didn’t have to.
Carefully, Harper began to open Hunter’s shirt.
“Help me…” he whispered.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said, but she could hear the doubt in her own voice.
Her wet fingers slipped on the buttons and she swore under her breath, ripping the shirt open. Blood mixed with rain on his thin chest and ran in dark rivulets between his ribs. The hole was just below his shoulder.
Allegra dashed out of the house, clutching a white towel like a surrender flag. Snatching it from her, Southby wadded it up and pressed it firmly against the wound, holding it in place with both hands. In the distance Harper thought she heard a siren wail, but the wind blew the sound away.
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” Hunter whispered, looking at Harper. “I’ve been so scared.”
“I know,” she said gently.
Kneeling in the mud beside him, Allegra clung to his hand, her eyes wide with fear. “Don’t die,” she kept whispering, over and over. “Don’t die.”
Harper rested a hand on Hunter’s good arm as Southby kept steady pressure on the wound. “Allegra shot Xavier, didn’t she? She came to you for help. You pushed him out into the ocean. To protect her.”
Hunter’s eyes almost closed, then opened again. A tear escaped and ran down his cheek, mingling with the rain. “She’s just a kid.” A whisper, lost in the storm.
A few feet away Cara sobbed brokenly, her perfect white clothes stained with mud, her hands cuffed behind her back.
At the end of the road, the flashing blue lights of the ambulance lit up the night. Relief loosened the tightness in Harper’s chest.
“Hang in there,” she told Hunter. “You’re going to be fine.”
* * *
Miles arrived just as the paramedics were loading Hunter onto a stretcher. By then, Southby had separated and handcuffed Cara and Allegra, and secured the house. He did a damn good job on his own, Harper thought, bagging the gun, taking her statement. Working methodically.
“I think I underestimated you,” she told him, as she watched him lock the mansion’s front door and seal it with crime tape.
“Everyone does,” he said. But he smiled.
A paramedic gave Harper wipes to get the blood off her hands. “Works better than soap,” she assured her, before hurrying back to the ambulance.
While Miles got busy taking pictures, she kept trying to call the newsroom, but her phone had no signal.
“It’s the storm,” Southby told her, rain dripping from the plastic cover on his hat. “Cell tower’s out.”
Harper glanced at her watch. It was nearly eleven o’clock and Baxter had no idea what had happened out here, or that the paper had an exclusive front-page story on its hands.
She ran over to where Miles was checking shots on his camera. “I’m heading back to Savannah. How much longer will you be out here?”
Clutching his Canon in one hand, he looked around, frowning. “Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen?”
“Okay. I’ll see you back there.” She hurried away, boots splashing in the water.
“Drive carefully,” he called after her. “The road’s starting to flood.”
It was a relief to get into the car and turn the heater on. Harper hadn’t realized how cold she was until she began to get warm again. She was soaked to the skin.
The winds had let up a little, but the rain was still falling hard when she crossed the bridge off the island and into the marshes. In her mind she kept going over the night’s events, hearing Cara’s terrified scream, as if she’d been shot instead of Hunter.
She could see now how she’d pieced it all together last night at the Library. When Allegra dedicated the song to the love of her life, Cara had known her well enough to know she’d meant it. From there, she’d figured out the rest. Everything she hadn’t wanted to see unfolded in front of her.
Harper wanted to believe Allegra when she’d said she hadn’t meant to kill Xavier. She didn’t know why she’d taken a gun to the beach, though. Maybe she wanted to scare him. Maybe, like so many people, she simply underestimated the power of a bullet.
But the law wouldn’t care. Not enough to keep her out of prison.
She’d gone about four miles when she first noticed the headlights in her rearview mirror. At first, she thought it was Miles, heading back to the paper earlier than he’d expected. He always drove so fast.
The next time she looked up, the lights were much closer. As she watched them she felt the first stirrings of unease.
The vehicle was