I took a fast breath. “Oh, I don’t think I see anything.”
“Ya haven’t looked.”
“Is this another one of your feelings?”
Chou smiled slightly.
Moving into the bedroom, I followed Chou’s example, turning around in the center of the room. The single bed was made with a gray-and-teal cotton bedspread. On a white dresser was a carved wooden seagull and a handblown glass bowl full of shells. The bedside table held a dark copper lamp, an alarm clock, a pair of reading glasses, and a book, Vulture: The Private Life of an Unloved Bird with a ribbon bookmark. I picked up the book and glanced at the inscription, then returned it.
“What do ya see so far?”
I waved at the room. “Joyce used the same interior decorator as my mother. I recognize some of the same objects. The furniture is expensive—in fact, all the decorations are. That lamp”—I pointed—“has a mica shade and costs over a thousand dollars. That matching floor lamp over by the chair was over two thousand.” I lifted the bedspread and looked under the pillow, opened each dresser drawer and glanced inside, then stepped into the bathroom and checked behind the door. After a swift inspection of the closet, I peered under the bed, then stood.
“Well?” Chou asked.
“One more thing.” I walked to the hidden laundry area and glanced into the washer and dryer. Both empty.
“Okay.” I turned to Chou, who’d watched my every move. “I think we need to call Joyce’s granddaughter immediately and let her know her grandma is missing. I think you need to haul Joyce’s boat into wherever it is you process such things and look for signs of foul play. And I think you need to call for a search for Joyce.”
“Why do ya say that?”
“The book beside her bed is from her granddaughter, Hannah, and was a birthday present, so there really is a granddaughter. A suitcase is under the bed, but I don’t know how many suitcases she owns. I don’t know all her outfits, but she seems to be very particular about hanging her clothes up or folding them neatly. But as neat a housekeeper as she appears to be, I couldn’t find her pajamas and robe, although I did find a pair of slippers. Of course, maybe she slept in the nude, but I don’t think so.”
“So far, so good.” Chou nodded at me. “What do you think happened?”
I thought for a moment. “How about this scenario? I think Joyce got up at her usual time, 6:00 a.m. That’s the time her alarm is set for. She had her breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, finished the crossword, then, still in her robe, went out on the porch to do some early bird-watching. She put on shoes, maybe in case she needed to move off the porch. Someone she knew—”
“Why do ya think it was someone she knew?”
“The house was unlocked, doors open, and she made no effort to dress, so it was someone she was comfortable with while dressed in her nightclothes. And it seems she’s still wearing them, hence my thought of foul play. She’d never go beyond the house dressed like that.”
“Outstandin’, Piper! See, I told ya this was somethin’ you’d be good at.”
An odd emotion nudged me. I felt . . . like I’d finally done something right. “So . . . what next?”
“I’m fixin’ to give the granddaughter a call, then get ahold of my department. Even though it looks that way, we can’t conclude somethin’ bad happened to her. My feelin’”—she gave me a tight-lipped smile—“is that we need to at least consider foul play a possibility. The department may send someone, but with the shootin’, most of the staff’s been called in to help Marion Inlet PD and are working overtime. They may choose to call in SLED—that’d be the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division. At any rate, we need to finish gettin’ all the facts, then put the missin’-person machine into action.” Chou pulled out her cell.
“That won’t work here. You can use Joyce’s phone.” I lifted the handset.
Chou put her cell away. In short order, she’d called the local hospitals, jail, and coroner’s office. “That avenue’s been explored. No Joyce or Jane Doe.” Finally, she lifted the paper with Hannah’s phone number on it and gave it and the receiver to me. “Why don’t ya place the call, then turn it over to me. That might be less frightenin’ for the woman.”
I dialed. The call was answered before the second ring. “Grandma?” I held the phone away from my ear so she could listen. “No, Hannah, it’s me, Piper. We spoke earlier—”
“Did you find her?”
“I’m afraid not yet. Officer Chou is standing beside me and would like to talk to you.”
Chou took the receiver, introduced herself, and told Hannah about the empty boat. Hannah gasped but said nothing. “Would your grandma have gone somewhere without telling anyone?”
“Not in this case.” Hannah’s voice trembled. “I was flying out to visit her. I have my flight to Charleston tomorrow. She was looking forward to . . . Something terrible has happened.”
“We’ll be doing all we can to find her. Now, a couple more questions. How many pairs of pajamas does your grandma own?”
A pause came before the answer. “One. One . . . when she goes on a trip. She travels light. Why?”
Chou gave me a thumbs-up and mouthed, Good call.
My face burned.
“Can ya email, fax, text, or phone me the names of her relatives and friends that I might contact?”
“She has all that on her laptop. I’ve never been there, so I don’t know where she keeps it. The password is capital E-a-g-l-e-2–2–3.”
“Do you see a laptop?” I asked Chou.
She quickly strolled through the house, returning to where I stood, and shook her head. The top of the desk next to me was empty except for a lamp, my note, and the phone. “That seems to be missin’, Hannah.”
