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Authors: Tanya Anne Crosby
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saw anything—though a few voiced suspicions about the dad who, apparently, had a bit of a violent streak. From what little digging Jack had done, the mother had filed at least one restraining order that didn’t stick and the accusations seemed to fly between them more virulently than between reality-show celebs.
At this point, there was nothing Jack could do. The little girl had disappeared from in front of her own house, so this case belonged to Folly Beach PD. If they needed assistance, it probably wasn’t CPD they were likely to call. They’d call in the sheriff ’s office most likely and in the end, Jack couldn’t justify spending more time on a case that wasn’t in his jurisdiction—especially now that it seemed there was a murderer to catch.
He’d been up half the night because a college student by the name of Amy Jones had been discovered under the dock of a nearby James Island residence. The inside of her mouth had been painted with a blue dye and her tongue was removed. Whether it was fish bait, or the killer had taken it with him, was yet to be discovered, but one thing was certain, it wasn’t in her mouth.
Could her death somehow be connected with Amanda’s disappearance?
Logically, Jack didn’t think so. Other than the fact that they were both female and the islands were generally sleepy, with relatively few crimes, there weren’t any common denominators.
At any rate, this case was going to be enough of a pain in his ass without adding unnecessary strife with FBPD. Jack had a feeling his new partner, Garrison, was going to be a thorn in his side. Luckily for Jack, Joshua Childres was assigned to the Jones case. Childres would give him all the space he needed while he worked with his team to solve the murder.
Chapter Seven
A t the end of the day, Caroline felt a little like a bastard child who had come to the throne after the death of a king who had no heirs.
Clearly, no one had bothered to tell anyone at the Tribune the outcome of the will, and Pam had sent the minions into a tailspin simply by bringing Karen Hutto into her office instead of to Bonneau’s.
Although it wasn’t certain how much of the disorder was due to her mother’s death, little more than two weeks without Florence W. Aldridge at the helm, and it was no longer certain who should be running the office. She realized only now how prudent it was that she had connected with Pam because Pam was the gatekeeper, and for all her artlessness, her every action now was decisive—which, unfortunately, only seemed to force Bonneau to draw lines in the sand.
The real test came during the afternoon, with news that literally stopped the presses: sometime last night, the body of a twenty-two-year-old College of Charleston student was discovered under the dock of a James Island home. The property, which actually wasn’t far from Oyster Point, was unoccupied and for sale, but the girl’s car was found in the driveway, keys still in the ignition. That’s all they knew. The police weren’t forthcoming with more details.
Finally, Caroline came face-to-face with Frank Bonneau—over an argument about bumped heads on the front page—two similar headlines he felt certain competed with each other—especially since Amanda Hutto’s disappearance was old news in his book. In the end, Caroline made the decision to run both articles, arguing that a still-missing six-year-old was hardly the same story as a not-so-much missing and very dead twenty-two-year-old. She was pretty certain her mother would have made the same call. If there was one thing she knew Flo took to heart, it was her community.
And yet as hideous as news of the murder was, the entire drive home, all Caroline could think about was Karen Hutto and the look of turmoil in the woman’s eyes. Her child seemed to have vanished without a trace. They had exhausted every resource and no one had responded to her flyers. Worse, separated and each blaming the other, she and her husband
At this point, there was nothing Jack could do. The little girl had disappeared from in front of her own house, so this case belonged to Folly Beach PD. If they needed assistance, it probably wasn’t CPD they were likely to call. They’d call in the sheriff ’s office most likely and in the end, Jack couldn’t justify spending more time on a case that wasn’t in his jurisdiction—especially now that it seemed there was a murderer to catch.
He’d been up half the night because a college student by the name of Amy Jones had been discovered under the dock of a nearby James Island residence. The inside of her mouth had been painted with a blue dye and her tongue was removed. Whether it was fish bait, or the killer had taken it with him, was yet to be discovered, but one thing was certain, it wasn’t in her mouth.
Could her death somehow be connected with Amanda’s disappearance?
Logically, Jack didn’t think so. Other than the fact that they were both female and the islands were generally sleepy, with relatively few crimes, there weren’t any common denominators.
At any rate, this case was going to be enough of a pain in his ass without adding unnecessary strife with FBPD. Jack had a feeling his new partner, Garrison, was going to be a thorn in his side. Luckily for Jack, Joshua Childres was assigned to the Jones case. Childres would give him all the space he needed while he worked with his team to solve the murder.
Chapter Seven
A t the end of the day, Caroline felt a little like a bastard child who had come to the throne after the death of a king who had no heirs.
Clearly, no one had bothered to tell anyone at the Tribune the outcome of the will, and Pam had sent the minions into a tailspin simply by bringing Karen Hutto into her office instead of to Bonneau’s.
Although it wasn’t certain how much of the disorder was due to her mother’s death, little more than two weeks without Florence W. Aldridge at the helm, and it was no longer certain who should be running the office. She realized only now how prudent it was that she had connected with Pam because Pam was the gatekeeper, and for all her artlessness, her every action now was decisive—which, unfortunately, only seemed to force Bonneau to draw lines in the sand.
The real test came during the afternoon, with news that literally stopped the presses: sometime last night, the body of a twenty-two-year-old College of Charleston student was discovered under the dock of a James Island home. The property, which actually wasn’t far from Oyster Point, was unoccupied and for sale, but the girl’s car was found in the driveway, keys still in the ignition. That’s all they knew. The police weren’t forthcoming with more details.
Finally, Caroline came face-to-face with Frank Bonneau—over an argument about bumped heads on the front page—two similar headlines he felt certain competed with each other—especially since Amanda Hutto’s disappearance was old news in his book. In the end, Caroline made the decision to run both articles, arguing that a still-missing six-year-old was hardly the same story as a not-so-much missing and very dead twenty-two-year-old. She was pretty certain her mother would have made the same call. If there was one thing she knew Flo took to heart, it was her community.
And yet as hideous as news of the murder was, the entire drive home, all Caroline could think about was Karen Hutto and the look of turmoil in the woman’s eyes. Her child seemed to have vanished without a trace. They had exhausted every resource and no one had responded to her flyers. Worse, separated and each blaming the other, she and her husband
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