Tidewater Inn (30 page)

People of every age and description crowded the pews at church. Fishermen, stay-at-home moms, and shop owners mingled as friends and neighbors. Libby squeezed past Alec to stand in the aisle and shake hands. People eyed her curiously but were a little more standoffish than the last time she'd been in town.

If she were alone for a few minutes, she would slip up to the front and sit in the first pew. Not that God would answer her question of
why
. Libby wasn't ready to accept that Nicole was dead. Not yet. She didn't feel any sense of closure.

Alec touched her shoulder, and she realized most of the people had cleared out. She smiled at him. “Sorry, I was woolgathering.”

“You okay?”

She nodded, her throat too full to speak. “I love this church. It was built in about 1890?”

He nodded. “You're good.”

“Comes with the job.”

His eyes were grave. “I wanted to wait until church was over to tell you. The article in the paper came out today. It's on the front page.”

She examined his expression. “It's bad?”

“Yeah.” He took her elbow and guided her down the aisle to the front where they settled on the pew. He opened his Bible and pulled out a clipping. “He basically implies you're another Susan Smith.”

The woman who drowned her children. Numb, she took the clipping and scanned it. “He talks about my mother's death too, even though I was never charged with that. He's painted me as some kind of monster.”

She was stunned. This was even worse than she'd expected. Why would Earl do something so vicious? She'd liked him on the trip from Kitty Hawk. Was this his revenge for her not telling him about Nicole's disappearance sooner?

Alec's expression was pained. “I'm sorry, Libby. This is my fault. I thought he'd help us, not hurt us.”

He'd said
us
as though they were one unit. The realization that he sided with her was a comfort she could cling to. “What can we do about this?”

“Not much. Suing him for libel would just draw more attention to it. All we can do is try to find out who grabbed Nicole. And make him look stupid.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, searching his face for clues.

“Doing what?”

“Helping me. Standing by me. Your own cousin thinks I might be guilty.”

He was silent a moment. “You're Ray's daughter. He would expect me to help you.”

Not quite what she'd wanted to hear. She'd hoped he'd tell her he liked her. That he believed in her. “You've never said why you idolized my father so much.”

He closed his Bible. “Ray was my father's best friend. He was like a second dad to me. More than that, like a real dad. My father was often busy with his fishing boats. Dawn to dusk, he was out hauling in seafood. Lobster, crab, fish. He never had time to pitch me a ball or take me to the mainland for a game.”

“He was working, providing for his family.”

He nodded. “Sure. But Ray made time. And when I got into trouble when I was in high school, he turned me around. Forced his way through my rebellion with love and strength. It's because of him that I'm a Christian today.”

“Why would he do that? Care about a kid that wasn't his own?”

“I honestly think he was trying to be Jesus in the flesh to me. To do what he could to share his faith through his actions.” His gaze searched hers. “And maybe he was trying to atone for what he did to you. I know that's what you're wondering. Why did he help me and not you? Trust me though, Libby. Your dad was a good man.”

“So he was a model Christian.” She'd been more of a lax one. When was the last time she helped someone out just to bring praise to Jesus? Never. She wanted to do better, though, to shine like Alec did. Her hand went to her neck, but it was bare. No WWJD necklace anymore. Its impact hadn't faded though. She prayed it never would.

His smile was gentle. “Ray was more than a model Christian. He was a conduit for God's love to most everyone he met. I often saw him take bags of food to widows and give money to those in need.”

She remembered turning away that woman who was collecting money for the house-fire victims. “He had plenty to give.”

“Not in the early days. He always said God would provide for his needs. He just had to be faithful.” He smiled. “Tina used to get so aggravated when he'd raid her larder and leave them without food. They couldn't always afford to buy more, so he'd trudge off to the store to buy peanut butter and bread. They always made it though. He would tell her that you can't out-give God.”

She couldn't imagine that kind of generosity. If only she'd had a chance to know him.

T
HIRTY
-O
NE

N
o, no, not that!” Libby stopped the workers from hauling the walnut wainscoting out of the lifesaving station. “I can restore it. It's native walnut.”

The man made a face. “Looks ruined to me.”

“Trust me, I can fix it.”

She directed him to lean it against the far wall, then glanced at her watch. Alec was going to take her and Bree out searching on the boat this afternoon, but she had to get this project started. Once the renovations were complete, she was going to donate it to the town. Just being back to work in some way lifted her spirits. She might not be able to find Nicole, but she could help the town.

Libby wandered through the station. It practically boasted of its previous life. The boats that had carried rescuers to the seas were propped against one wall. One had holes in it, but two were in good shape. The bunks that housed the men were rusty and falling apart, but she could see in her mind's eye an exhibit that would explain the courageous work done here through the decades. The building was good and solid. It deserved to be saved, and her work would bring in visitors.

She climbed the old circular stairs, the iron clanging under her feet, until she stood in the widow's watch and stared out to sea. The lookout's job would have been monotonous until that moment when a ship broke to pieces on the shoals.

