Don't Go Home by Carolyn Hart

Author:Carolyn Hart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-03-28T16:00:00+00:00

9

Billy Cameron flicked off his cell. “No one’s approached either car. Rae Griffith and Neil Kelly have to be in the area. Lou checked the cabanas; Pete’s been through the lobby and the bar. No sight of them.”

Hyla could dimly see him in the shadow of the wall where they stood on the patio to Rae Griffith’s suite. “Kind of interesting they’ve ducked out of sight.”

“Very interesting.”

Hyla was glad she wasn’t Rae Griffith. Billy Cameron had Alex Griffith’s widow in his sights as clearly as mallards against a November sky. Billy was a superb shot.

“Almost as good as a confession. The fact that he came here and she’s nowhere to be found indicates they are together. I want to find them together. Then I’m ready to make a move.”

Hyla ignored a whir of no-see-ums. “When I talked to her this morning, she was scared. You know how people hurt when they’re torn up because somebody they care about got killed?” Her voice was gruff as she pushed away memories of the night her partner got out to check an alley and bullets ripped across his chest. “Well, she wasn’t thinking about him. It was all about her. That doesn’t mean she killed him, but she wasn’t hurting.”

• • •

Annie slowed. “There’s an alligator in the pond. Let me make sure he isn’t lolling around on the path.” The fearsome creature was at least seven feet long and Annie had no intention of stepping on his tail. She flicked the beam down, lifted it enough to illuminate the area near the pond. “All clear.” Reassured, Annie hurried ahead. Broken branches littered the path. Ferns poked out feathery fronds, slowing their progress. Nearby an owl hooted. Undergrowth rustled. Annie hoped the passing creature was a deer, not a wild boar. “The ruins are about twenty-five yards farther—”

A ragged scream rose, drowning out the rustle of the trees, the whine of insects, the rasp of cicadas in full summer chorus, the distant bark of a dog.

Annie drew in a quick breath, stopped. Marian bumped into her.

A desperate cry rose not far away. “Help, help! Neil, where are you?”

Annie plunged ahead, skidding a little on pine needles, pulling free of vines.

Marian yelped, “Annie, wait, we don’t know what’s up there.”

Annie slowed. But the sound of that scream filled her mind, piteous, terrified, someone in bad trouble.

Marian’s strong thin hand clamped on one arm. “Wait. Listen.”

A woman sobbed. A man’s voice was uneven, shaky. “Oh my God. Look at his face.”

“We have to get out of here.” The woman spoke in jerky breathless bursts. “Hurry.”

“I’m going to be sick. Oh God.” His voice was muffled.

“Neil, get up.” Her voice shook. “Please get up. We have to get out of here.”

Marian spoke again. “I’ll call 911. Damn, where’s my cell? Got it.” Marian flashed the light down, tapped a number. She talked fast. “Woman screamed at Widow’s Haunt. Somebody’s hurt. Send help.” The strength of her grip on Annie’s arm never eased. “Marian Kenyon. Annie Darling and I are on the path between the inn and the ruins.

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