“Oh. Well then. She keeps an address book in her purse . . . but I’m guessing that’s missing also.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll look around and see what I can find. I’m going to see if I can get an earlier flight tomorrow. I’ll call you if I do. Could someone in your department pick me up? I don’t have a driver’s license.”
Chou caught her lip with her teeth. “Oh man, we’re so shorthanded, but—”
“I’ll pick her up.”
“Are ya sure?”
I nodded.
“What’s your flight information?” Chou asked.
“I’m on Delta 2425, arriving from Milwaukee at three.”
“Okay,” I said. “I have light-brown hair with sun streaks in it and will be wearing a cream-colored straw hat.”
“I’ll find you.”
“How will I recognize you?”
“Don’t worry, Piper, you won’t be able to miss me.”
Chapter 6
I returned Chou to the dock where her boat was tied up. The soft slap of the ocean against the dock kept time with our steps across its wooden surface. “How can I get hold of you?” Chou untied the front of her boat, handed the bow line to me, then unfastened the stern.
I recited my cell number. “I’ll be at Mercy Hospital tomorrow to do a composite sketch, so the cell should work. Then I’ll pick up Hannah. Where do you want me to take her?”
“Unless I call ya and say something’s different, bring her to her grandma’s place. We should be done by then, assumin’ I can get someone to process her home for clues.”
“You think there’s a chance they won’t consider this serious enough to investigate?”
“Let me share a little law-enforcement insight with ya. Almost every department is understaffed and underfunded. The workload’s huge, and certain crimes get priority, like homicide. Missing persons, unless it’s a child or an at-risk adult, ends up with whatever time is left.”
I nodded. “I’ve had some experience with that.”
“Oh!” Chou’s face flushed. She reached over and squeezed my arm. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
I patted her hand. “I somehow think that would be difficult for you.”
She checked my exp
ression, gave a short nod, and said, “Maybe you and Joyce’s granddaughter can do some investigatin’ on your own. I know I did some nudgin’.”
“What do you mean?”
“I considered the tides and currents, then estimated where Joyce’s boat might have been to have ended up where we found it. I suggested the department take a look. Who knows?” She shrugged. “At least it’s somethin’.”
The Boone home was silent when I returned, with only a few lamps left on in the living room. A narrow crack of light came from under the kitchen door. Entering, I found Mildred sitting at the table with a cup of tea, a book open in front of her. “I hope you didn’t wait up for me.”
“No . . . well, yes. Tucking all my charges in for the night. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you.” I was suddenly exhausted. After turning to leave, I paused and looked back at Mildred. “Do you ever get a feeling about something?”
“Feeling?”
“Never mind.” I headed for bed.
* * *
I was at the outdoor café with my back to the street. Instead of my friend Ami, I was across the table from my daughter, Dove. She grinned at me and my heart melted. I lifted my gaze to see the shooter. He was staring at Dove. He raised his rifle.
I leaped to my feet, spun, and threw out my arms to block the bullets.
One-two-three-four. The bullets struck me, searing through my body.
I screamed.
Jerking upright, I opened my mouth to scream again. No. Outside lights filtered into my bedroom. My bed was soaked with sweat. The clock said five.
I shoved away the crumpled bedding, trudged into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, then took a steaming mug to the deck to watch the sunrise. I could still faintly feel the places where the nightmare bullets struck me. The sky turned coral, salmon, then finally brilliant yellow. I pulled out my journal.
Dear Dove,
There was a beautiful sunrise this morning. All it needed was for John Barry to write a score for it, something like he penned for Out of Africa. One of those sweeping numbers with lots of violins.
Tern sauntered in and sat with his morning brew.
“Pretty spectacular.” He took a sip.
“Mmm.”
He put his feet on the bottom of the deck railing. “I was concerned about you overdoing it last night by going to Joyce’s house. You had a terrible day. You should have let me go, or Joel, or even Mother.”
“I was fine.” I put away my journal.
“But the nightmares . . .” His gaze went to my wrist.
“Don’t worry.” I slipped my arm out of sight. “We didn’t find much. Her computer may be missing. Officer Chou is going to try to get the crime lab to process her house this morning.”
“They don’t think she just decided to go into town and maybe had a boating accident?”
“Only if she went boating in her pajamas. I noticed they were missing.”
“My kid sister is turning into a regular Nancy Drew.” He grinned at me, then grew serious. “If you ever decide to go back to work, I could use a good researcher on my staff. I could even pay you enough to support your menagerie.”
That would mean moving to Columbia. Was that the destination I’d been looking for? “I’ll let you know.” We watched Newfie Nana splashing along the shoreline for a few moments.
“Storm’s brewing out there.” Tern nodded toward the rising sun. “Tropical storm so far.”
“It is the hurricane season.” I drank some coffee.
“So it is. So it is.”
“What’s everyone doing?” I finally asked.
“I saw Mother hard at work in her office. Probably getting the last-minute details for the shareholders’ meeting tomorrow. I didn’t see Joel, but Mildred’s got something delicious-smelling in the oven. The temporary gal is helping. The last I saw Ashlee he was in his jogging clothes, so I’m guessing he’s doing his morning workout. And me . . .” He stood. “Well, I’ve got to put in a few hours for the office, get ready for the meeting, and somehow find time to interview two interns who want to work out here next summer when the sea turtles are hatching. Stay out of trouble.” He ruffled my hair as he left.
