Tidewater Inn

by Colleen Coble

Alec waved the smoke out of his face. “What’s up?”

  “I’ll show you. Come with me.” Tom yanked open the office door.

  Alec followed him to the evidence room, down a green hallway. A table in the corner held items that made his heart sink. Bright-pink flip-flops and a cover-up in a matching color. “Those are Nicole’s?”

  “Seems likely. They washed up on shore a few minutes ago. That woman and her dog found them.”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s dead,” Alec said quickly.

  Tom lifted a brow. “Come on, Alec, you and I both know the odds aren’t good. Yeah, she might have lost her shoes in the struggle, but her cover-up is a different matter.”

  Alec winced. “You call Libby yet?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Tom headed for the door, and Alec followed. His cousin’s closed expression sent a prickle of unease up Alec’s spine. Tom went directly to his desk and jiggled his mouse. After a few clicks, he motioned to Alec. Alec stepped around the desk and peered at the screen. It displayed the video of the boardwalk where Nicole had disappeared. It displayed only sand and surf at first, then abruptly went black.

  Alec frowned. “This the recording of the time she disappeared?”

  “Yeah. I checked when Libby arrived in Kitty Hawk. She went to the harbor and tried to rent a boat about nine in the evening. That means she didn’t leave Virginia Beach until seven, two hours after she made the call to 9-1-1. Yet she said she rushed off so fast that she didn’t talk to the police.”

  “She may have waited that long for the police, and when they didn’t show, she finally took off.”

  “Maybe.” Tom leaned back. “I think we have to consider her as a suspect. And with the items that washed up, we have to treat it as a homicide.”

  “I can ask Libby why she didn’t leave for a couple of hours.”

  “Don’t show your suspicion. Maybe you can trip her up in a lie.”

  “You really think she harmed her friend?” Alec shook his head. “I don’t see it, Tom.”

  “You and I have both been around long enough to know the likeliest culprit is usually the most obvious one.”

  “But not always. I think we need to give Libby the benefit of the doubt.” Alec could see by the closed expression on the sheriff’s face that he was wasting his breath.

  Tom stood. “Look, are you going to help me or not? Or are you too afraid to find out the truth?”

  “The truth is never something to fear. But I’m not going to be part of any scheme to railroad Libby.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Just be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”

  “I already am.”

  Tom twirled a pencil in his fingers. “There’s more, Alec. I talked to Earl Franklin a little while ago too. Libby’s mother died under mysterious circumstances. Libby was held twenty hours for questioning.”

  Mysterious circumstances. “So? The police were doing their job. She was never charged or you’d have mentioned that first.”

  Tom banged his fist on the desk and swore. “You’re being just as pigheaded as usual, Alec. There’s a lot in her past that’s questionable.”

  Alec leaned over the desk toward his cousin. “So investigate, but don’t assume she’s guilty without getting facts! Otherwise, you’re letting a murderer walk.”

  Tom’s face was red. “Let’s go tell your lady friend what we’ve found and see what her reaction is. Maybe that will convince you.”

  “I’m not the one who needs convincing,” Alec said. He hoped that was true.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Nicole paced the tiny island. Fifty steps to the left of the hut and thirty steps to the right. Then around the back. She was going to go stark raving mad out here. The boy had been here yesterday, so she doubted he would come today. Not when he left enough food and water to last her for several days. She was stuck here under the blazing sun by herself.

  She had to get off this island. What would happen if the boy never came back? Or another storm came? She eyed the clouds drifting across the brilliant blue sky. Was there anything she could use for a raft? She darted across the island so fast that her bare feet kicked up sand. Inside the shack, she paused long enough to let her eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the open doorway and single window. There was no flooring to pry up, only sand. The cot was metal, so it would sink immediately. There was a wooden table. Maybe it would work.

