by Eva Gates
I hadn’t spotted anyone stopped at the side of the road when the red and green traffic lights of Whalebone Junction appeared in the distance. I passed through the intersection and pulled off to the side of the road. I sent a text to the number she’d used: Where are you?
No reply.
Maybe the phone owner had left her. Left a young woman alone in a broken-down car on the side of an empty highway at night? Not a nice thing to do.
I made a right at the intersection, turned around in a restaurant parking lot, and headed back the way I’d come, going even slower than I had earlier. Apart from a couple of impatient cars who sped past me, I saw nothing and no one.
By the time I reached the lighthouse lane, I was seriously worried. I turned around once again and stopped the car. I had to call Jake.
If Josie was okay, she’d be angry at me for worrying Jake, but right now I didn’t care. Something was not right.
“Hey, Lucy,” he said. “It’s late for you to be calling. What’s up?”
His voice was so natural, so cheerful, I knew his wife hadn’t called him for help, but I asked anyway. “Jake, I … Have you heard from Josie in the last twenty minutes or so?”
“Yeah. She called about ten minutes ago to say she was home and going to bed. Our schedules are so opposite, that’s the way we usually exchange good-night kisses. Why do you ask?”
“She told you she was home?”
“Yeah. Lucy, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” Panic began to creep into his voice.
“I don’t know, Jake. You don’t have a landline in the apartment, do you?”
“No. Almost no one I know has a landline anymore, except you.”
“She called you on her cell?”
“Lucy. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know. I got a text about twenty minutes ago, supposedly from Josie but not her number. Saying she’d broken down on the side of the road and asking me to come and get her. I drove up and down the highway, but she’s not there.”
“She’s not there because she’s at home. Where are you now?”
“I’m parked on the lighthouse lane, just off the highway.”
“I’m coming for you.”
“No need; I’m sure everything’s okay. It was a stupid prank.”
“Not a funny one. Don’t get out of your car, and don’t stay where you are.” He spoke quickly, issuing orders the way he did in his kitchen on a busy summer’s night. “Get on the highway and drive to Old Oregon Inlet Road; at least there’s some traffic there. Wait for me, keep your headlights on, and do not get out of your car. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m hanging up. I want to call Josie to check she really is at home and if she has any idea what’s going on. I’ll call you back when that’s done.”
He hung up, and I suddenly felt very alone. I sat in my car, in a small circle of light, surrounded by the dark night. When the lighthouse light flashed, the light I’d always found so reassuring and comforting, I realized how far away it was.
Until now, I hadn’t thought to be afraid. I’d been worried for Josie, then annoyed at whoever was playing a joke on me. Now I was truly frightened.
I glanced around me, trying to see into the night. But all was dark. Dark and quiet. So quiet.
I threw the car into gear and sped down the laneway. I probably took the turn onto the highway on two wheels, and I made it to the intersection at South Old Oregon Inlet Road in record time. My phone rang, and I answered it using Bluetooth as I made the turn and pulled off to the side of the road to wait. “I’m here.”
“Josie’s home, safe and sound and wondering why I felt the need to check on her,” Jake said.
“I tried texting her back, but no one replied. Should I call the number?”
“No. Don’t do anything until we get there.”
“We?”
“Of course we, Lucy. Don’t hang up. Stay on the line.”
An approaching vehicle slowed and turned onto the road. My heart stopped. The car sped up and continued on its way. My heart started again.
That happened a couple more times before Jake said, “I think I see you. Flash your lights.”
I flashed them. Jake’s car pulled up next to me, and he leapt out. I undid my seat belt and opened my door. My hands were shaking, and I wondered if my legs would hold me up. Jake grabbed my arm and helped me out of the car.
A police cruiser came tearing down the highway, siren screaming, red and blue lights breaking the deep night, and pulled in next to us.
“You shouldn’t have called the police,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t call the police. I called my brother,” Jake said as Butch got out of the cruiser.
“You okay, Lucy?” he asked me.
“I’m fine. I’m sure it was nothing.” I tried to smile at the men who’d rushed to my aid. I feared it came out as more of a grimace.
Another car screeched to a halt beside us.
“You shouldn’t have called Connor,” I said to Jake.
“Of course I called Connor,” Jake said.
Connor jumped out of his car without shutting off the engine. He reached me in three strides and wrapped me in his arms so tightly I was afraid I might suffocate. I made no move to pull myself free. It felt rather nice to be held. The dangers of the night silently receded.
“Thanks, guys,” Connor said, over the top of my head.
“Anytime,” Jake replied.
Connor finally let me go. He bent over and peered into my face. I reached up and touched his cheek. He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips.
Jake and Butch shifted their feet.
“Can you tell us what happened, Lucy?” Butch said at last. “Everything you can remember. Jake said someone lured you away from the lighthouse?”
“Lured is a strong word,” I said.
“Strong is what’s needed,” Connor said.
I told them the story. It didn’t take long. “Can you show me the text?” Butch asked.
I did so.
The three men leaned in and read the message. Butch pulled out his own phone and called the number. A tinny voice answered immediately.
