Authors: Cheryl Norman
“Tybee Island? Then it sounds as if they expect the eye to go north of us.”
“That’s the projected path. As you know, we’ve received no evacuation order.” Fred shrugged. “Stay tuned to The Weather Channel.”
“Me and everyone else. If the phone service is out, check with Sam. I may be at his place.” Not likely, but he couldn’t trust anyone with the truth.
Fred’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from the clip and frowned. “I need to get this.”
“We’re through.” Wil waved him away, and Fred stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.
Elizabeth took a drink of her coffee. “So you’re using your vacation time to hide me?”
“Officially. Cory says not to involve anyone else. He doesn’t know where there’s a leak.”
She gave him a grim nod. “Sullivan is part of what they call a good-old-boy mafia. He seems to have a lot of reach.”
“Maybe. But sometimes those crime syndicates collapse like stacked dominoes when one of them is taken out. Don’t lose hope.”
She gave him a look that seemed anything but hopeful, and stood. “Where’s the women’s restroom?”
“I’ll show you.” He opened the door and almost collided with Fred. After he’d pointed Elizabeth toward the rest-rooms, he asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, but I’m on it. Ralph Sapp is being taken by ambulance to Gainesville. They can’t risk a helicopter in this wind.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Fred clenched his hands at his side. “Victim of an apparent hit and run. Bastard didn’t even slow down.”
“Was Ralph on his bicycle?”
“Yeah. That was Libby calling from the ambulance. She tried asking him who hit him, but he lost consciousness, poor guy. And Libby’s holding on by a thread.”
Wil saw more than normal concern in the older man’s eyes. Fred had a soft spot for the mentally challenged man. He seemed to feel even more for the man’s mother. Fred had carried his share of loneliness since losing his wife to cancer four years earlier. If he’d taken an interest in Libby Sapp, good for him.
“Put out the word to watch for vehicle damage. If it’s a local, the driver will struggle to hide the evidence.”
“Chief Gillespie called it in to FHP—”
“So Ralph was struck within city limits?”
“Right. We’ll all be on the lookout, though. The highway patrol have their hands full with evacuee traffic.”
“Yeah, but that could work in our favor. It’s hard to hide a damaged vehicle in slow-moving traffic, especially with the highway patrol out in full force.” Wil squeezed the older man’s shoulder. “Let me know Ralph’s condition as soon as you hear from his mama.”
“If I can get through. But you tend to your personal business. We’ll be all right here.”
Wil debated telling his friend and mentor the truth, but couldn’t. Cory’s warning echoed in his head. It wasn’t a matter of not trusting Fred. But he had to keep his word, both to Cory and to Elizabeth. He’d do nothing to jeopardize her safety. “Fred, I feel like I’m running out on everyone when they need me most. We have a forest fire, a hurricane, two homicides, a—”
“I trust you, Wil. I know you aren’t goofing off. Now trust me to do the job till you get back.”
“I know you will. Thanks.”
Fred nodded, his gaze darting past Wil’s. “Get out of here, and stop worrying.”
Fred pivoted toward his own office, which was adjacent to the dispatch room, and Elizabeth returned to Wil’s side. “What now?”
“Wait for me inside my office. I need to find Zelda.”
“Here I am.” Zelda rushed in from the reception area. “Phyllis Gillespie’s here and wants to interview you about the two homicide investigations.”
“I’m not available. In fact, I’m going to be out of the office for a couple days, and Fred’s in charge. Tell her she can make an appointment with Chief Deputy Fischer, or she can wait until next week. I’m out of here.”
Zelda grinned. “I’ll give you a two-minute head start, and then I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks.” He stepped into his office and closed the door. “Let’s go. I need to see about Dad before we go underground.”
She stood. “What about dinner at Sunny’s?”
He ushered her out the private door and nudged her toward the Jeep before answering. “I think you can cancel without arousing suspicion, considering the smoke and the weather.”
“Good. I’m too nervous to be good company tonight.”
He paused beside the Jeep. “Darlin’, you’re always good company.”
Elizabeth stepped out of the Jeep at Dean Drake’s residence and peered at the sky. “This is eerie. Did you ever see the movie
Dante’s Peak?”
“I don’t remember. Tell me about it.” Wilson took her elbow and walked her to the front door.
“Dante’s Peak
is a town built near a dormant volcano. Pierce Brosnan tries to warn the town that it’s about to erupt. No one believes him until it’s too late.”
“Yeah, I think Dad and I watched that one night. What about it?”
“Remember how the sky turned dark with ash, and the heat from the lava stirred up the winds?”
Wilson followed her gaze. “You’re right—this is similar. It’s spooky.”
Greeting them at the door was a forty-something-year-old woman whom Elizabeth guessed to be Iris Porter’s mother, Hazel, the overzealous wielder of rat poison.
“Come in. Your father’s in the bathroom but he’ll be right out.”
Sophie crowded them at the door, eager for attention. After Wilson pushed Elizabeth inside ahead of him, he scratched the dog behind both ears, managing to close the door behind him in the process. “Miss Hazel, this is Professor Stevens.”
She offered her hand to Hazel. “Call me Elizabeth, please.”
