I hurried down Ann Street toward Chapters, skirting the clusters of tourists at the intersection of Turner Street. All I wanted was to reach the safety of my home, and perhaps grab a glass of wine. Sure, it was barely noon, but after the encounter with Tony I felt I’d earned a drink with lunch.
But as I approached Chapters, I noticed a man striding away from Ellen’s house. The sun glinting off his curly hair told me this was Gavin, and when he made a sharp turn at the corner, I decided to follow him. He was headed in a direction that could easily take him to the Sandburg sisters’ home, and I wanted to be able to alert Ellen if it looked like he was planning to visit them on his own.
I forced myself to walk slowly, not wanting to catch up with him or alert him to my presence. In fact, I lingered at the corner, peering down the street from that vantage point rather than moving closer.
Gavin halted in front of Bernadette and Ophelia’s bungalow. Noticing that he seemed focused on their home, I crept closer, making my way to the home next to theirs before sliding in behind a large azalea bush.
Bernadette answered the door, meeting Gavin on the front porch. From my vantage point, I could only faintly hear Gavin introduce himself and ask to speak with Ophelia.
But Bernadette’s booming reply was loud enough for me to hear every word. “I’m sorry, Ophelia isn’t here,” she said. “There’s a garden talk over in Swansboro today, and there’s nothing she likes better, regardless of the heat and humidity.” Bernadette’s voice sharpened as she added, “I’d have thought Ellen would’ve told you that, since she’s part of the garden club too.”
Gavin said something that sounded like, “Thanks, I’ll tell Ellen and we’ll catch her later, then,” before he turned and strode off the porch and out of the yard.
I stayed frozen in place until he marched by, only moving when he turned onto Ann Street. Then I scrambled after him, having decided that I could easily claim to have walked up from the waterfront if he questioned my sudden appearance behind him.
But when I turned the corner, he’d already crossed the street to reach a white compact car. I paused, realizing I’d seen that vehicle parked on the other side of the street and paid little attention to it, thinking it belonged to one of our neighbors’ guests.
Obviously, it’s a rental that Gavin’s been using instead, I thought, as he jumped in the car and backed it up just enough to turn around in the quiet street. He drove off at some speed, toward the main part of town.
I suspected he was headed for Turner Street, which would lead him out of town and onto the road that connected with the bridge over to Morehead City. And then on to Swansboro? I questioned, picking up my pace. Reaching Ellen’s house, I bounded up the porch steps and jabbed my finger against her doorbell.
“I think Gavin’s stalking Ophelia,” I blurted out as soon as Ellen opened the door.
She didn’t even blink. “Let me grab Shandy and my purse, and we’ll follow in my car,” she said, before closing the door.
I only had to wait on the porch for a few minutes before she reappeared, clutching Shandy, who wore a neon-blue harness with a matching leash, against her chest. As I followed her down the steps and across the front yard, I filled her in on what I’d seen.
“Oh right, that garden club talk. I was thinking about going but changed my mind,” Ellen said, as I slid into the passenger seat of her pale-blue sedan.
Ellen strapped Shandy into a contraption fixed to her back seat—rather like a child’s booster seat, but sized for a small dog. “Keeps him from running around in the car, and it’s much safer. Even a fender bender could toss a little fellow like him around,” she said, as she climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Good idea.” I glanced over my shoulder at the Yorkie, whose black eyes, veiled by his long hair, were bright as polished buttons. He panted, his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. “It is a bit warm, isn’t it, boy?” I said, fanning my face with my hand.
“Despite parking in the shade, the car does get hot, but that’ll soon be remedied,” Ellen said, reaching across the dashboard to adjust the air conditioning.
Cool air blasted out of the vent in front of me. I leaned forward slightly to allow it to hit my face and neck. “Do you know where this garden club meeting is being held? I mean, I know it’s in Swansboro, but is there a more exact location?”
Ellen backed out of her driveway and pointed the car toward the central part of town. “On the waterfront, near the town square.” She cast me a quick glance. “Not that it would be hard to find an event happening in Swansboro. It’s a pretty small town, and mostly residential, you know.”
