Tidewater Inn (25 page)
Libby stared at the page. This was an experience she'd wanted to savor, but if she wanted to be part of this family, she was going to have to make an effort.
What would Jesus do?
“Would you both care to look at these with me? We can go back to my room.”
The expression on her aunt's face warmed, and the approval Libby saw there convinced her she'd done the right thing. Libby glanced at Vanessa, who shrugged and followed her back into the bedroom. Vanessa glanced around and made a beeline for the four-poster bed that dominated the large room. She kicked off her flip-flops and climbed onto the bed, curling her feet under her.
“This used to be my room whenever we came here for the night.” Her tone made it clear what she thought of Libby staying in the room.
Libby opened her mouth to offer to switch rooms, then closed it again. Vanessa was not going to manipulate her. “It's a nice room.” She glanced at the space beside Vanessa, then glanced at Pearl.
Pearl shook her head. “You sit there, honey. It's too high for me.” She took the Queen Anne armchair at the foot of the bed.
If not for the tension coming off Vanessa in waves, Libby could almost imagine they were really friends holed up on a rainy night. She looked at the letter in her hand. “This is the oldest one. I would have been fifteen when this came. So he evidently didn't try to contact me before this.” She continued to stare at it. Did she even want to know what it said? These communications from her father were a clear sign of how much her mother had lied to her.
“Want me to read it aloud?” Pearl asked.
Libby reached across the bed and handed it to her. “It seems appropriate.”
There was something in Pearl's face that caught at her heart. It was as if she knew Libby was about to hear something life-changing. Then Pearl glanced at Vanessa, and that expression intensified. Vanessa's head was down as she traced the pattern in the quilt. Libby tried to summon sympathy for the young woman, but Vanessa's prickly manner made it difficult. It was hard to remember they were sisters.
Pearl unfolded the letter and cleared her throat. “âMy dear Libby. I know I'm breaking the custody agreement by trying to contact you, but I miss you so much. As time has gone on, I've been more consumed by grief over what we have done to you girls. It was wrong. I should never have agreed to the custody split. At the time, it seemed the best for you and Vanessa, but I've regretted it every day of my life.'”
Libby caught her breath. “Vanessa? What does he mean that it's best for me
and
Vanessa?”
Pearl put down the letter. “At last, it's out in the open. I always thought it was the most terrible thing I'd ever heard, but it wasn't my decision.”
“What wasn't your decision?”
Pearl glanced from Libby to Vanessa, who was staring at her with the same horror on her face that Libby felt.
Custody split
. Did he mean that she and Vanessa were full sisters? Surely no parent would be so cruel as to split up siblings.
Pearl sighed heavily. “Vanessa is your younger sister.”
Libby rose to her knees on the bed. “No, you don't mean we're
sisters
! Full sisters? Not half?”
Pearl nodded. “Vanessa is a year younger than you.”
Vanessa scrambled off the bed. “You're lying!” She shot a glance of utter dislike at Libby. “I don't know what you're trying to do here, but this is some kind of scam.”
“Vanessa, sit down,” Pearl said in a weary voice. “You too, Libby. I can't believe Ray left this for me to untangle. Do you honestly think I'd be part of something unsavory, Vanessa? You know me better than that.”
“It's not true, it's not!” Vanessa sobbed. She ignored her aunt's outstretched hand and rushed from the room.
Her knees too weak to support her, Libby sank back onto the bed.
Several people darted across the street in front of Alec's pickup as he drove slowly through the debris-strewn streets toward the sheriff's office. While he and Zach were at Skipper's Store looking for jeans, a deputy had stopped in to ask Alec to come to the jail. His tone was somber, and he'd said not to tell Libby. Alec feared some new evidence implicated Libby even more than the missing video had.
His cousin was leaning against the doorjamb smoking a cigar when Alec parked and got out of his vehicle. Tom straightened and blew a puff of smoke Alec's way. “Thanks for coming right away.”
Alec waved the smoke out of his face. “What's up?”
“I'll show you. Come with me.” Tom yanked open the office door.
Alec followed him to the evidence room, down a green hallway. A table in the corner held items that made his heart sink. Bright-pink flip-flops and a cover-up in a matching color. “Those are Nicole's?”
“Seems likely. They washed up on shore a few minutes ago. That woman and her dog found them.”
“Doesn't mean she's dead,” Alec said quickly.
Tom lifted a brow. “Come on, Alec, you and I both know the odds aren't good. Yeah, she might have lost her shoes in the struggle, but her cover-up is a different matter.”
Alec winced. “You call Libby yet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Tom headed for the door, and Alec followed. His cousin's closed expression sent a prickle of unease up Alec's spine. Tom went directly to his desk and jiggled his mouse. After a few clicks, he motioned to Alec. Alec stepped around the desk and peered at the screen. It displayed the video of the boardwalk where Nicole had disappeared. It displayed only sand and surf at first, then abruptly went black.
Alec frowned. “This the recording of the time she disappeared?”
“Yeah. I checked when Libby arrived in Kitty Hawk. She went to the harbor and tried to rent a boat about nine in the evening. That means she didn't leave Virginia Beach until seven, two hours after she made the call to 9-1-1. Yet she said she rushed off so fast that she didn't talk to the police.”
