying the old man’s belongings, Alec led the way back to the helicopter.