“I confess I haven’t visited there yet, despite it only being a short drive away.” I sat back and stared out the side window. “Don’t you have to cross the bridge over Bogue Sound and take 58 all the way down to Emerald Isle?”
“That’s the scenic route, and I prefer it if I’m just out for a drive, but there’s a faster one we’ll use today,” Ellen said.
I studied her profile, noticing the tightness of her jaw. “Not driving alongside the beach, I take it,” I said as we passed the entrance to the bridge that connected Morehead City to Atlantic Beach.
“No, but we’ll turn off soon. Although not nearly as charming a drive, it’s a more direct shot to Swansboro from here.”
We traveled through a flat, rather sparsely populated landscape and then through the small towns of Cape Carteret and Cedar Point. As we drove, I shared the information from my encounter with Tony.
“It does seem that Mr. Lott has the requisite anger and control issues that might drive him to kill,” Ellen said. “And he strikes me as a very proud, rather self-important man. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t respond well to being used in a romantic relationship and then being humiliated.”
Staring out over the water as we crossed the bridge that spanned the White Oak River, one of the major tributaries flowing into Bogue Sound, I tapped the glass. “He could’ve murdered her for revenge. But to play devil’s advocate, wouldn’t that also mean he was killing the goose before she laid any more golden eggs? If his employer hoped to continue the Tides series, and Amanda didn’t choose to write more books, they’d need Lisette again, wouldn’t they?”
“Maybe he didn’t care about that. It wouldn’t necessarily affect him personally. And besides, I’m sure the publisher could find someone else to fill that role. Let’s face it—even if the quality of future books in the series fell off, they’d still sell. At least for a while. Maybe over time readers would drift away, but many will continue to follow a series they’re so invested in, at least through another two or three volumes.” Ellen sent me a side-eyed glance. “I’m more curious about Tony’s comment alluding to Amanda hiding secrets. Did you get the impression that he learned this from Lisette Bradford when they were still dating?”
“Definitely, although he caught himself before he spoke her name. But I’m sure that’s what he was about to say.” I tapped the handle of my door with one finger. “Which means Lisette might have known something Amanda wanted to keep quiet.”
“Would’ve killed to do so, perhaps?” Ellen asked.
“It’s possible, I suppose,” I replied, before falling silent for a few minutes.
“Oh, what a quaint town,” I said at last, as I glanced across the car to look out the driver’s side window. As we crossed the bridge, older wooden structures and docks set along the riverfront came into view, along with several streets filled with vintage-style businesses and homes.
“It was incorporated in 1783, and was a settlement that grew up around a plantation before that, so it’s been around for a while.” Ellen turned left, onto what was obviously one of the town’s main streets.
“Front Street. Just like in Beaufort,” I said, as we drove past several brick and wood-framed buildings set close to the sidewalks.
“Both are adjacent to the waterfront, so I suppose that makes sense,” Ellen said. “I’m going to turn up a side street to park and then we can walk to the Town Square area. It’s only a few blocks.”
The streets were a little hillier than expected, until I remembered that this town faced the White River and part of the intercoastal waterway. River towns often featured bluffs, so these gentle hills weren’t out of place. I followed Ellen and a frisky Shandy back to Front Street, where we trotted past a restaurant that featured a 1950s theme as well as several charming gift shops. Where the street ended, there was a stretch of grassy lawn rolling down to the water on one side, a strip of shops and a pub ahead of us, and a small park with an outdoor bandstand on the right, where the road intersected with another street.
“That’s the town square,” Ellen said, motioning toward the bandstand. “They hold concerts there every week during the summer months.”
I pointed at a crowd gathered on the grassy area beside a two-story building that included shops on both floors and a deck that overlooked the river. “Is that the garden club group?”
Keeping a tight grip on Shandy’s leash, Ellen shaded her eyes with one hand. “Looks like it. I remember our newsletter said that there would be a brief talk by a master gardener before a tour of some of the local properties.”
