Startled, both Flynn and Joe turned toward the male voice. A short man with a knitted cap that stuck up on his head like Cat in the Hat was standing there with a rake in his hands, despite it being quite dark out.
One might ask the same of you, mate, Flynn said, turning around fully and shining his light in the mans face. Were looking for Miss Lear.
Well, youre frightening my wife with all this noise!
There was no noise, and the mans attitude did not set well with Flynn. He took several steps forward, until the man had to bend his neck back to look at him. Sorry if weve been a nuisance, but its very imperative that we find Miss Lear. Have you seen her?
Yeah, I seen her, he said testily. I keep an eye out for that oneIve called the cops on her before, you know, because they do all sorts of weird stuff back there. And that treeshe dont care at all about that tree!
Flynn had no idea what he was talking about, but closed in on him, leaning down so that his face was inches from the little mans face. When did you last see her?
A while ago! She took a taxi.
And what do you mean, a while ago? Within the last hour? Two hours? Longer?
She left sometime after seven, he muttered, fearfully clutching the rake.
Thank you, Flynn said, let his gaze slowly flick the length of the man, then turned and walked back to Joe. Shes gone, he said. A cab, more than three hours ago.
Shit!
I suspect, Flynn said, shooting a glare at the neighbor, who was sneaking up to eavesdrop, that if shes about, her friend will know exactly where she is.
Lets go, Joe said, and came off the steps, pausing in front of the neighbor. Go back home before I punt you there.
The man scurried away.
What is it about people with plastic yard art? Joe muttered, and shaking his head, walked briskly with Flynn to the car.
UNLIKE Rachel, Dagne hadnt appeared to have left the table, much less her flat. She opened the door timidly when Joe pounded loudly, and offered no resistance when he pushed inside. The girl had been crying; it was plainly obvious, what with the red face, swollen, bloodshot eyes, and clogged nose.
Now whats the matter? Joe demanded impatiently.
Oh, right, like you care!
Youre right, I dont. So whered your little friend run off to?
Dagne responded by blowing her nose.
Dagne, Flynn said, before Joe could scare her out of her wits. You know that Rachels in trouble. I want to help herbut I cant help her unless you tell me where shes gone.
Dagne sniffed loudly and glanced at Flynn from the corner of her eye. Do you honestly believe she had something to do with it?
Flynn instantly shook his head. I honestly believe quite the opposite. But I must speak with her to prove it, eh?
With a sigh, Dagne considered that, and finally cried out, I dont know what to do!
Tell the truth, Flynn softly urged her. Its always the best course.
Dagne wiped her nose, glanced up at Flynn again. Shes on her way to Hilton Head, she said, and the tears welled up again.
Oh, thats just great , Joe groused, and fell into a chair at her little table.
THE jet landed at a small air strip on Hilton Head Island just after midnight. Thankfully, Dad had arranged a car for her, and the driver took her to The Inn at Harbor Town in Sea Pines, an exclusive resort.
It was late, and Rachel tried to get some sleep, but she tossed and turned. Her sleep was just below the surface of consciousness, her heart and mind on fire with the enormity of what Myron had done to her.
It was impossible to imagine how someone who was her friend, who had even been a lover, could have so carelessly put her in harms way. Did he even think of the danger he put her in? The sort of criminal charges something like this could bring, even if she was an innocent, ignorant bystander, made her shudder. She could well be on her way to prison.
What hurt the most was how blind she had been to it all. Shed been so quick to settle for being Myrons friend; just something to make her feel worthy of a mans affection, and it had all been a lie. Somehow, she had let her insecurities meander along until even her friendship with Myron was seriously out of balance.
The most frightening thing was that it had all happened without her even questioning it. Shed been a stupid little goose, waking up in a fresh new world every day, the past blithely forgotten. It had just been so easy to just go on and on, pretending.
But then someone had come into her life who mattered, someone who admired her for being Rachel, and shed had the baggage that was Myron hanging over her head.
