by Wendy Davy
“Will you at least tell me why you think she’s been abducted? Do you have evidence to support it? Was she seen with someone before she disappeared? A man?” She fired the questions in quick succession.
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”
“Then what can you tell me?”
He raised his voice a notch, trying to drive home his point. “I can tell you to go home. It would be best for all of us.”
“Best for all of us? You mean easiest don’t you? Easiest for you.”
Even standing with her hands balled into fists and irritation showing through her tense facial expression, she looked as dangerous as a kitten. It was impossible to protect every single woman on the island, but he felt the overwhelming need to protect this one. This one would be a prime target for his suspect. A woman. Alone. Virtually defenseless.
He gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. “There’s nothing easy about this whole situation. And yes, you are making things more difficult. Right now, I’m hungry, hot, and have a killer headache. I suggest you get on your way before I decide to arrest you for something.”
She must have believed his threat, because she backed away a step. “I should tell you. I never give up either. Ever.” She spun on her heel and marched to her silver-blue economy car. She jerked the door open, climbed in and drove away without looking back.
Deputy Owen stepped outside and sauntered over to stand beside Nick. “She’s cute.” His long, narrow face held a hint of a smile.
Beautiful, Nick corrected the observation in silence as the car disappeared, heading in the opposite direction from the only bridge leading off the island.
“I had a feeling she’d show up here. When she called yesterday to report that Ms. Taylor hadn’t returned home, she knew the answers to every question I asked about her friend. They must be close.”
“Apparently they are. She’s not leaving.” His gaze sought Owen. “Find out where she’s staying. I’m going to keep a close eye on her.”
Another brief smile flitted across Deputy Owen’s lips. “Yes sir.”
Owen left Nick standing in the sweltering heat, wondering how to manage locating Ms. Taylor while keeping Ms. Stevens and the rest of the single women on his island safe.
Night Waves
Night Waves
Chapter Two
Cali blamed the blast of cold air-conditioning coming from the dashboard vents for the tears in her eyes. Admitting they came from frustration or fear, would be another sign of weakness. She swiped at the wet spots on her cheeks and focused on the road.
She drove aimlessly for several minutes, but her stomach rumbled and fatigue pulled at her, reminding her she couldn’t roam around all day without a destination. She needed a place to rest, a place to settle in and devise a plan. She remembered, from glancing briefly at the map of Coral Isle, the main beach road circled the island, and various other roads created a maze of back streets through the interior.
Assuming she would find the majority of the hotels on the main beach road, which someone had unimaginatively named, The Beach Road, Cali fought the heavy traffic and found her way to it.
She caught glimpses of the sparkling ocean and tourist-lined beaches as she drove. Cottages, hotels and an occasional public-beach-access parking lot dotted the shoreline. Families carrying toys, towels and chairs darted across the road at various places on their way to the beach. She came to a complete stop to let one family pass. A mother carrying a squiggly child on her hip and holding an older child’s hand smiled in Cali’s direction, while the father brought up the rear as he lugged a large red and white cooler across the road behind him.
Their lives appeared so normal that it seemed surreal to think of someone disappearing, someone being abducted in such a family-oriented environment. But Serena had been abducted. Cali’s smile vanished, and she refocused on the purpose for her visit to the island.
She continued to search for a place with an available room. So far, she had only seen “No Vacancy” signs on each of the hotels. She passed by various shops and restaurants, and a small library that sat nestled off to the right side of the road. Numerous souvenir stores displayed brightly colored T-shirts and skimpy bathing suits, and a wide variety of floats decorated the windows.
Cali searched for miles before spotting a motel across the road from the beach claiming a vacancy. The condition of the old motel turned her initial relief into apprehension as she turned from the main road and drove slowly onto the graveled drive. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun and parked in front of the motel’s office, which provided enough shade to see clearly through the windshield. She let the engine idle as she looked over the aging dwelling.
A bright orange neon sign stood posted in the filmy window warning guests no pets were allowed. The door to the office stood propped open by an aluminum beach chair, and a large fan blocked more than half of the entryway. Her eyes automatically darted to the long row of rooms lined to the right, searching for window air-conditioner units. Each room had one. She let out a breath in relief. With the temperatures soaring close to one-hundred degrees, combined with the humidity, she could not imagine staying in a room without bottled air.
She scanned the motel’s exterior. Dingy brown strips of paint peeled from the doors, and the faded accent color of pea-green along the windowsills and doorframes looked to be in no better shape. She wondered if the owners of the establishment had re-painted it since it was built, obviously some time in the nineteen-seventies.
As an avid fan of brand name, interior corridor hotels with room service, Cali found this place as appealing as an old cardboard box. But, considering that the Sea Urchin appeared to be the only motel left on the island with a vacancy, she was afraid to pass it up.