“Either switched off or out of service,” he said. “I’ll get this checked out.”
“If you don’t need me any longer,” Jake said, “I should get back. I left a twenty-dollar steak on the grill and a mess of crab legs in a pot.”
I turned to him. “Thank you.”
His warm hazel eyes smiled back at me, but lines of worry hadn’t disappeared from the corners of his mouth. My cousin’s husband is a good-looking man. He’s slightly shorter and thinner than his brother, but otherwise the resemblance between them is strong.
“Let’s go,” Butch said. “I want to check out the lighthouse.”
“I’m coming with you,” Connor said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Maybe this was a practical joke and someone’s hiding behind a sand dune giggling into his palm even as we speak,” Butch said, “but I don’t think so. Your Honor, you take the lead; Lucy, you drive in the middle, and I’ll follow.”
“Call me if you need anything,” Jake said.
“Any sign of trouble,” Butch said to Connor, “you and Lucy get the heck out of there and leave it to me.”
“Will do.” Connor held the door of my car for me and waved me in.
Jake went first, turning right toward town with a farewell blast of his horn; then Connor followed, turning left. I pulled in behind him, and Butch came after me. He drove close to my rear bumper, but he’d turned the cruiser’s lights and sirens off.
I felt quite calm. Calm and safe and protected. And loved. I had no idea what had happened and whether or not someone wanted to only frighten me or if they intended to do me harm. Shock would settle in soon, but right now I was feeling surprisingly calm.
I didn’t think this person—whoever it was—meant me physical harm. I’d been alone when I ran out of the lighthouse in answer to Josie
’s call, not paying attention to my surroundings. I’d driven up and down the dark highway, going slowly. It would have been easy to grab me before I got into my car or to force me off the road. I’d parked at the side of the lighthouse lane for a few minutes while I called Jake.
What, then, had been their intent?
We found out soon enough.
Butch told Connor and me to stay in our cars while he checked out the area around the lighthouse. Connor disobeyed that order immediately and got into the passenger seat of my car. We sat as close together as we could in my small Yaris, clutching hands as we watched Butch—powerful flashlight in one hand, the other on the butt of his gun—studying the grounds and the exterior of the building. I swallowed when he disappeared around the side of the lighthouse, and Connor gripped his phone in his free hand. I noticed he’d already punched in a nine and a one. Butch soon reappeared. He waved to us, and Connor and I got out of the car.
Butch met us at the bottom of the steps. “I’ve called for backup and asked them to notify Detective Watson. Someone left you a message, Lucy.”
He turned his light to shine directly on the door. A piece of plain computer paper had been fastened there with a nail. The typing was neat, in Times New Roman 12, too small for me to read from where I stood.
Butch nodded, and Connor and I climbed the steps. We peered at the note but didn’t touch it.
Stay out of what doesn’t concern you. Or next time your cousin will be in trouble. Maybe even you.
Chapter Eighteen
Southerners love their sweet tea, but there’s nothing like a hot, steaming cup of strong, fragrant tea for calming one’s nerves.
And my nerves needed calming.
I gripped my mug tightly. Charles stretched out on the couch next to me, and Fluffy snoozed on the carpet under the coffee table.
“Top you up?” Connor asked.
I held out my mug. “Yes, please.”
He filled it and then sat at the other end of the couch. I stretched out my legs and put them into his lap, and he stroked my bare toes. “I don’t like being threatened,” I said.
“I don’t like you being threatened. Sure you don’t want me to call your mom?”
“Positive. Let me think this through and decide what to say. I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
Sam Watson had arrived at the lighthouse in record time in answer to Butch’s call. The front door showed no signs of being tampered with, but I’d been guarded by a phalanx of police officers, not to mention the mayor of Nags Head, while I’d gone upstairs to collect Charles, Fluffy, and my toothbrush and pajamas. I’d had time, as I was hustled through the library, to notice that nothing seemed out of place.
Holly Rankin had been dispatched to follow Connor and me into town and make sure we reached Connor’s house safely. In other words, the police were taking this evening’s happenings very seriously indeed.
“Before we start speculating,” Connor said, “you don’t think it was Louise Jane trying to scare you out of your apartment?”
“Absolutely not. Louise Jane can be irritating at times and as annoying as all heck, but she’s not mean.”
“Agreed. Who, then?”
“Who indeed.” I leaned against the arm cushions of the sofa, my feet resting in Connor’s lap. “I know one thing.”
“What?”
“The murder of Rich Lewiston isn’t a Boston matter, and it had absolutely nothing to do with organized crime.”
“Did you think it did?”
“The police were considering the idea. Sam told me the police in Boston are looking into an organized-crime angle. It would appear that Rich wasn’t always operating on the right side of the law, and he might have been in debt to underworld forces. We can disregard that line of inquiry now. No one from the mob is going to make such a halfhearted attempt to frighten a Nags Head librarian.”
“Don’t discount yourself, Lucy. Maybe rumors of your detecting prowess have expanded beyond the confines of the Outer Banks.”
I snorted and stroked Charles’s ears. “You know as well as I do that I have no detecting prowess. I have a lot of dumb luck.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, but never mind. I don’t suppose you’ve been frightened off.”