  She curled her fingers under the edge and dragged it to the door. It was too wide to pull through the doorway so she turned it on its side and maneuvered it out onto the damp sand. With difficulty, she managed to drag it to where the surf broke on the beach. The waves crashed so hard she wondered if she would manage to get it out to sea. The legs would make it more difficult too. She scoured the beach until she found a rock about eight inches in diameter. Once she got it back to the table, she lifted it over her head and brought it crashing down on the table leg closest to her. It took four whacks to dislodge the first leg. She rolled the table around and continued to batter at the legs until she had all of them free of the top.

  Now she had the makings of a raft. And if she could tie the legs together, she might have something that would work as oars. She stared at the trees. There were no vines. She wandered the beach again but found only flotsam and seaweed. Nothing strong enough to take on the crashing waves. Returning to the table, she looked from it to the foaming water. Using single table legs was going to have to do. There was no choice. And she needed to bring water and food with her, but how did she keep it from tumbling overboard while she got the raft out past the breakers?

  The sound of the sea rolled over her, powerful and frightening. But she couldn’t let fear deter her. If she did nothing, her death was almost certain. If she died in the attempt, at least she was doing something. She turned back toward the shack and ducked inside to get peanut butter and water. The peanut butter jar fit in the bra of her bathing suit. She tucked one bottle of water in the front of the bottoms and one in the back, but she didn’t have high hopes that they would stay put. If only she had some rope.

  Sighing, she grabbed an edge of the tabletop and dragged it into the water, then seized two table legs and tried to hang on to them as she tugged the wood farther into the water. The sea foamed around her ankles, and she waited for the right moment to pull the table through the waves. When the crashing wave receded, she lunged through the water with her fingers gripping the makeshift raft. The waves tried furiously to rip the raft from her fingers, but she managed to hang on. When the water reached her waist, she flung herself atop the table. Tucking the table legs under her, she paddled with her hands for all she was worth. It seemed for every foot she managed to propel herself forward, the surf flung her back toward the island two feet.

  The breakers were crashing just ahead of her. She paused her paddling until the right moment, then tried again with all her strength. The waves lifted her, then flung her past the breakwater. The ride smoothed out and the waves didn’t threaten to tip her into the sea at every moment. She sat up and examined her circumstances. One bottle of water had been pulled from her bathing suit. The peanut butter had survived the experience, but she had only one table leg. It would be useless by itself. She nearly tossed it overboard, then reconsidered. Her resources were limited out here. She might need it for something.

  The island was receding. She flopped to her stomach again and began to paddle with her hands. A fin appeared in the water beside the boat, and she snatched her hands back, then smiled when she realized it was a dolphin. If only the dolphin realized her distress and could help her find land.

  The dolphin nosed her makeshift raft. She reached out and touched the mammal’s skin. It felt like a warm inner tube. “Can you help me?” she whispered.

  The dolphin bumped at her raft again, then flicked its tail and shoved at her raft. The table floated back toward the island. “Hey, that’s the wrong way,” Nicole said.

  The dolphin pushed the
raft with its nose again, and Nicole sat up. “Cut that out!” She glanced back at the island. Surely it was much closer. Her chest tightened and she grabbed the table leg and hit the water with it. The splashing didn’t deter the dolphin. It continued to shove her back toward the island. Nicole didn’t have the heart to actually hit the animal with the table leg. All she could do was splash and scream as the dolphin moved the raft back to the island.

  The waves were suddenly higher, and she flung herself to her belly and clutched the sides as the breakers grabbed the tabletop and flung it toward the island. She heard a tearing, grinding sound and was suddenly in the water with salt water burning her nose and throat. She couldn’t breathe as the waves rolled her over and over until she came to rest in a foot of water with her knees stinging from scraping the sand.

  She sat up and cried out as the waves offered up the pieces of her raft, useless now.

  Pearl carried a silver tray bearing delicate blue-and-white china into the bedroom. “Here you go, honey.” She put the tray on the bedside table. “The tea will make you feel better.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Pearl. You’re very thoughtful.” Libby stared again at the letter in her hand.

