Tidewater Inn (13 page)

She licked her cracked lips. Dehydration would kill her if she didn't get down. There was no sense in staying up here out of fear. She rolled onto her stomach and scooted down until her legs hung off the edge of the roof. The plastic bucket was long gone. All she could do was lower herself as far as she could, take a deep breath, then let go.

Her bare feet splashed into cold water. The seawater rushed to enclose her legs up to her thighs. She forced herself not to look down into the swirling water as she slogged through it to her cot. She seized the jug of water. Still full. Hefting it to the light, she examined the cap. Tight. She exhaled with relief, then unscrewed the top and took a swig of water.

The moisture on her tongue revived her. She replaced the cap, then grabbed the cot and dragged it toward the shack. The door was cockeyed now and hung open. Practically swimming, she tugged the cot into the building and glanced around for some way to secure it. There was nothing, so she left it floating there in the water and grabbed her provisions. She would stay on the roof until the water receded.

T
WELVE

W
hen Alec crossed the street, Zach was sitting in the truck, thumping his hand on his leg in time with the blaring country music. He was oblivious to Alec's approach and jumped when his uncle touched his shoulder.

Zach bolted upright and turned down the radio. “I was about to go looking for you.”

“Something wrong?”

Zach chewed on his lip. “I wanted to ask to take the boat out. I know you said no earlier, but the waves aren't all that bad. I have that job.”

Alec lifted a brow. “It's still pretty rough out there, Zach. And it's getting late.”

“I've been out in worse. In the dark too.”

“True. Are the supplies that urgent?”

Zach's gaze cut away. “I need the money. And they're depending on me.”

Alec fished in his pocket for the keys to the boat and handed them over. “Okay. Be careful. Wear your life vest.”

Zach's smile was big as he jumped from the truck and jogged through the standing water to the pier. The sea had calmed considerably since they arrived. The flood from the storm surge had gone down a bit too. Now the water barely covered the tops of Alec's boots. But recovery was going to take awhile.

Alec opened the door of his truck and slid inside to make his call.

Earl Franklin answered after two rings. “I was going to call you, Alec,” he said, wasting no time with a greeting. “How's it look out there?”

“Rough. Storm surge did more damage than you'd expect from a cat-1. Most of the houses in town have sustained considerable damage.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Alec could hear the speculation in Earl's voice. The reporter was probably already planning a feature. “Listen, there's a bigger story here. I think you need to get over to the island as soon as possible.”

“What's up?”

“A young woman was kidnapped right off the beach. Her friend was watching via one of the beach cams. So far we've found no sign of her.”

“I heard about that. After we left town, I realized we'd given the woman's friend a ride to the island. Tom called to ask me about her.”

“I thought you might want to do an article about the abduction, get some publicity rolling. It might help the case.”

“You think the Holladay woman killed her and made up the story?”

“Why would you say something like that?”

“She didn't say a word about her friend's kidnapping to us. Seems suspicious.”

Alec opened his mouth, then shut it again. He didn't have a good answer to that other than a gut feeling. His fingers curled into the palms of his hands. Surely the crime couldn't be a hoax. But no, Nicole's car was there at the beach. And her cell phone. It would show that a call had been connected to Libby's phone for several minutes.

Unless she had an accomplice
.

“Alec? You there?”

“I'm here. All I can tell you is that we're investigating the kidnapping. If you give the case some attention, maybe someone will come forward with information.”

“One way or another,” Earl said, his voice deep with satisfaction, “it will be all over the national news. Maybe international. I'll head out there as soon as I can. Any chance you can come after me? My sailboat is being repaired. I heard quite a few charter boats were damaged. I might have trouble getting someone to bring me.”

“Things are a mess here, and I need to work. If you don't find a charter, call me back and I'll have Zach fetch you after he delivers some supplies.”

“Okay, I'll see what I can do first.” Earl hesitated and didn't hang up. “Keep an eye on the friend, Alec.”

“I will,” Alec said. He ended the call. Libby couldn't be guilty of something like that. She was genuinely devastated by her friend's disappearance.

Maybe the hurricane had exposed new leads for Tom. Alec got out of the truck and headed toward the sheriff's office. His cousin was likely to be out helping the townspeople, but his receptionist would know where he was. He spotted Tom's SUV driving slowly away from the church and waved.

Tom stopped the vehicle beside him. The window came down, and he peered up at Alec. “Something wrong?”

Alec leaned on the side of the vehicle. “I got hold of Earl Franklin. He's coming out to do a piece on Nicole Ingram.”

Tom uttered an expletive, and a frown wiped away his smile. “What'd you go and do that for? It will be a media circus. I was careful not to give him any information when I talked to him.”

“Every hour that passes puts Nicole in more jeopardy, and you know it.” He stared at the sheriff. “Listen, I have a question. Earl said something that got my attention. He seems to think Libby might be involved because she's close to Nicole. You don't suspect her anymore, do you?”

Tom shrugged. “Most homicides are crimes of passion. The murderer is usually someone known to the victim. And we still haven't seen the video of the kidnapping. The tech guy I hired can't find even a piece of that video. All we've got is what Libby told us.”

