Read and Buried by Eva Gates

Author:Eva Gates
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

Chapter Twelve

I didn’t feel like driving back home to get my bathing suit, but I needed some beach time. I drove to Coquina Beach, where I threw my jacket into the back seat and rolled my pants up to my knees. I unbuttoned the blouse as much as I dared and folded the sleeves back. It was coming up to eight o’clock, and the sun hung low in the western sky. A light, salty wind ruffled the tops of the beach grasses and sea oats.

I slipped off my shoes at the bottom of the beach path and dangled them from my fingers. I walked for a long time, making tracks in the wet sand before the surf washed around my feet, removing all traces of my passing. The swimmers and sunbathers had gone home, but a few family groups were gathered around picnic baskets or bonfires, and the scent of roasting meat and the sound of laughter filled the air. Fishermen lounged comfortably in their beach chairs, an open beverage can in hand and a cooler, optimistically waiting to receive the catch, resting at their feet while their long poles arched over the sand into the water.

As I walked, I tried to push aside my jumble of thoughts and enjoy the feeling of the world settling down for the night.

My jumble of thoughts won out. They would not be pushed.

Maya said she saw no point in pretending to be grieving for Jeremy. Just as well—I doubt she could have pulled it off. Her spite and sheer viciousness was so strong it was almost physical.

I had no problem seeing Maya as the killer. She didn’t have much of an alibi. Raleigh was a three-hour drive from here. If the last time she’d been seen was when her massage finished at four, she would have had time to drive to the Outer Banks and arrive around seven. If she’d followed her husband to the library, killed him, and driven back to her spa, no one would have been the wiser. Watson might be able to find out if her car had been in the spa’s parking lot all night, but I didn’t expect him to share that information with me. Even if she hadn’t taken her car out, there are other ways of getting around. Other ways of getting around. As far as I knew, Watson still hadn’t found out how the person who killed Jeremy had gotten away from the library area without laying down tire tracks in the mud. Was it possible that person had arrived by helicopter? I dismissed that thought almost immediately. I didn’t know much about helicopters, but I didn’t think they could fly in the sort of heavy rain and high winds we’d had that night.

The police had been asking anyone who’d been at the library or passing by at the time in question to get in touch with them. I’d assume a respectable helicopter pilot would have done so.

Then again, there were less-than-respectable ones, weren’t

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