  Several hours had passed since Libby realized Vanessa was her sister, but the shock had not lessened. How could her parents have done such a heinous thing? To separate sisters until they were combative strangers was a crime that could not be forgiven. Libby found no charity in her heart toward her parents. God said to forgive seventy-times-seven times, but in this case, even one time was too many.

  She fingered the necklace. What would Jesus do? Right now, Libby couldn’t seem to summon the desire to care.

  Pearl touched her head. “There are homemade cookies with M&M’S in them.”

  Libby flung a letter aside that had contained three pictures of Vanessa winning a swim competition. “Not even chocolate can heal this. We have missed so much of each other’s lives. It’s monstrous.”

  Pearl eased her bulk into the chair. “There’s nothing you can do to change what is, Libby. All you can do is go forward from here.”

  “Have you talked to Vanessa?”

  Pearl’s expression clouded. “She won’t open her bedroom door.”

  “She hates this as much as I do. Maybe more.”

  “Ray spoiled those children. He would be heartsick if he could see how she is treating you.”

  Libby rubbed her throbbing forehead. “I can’t blame her.”

  “This is hardly your fault.”

  Libby stared at her aunt. “Did you try to talk him out of this?”

  “Of course.” Pearl sat heavily in the armchair. “When he arrived here on Hope Island with Vanessa in tow, I begged him to go back for you.”

  “Did you know my mother?”

  Pearl’s eyes filled and she nodded. “She was very naïve and childlike. Once she made up her mind, there was no talking her out of anything. Your mother had been adamant that she wanted no contact with Ray. The only way to do that was for each of them to take a child. She argued that it would only be difficult in the beginning. Once you both forgot, everyone could have a fresh start.”

  Libby’s throat closed. “No wonder I’ve felt so abandoned. I lost a father and a sister in one blow.”

  “Your father mourned your loss all his life. Not a week went by but he spoke of you.”

  Where her aunt’s pity had failed to move her, Pearl’s words about Ray opened a flood of pain. Libby tried to compose herself. “I don’t have any memories of him. What did he like to do?”

  “Come with me. I’ll show you his pride and joy.”

  Curious, Libby rose from the bed and followed her aunt into the hall and up a narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. It was a different staircase from the one that led to her father’s suite. This space smelled of disuse and dampness.

  Libby glanced around the stark space. “No one lives up here, do they?”

  Pearl fiddled with a key in the lock of the first door to the right. “Oh no. Once upon a time it was the servants’ quarters, but since it became an inn back in the sixties, it’s been used only for storage.” With a final click of the knob, she flung open the door.

  Their feet had left prints on the dust in the halls, but not a speck of dust was in this chamber. Ceilings soared to fifteen feet. The walls were painted a pale lemon, and the wood floors were polished. “What is this place?” Libby asked, peering through the gloom.

  “One moment.” Pearl felt along the wall, then light filled the room.

  Libby’s eyes took a moment to adjust, then she gasped as the paintings came into view. “A-Are those real?” She moved close enough to see the brushstrokes. “They look like Washington Allston originals.”

  “They are. Ray loved the religious ones. He said Allston always chose obscure events in the Old Testament to illustrate how we should live out our faith.”

  Libby stared at the picture of a young woman sleeping at the feet of an older man. “Ruth and Boaz?” This one was hardly about an obscure event.

  Pearl nodded. “He loved it, though it also reminded him that he had failed you. Boaz always did the right thing, in the right order. Ray felt he would never aspire to that high mark.”

  Libby glanced around the room. “How many did he collect?”

  “Five in all.”

  “They’re worth a fortune.”

  “They are indeed. I’m surprised you recognized them.”

  “I’m a huge Allston fan. I have a tiny print that’s sat on my dresser ever since I can remember.” She put her hand to her throat. “Did my father give that to me?”

  “The one of Moonlit Landscape?” Pearl nodded. “It was his favorite. Though he could never own the original, he has some prints stored in another room.”