“Nice meeting you.” Hazel shook hands. “I’ve got a pot of stew in the slow cooker for supper, but I’ve got to leave.”
“I don’t blame you. You be careful.”
“I don’t know if I can get here tomorrow—”
“Sam will be here. He’s shut down classes for tomorrow.”
Hazel left a few minutes later. Wilson waited for his father by the bathroom door, where Sophie lay. “Dad may need help. Sam doesn’t have safety bars installed.”
“Shall I go check the stew and give you two privacy?”
“Good idea. Just don’t go near any windows.”
“I won’t. I’ll give Sunny a call about canceling tonight, too.”
“There’s a telephone near the kitchen table.” He rapped on the bathroom door. “Dad, it’s Wil.”
“Good. I need an extra hand.”
Wil appreciated the embarrassment his dad must feel asking for help getting dressed. He’d always been a strong, domineering man. The stroke had changed him, but it hadn’t defeated him. Wilson opened the door and found his dad leaning against the lavatory with his pants caught at his hips. After righting his clothes and fastening them, he washed his hands. Wil had to step out into the hall to position the wheelchair, but his dad used the doorjamb and managed to sit.
“What’s new with your murder cases?” he asked.
Wil wheeled him into the living room, then took a seat in one of Sam’s two wingback chairs. “The second victim has been tentatively ID’d as Kris Knight, a high school English teacher—”
“The one I saw Adam Gillespie out on the river with.”
“Right.” Wil leaned forward to better hear his soft-spoken dad. It always saddened him to see how the stroke had reduced his father’s loud, authoritative voice to little more than a whisper. But at least he’d regained his speech. “We’re still waiting on the postmortem exam. The pistol found in the river was originally purchased by a guy in Texas named Morgan O’Hare, a fictitious name. The FBI guys have a file on him. Our prime suspect in the Cathleen Hodges case, her ex-boyfriend, has been cleared.”
“You said Adam dated both women—”
“Dad, I know where you’re going with this—”
“You’re too trusting. Don’t overlook the possibility. The Gillespies would like nothing better than to dump your career in the toilet. You have two homicides, one of which also triggered a bad forest fire, and you have nothing to link these women except Adam.”
“I have more to link them than Adam, Dad. Both women were new to Drake Springs, both were about the same age, and both were romantically unattached. They were part of a foursome, a group of women who regularly ate out together and shopped together. Now two of the four have been murdered.”
“Who are the other two ladies?”
“Sunny Davis, who runs the campus bookstore, and Elizabeth Stevens, who’s here with me now.” Wil listened to the low murmur of Elizabeth’s voice as she talked on the telephone.
“The one who took care of Sophie.” Dad nodded, digesting this information. Upon hearing her name, the dog raised its head. When his dad petted her, she lay down again. “So what’s the motive?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
His dad snorted. “I think you need to take another look at Gillespie. That man’s not to be trusted.”
Wil nodded. The last thing he needed was his dad upset over old grudges. “I can’t afford to rule out anyone at this point.” Which was true. Could Wil be fooled by Adam? He gave his nemesis more credit than to take human life to tarnish Wil’s term in office. But what if that wasn’t the motive? What if Adam had other reasons for killing two women?
“Now with this hurricane ready to make landfall, let’s hope the killer doesn’t strike again.”
“He may have already.” Elizabeth stood in the doorway of the living room, her face ashen. She leaned against the doorjamb. “Sunny’s missing.”
“What? We just saw her—”
“I called the bookstore. According to the student working there, she never returned from lunch. He was there by himself and closing the store so he could leave. I called her apartment. Ian says he hasn’t seen her since early this morning. Both her bicycle and her car are gone.”
“She probably ran some errands after she left us.”
“Wilson, she didn’t have her car. She rode her bike to campus this morning. Either Ian’s mistaken or …”
“Or what? What’s the matter?”
“Oh no.” She closed her eyes and sank to the floor, hugging her knees. “I begged her to talk to you herself, but she said she didn’t believe she was in danger.”
He hurried to her and took her hand. Her skin was clammy and alarmingly colorless. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“I—I think you need to look closer at Ian Davis. He may not be the tenderhearted geek we all assumed him to be.”
When Wilson released her hand, she opened her eyes, missing the comfort of his touch. She’d grown too dependent on him, too ready to accept his comfort and reassurance. Just as she’d feared, she had set herself up for heartache. A part of her had been in denial, convinced she could stay in Drake Springs and build a new life with the man she loved.
Wilson whipped out his cell phone and punched a number he obviously had on speed dial. “Jamie, are you on duty? Good. Stop by Dean Drake’s residence on campus. I need your expertise.”
“Jamie’s your deputy, right?”
Bending, he took Elizabeth’s arms and helped her stand. “She’s good with computers. I’m going to have her check out a few things while we still have internet access. If anyone can figure out if something’s off with Ian Davis, Jamie can.”
Elizabeth sank into one of the wingback chairs in the dean’s living room. Wilson sat in the matching chair facing her. Rich burgundy upholstery and draperies, traditional styled furniture, solid wood bookcases and tables—all came together to fit her expectations of what a dean’s residence should look like … thirty years ago. Samuel and Wilson Drake’s grandmother probably furnished the house. If so, the dean had changed very little of it.