Cali reluctantly stepped out into the stifling heat and walked into the office. She held back a few negative comments when the aging owner, who appeared to be in no better shape than the motel, told her she would have to pay for a three-night minimum stay.
After checking in, she parked her car directly in front of her assigned room and unloaded her duffle bag, suitcase, laptop and pillow. When she slipped the key into the door, tagged clearly with the room number twenty-one, she thought wistfully of the key cards most hotels now used. Somehow, those plastic cards with no identifying room number seemed more secure than an old-fashioned cut key.
Ignoring her sudden unease, she stepped into the dim, musty room, lugging her property with her. When she flipped on the lights, her gaze landed on the two beds, and she immediately wondered if anyone had bothered to wash the quilts within the last year.
With an uncontrolled shiver, she closed the door and ripped the covers from the beds, stuffing them into a corner. Glancing under the top sheet of the bed nearest the door, Cali discovered two small gnat-type creatures lying dead on the bottom sheet. She turned and peeled the top sheet off the other bed. This time, she only found one dead bug in between the sheets. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the bug’s miniature carcass off the linens and tossed her belongings on the double-bug bed.
“No wonder this place had a vacancy.” She circled her temples with her fingertips, trying to ease the ache pulsing through her head. She looked toward the bathroom and groaned, deciding to avoid that room until it was necessary to venture in there.
An overwhelming feeling of isolation blanketed her as she sat in silence for the first time since waking this morning and making the hasty decision to come to Coral Isle, North Carolina. She grabbed her cell phone and flipped it open. Thankful to see a full set of bars across the top, she punched in the numbers she knew by heart and settled back against the set of pillows lining the thin, ailing headboard.
“Shoot.” A gravelly male voice came across the line.
Cali almost wept in relief when hearing the familiar word come from the familiar voice. “You never have liked saying ‘hello’ have you, Dad?”
Donald Stevens’s voice softened. “With every he
llo there has to be a goodbye. And you know how I hate goodbyes.”
She smiled, closed her eyes and replied, “I’ll never figure you out.”
“Neither will your mother, and she’s been trying for years.”
Laughter trickled from her lips. “I know. Speaking of Mom, have you told her yet?”
“Told her you up and left town this morning without a word to her? You’re kidding, right? I figured I’d let you tell her. My old bones don’t handle sleeping on the couch the way they used to.”
“Fair enough.” She shifted lower on the bed, leaned back, and bumped her head against the thin headboard, causing a deeper throb to settle into her skull. She lifted her hand to rub the sore spot. “Just have Mom call me when she gets a chance.”
“I will.” His voice turned serious, “Have you found out anything about Serena yet?”
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “A little. I stopped by the sheriff’s station as soon as I arrived. Sheriff Justice thinks she’s been abducted.”
“Abducted?”
Cali pictured her father in his cluttered office at the Brookstone Herald with his gray-streaked eyebrows drawn together, and his hand rubbing his jaw as he often did when receiving worrisome news. “I practically begged him to tell me why he thinks it, but he won’t. He says he can’t reveal details of an ongoing investigation. He has also made it clear he doesn’t want me getting involved.”
“If someone has kidnapped Serena, you could be putting yourself in danger if you go looking for her. I agree with the sheriff, you should stay out of it. But that’s not going to stop you is it?”
“You know it won’t. I have to be here for Serena, but I’ll be careful.”
“Wait a sec.” Muffled words came over the line as if he’d put his hand over the receiver. A moment later he said, “I’ve got to go. Mrs. Welsby is stirring up trouble again.”
“I thought you had her banned from the building?”
“I did. She’s trying to beat down the front door with her cane. Seems she’s disagreeing with the words of wisdom your mother’s given in the advice column again.”
“Don’t be too hard on Mrs. Welsby. She must be in her mid-eighties by now, and who can blame her for being upset? Mom’s not always tactful in the way she gives advice.”
A chuckle escaped before he said, “You’re telling me, kid.”
“Dad?”
“Yes, hon’?”
“Will you pray for Serena?”
“I have been. For both of you.”
“Thanks.” Cali disconnected the call and took a moment to say a few prayers, too.
Refusing to succumb to the pain throbbing in her head, she ignored the temptation to close her eyes and rest. Instead, she pulled a map of Coral Isle out of her suitcase along with a notepad, pencil and a stick of gum. Popping the gum into her mouth, hoping to ease her aching stomach, she began to scribble ideas of where to start searching first.
As possibilities reeled through her mind, she kept coming back to thoughts of the sheriff and his insistence that she return home. Although Sheriff Justice had more resources and more manpower, Cali had an edge he didn’t have. She knew Serena personally. Sheriff Justice had the answers to the questions the deputy had asked her. Does Serena have a boyfriend? Tell me about her past relationships? Has she ever been known to take off for a few days? Does she frequent bars? The list of questions seemed endless at the time, but now, thinking back on her answers, there was much more she could tell him about Serena’s quirks and habits.
