“Now, you tell me, what’s a reporter from the Daily News doing out on Tybee Island in the middle of the night?”
“I’ve been staying out here for the winter,” she said, unreeling her usual explanation. “Got a good deal on a rental.”
He looked interested. “Really? Which one?”
“Spinnaker Cottage.”
“Oh, one of Myra Hancock’s places. Now, she’s a character.” He folded his arms, watching her knowingly. “I reckon you’ll find us all kind of eccentric and strange out here.”
“Not at all,” she lied. “It’s a nice place.”
“It is nice,” he agreed. “And I’ll tell you why. Because we don’t have any big-city crime. We haven’t had a homicide out here in more than twenty years.”
Harper was of the opinion that murder could happen anywhere. But if there hadn’t been one here in decades, maybe he had a point. This was his town, not hers.
“No murder is fine with me.” She dug in her jacket pocket, unearthing a business card. “Still, if anything does come from this—or if anything else happens out here, for that matter—I’d be grateful if you’d give me a call. I’m always looking for news.”
He pulled a long-handled Maglite from his pocket. The beam lit up his face as he examined the lettering. He was younger than Harper had first thought; his skin was smooth and unlined.
“Sure thing, Harper McClain.” Turning off the light, he slid the card into the pocket behind his badge. “Might be useful having a reporter out here: about time we had our share of fame.” He gave her an ironic grin. “I’m Tom Southby, by the way. If you want to quote me.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” She smiled.
The police dispatcher’s voice boomed from his radio. “BA nine? Y’all still out at the shots fired?”
Pulling the device from his belt, Southby turned the volume down before replying.
“Dispatch, put it down as a false alarm. All quiet here. Unit Bravo Alpha nine back in service.”
The dispatcher responded, “Copy that, Bravo Alpha nine. You heading back to base?”
“In a few.” He slid the radio back into its holder.
“It was nice to meet you, Harper McClain.” Lifting his flashlight, he shined it on the Camaro. “Nice ride, by the way.”
Gear rattling, he climbed into his patrol car and slammed the door, switching off the blue lights.
She lifted her hand as he performed a smooth U-turn on the wide, empty street and drove away, taillights glowing red in the darkness.
* * *
The next day temperatures dropped. A steady drizzle soaked the trees and sent water dripping from the long strands of moss.
Harper was on the porch locking up the little cottage when she heard a gruff female voice calling her name. Turning, she saw Myra, her landlady, walking down the short driveway, a hood pulled up against the weather, utility belt pinching her middle.
“I wanted to catch you before you left,” she said, wiping rain from her face as she stepped onto the porch. “I would have called but I was around the corner anyway, fixing a loose board on the fence. The damn wind keeps trying to tear down everything I put up.”
Myra was no more than five feet tall. She had to be in her sixties, but her straight hair was ink black. She wore a heavy layer of dark pencil around her bright, brown eyes, and Harper had never seen her without a screwdriver.
“What’s up?” she asked.
The landlady squinted at her. “Look. You’ve known this was coming but I’ve got to get this place fixed up, ready for spring break. I hate to ask you to go, given your situation, but I’ve got no choice. You understand.”
Harper’s heart sank. Rents out here would quadruple in the summer. She couldn’t begin to afford that. But she couldn’t argue. They’d agreed at the start she only had the place until spring.
So, she forced a smile. “Sure, no problem. When do you need the place back?”
“Well, you take good care of it, but it’ll need to be painted.” The landlady tapped a finger against the white bannister where the paint had begun to flake. “Salt air. Give it enough time, it’d strip the fur off a dog.” She paused to think. “If you could be out by the fifteenth, that’d be fine.”
The fifteenth of March. That was only three weeks away.
“That’s fine,” Harper said weakly. “I’ll start looking right away.”
Myra gave her a fierce look. “You find yourself somewhere safe,” she told her. “I promise you this—anyone ever comes looking for