“She may have waited that long for the police, and when they didn't show, she finally took off.”
“Maybe.” Tom leaned back. “I think we have to consider her as a suspect. And with the items that washed up, we have to treat it as a homicide.”
“I can ask Libby why she didn't leave for a couple of hours.”
“Don't show your suspicion. Maybe you can trip her up in a lie.”
“You really think she harmed her friend?” Alec shook his head. “I don't see it, Tom.”
“You and I have both been around long enough to know the likeliest culprit is usually the most obvious one.”
“But not always. I think we need to give Libby the benefit of the doubt.” Alec could see by the closed expression on the sheriff's face that he was wasting his breath.
Tom stood. “Look, are you going to help me or not? Or are you too afraid to find out the truth?”
“The truth is never something to fear. But I'm not going to be part of any scheme to railroad Libby.”
“I'm not asking you to. Just be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”
“I already am.”
Tom twirled a pencil in his fingers. “There's more, Alec. I talked to Earl Franklin a little while ago too. Libby's mother died under mysterious circumstances. Libby was held twenty hours for questioning.”
Mysterious circumstances
. “So? The police were doing their job. She was never charged or you'd have mentioned that first.”
Tom banged his fist on the desk and swore. “You're being just as pigheaded as usual, Alec. There's a lot in her past that's questionable.”
Alec leaned over the desk toward his cousin. “So investigate, but don't assume she's guilty without getting facts! Otherwise, you're letting a murderer walk.”
Tom's face was red. “Let's go tell your lady friend what we've found and see what her reaction is. Maybe that will convince you.”
“I'm not the one who needs convincing,” Alec said. He hoped that was true.
N
icole paced the tiny island. Fifty steps to the left of the hut and thirty steps to the right. Then around the back. She was going to go stark raving mad out here. The boy had been here yesterday, so she doubted he would come today. Not when he left enough food and water to last her for several days. She was stuck here under the blazing sun by herself.
She had to get off this island. What would happen if the boy never came back? Or another storm came? She eyed the clouds drifting across the brilliant blue sky. Was there anything she could use for a raft? She darted across the island so fast that her bare feet kicked up sand. Inside the shack, she paused long enough to let her eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the open doorway and single window. There was no flooring to pry up, only sand. The cot was metal, so it would sink immediately. There was a wooden table. Maybe it would work.
She curled her fingers under the edge and dragged it to the door. It was too wide to pull through the doorway so she turned it on its side and maneuvered it out onto the damp sand. With difficulty, she managed to drag it to where the surf broke on the beach. The waves crashed so hard she wondered if she would manage to get it out to sea. The legs would make it more difficult too. She scoured the beach until she found a rock about eight inches in diameter. Once she got it back to the table, she lifted it over her head and brought it crashing down on the table leg closest to her. It took four whacks to dislodge the first leg. She rolled the table around and continued to batter at the legs until she had all of them free of the top.
Now she had the makings of a raft. And if she could tie the legs together, she might have something that would work as oars. She stared at the trees. There were no vines. She wandered the beach again but found only flotsam and seaweed. Nothing strong enough to take on the crashing waves. Returning to the table, she looked from it to the foaming water. Using single table legs was going to have to do. There was no choice. And she needed to bring water and food with her, but how did she keep it from tumbling overboard while she got the raft out past the breakers?
The sound of the sea rolled over her, powerful and frightening. But she couldn't let fear deter her. If she did nothing, her death was almost certain. If she died in the attempt, at least she was doing
something
. She turned back toward the shack and ducked inside to get peanut butter and water. The peanut butter jar fit in the bra of her bathing suit. She tucked one bottle of water in the front of the bottoms and one in the back, but she didn't have high hopes that they would stay put. If only she had some rope.
Sighing, she grabbed an edge of the tabletop and dragged it into the water, then seized two table legs and tried to hang on to them as she tugged the wood farther into the water. The sea foamed around her ankles, and she waited for the right moment to pull the table through the waves. When the crashing wave receded, she lunged through the water with her fingers gripping the makeshift raft. The waves tried furiously to rip the raft from her fingers, but she managed to hang on. When the water reached her waist, she flung herself atop the table. Tucking the table legs under her, she paddled with her hands for all she was worth. It seemed for every foot she managed to propel herself forward, the surf flung her back toward the island two feet.
The breakers were crashing just ahead of her. She paused her paddling until the right moment, then tried again with all her strength. The waves lifted her, then flung her past the breakwater. The ride smoothed out and the waves didn't threaten to tip her into the sea at every moment. She sat up and examined her circumstances. One bottle of water had been pulled from her bathing suit. The peanut butter had survived the experience, but she had only one table leg. It would be useless by itself. She nearly tossed it overboard, then reconsidered. Her resources were limited out here. She might need it for something.
The island was receding. She flopped to her stomach again and began to paddle with her hands. A fin appeared in the water beside the boat, and she snatched her hands back, then smiled when she realized it was a dolphin. If only the dolphin realized her distress and could help her find land.