Mildred brought me the phone. “Lieutenant Gragg.”
I took the handset. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Are you still up for that composite drawing with Mr. Landry today?”
“Yes.”
“Shall I pick you up?”
“Um. Let me check.” I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “Mildred, did Joel get a chance to pick up my car?”
“Yes. It’s parked in the usual spot under the house on the mainland, keys by the front door here.”
I removed my hand. “I’d rather take my car, if you don’t mind. I have an errand or two to run.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the hospital at ten, if that’s all right with you.”
As I handed the phone back to Mildred, it rang. I put the handset to my ear. “Hello?”
Mildred took my coffee cup, pointed to the house, and raised her eyebrow.
I mouthed, Yes, please. The older woman left to get a refill.
“Piper? This is Officer Chou. I just wanted to give y’all an update. The crime lab will be processin’ Dr. Mueller’s boat this mornin’ and then the house later this afternoon. They don’t want the granddaughter to be there until they finish. Just to be on the safe side, see if she can stay at a hotel tonight.”
“That’s not necessary. We have a guesthouse on the mainland. She can stay there, then come over to the island tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect.”
After I hung up, I watched a cargo ship disappear over the horizon, then I headed to the kitchen. I met Mildred returning with my fresh coffee. A young woman about my height but in her early twenties trailed behind.
Mildred handed me my coffee, then turned to the woman. “Piper, this is BettyJo. She’ll be helping out while everyone’s here.” The young woman nodded shyly.
“Hi, BettyJo. Welcome to Curlew. Thank you for the coffee, Mildred.”
“What’s your agenda so I can plan the meals?” Mildred asked.
“I won’t be here for lunch. I’ll let you know about dinner.”
Mildred left with BettyJo following. I wandered to my room to dress. I want to look nice. The thought made me pause. I can’t remember the last time I even cared how I looked.
* * *
Tucker woke from a fitful sleep as the breakfast cart clattered down the hall. He drank the delivered coffee and orange juice but passed on the packaged cereal and peaches. After the dishes were whisked away, he leaned back against the pillows and tried to figure out his next move. He closed his eyes.
A light tap at the door was followed by a voice. “Tucker?”
Tucker straightened. “Scott?”
Scott Thomas, his counselor from Clan Firinn, entered. The man wore a rumpled navy jogging suit and red running shoes and carried a small suitcase. He ran a hand through his thick gray hair and smiled. His eyes were bloodshot. “Hey, Tuck. Looking good, considering.”
“Hopefully better than you.” Tucker grinned to show he was joking.
“I hate red-eyes.”
“I hear ya.” Tucker used the bed controls to raise the back of the bed higher. “So . . . to what do I owe the honor? Oh, and have a seat.”
“Thanks, but I’ve been sitting too long.” The older man set his suitcase next to the chair. “Anytime one of our folks hits a bump in the road—or in your case, rescues a damsel in distress”—he smiled—“we like to check in. I’ll be swinging by the Hunley’s staff next to explain what happened, so you don’t need to do that. You need to rest up and heal.”
Tucker’s throat tightened. Scott was yet another reminder of all the support the Clan had given him. “Thanks.”
“Call in every day or so. Let us know how you’re doing. And if you need someone to come alongside you, let us know.”
This time Tucker coul
dn’t answer. He simply nodded.
“You did an amazing thing, saving that woman. We think you’re ready.”
Tucker cleared his throat. “Ready?”
Scott reached into his pocket and took out three polished stones, then placed them on the side table. “Take these with you. Keep them on you.”
Tucker picked one up. “Worry stones? Ammunition in case I encounter Goliath?”
Scott gave a half smile. “When the time comes, you’ll know what they are and what to do with them.” He picked up his suitcase, gave an encouraging nod, and left.
Tucker turned the stone over. It was reddish brown without markings. He placed it next to the other two, lowered his bed, and closed his eyes. Maybe he could figure out . . .
A puff of air brought the scent of perfume—something citrusy.
He must have drifted off to sleep again. He opened his eyes. A woman was standing beside his bed. Her shoulder-length red hair was artfully tousled, her lips a slash of scarlet. She was lean to the point of boniness. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” She didn’t seem like she was particularly worried about it.
“Who are you?”
“Bailey Norton, Charleston Times. I’m writing an article about the shooting. Did you know it was Sandpiper Boone, sister to Senator Tern Boone, when you risked your life to save her?”
“Excuse me?”
“And the Boone family has more money than they know what to do with?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She pulled out a notebook and pen. “Rumor has it that Senator Boone is on the fast lane to the political top—”
“I need you to leave.” Tucker reached for the call button.
“What are you doing here?” Lieutenant Gragg stood at the door holding a container of coffee and a small white sack. “You’re with the press?”
Bailey stuck out a hand to shake his. “Bailey Nor—”
“Out.” Gragg gestured with the white sack. “The press conference is at two. This man is off-limits.”
Bailey flipped her hair back, gave Tucker a rueful smile, and stalked out of the room.
Relative Silence Page 5