Tidewater Inn

by Colleen Coble

  “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.

  “Love the floors,” she said. She grabbed a suitcase from the shelf and began packing it.

  Vanessa didn’t look up. “Thanks.” She went to the attached bathroom, then returned moments later with an electric toothbrush and toiletries. She dumped them on top of the clothes in the suitcase. With her hands on her hips, she stared at Libby. “What do you expect from us anyway? That we’re all going to be a big happy family now that you’ve arrived? Forget it! You’re not my big sister. You’re not anything to me. I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.”

  Libby dropped the top she’d been folding. Be generous with grace. “I want to know my family,” she said. “Is that so hard to understand?”

  “The family has to want to know you too. You can’t just force your way in here and expect us to fall on your neck.”

  Libby rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry if I’ve been presumptuous, Vanessa. That wasn’t my intention. If I back off, would you agree to trying to be friends?” She held out her hand.

  Vanessa stared at Libby’s extended fingers and shook her head. “I’m not promising anything. I think the only reason you’re here is for the money. There’s been ample time to get to know us before now if that’s what you really wanted.”

  Libby dropped her hand to her side and struggled to keep the tears at bay. “I’ll see you at the hotel.” She turned and plunged through the door and down the stairs to the fresh air outside, free of her sister’s vitriol.

  She’d tried to honor her father’s request, but she’d failed.

  THIRTEEN

  Every inch of the island was damp and covered with flotsam when Nicole finally descended from the roof. Her face and arms were sunburned from her hours atop the shack, and her tummy rumbled and twisted in its desire for food. She’d eaten half of a peanut butter sandwich, but that was all she’d allowed herself. What if no one came back for days? She would conserve her food and water as much as possible.

  Libby had always preached that she should have foresight, but Nicole wasn’t sure any kind of wisdom would get her out of this predicament. She kicked a palm frond out of her way and resisted the urge to cry. Tears wouldn’t get her rescued. Glancing at the fallen palm fronds, she decided to gather them up. Maybe she could make an outdoor shelter from the sun. She wouldn’t be cooped up in the waterlogged shack that smelled of mold and fish.

  Once her arms were full of fronds, she deposited them under the palm tree and went back for more. After she’d gathered every frond from the island, she sat down to rest under the tree. The wet ground dampened her shorts almost immediately. Glancing at the water jug, she resisted the urge to drink.

  She thought she heard a motor in the distance. Leaping to her feet, she ran to the edge of the water, but at first she saw nothing. Then in the trough of a wave, she saw a boat carrying one person. Shouting and waving, she jumped up and down. The boat was heading for the island like before, and as it neared, she realized it was the same craft as yesterday. The same young man dropped anchor offshore.

  She had to convince him to take her off this cursed island. Standing with her hands at her sides, she waited for him to splash ashore. He carried more supplies, so the pain in her stomach would soon be eased. And fruit! She spied apples and oranges in his arms. She salivated at the thought of their sweet taste.

  “You’re okay,” he said. “I was worried the storm surge would carry you off.”

  “It would have if I hadn’t climbed on top of the building.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the apples. Pink Lady, her favorite variety. “Can I have an apple?”

  “Sure.” He handed her one.

  She bit into it, relishing the sweet yet tart flavor that flooded her mouth. It was all she could do not to moan at the taste. And while she was eating, she didn’t have to talk to her jailer. Though she needed to talk to him, needed to convince him to let her go.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she smiled at him. “Were the seas rough?”

  “Not bad. I caught some mullets. You want some?”

  “I would love some. But how do we light a fire?”

  “I brought a lighter.”

  She watched him slosh back to the boat and return with a box. Inside she spotted fish, a lighter, a knife, and other food items. If she could get the filleting knife, she’d force him to take her to the mainland.

  “We’ll need firewood. I should have thought of that,” he said.

  “I have palm fronds. Will that work?”

  “No.” He glanced back toward the boat. “I can cook it on board, though. There’s a grill in the galley.” He squatted and grabbed the knife, then began to clean the fish.

  Nicole had never wanted anything as much as she wanted that knife. She wanted to leap on him and wrest it away, but he was muscular and she wouldn’t have a chance. Even the lighter would do her no good without firewood to burn. She eyed the palm tree. Unless she could manage to set it on fire where it stood.

  He finished cleaning the fish, then put the knife in his back pocket and picked up the fillets. “I’ll be right back.” As he walked toward the boat, the knife slipped to the sand.

  She swooped down on the weapon. The handle felt substantial and deadly in her palm. Turning her back to the boat, she tried a few threatening swoops with it in her hand. Could she even bring herself to hurt him? He seemed to believe she was a danger to some imaginary brother. There was no malice in his treatment of her.

  She glanced over her shoulder. He was intent on his task, and she caught a whiff of the fish beginning to cook. How could she get this to go down her way? After he returned to the beach, she could back out to the boat with the knife in front of her. He might be afraid to charge her for fear of getting cut. She would have to turn her attention away to get in the boat. Still, she should manage to get aboard before he could wade through the waves. But what if he boarded in spite of her efforts?

  All she could do was try. Swallowing hard, she put the knife behind her back and turned when he approached with the cooked fish. “Smells good,” she called.

  “I’m not the cook my dad was,” he said. “I hope it’s done. And it’s hot and filling.”

  “Was? Your dad is dead?”

  His lips tightened and he nodded. “He died in a plane crash. He and my mom.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks.” He set the tray of fish on a rock.

  “Where do you live? In Hope Beach?”

  He nodded. “With my uncle. He’s a Coastie.” His tone held pride. “I don’t want to live anywhere else. I’m a commercial fisherman, like my dad. At least that’s what I want to do, if my uncle will let me.” He bent down to slide the fish onto a paper plate.

  While he was bending over, she shoved him with her foot, and he toppled onto the sand. In a flash, she was running to the boat.

  When her feet hit the water, she turned and brandished the knife. “Stay back!”

  He’d gained his feet and already stood only five feet away. “You won’t cut me.”

  “Try me!” She wagged the kni
fe blade at him. “I’ve been kidnapped, half starved, left to rot during a hurricane, nearly drowned. I’m not someone you want to mess with.”

  She began to back through the waves toward the boat. He stood watching her with a scowl.

  “You are just as crazy as they said,” he called. “You don’t even know which direction is land.”

  She stopped. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “You don’t have enough gas for exploring.”

  He was just trying to scare her. She continued to back toward the boat. Her bare foot moved and found nothing under it. The underwater hole made her lose her balance, and she fell back into the water. She came up brandishing the knife and sputtering, but he was already at her side.

  He snatched the knife from her hand and grabbed her arm. “I was beginning to wonder about what I’d been told, but you just proved how dangerous you are. You tried to cut me like you did your brother.” He dragged her back to the beach and left her there.

  Brent and Vanessa were ensconced in rooms across the hall from Libby. After she’d helped to settle them, Alec called her to say a sketch artist was coming. Libby met the artist—a woman—in the parlor and did the best job she could. She could only pray the drawings helped find Nicole.

  After the artist left, Libby went to see if she could help Delilah with dinner. The manager had a suite on the second floor and rarely left the property. Libby had the impression that Delilah had been here a long time and was content with her home. Maybe she could get some information out of the woman.

  She found Delilah in the kitchen stirring something that smelled amazing. “Is that she-crab soup?”

  Delilah smiled. “It is. This is a special recipe with whipping cream and butter. No flour to thicken it either. Want a taste?” Delilah held out a spoonful.

  Libby sipped it and closed her eyes as the rich, buttery flavor hit her taste buds. “It’s heavenly.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”