The image of Flynn scudded across her minds eye, and she buried her face in a pillow with a breath-snatching sob. Just yesterday, her future had seemed so brightbut now it suddenly seemed coldly distant and lonely. Surely God had made a mistake with all of this; surely He would take it all back.
Rachel was up before dawn the next morning, walking along the beach and trying to clear her head. Her fury had resumed in full gale force with the first mornings light, and she wanted to find Myron desperately, to wring his fucking neck until he could not draw a breath.
As soon as the sun had come up above the horizon, she was dressed in jeans, Doc Martens, and a thick sweater. She picked up her bunker bag and marched down to the village area of the harbor, where a smattering of shops and markets lined the walk near the lighthouse.
Fortunately, in spite of the cool temperatures, the winds were calm and the sun was bright overhead. She stopped in a coffee bar, ordered a huge double latte and a brownie, and sat at one of the outside tables. Pulling a book from her bag, she pretended to be reading as she watched people milling about.
When she and Myron had come here two years or so ago, they had stayed at his parents condominium, and she recalled it being somewhere nearby. Every day, Myron had walked to Harbor Town. If he was on Hilton Head Island, hed be through sometime today, and all she had to do was wait.
And imagine the many ways to slay him, Wile E. Coyote style, with dynamite to stick in his mouth and giant anvils to drop on his head.
BACK in Providence, Joe had called headquarters from Dagnes flat and arranged for a flight to Savannah, Georgia, for him and Flynn, and by the time he had finished telling his commander what was going on, Dagne had appeared from her bedroom, carrying a very large overnight bag.
Joe hung up the phone, took one look at the bag, and immediately started shaking his head. Uh-uh, he said. No way.
You cant stop me, she said defiantly, raising her chin. Its a free country, and unless I am under arrest, I am going, too.
You have to be out of your redheaded mind, Joe said. The last thing we need is someone like you mucking up the works
Did it ever occur to you that I might be able to help you?
Not once, he said instantly and adamantly. Not even a freakin second.
Thats because youre just a big bully whose powers of thinking are extremely limited
Beg your pardon, but we could very well stand here bickering about it all night, Flynn said, anxious to get to the airport. He looked at Joe. Can we legally or physically stop her from taking the same flight to Georgia?
Joe frowned. No, he said with a growl. Not without rousing a judge and losing time.
Dagne smiled triumphantly at that and hoisted the bag over her shoulder. Told you so, she said, and proceeded to march out of her flat.
Someone is going to die before this is all said and done, mark my words, Joe muttered as he marched out after her.
Frankly, I should be so lucky, Flynn grumbled as he brought up the rear.
There was another argument in the parking lot when Joe refused to let Dagne ride in his state-issued vehicle. I
have a gun in there. I dont need psycho-witch touching anything.
Very well, then, Flynn said sternly, and forced them both into his rental car, figuring hed take it up with Lloyds of London when this case was finally put to rest.
He drove to Boston, keeping his eyes on the road as Dagne tried to explain the inherent value of witchcraft to them. It was a given, Flynn thought, that a man like Joe would not buy such an argument, and he was quite rightJoe was so appalled that he and Dagne argued the entire hour or so it took them to reach Boston.
In Boston, they found a cheap hotel near the airport, so that they might catch the first morning flight out to Savannah. As they had only a couple of hours to wait, they took one room. Naturally, Dagne stretched out on the bed while Joe and Flynn sat in ridiculously uncomfortable chairs and tried to catch a kip, but Dagnes snoring made that quite impossible.
Flynn eventually made his way to the car and stretched out on the backseat, and when he awoke the next morning, he found Joe in quite foul humor on the floor of the room. Dagne, however, was feeling quite chipper, judging by the way she talked.
And talked.
And talked.
About absolutely nothing, expounding on her life for the most part, pausing occasionally to philosophizeor proselytize, as the case may be. She had many thoughts about witchcraft, and evolution. And a rather adamant belief in life on other planets.
Youre a certified nut job, you know that? Joe demanded once she had finished telling them of an encounter she had with a space alien as a teen.
So I suppose you think that anyone with experiences and beliefs that differ from yours is automatically a certified nut job, dont you?
Nojust you.
