“Of?” Andrew asked, frowning. “Murder? None of us is a fan—”
“Of course not! I mean ice cream. I’ve never liked the stuff—or maraschino cherries for that matter.” He hesitated, the past weighing on him. “Hey, Magruder’s retired, right?”
“Yep. We sure miss Vinnie Magruder,” Andrew said. “He finally gave it up. They say he fought retirement. Things weigh on you, you know?”
“That young woman from years ago—Fran Castle? They never found her, right?” Axel asked.
Andrew shook his head. “They never found her. And I think Vinnie always blamed himself. He’s a good guy. He’s living in a community down on Krome Avenue. He checks in now and then.”
Axel nodded. “Thanks. What’s the woman’s name, by the way? The one who called this victim in.”
Andrew referred to his phone.
“Raina. Raina Hamish,” he said. “There’s something familiar about that name.”
Axel stiffened, staring at him in surprise. Years washed away. He couldn’t have heard right. He remembered the bright, pretty girl, tall, slim and wide-eyed with enthusiasm for everything that was offered to her. She’d had amber eyes framed by wild auburn hair and a quick smile.
She was the one who’d seen the ship, the great pirate ship with its billowing sails, journeying through the river of grass and the clouds and the fog.
“You know her?” Nigel asked with surprise.
“Yeah, we met years ago. She was with the school camp at least one year that I recall,” he said. “You two might remember I gave some speeches that year. It seemed she was interested in more than escaping the classroom. Anyway, I’m on my way. We’ll keep in touch.”
He started walking, then turned back.
“Nigel, no cameras when I’m with her. And no recordings.”
Nigel paused to look at Andrew; Andrew nodded with a stoic and sage expression that would have done a mighty chief proud.
“We need her,” Axel said softly.
“Right. I’m on it,” Nigel said.
Axel headed to his car at the side of the road. Dr. Warner was instructing his assistants on the removal of the body.
The wind was beginning to blow. Long grasses and high trees bowed, as if they cried for the young woman, honoring her as best they could.
He headed back to the city, wondering just how Raina Hamish might come to know about a woman, dead and with her throat severed, on a canal embankment in the middle of the Everglades.
He was worried for her, though he knew nothing of the woman she might have become.
He was anxious—curious if he could make use of her in any way.
Because not everyone saw the pirate ship.
In fact, very few ever did.
* * *
“You put on a dress and then...you saw the victim?” Detective MacDonald demanded.
Yes. Raina Hamish had slipped into the changing room and tried on the blue dress she hoped to buy for the Children’s Place fundraiser, and when she had looked in the mirror to check the fit, she hadn’t seen her reflection. She had seen the dead woman. Lying on the embankment, face and body covered in blood, the soft, damp earth around her soaking up more of the crimson flow that had escaped her along with the last breaths of her life.
MacDonald was a tough cop. He didn’t scream or yell or throw things around the interrogation room. He sat quietly. His eyes never averted from the sharp gaze he held on her. His hands were folded before him. He had iron-gray, close-cropped hair and his eyes were a riveting hazel. Raina had found herself staring hard back at those eyes—and fighting for control—so that she isolated every bit of color in them, the green that surrounded yellow sparks that turned to a brown as they reached the pupil.
Well, he could be hard. He could grill her until she passed out. But that wasn’t going to happen because she had called her brother, Robert, who was a criminal attorney.
Usually for the prosecution.
But he was heading here now. She’d given up on trying to explain. She had never harmed another soul in her entire life, and it had never occurred to her that anyone might suspect her of having committed a murder.
Now she realized such an assumption had been not just naive but entirely stupid.
And in retrospect, maybe she wouldn’t have believed herself. What she was saying sounded ridiculous even to her own ears. She knew where a body had been dumped, which to most people would surely suggest she had put it there or at least knew who else had.