Cali picked up her cell phone and placed a call to the sheriff’s office. It couldn’t hurt to let Sheriff Justice know a few more things about Serena.
A woman with a deep country accent answered the phone, “Sheriff’s office.”
“This is Cali Stevens. I was in the office earlier today…”
“I remember you. I’m so sorry about your friend, dear,” the woman’s voice held genuine concern in it.
“Thank you. I’d like to speak with the sheriff, please.”
“He’s out to lunch. May I take a message?”
Out to lunch? A sudden, unexpected tide of anger swept over Cali. She wanted to ask why he was not out looking for Serena, and why he was not scouring the streets searching for clues. Who did he think he was taking a lunch break?
“No message.” Deciding to save her comments for the man himself, she gritted her teeth and closed the phone before she said any of her thoughts aloud. The rational side of her understood the sheriff needed to eat, but the emotional side wanted to tear into him for not spending every waking moment searching for Serena.
Anger combined with rising anxiety and gave her the momentum she needed to ignore her rumbling stomach, achy head, and issues with Coral Isle’s sheriff. Deciding not to waste any more time or energy worrying about what the law was doing to find Serena, Cali grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door, determined to find her best friend on her own.
She found the oceanfront cottage Serena had rented using directions printed from the Internet. Located four miles south of the motel, it took less than ten minutes to get there. A silver SUV sat parked in the carport under the two-story home, indicating another family had already rented it for the week. Saying a quick prayer for courage, Cali parked behind the vehicle, took a deep breath, and climbed from her car with her pulse racing.
The blast of late-afternoon heat hit her first, and the aroma of steaks sizzling on the grill hit her next. Children laughed nearby, and the cheerful noises mixed with the sounds of the waves crashing into the surf. She walked under the stilted home, rounded the side of the cottage and nearly ran into a man grilling the steaks she’d caught the scent of a moment ago.
Pasting a smile on her face, she ignored the heat and her jangled nerves and said, “Hello. I’m Cali Stevens.” She held her hand out in greeting.
The middle-aged man shot her an irritated look before poking the steaks with a pair of tongs. “What is it now?”
“Pardon me?”
Cali let her hand drop to her side.
“If you’re with the law, I’ve already told you I don’t know anything about what happened to that lady.”
Cali swallowed, and tried to keep her breathing even and controlled. “How about we go over it one more time?” She wondered if she could get into trouble by letting the man think she was an officer, but she took the chance anyway. After all, she hadn’t identified herself as one.
He let out a heavy sigh and pierced her with his deep-set eyes. His bushy eyebrows drew together as he said, “When me and my family checked in a few hours ago, the tow truck was hauling the lady’s car away. You guys had already taken all of her stuff and dusted for prints. Which, may I point out, left a mess all over the place. The cleaning people are on their way, and I ain’t paying them to clean up.”
“Besides the fingerprint dust, were there any signs of a struggle? Did anything else look out of place?”
“Not unless you count the sink full of dirty dishes and leftover food in the refrigerator. Look, I don’t know what you people want from me.” He let out a loud sigh.
Cali held her ground, despite the man’s growing irritation. “Have you seen anyone suspicious in the neighborhood?”
“I wouldn’t know. It took me an hour to unload my stuff, and another hour to arrange for someone to agree to come and clean up the mess left behind. Meanwhile, two sets of officers have stopped by to ask me questions. All I know is, I paid a bundle for this place and so far, I haven’t been able to enjoy it yet with all of you parading through.” He waved his hands around. “Looking for what, I don’t know.”
Cali took a step back as the man’s rounded face turned varying shades of red.
“Harold!” A woman’s voice came from the deck above their heads.
“I’m coming.” The man plopped the sizzling steaks on a plate and turned off the grill. He looked at Cali and wiped beads of sweat from his brow. “I don’t have any information about th
e lady who’s gone missing. You’d better get on your way.” He turned and stomped up the steps, the boards creaking and groaning under his hefty weight.
The sliding glass door opened and shut before Cali dared let out the breath she had been holding. “That went well.” She placed the palm of her hand on her forehead, praying she would still find some tidbit of information that would help lead her to Serena.
When she opened her eyes, she looked around the shaded carport. Numerous stilts held the home far above the ground, designed to preserve the cottage in case of a high water storm surge. An outdoor shower claimed the corner near the downstairs entrance, and a water hose sat coiled up attached to a spigot. A few plastic buckets, shovels and other toys lay in a heap beside the cottage. A layer of sand covered the cement driveway, thicker in some areas where the wind had driven the dunes inland. Several sets of footprints led from the SUV to the cottage stairs, but the possibility of gaining evidence from the shoe imprints would have been destroyed with the new renter’s arrival. She only hoped the sheriff had found some sort of useful evidence in time.