Thats such typical ogre behavior. Why cant Neanderthals like you open their minds?
Maybe you should cast one of your spells, he said, wiggling his fingers at her.
Dont tempt me, dude, she said, flouncing petulantly back into her seat.
What do you think, Flynn? Put much stock in witchcraft or space aliens? Joe asked through a yawn.
Dagne shot forward again. And before you answer that, Flynn, remember one thing: Va-nil-la , she said, rather mysteriously.
Actually, all the chatting about witches and witchcraft is really giving me a rather fierce headache, Flynn responded irritably. So if you dont mind.
Dagne leaned forward so that she was practically in the front seat and looked Flynn straight in the eye. VANILLA , she whispered loudly.
Sweet Fanny Adams, Flynn said with a groan.
Jesus, woman, do you mind? Joe snapped, and the two of them went right back to arguing again.
It was almost more than a man could endure, and Flynn was entirely grateful when the plane landed in Savannah at long last, and he could at least put some distanceif only a foot or twobetween him and his two traveling companions.
Naturally, the arguing continued in the car they hired. Flynn tried to distract himself with the business of actually driving to Hilton Head Island, while Joe and Dagne went round and round about directions, or whether or not she really needed to stop at a loo, or which of them was actually doing the most talking, et cetera Flynn lost track of their nonsense somewhere between Georgia and South Carolina.
When they at last passed over the causeway to Hilton Head, Flynn pulled into a petrol station and went inside, purchased a map of the island. As he handed the woman behind the counter his money, she smiled sympathetically. Hon, you look like you could use a good belt.
She had absolutely no idea.
In the car again, Flynn opened the map. Joe was instantly leaning over to see it, and Dagne, from her perch in the backseat, was hanging like she was suspended from the car ceiling over his shoulder.
She said the lighthouse, somewhere near the lighthouse, she repeated helpfully.
So what, were supposed to go hang out at some lighthouse? Joe asked, yawning again.
Unless youve got a better idea, Flynn said, well just go have a look about and perhaps find a good nosh up.
Both Joe and Dagne looked at him as if he were speaking Greek. Dude, you must be tired! Joe said with a grin. Youre not making sense.
Flynn rolled his eyes and drove on, Dagne still hanging over his shoulder like a very chummy mutt.
NOW Rachel was furious with Myron for making her wait so long. It was almost noon. It was so like him, so inconsiderate and selfishshed gotten up twice now to walk around and put some circulation in her legs. Between thoughts of disemboweling him to being furious that he might be sleeping somewhere while she stood vigil had turned her into a bundle of very bitchy nerves.
On her second stand up and walk around, she saw someone through a cafe window that looked an awful lot like Dagne. That at least made her scoff out loudshe was losing her mind if she thought Dagne was on Hilton Head. But it did remind her she should call, and she walked to a pay phone, just on the edge of a row of buildings and the outdoor seating she was using as a stakeout.
She put in all the quarters she had, dialed Dagnes line, but no one answered. Honestly, she wouldnt be the least bit surprised if Dagne had up and gone home to Philadelphia, just in case someone came around asking about the Badger painting, and dear God, she hoped Dagne remembered to take the painting with her rather than leaving it lying around her apartment.
With a sigh, she put the receiver down. She leaned over, picked up her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder, was starting in the direction of the outdoor seatingand saw Myron waltzing through the main concourse. What the hell he was whistling ! Strolling through the small crowd, hands in pockets, whistling !
That. Bastard . Not only was he a thief and a liar and a cheat, he was actually enjoying himself!
She didnt even think; she took a long step forward, prepared to march through the crowd and intercept him, then deck himbut someone caught her arm, and as she tried to shake the hand off and twist around to see who it was, a hand clamped over her mouth, an arm went around her waist, and she felt herself being yanked back into the alley space next to the building like a sack of potatoes.
She knew instantly whose hard chest she was up againstshe could smell his cologne. And she began to struggle with him, trying to free herself and turn around at the same time. But Flynns arm was like a vise around her, and his legs, which she knew to be powerful, thank you, were pinning hers together.