I lifted Charles off me and swung my legs to the floor. Fluffy awoke with a start and barked. I stood up and went for my purse. I rummaged around inside, finding a pen and a copy of the Lighthouse Aerie rental agreement I’d been consulting when I decided to think about moving. I resumed my seat. “Let’s make a list of all the possible suspects. I’ve found that helps to clear the mind.”
“Dumb luck, right,” Connor muttered. “If we must. First things first. Whoever tried to scare you off—if we assume that was their attempt and not just a childish prank—doesn’t know you very well.”
I drew three columns on the back of the rental contract. “Why do you say that?”
“Anyone who knows you knows you can’t be frightened off.”
I smiled at him.
“And, as someone who knows you well and loves you beyond measure, I wish you could be frightened off. Leave it to the police, Lucy.”
“I will. This is only a mental exercise. I’ll tell Sam anything we come up with. Who do we have?” I started writing names in the left-hand column. “Evangeline. Ricky. Gordon Frankland. Leon Lions.”
“Gordon Frankland,” Connor said.
I looked up. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I want it to be him. Get him out of my hair.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Wouldn’t it be nice if it did?” I hesitated, pen poised. “Not much of a list. One thing I do know is that it can’t be someone who spends much time at the library. It was nothing but another instance of dumb luck that I even got the original text message tonight. Anyone who knows how things work in the lighthouse knows not to text me or call me on my cell phone if they need me. They call the landline.”
“Doesn’t help much.” Connor pointed to the list. “None of those people are regulars at the library.”
“And thank heavens for that.”
“Then we have person or persons unknown,” Connor said.
“Evangeline,” I said.
“You think she killed her husband?”
“I think something’s up with her. I can’t forget how strongly she reacted when she saw James Dalrymple at the library. I wonder if James should be on the list. Although he knows cell phone coverage isn’t reliable in the building.”
“You’re clutching at straws, Lucy. Maybe James simply reminded Evangeline of someone.”
“I suppose. I also suppose I am clutching at straws. We know why Rich was at Jake’s that night: because someone sent him a note asking him to meet them there. But we have to wonder why he was in the Outer Banks at all. He left Boston and drove down without telling anyone.”
“Anyone we know of. The person who sent him the note knew.”
“Yes, our mysterious sender of notes. The person who lured Rich to Jake’s with a computer-printed note has to be the same person who left that warning on the door for me. Who writes out notes anymore these days? He—or she—could have sent me a threatening text. He or she obviously has my number.”
“Far more dramatic this way. A warning nailed to your front door. But that brings up a question.” He gestured to the list. “Who among these people has your number?”
I thought about that. “Hard to say. Mom obviously does, and she could have given it to someone. Ricky does. I’m still on the same phone plan I had in Boston. If Ricky has it, then Evangeline might. And Evangeline might have given it to anyone at all. Anyone except Gordon Frankland. That probably destroys your hope that it’s him.”
“Not necessarily. I’m sure he has ways of finding things out.” Connor rubbed the thumb and index finger of his right hand together in the universal signal for a payoff.
“The note asked Rich to meet the sender at Jake’s, but as for why Rich was in Nags Head in the f
irst place … Ricky said his dad came to OBX about once every year. Supposedly to go fishing with clients. I wonder …”
“If that’s true?”
“If he was fishing with clients, he didn’t bring any of his partners or associates with him. He didn’t even bring his son. I suppose I could ask every charter fishing outfit in a hundred-mile radius if they’ve ever been hired by Rich Lewiston, but that would take a heck of a lot more resources than I have.”
“Seeing as how you’re a librarian simply engaged in a mental exercise.”
“That reminds me. Evangeline’s been to the Outer Banks several times over the years, although she denied it at first. I wonder if she followed Rich here. Was she checking up on him?”
“If you want to know the answer to that, Lucy, you’re going to have to come straight out and ask her.”
I pulled out my phone. Connor plucked it out of my hand. “It’s two AM, Lucy. Not a good time to be calling anyone.”
I squinted at the time on the display. “Oh. So it is. I suppose it can wait until tomorrow.”
“I’d rather you didn’t pursue this at all, but there’s no stopping you sometimes.”
“Don’t you want to get at the truth?”
“Of course I do. But not if it puts you in danger.” He stroked my feet.
I wiggled my toes in pleasure. “If someone meant to do me harm tonight, Connor, they would have.” I wasn’t feeling quite as brave as I was trying to make it sound, but the questions were in my head, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get rid of them.
The questions were in Connor’s head too. “Maybe Evangeline came to see this Leon Lions?”
“It’s possible, but her attitude toward him doesn’t suggest they’ve been conducting an illicit affair. Not currently, anyway. Clearly, he adores her, but equally clearly, the feelings are not returned. I mean, she seems to enjoy his company, but I don’t sense any grand passion. Then again, Evangeline isn’t the most demonstrative of women.” I yawned.
Beside me, Charles yawned. Fluffy rolled over and yawned. Connor stood up. He held out his hand to me. “Let’s go to bed. Maybe some of this will be clearer in the morning.”