So much history here.

“Libby, someone here to see you,” one of the workers called.

She turned her gaze from the sea to the parking lot. The sheriff's SUV was parked by the door. She gulped. The state authorities were supposed to arrive today. Sheriff Bourne had probably escorted them himself so he could watch her squirm. She prayed for strength as she clanged down the steps and found three men in the main room watching the activity.

“You're putting this place on the national registry?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes. It shouldn't be hard. There's so much important history here.” She held out her hand to the two agents. “Libby Holladay.”

The first man was in his fifties, skinny and wiry with a thin mustache and pale blue eyes. “Detective Monroe,” he said, shaking her hand.

The other one also took her hand. His brown eyes were cold and judgmental. He was in his thirties and had an eager-hunter look about him. “Detective Pagett,” he said. “We're here to find out what happened to your business partner.”

“I'll do whatever I can to help you find her.”

“Would you like to step outside so we can discuss this in private?” Monroe asked, glancing at the workers who were watching them.

“Whatever you say.” She would not show any fear.

“After you.” Pagett held open the door for her.

The hot sunshine on her face gave her strength. She heard the church bells ring out the time, as if God was telling her to take courage. There was a bench outside by the walk, so she headed for it and settled on it. “I've been working all morning, so I hope you don't mind if I sit down.”

“Not at all,” Monroe said. “Now, about your partner. We particularly want to talk to you about the day she disappeared. Where were you?”

“I was documenting a house for the national historic registry.” She told them where it was located. “The new owner wanted us to do the restoration.”

“Did anyone see you there?” Pagett asked.

She started to shake her head, then stopped. “There was a lady in the neighborhood collecting money for a family who had suffered a house fire. I don't know her name, but if you talk to the people who had the fire, they will likely know. I think the woman will remember that I was there.”

Pagett's mouth grew pinched. “We'd like your permission to examine your bank account.”

“That's fine.”

His brows rose at her quick agreement. “You haven't withdrawn a large amount of money?”

She laughed. “Do you have any idea what I make? There was never a large amount of money to spend. It's all I can do to pay my expenses.”

Monroe took out a notebook. “Let's talk about the call from your partner.”

“She called while I was at the old house. She told me I had a sister here, and that if I could log on to my computer, I could have the chance to see her.”

“There was an open wireless at your site?” the sheriff asked.

She shook her head, trying not to show her impatience. “No, but I have a card to tether my computer to my cell phone.”

“I thought you didn't make much money. That would be an expensive gadget,” Pagett said.

“It's part of my work and not that expensive. I get leads on the road all the time and I need to be able to pull up the maps. They're too small to see on my phone.” She crossed her legs and clasped her hands over her knee. “Look, detectives, I can tell you think I did away with Nicole, but you couldn't be further from the truth. Find out who took her. It wasn't me. I saw two men.”

The older agent had an expression in his eyes that made her hope he was listening, so she targeted her gaze at him. She described the kidnappers and everything she saw. As she talked, she remembered more about the boat and gave them details on color.

Monroe put his notebook away. “We'll get on it, Ms. Holladay. Thank you for your time.”

“But don't make any plans to leave Hope Island,” Pagett said.

“Trust me, I'm clinging to hope for dear life,” she called after them.

With the sea spray in his face and the sun on his arms, Alec steered his boat toward a small cove down the shore from where Nicole's belongings had been discovered. He cut the engine. “I checked tide and current charts. I think there's a good chance the killers could have been out here when they threw her overboard. The currents would have carried anything placed in the water here to the shore where her shoes and cover-up were found.”

Libby's face was pink with the sun, and she had her long hair back in a ponytail. The style made her look about eighteen. “She's not dead, Alec. I know it. We'll find her.”

Alec smiled and said nothing. The day stretched out in front of them, and Alec found himself wanting to hang on to every minute. What did that mean? She was becoming way too important to him too quickly. He glanced at Bree and Samson in the front of the boat. The dog was enjoying the ocean breeze but didn't seem to have caught any kind of scent yet.

Libby lifted a pair of binoculars to her eyes and scanned the horizon. “There's nothing out here but ocean. I'm a little disoriented.”

The disappointment in her voice struck a chord with him. He'd hoped for more too. He pointed. “The lighthouse ruins are there.” He moved his finger to the north. “The lifesaving station where she was taken is there.”

“So that's why we're here?”

“I suspect whoever took her brought her out here right away. I suspect they killed her almost as soon as they grabbed her. That's why Bree found her things where she did.” When she stiffened, he touched her shoulder. “Whatever happened, her things went overboard out here. The shoes and clothing washed ashore too quickly for them to have let much time elapse.”

Her expression grew somber as she stared out at the sea, and he wished he could carry some of her pain. Was she imagining Nicole's last moments here, struggling for survival? No, she was seeing a different scenario. One where Nicole was alive and awaiting rescue.