  “So that’s why I love Allston,” Libby said. “I inherited the love from him.”

  “He used to take you to art museums, starting when you were six months old. We laughed and told him you were too young, but he carried you from picture to picture, explaining what each painting was and why it was significant.”

  Libby wished she remembered. How much of her personality and passions had she absorbed from a father she never knew?

  “Why did my parents divorce? Why did he leave me behind? Did he love Vanessa more?”

  Pearl took her hand and squeezed. “Never think that, honey! Your mother flipped a coin. He got Vanessa, and she kept you.”

  Libby shuddered at the word picture her aunt’s description evoked. “Why would he agree to that?”

  “He wanted to take you both, but back then it would have been impossible to get custody of both of you without her agreement. He had no grounds. She told him she only had the energy for one child, that he could take one. It was the luck of the draw.”

  “So they flipped a coin and ripped a family apart.”

  Libby didn’t want to be bitter. She didn’t. But it was hard to come to grips with what had been done to her and Vanessa.

  A dog barked. Bree and Samson must have come back. “I think I’ll go for a swim and clear my head.”

  “I’ll pray for you, honey. You need to forgive and let go of this.”

  Easier said than done.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The water beckoned like a lover. Libby dug her toes into the soft sand and watched the waves for a moment. Samson had wanted a walk, so she’d taken him with her. Bree had taken the children to get cleaned up for dinner.

  A swim would clear Libby’s head, though she knew she should march right back inside and demand Vanessa talk to her. In Libby’s wildest dreams she’d never expected to find a sister who hated her. This could have been such a wonderful day. Instead it was a nightmare that she couldn’t awaken from.

  She pulled off her cover-up and tossed it on the sand. “Want to go for a swim, Samson?” The dog’s ears perked at the word swim. He danced around her and barked wildly, then ran toward the waves and snapped at the foam.

  “Moron,” she sai
d, laughing. The dog barked excitedly in answer.

  She kicked off her flip-flops and ran into the waves. The shock of the cold water made her gasp, then giggle like she was ten. A breaker rolled toward her, and she waited until the right moment before diving into it. The force of the current rolled her along the bottom, but she relished its power. When she was in the water, she forgot all her troubles. She surfaced and tossed her hair out of her face. The sea didn’t feel so cold now that she was fully immersed. She broke into a breaststroke and crested the next wave. Samson kept up with her as she swam out.

  When she turned to look back, she was a hundred yards out. There didn’t seem to be a riptide, so she flipped onto her back and let the waves float her along. Sheer heaven. It would be sunset soon, so she wouldn’t stay out too long. Sharks would be out.

  When the first nudge came on her leg, she thought it was a fish. She straightened to a vertical position and looked around. Then something grabbed her leg and yanked her under the water. She managed to gasp oxygen into her lungs before her head was submerged. Though the salt water burned, she opened her eyes underwater and saw a diver in a black wetsuit. It was too dark to see much detail, but she could make out the person’s masculine build and the air tank on his back.

  She kicked out with her right foot and hit him in the chest, but the blow didn’t make him turn her loose. His fingers squeezed her leg so tightly that it was beginning to go numb. Bubbles rose around her as he dragged her deeper under the waves. He reached the bottom and stood on the sand. She floated just above him with his hand still holding her fast.

  He’s trying to drown me. The shock of realizing his intention made her release a bit of her precious air into the water. Her lungs began to burn. She flailed to free herself, but he was stronger. Samson would not be able to dive down to help her. If she wanted to live, she had to escape this man. Panic drove all thought from her head for a few moments, then she forced herself to focus.

  Think, Libby! Her only chance was to deprive him of oxygen. She lashed out with her foot, aiming for his face. Her heel struck his mouthpiece and it flipped out of his mouth. Bubbles escaped in a flurry. He let go of her legs and grabbed the mask. Lungs burning, Libby shot for the surface. He would be right behind her. She had to get to safety. Her feet pumped, and she rose toward the light.