Arsenic and Ole by Jessa Archer

Author:Jessa Archer [Archer, Jessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Archer Mysteries
Published: 2019-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The highway between Caratoke and Corolla—which the locals pronounce car-all-ah—is a narrow two-lane strip that winds through rows of beach houses and small businesses. Along the most narrow portions of the highway, you can catch a glimpse of Currituck Sound one minute and the ocean the next. The section of road that runs through Duck, where the Coastal Playhouse is located, often washes out during rainstorms, and many residents and regular visitors yearned for the long-promised second bridge across the sound that would alleviate the traffic. Highway 12 can be a veritable parking lot during the summer months as cars inch toward the northern tip of the islands that makes up North Carolina’s Outer Banks.

My feelings about the proposed bridge were mixed. Yes, it was necessary in order to ensure safe evacuation of the area during the hurricanes that seemed to hit harder and with greater frequency each year, and it would be a boost for tourism. On the other hand, it would bring more development, which was a mixed blessing. Local residents on the mainland would have a shorter commute to their jobs during the summer, and there would be more of those jobs, but the new construction would undoubtedly have an environmental impact on the wildlife in the region. The area north of Corolla was unpaved and restricted to four-wheel-drive vehicles, but houses continued to pop up along the shore like giant colorful mushrooms.

That’s where I’d really wanted to go—another fifteen miles or so past the Playhouse, up to the area known as Carova, because of its location near the Carolina-Virginia state line. Much of that stretch of beach is a nature preserve, where you can spot a wide array of birds, and on occasion, wild horses. The Sonata isn’t equipped for off-roading, so I couldn’t take it up to the northernmost areas, but I’d often park in the lot at the edge of the four-wheel-drive area and hike up the shore for a mile or so.

There was no time for that today, given everything else that had happened. The beach at Duck would do nicely, however. It wasn’t as secluded as the beaches farther north, but nowhere near as crowded as the shore around Caratoke or Kitty Hawk.

I parked at the Playhouse. The wind had gotten stronger since I left campus, so I pulled my dark hair back into a ponytail. Then I grabbed my backpack and crossed Route 12, heading for one of the smaller access roads that led down to the ocean. It was only a few minutes’ walk, and once I reached the sand, I pulled off my shoes and stashed them in the front pocket of my bag. The sand wasn’t as warm as I’d have liked, but it felt nice under my toes, and I couldn’t help but think of what Sam Davies had said earlier. I’m sure Caroline will be with us in spirit.

Unfortunately, I knew better. She would no doubt love a long stroll on the beach, but she

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