“Well, you found Nicole's phone and car.”

Tom nodded. “That's the only reason we're treating it as a real kidnapping.” He stared at Alec. “You're in the perfect position to keep your eye on Libby. See if you notice anything suspicious.”

“I don't believe she did anything to her friend.”

“Well, you can be alert, can't you?”

“I guess so.” Alec looked down the road, then back to his cousin. “Did you trace the call between the women?”

“Sure. It lasted four minutes. The only prints on the phone we found at the beach were Nicole's.” Tom scowled again. “I wish you'd asked me before you called in the media. I've got enough on my plate with the hurricane damage.”

“Sorry.”

“I'm sending out a sketch artist to see if she remembers any details about the two men she saw. Let her know they're coming, will you?”

“Sure.” Alec stepped back so his cousin could drive on. He watched the SUV's taillights come on, then wink out as Tom rounded the corner toward a group of people picking up the pieces that used to be the town library.

Could she be guilty of something unthinkable? He hoped not. Libby was the first woman who had intrigued him.

Libby's heart stuttered in her chest. She'd always wanted a brother, but Brent was not quite what she had in mind. He stared at her, then at his sister, as if he sensed the tension between them. Libby smiled at him, but he didn't return it.

“Hey, sis,” he said to Vanessa. “You about ready to go out to the hotel?”

Vanessa sent her brother a warning glance. “I'd better introduce you, Brent. This is Libby. Dad's
other
daughter, Libby.” She pressed her lips together as if the admission had pained her.

Brent took a step back. His glare pierced Libby, but she kept smiling in spite of the way her chest contracted. “I've been looking forward to meeting you, Brent.” She held out her hand, but when he ignored it, she dropped it back to her side.

His gaze swept over her. “You look a lot like Vanessa.”

His tone wasn't as hostile as his expression. Not yet anyway. Libby smiled. “I can see that. Vanessa is beautiful, so I take that as a compliment.” Her statement didn't change Vanessa's scowl. “We must take after our father. You look more like your mother?”

He shrugged. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

“Yes.”

“That woman who was kidnapped two days ago, Nicole? Libby is her business partner,” Vanessa said.

His eyes widened. “I talked to her at the ice-cream shop. She didn't say anything about being connected to you. She just said she was looking to restore some of the downtown area for a client. And she asked about Tidewater Inn.”

“You told her how disgusted you were about me inheriting, right? That's okay. I know it must have been a shock. I was surprised as well.”

He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Dad never mentioned that he was going to do this. So yeah, I was surprised.”

“So you wanted to sell the land?” Libby asked.

“Sure. The inn doesn't even turn a profit.”

“It doesn't matter now. It's not yours,” Vanessa said. “Libby says her mom told her Daddy died when she was five.”

“You never saw Dad all these years?” he asked.

“Not that I remember. I'm eager to hear more about him.” She tried another smile on him. “I've always wanted a brother.”

His eyes flickered. “This is a lot to take in.”

He wasn't welcoming her with open arms yet, but she could live with guarded cordiality. “It's a lot for me too. Can I help you grab belongings from the house?”

He shrugged. “If you want.” He pointed to the house just down the street. “We live there.”

She followed him and Vanessa toward the large two-story, eager to see more than the cursory glance she'd had earlier. The shingle home had been allowed to go gray with the salt. It was newer than the hotel, built in the twenties. The home had been well taken care of and featured an expansive yard that had probably once been meticulously tended, but the floodwaters had left debris everywhere, and some of the shingles were missing. The shrubs and flowers would likely be dead by this time next week, killed by the seawater.

Brent held the door open. “It's a mess. The first floor was flooded. Bedrooms are upstairs.”

They trooped through the small entry to the living room. The floor was still damp, and Libby feared the dark floors would warp soon. They were expensive teak, she guessed. One wall had a built-in oak bookcase filled with books. Libby winced to see how waterlogged the books on the bottom shelf were. She longed to examine the books and discover her father's reading tastes. The tables held a few pictures.

She picked up one of a man and a woman standing under a tree. The man had dark-brown eyes and light-brown hair like hers. She liked his open face and contented smile. The woman was lovely with nearly black hair and deep blue eyes. “Our father?” she asked.

Vanessa took the picture from her. “And our mother.” Her tone told Libby she didn't want to answer any questions.

Libby wanted to linger and look, but Brent went on through to the stairway, so she had no choice but to follow him up. There were four bedrooms on the second floor, and she started toward the back one.

“That's Daddy's room. You can't go in there,” Vanessa said.

Libby stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “I'd love just a peek. I want to know more about him.”

Vanessa set her jaw. “Not today. My room is here.” It was as if she was willing to expose herself to prevent Libby from invading their father's space.

Not hiding her reluctance, Libby turned and went into her sister's room. The scent of perfume hit her when she entered. Something so strong and flowery that it made her sneeze. Vanessa was feverishly pulling shorts and tops from a bureau and tossing them onto the queen-size bed. The room's polished floors matched the downstairs wood.