scowling, “Get to work, Deputy. If this is a hoax, you bring me the prankster's balls on a platter. If it's not. . . just get me some answers, and get them soon. This time next week all hell will be breaking loose on our little island and we're not going to have any time to waste looking for ghosts.”
***
“St. Theresa County welcomes all visitors,” said Case, “as long as they abide by the law.”
Sheriff Case goes on to add that, while his department will be fully staffed during the two weeks of spring break, no extraordinary measures are planned to deal with the crowds.
He smiled as he read the article for the third time. First there had been anger, then there had been amazement, then there had been simple amusement. Because it was funny, how things had a way of working themselves out for those who were patient enough. For those who had a plan.
And he had one hell of a plan.
At the center of it all, as he had been for three solid years, was Guy Dennison.
Before Dennison, he had had a wife, a kid, a job, and a house. Now he had nothing.
The most important thing in his life—the only thing in his life—was to make sure Guy Dennison ended up the same way. And he knew just how to start.
He smiled again as he glanced at the headlines. spring break comes to st. t and the subhead officials predict record crowds. Three thousand kids, and an undermanned, under-budgeted sheriff's department. The law officers in this county were going to have more than they could handle the next couple of weeks.
A lot more.
~
Chapter Seven
L aura had finished the lead article and was just starting on cocaine held prisoner in the county jail, when she heard Carol come in. She folded the paper and went quickly into the outer office.
“How'd it go?” she demanded anxiously.
Carol noticed the empty receptionist's desk with dismay. “God, Laura, I'd forgotten Tammy had that dentist's appointment this morning. I hope you didn't miss any appointments waiting for me.”
Laura waved an impatient, dismissive hand. “Don't worry about it. What did the police say?”
Carol slipped off her linen blazer and hung it on the rack by the door. She was scheduled to show second-and-third-tier property today and she had dressed appropriately: designer jeans, sturdy walking shoes, white silk blouse with a lace ascot, and navy blazer. The one thing Laura had always envied about Carol was her effortless sense of style. The second thing, perhaps, was her ability to look charmingly feminine even in jeans and a blazer, even with windblown hair and puffy eyes. Laura could have put on the same outfit and looked perfectly ordinary. But then Laura wouldn't have thought about the lace ascot.
Grimacing, Carol replied, “Me? I got a pat on the hand and a 'there, there.' For my big strong ex-husband, however, they practically issued an all-points bulletin for anyone who knows the lyrics to 'Mary Had a Little Lamb.' “
Laura stared at her. “You've got to be kidding. Did you take the answering-machine recording?”
Carol poured a cup of coffee with only slightly unsteady hands. “God, I didn't sleep a wink last night, thinking, worrying. Yes, I took the answering machine, and no, they didn't take me seriously. That is—let me see if I can get this right—they think it's unlikely that it is Kelly's voice on the machine. If it is, however, it's out of their jurisdiction because she was never officially considered a victim of a crime. As far as they're concerned, the telephone calls are family business—like Thanksgiving greetings or Mother's Day cards.”
“Wait a minute.” Laura's voice was incredulous. “Do you mean to say they actually stood there and told you that the message on that machine wasn't important?”
Carol sighed tiredly, pushing a hand through her curls as she sipped her coffee. “Not exactly. What they said was that it was probably a hoax—part of some scheme somebody out there has to intimidate Guy.”
Laura frowned a
***
“St. Theresa County welcomes all visitors,” said Case, “as long as they abide by the law.”
Sheriff Case goes on to add that, while his department will be fully staffed during the two weeks of spring break, no extraordinary measures are planned to deal with the crowds.
He smiled as he read the article for the third time. First there had been anger, then there had been amazement, then there had been simple amusement. Because it was funny, how things had a way of working themselves out for those who were patient enough. For those who had a plan.
And he had one hell of a plan.
At the center of it all, as he had been for three solid years, was Guy Dennison.
Before Dennison, he had had a wife, a kid, a job, and a house. Now he had nothing.
The most important thing in his life—the only thing in his life—was to make sure Guy Dennison ended up the same way. And he knew just how to start.
He smiled again as he glanced at the headlines. spring break comes to st. t and the subhead officials predict record crowds. Three thousand kids, and an undermanned, under-budgeted sheriff's department. The law officers in this county were going to have more than they could handle the next couple of weeks.
A lot more.
~
Chapter Seven
L aura had finished the lead article and was just starting on cocaine held prisoner in the county jail, when she heard Carol come in. She folded the paper and went quickly into the outer office.
“How'd it go?” she demanded anxiously.
Carol noticed the empty receptionist's desk with dismay. “God, Laura, I'd forgotten Tammy had that dentist's appointment this morning. I hope you didn't miss any appointments waiting for me.”
Laura waved an impatient, dismissive hand. “Don't worry about it. What did the police say?”
Carol slipped off her linen blazer and hung it on the rack by the door. She was scheduled to show second-and-third-tier property today and she had dressed appropriately: designer jeans, sturdy walking shoes, white silk blouse with a lace ascot, and navy blazer. The one thing Laura had always envied about Carol was her effortless sense of style. The second thing, perhaps, was her ability to look charmingly feminine even in jeans and a blazer, even with windblown hair and puffy eyes. Laura could have put on the same outfit and looked perfectly ordinary. But then Laura wouldn't have thought about the lace ascot.
Grimacing, Carol replied, “Me? I got a pat on the hand and a 'there, there.' For my big strong ex-husband, however, they practically issued an all-points bulletin for anyone who knows the lyrics to 'Mary Had a Little Lamb.' “
Laura stared at her. “You've got to be kidding. Did you take the answering-machine recording?”
Carol poured a cup of coffee with only slightly unsteady hands. “God, I didn't sleep a wink last night, thinking, worrying. Yes, I took the answering machine, and no, they didn't take me seriously. That is—let me see if I can get this right—they think it's unlikely that it is Kelly's voice on the machine. If it is, however, it's out of their jurisdiction because she was never officially considered a victim of a crime. As far as they're concerned, the telephone calls are family business—like Thanksgiving greetings or Mother's Day cards.”
“Wait a minute.” Laura's voice was incredulous. “Do you mean to say they actually stood there and told you that the message on that machine wasn't important?”
Carol sighed tiredly, pushing a hand through her curls as she sipped her coffee. “Not exactly. What they said was that it was probably a hoax—part of some scheme somebody out there has to intimidate Guy.”
Laura frowned a
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