“And there’s Ophelia,” I said, as a few people in the group moved aside, revealing the back of a tall, thin woman’s head. “That fire-engine-red hair is pretty unmistakable.”
“Definitely.” Ellen let out Shandy’s leash a little, allowing the small dog to sniff the surrounding grass. “I think I’ll wait until the talk concludes before I try to pull her aside.”
I glanced up the connecting road, which the signpost informed me was Church Street. “Is that Gavin’s rental car, a block up from the stairs that lead to that pub?”
“Could be.” As Ellen squinted in the bright sunlight. I realized she’d left the house in such a hurry that she’d forgotten her hat and sunglasses. “Although a lot of those rental cars look the same to me.”
“You stay here and wait to catch up with Ophelia. I’m going to check out that car,” I said, sprinting away before Ellen could protest.
When I reached the vehicle, the rental company sticker on the back window convinced me it was indeed Gavin’s car, but it was locked and empty. I looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Surely, if he’d trailed Ophelia to this town, he had some ulterior motive.
Leaning against the car, I peered inside. Not that I expected to see anything that would clarify the situation, but just because I was curious. What did a secret agent carry around in his rental car?
Nothing, apparently. As I straightened, a hand fell heavily on my shoulder.
“Thinking about stealing it?” Gavin asked, his voice calm and still as water in a tidal pool. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Rides rough, and the AC doesn’t really cool well.”
I turned, shaking off his hand. “I’m not in the market for a car, so, no. I was just … checking my hair in the reflection from the window.”
Gavin’s eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but I could read amusement in the twitch of his lips. “Really? You expect me to buy that?” He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I don’t care what you buy or don’t buy,” I said, with a swift glance to my left. If I yelled, would any of the garden club members, hear me? Or maybe someone dining outside on the pub deck? “Since you’re the government agent, surely you can figure out my real motive.”
“I refuse to have this conversation on a busy street. If you want to talk, follow me.” He turned on his heel and strode down a tree-lined residential street.
“Hold up,” I said, as I jogged to catch up to him.
“Did you tail me here from Beaufort?” He shot me a sharp glance. “And yes, I did notice you lurking in the bushes near the Sandburg sisters’ house, in case you’re interested.”
“You didn’t give any indication that you saw me.”
“Of course I didn’t. I wanted to see what you’d do next. I guess now I know—you alerted your friend Ellen and decided to follow me here.”
“Only because we knew you were tracking Ophelia Sandburg, and we were worried about her.”
“Perhaps you were; as for Ellen, I suspect the only person she’s worried about is herself.” Gavin stopped walking and whipped off his sunglasses as he turned to face me. “This playing detective has to stop, Charlotte. I don’t know why Ellen would involve you in her problems, but I’m here to tell you it isn’t safe.”
I met his stern gaze with a lift of my chin. “I trust Ellen.”
“You shouldn’t. Not entirely.” Gavin’s light brown eyes glittered.
Not with charm, I thought. With anger, or frustration. “Speaking of trust, why should I listen to anything you say? I know you broke into Chapters and searched the attic.”
“So I did hear something.” Gavin narrowed his eyes. “I should’ve investigated, but I was too …”
“Involved in rummaging through my great-aunt’s things?”
“Touché. But don’t worry, I found nothing useful. It seems that one journal is the only piece of evidence Isabella Harrington forgot to bury, or burn.”
Determined not to allow him to intimidate me, I stared boldly into his eyes. “According to my housekeeper, you visited Isabella once, not long before her death. It seems she thwarted you then as well.”
“My, my, but you are a nosy one, aren’t you?”
“I prefer the term curious, but if you insist.” I placed my balled fists on my hips. “I plan to continue to be nosy where you are concerned, especially since you had the audacity to break into my house and search through my belongings, or at least my great-aunt’s belongings. And, for your information, I know you’re not Ellen’s cousin. She was the one who told me that, by the way, while you’ve seemed quite happy to keep up your deception.”
“Part of my job,” he replied, slapping his sunglasses against his palm. “I’m on assignment. Did Ellen bother to tell you that?”
