Her Last Hour: A totally addictive mystery thriller (Detective Casey White Book 11) by B.R. Spangler

Author:B.R. Spangler [Spangler, B.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2024-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

I didn’t say a word during the drive, car tires chirping as we cut corners with a sharp spin of the steering wheel. Tracy yelled out the directions, the danger climbing whenever I glanced over at her screen. The sun had long since settled behind a cloudy horizon in the west. But the east was clear with a pale moon shining full and stars specking the sky. No clouds. That was good. We’d need the evening’s gray moonlight to help us locate Ruby Evans’s cellphone.

“Do we wait for more to arrive?” Tracy asked, sleeving a holster across her shoulders, a firearm harnessed and ready to use. It still looked out of place on her, the sight of a gun surreal. However, it was a part of the advancement in her career. Tracy was a sworn officer now, and as such, she was required to carry a weapon. Jericho had the honor of working with her to complete the weapons training. An area he was proud to call himself an expert in, which was evident in her top scores. She spun around when the flashing blue lights caught up to us, patrol car tires grinding to a stop alongside ours. “I guess that answers my question.”

“Where do we go from here?” I asked, shoes sinking into the loose sands as I walked toward the ocean. The coordinates landed us on a beach that was north of Nags Head and south of Kill Devil Hills. The exact location of Ruby’s cellphone was only an estimate, leaving us with no idea of how big a search area we’d cover. “North? South?”

“Looks like we’re parallel to it,” she answered, pointing east toward the sound of breaking waves. “It’s coming from somewhere out there.”

“Okay, everyone, listen up,” I yelled, hands cupped around my mouth, a stiff breeze lifting my hair. I turned away from the beach to find a stretch of Route 12 occupied by squad cars, the spinning blue lights dizzying. “Let’s line up, staggered a few feet between us, flashlights aimed at the sand. You’re looking for a cellphone.”

“We’ll start at the edge of the road and continue forward,” Tracy added, her face close to her screen.

“Again, flashlights out and watch where you are stepping.” For more than half a football field, the nighttime beach was mottled by the patrol’s lights. Spotlights swung back and forth, canvassing the sand, the waves breaking into a foamy surf. “If you come across it, do not pick it up!”

The wind drove across us from the south, bringing a warm air that lifted my hair. My flashlight flicked off, the sands in front of me turning gray in the moon’s light. I rapped the side of the tube and jostled the batteries, Tracy shouting, “Casey, we’re at the water’s edge!” Behind me, the officers had reached the wet sands too, waves chasing the foam near their feet. “I doubt the phone is waterproof.”

“Maybe it was thrown in the ocean,” I heard an officer say.

“They wouldn’t have turned it on, only to toss it,” Tracy replied.

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