“Yes, and she even expressed her suspicions as to why.”
Gavin slid the sunglasses into the pocket of his loose cotton shorts. “She may think she knows my mission, but she doesn’t have the whole story.”
“Why don’t you tell me what that is, and then we’ll all be in the loop.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, taking off at a brisk walk.
“Can’t or won’t?” I huffed, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
“I don’t have clearance to explain any more than what you already know. And, honestly, you shouldn’t even know that.” Gavin stopped at an intersection with another narrow street. “It was irresponsible of Ellen to share anything with you about her former operations.”
I followed his gaze, noticing that the intersecting street ended at a marina, In the distance, the river and intercoastal waterway glittered under the July sun. the watery vista broken by clumps of islands and sandbars. “I think she wanted to warn me; to let me know that I needed to be on my guard around you.”
“That’s good advice.” Gavin flashed me a cool smile. “But this particular mission isn’t anything that should pose a danger to you. Not if you mind your own business.”
“But what about Ophelia Sandburg? Do you, or your mission, pose a threat to her?”
Gavin took two steps back and looked me over, his expression unreadable. “Ellen told you about how she and your great-aunt used Ms. Sandburg in the past? How they embroiled her in espionage without her knowledge or permission?” He shook his head. “Yet you say you still trust Ellen. I’m sorry, but that makes no sense.”
“Ellen admitted that she made mistakes,” I replied, fighting to keep a defensive bite out of my tone. “Meanwhile, here you are, stalking poor Ophelia for some reason you won’t disclose.”
“Can’t,” he said, moving closer to me. “And I’m trying to protect Ms. Sandburg. I can tell you that much.”
He was only an inch or two taller than me. I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye. “But you can’t say why she’s suddenly in danger, after all these years?”
“Exactly. I’ve already said too much. I’d need approval from my bosses to say any more, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’ll even bother to ask.” Gavin tapped my lips with one finger. “Loose lips sink ships and all that.”
“I don’t spill secrets,” I said, pushing my hand into his chest. “And I’d thank you not to touch me again in such an intrusive way without permission.”
Gavin widened his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, before giving me a little salute.
“It isn’t funny. I don’t know you from Adam, and you think you can grab me or whatever just because you have some sort of badge?” I shook my head emphatically. “I don’t go for that sort of behavior and, trust me, I’m more than happy to share my concerns with the Beaufort police if you try anything again.”
Gavin held up his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry. I fell into operational mode, which obviously wasn’t appropriate in this circumstance.”
“Clearly not.” I thrust my hands into the pockets of my lightweight slacks. “Now—I’m going to walk away and I suggest you don’t follow.” I looked him over for a moment. “I plan to rejoin Ellen, who’s probably talking with Ophelia at this point. If you simply head back in the direction we came from, get in your car, and drive back to Beaufort, I’ll promise not to tell Ellen everything that has transpired between us. Although”—I held up a finger, silencing the words Gavin appeared about to say—“I will mention I saw you, but say you merely waved and drove away.”
“I can’t leave until I know Ophelia Sandburg is safe,” Gavin said, his jaw clenching.
“We’ll make sure she is, although since you won’t say from what, that may prove difficult.” I shoved a damp lock of hair away from my eyes. “But if you insist on keeping watch, stay out of sight. I can’t vouch for what Ellen might do otherwise.”
“I’m confused—you seem to think I’m the enemy here, so why would you want to protect me from Ellen Montgomery’s wrath?” Gavin’s tone, as well as his expression, lightened.
“I don’t know. I suppose because I know you’re only doing your job.” I walked a few paces before turning to add, “And because, if we’re being honest, I’m not exactly pleased with what Ellen, and my great-aunt, did all those years ago. They used a friend as an informant without her knowledge. That’s pretty … unacceptable in my book.”
“On that, at least, we can agree,” Gavin said, casting me a smile before slipping on his sunglasses.
“Just don’t think this makes us friends,” I said, spinning on my heel and marching away.
He called something after me that sounded like “not yet.” I didn’t bother to turn around and correct him.