Two little girls pumped high on swings. Three boys, one after another, flung old towels on a slide, scooted down without touching the hot metal. A stocky dark-haired man flipped burgers on a grill. A little girl pointed at a piñata swinging from a tree. A cheerful woman gave her a hug. “After we eat, Rosalie. Not long now.”
Max avoided a game of tag and came up to the grill. “Hey, José. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Sweat rolled down José Ramirez’s face from the sun and the grill. He looked surprised.
Max knew José was always willing to come at night or on weekends for a computer disaster, but crashing a family birthday party might strain even his good humor. Max hurried to explain. “I’m sorry to bother you. This will only take a minute.” Less than a minute if José had no answers. “I need to know what Click Silvester was working on last week.”
José’s quick flicker of irritation was succeeded by a look of sadness. “Poor kid. I can’t believe he’s dead. How could he fall off a platform? That seems crazy to me. Click didn’t even like to be outside. What was he doing out in the woods?” José shook his head.
“I think he was there to get some bonus money for a special computer repair job he’d done that morning.”
José frowned, put down the spatula. “Not for me.”
“You weren’t aware he had a private job?”
José folded his arms across his white apron with red letters proclaiming: DAD, THE WORLD’S BEST COOK. “At my shop, anything he brought in, he got ten percent of the payment. I paid him ten bucks an hour.” José glanced at the grill, grabbed the spatula, and began to flip burgers. “There was one exception. He did a lot of work for the Haven. That was separate from our deal.” He looked up, yelled, “Line up for burgers.” As kids pressed forward, paper plates in hand, José gave a last glance at Max. “If he got a bonus for some job for the Haven, that would have been private.”
THE CEILING FAN whirred, but did little to lessen the heat. The Haven didn’t have air-conditioning. Jean’s white face looked empty. “Click dead. And you say Darren may die.” She jerked up her head and stared at Annie. “I don’t believe Click did anything dishonest. Or Darren, either.”
“Click was keeping a secret about Friday night. No one thinks Click knew Booth was going to be shot, but he knew something and we think he told Darren Dubois. It may be something simple, like so-and-so and I are going to play a big joke on Mr. Wagner. Maybe Friday night Darren wondered if the joke was still going to be played. Maybe,” and she warmed to the idea, talking fast, “when the evening began Darren was just curious and he kept an eye on the person Click named. Instead of a joke, Darren saw something that linked that person to Booth’s murder. But he didn’t have any proof. Max thinks he was trying to get proof, and that’s why he was shot.”
Jean sighed. Her eyes held knowledge. “That could have happened. Darren was fearless. He liked to take chances. Once I found a rat snake curled up in the bottom drawer of my desk. Darren put it there on a dare.” Her smile was trembly. “I couldn’t be mad. He was impish, but always cheerful and awfully nice to the little kids.”
Annie glanced at the old walnut desk. “Don’t you have a drawer with a lock?”
Jean shook her head. “I don’t believe in locking things up. The board got onto me about that after we had some petty thefts even though that was cleared when a certain family left the island. A kid who needed a lot more attention than she ever got. Anyway, I told the board I wasn’t going to treat the kids like they were thieves. Everybody knew I don’t believe in locking things up. Miss Prentice—” Jean looked inquiringly at Annie.
Annie nodded. Indeed, she knew Pauline Prentice never met a lock she didn’t love.
“—Was appalled. I told her if you treat kids with no respect, they’ll earn it.” For an instant, Jean’s lips quirked in a smile. “She didn’t get it at first. Then she stared at me with eyes like a dead fish. She insisted we lock up the outer doors and the prop shed, but there are no locks inside the Haven, not in my office, not in the art rooms, not in the kitchen, and there won’t be as long as I’m director.” Her smile fled. “Which I guess won’t be for very long. Billy Cameron thinks I shot Booth. But surely he’ll know I couldn’t have hurt Click or Darren.” Suddenly her eyes were bright with tears. “You and Max have been wonderful to me.”
Annie wished she could announce with conviction that all would be well. Instead, she feared the net was drawing ever tighter around the Haven. Everything had a connection to the Haven, Jean had no alibi when Darren was shot, and she grew up with guns. When Billy learned that…Perhaps he already knew. He would have sent out inquiries about Jean.
“Why do you believe in me?” Jean’s voice was shaky.
“If you’d planned to shoot Booth, you would never have come to Max in the first place. But,” Annie pulled her chair nearer the desk, “we need to do what we can to help the police find the murderer.” She hoped her voice was upbeat. “Did you see Darren Friday night?”
Jean leaned back in her chair, stared at the open window, but clearly she wasn’t looking at the playing field. “I saw him at one point. I find it hard now to know what I remember. I was pretty upset because I knew I was on my way out, but I didn’t want the program ruined for the kids. I was thinking about what I was going to say. Booth wanted me to do a farewell speech, but he didn’t tell me whether I’d come first or last. I was determined to be positive. So everything is kind of a blur. I was all over the place, saying hello to people, checking on the food and drinks, helping kids with their costumes.”
Annie pointed through the window at the field. “Close your eyes and think of Darren.”
Obediently, Jean closed her eyes. “Darren…not part of the program…free food…Oh, I saw him getting cookies…lots of people…I checked the green room…that was a kind of holding pen near the dock…all the costumes were there…everybody pulled on a costume over T-shirts and shorts…later when it was getting dark…” Her eyes popped open. “I saw Darren moving quickly toward the back of the field. There were people still milling around, who hadn’t taken their seats yet. I think Darren was following someone. You know how it is in a crowd, someone is trying to keep up and they kind of weave in and out without paying too much attention to the people around them. That’s what it looked like.” She shook her head in discouragement. “I don’t know who he was following.”
“Who else did you see?”
She looked puzzled. “I guess I saw everyone at one point or another.”
Annie leaned forward. “I’m not talking about the whole evening. Who else did you see at that moment?” One name could lead to another and another until finally perhaps someone saw Darren in close pursuit of a killer.
Jean frowned in concentration, then her eyes lit. “Meredith Wagner. She was walking in the same direction as fast as she could go.” Jean looked concerned. “Meredith’s a sweet, sweet girl. I imagine she was looking for her mother. Meredith told me she was staying at the inn. I could tell Meredith was worried about her. When she spoke of her mother, it was as if she were talking about a child, one who needed care. I doubt if she was noticing much.”
Annie smiled. “I’ll ask her.”
Outside a car door slammed.
Jean looked strained. She pushed back from her desk, walked to the window to look out. “The police.” Her face was stiff.
Annie took a step toward her. “Would you like for me to stay?”
Jean swallowed. “That’s all right. They’ll want to know if I can help them with Darren.”
In the hall, Annie came face-to-face with Officer Benson. He gave her a friendly nod, then walked purposefully past. He stopped in the open doorway of Jean’s office. “Ms. Hughes, if I can speak to you for a moment, I’d appreciate some information about a teenager who spent time here.”
“Come in, officer.” Jean’s voice was weary.
Annie came out into the blazing heat. She walked fast, heading for the path that led through the woods to the inn. She had an uneasy sense of events in motion. She hoped at the end of the day Jean Hughes would still be free.
Annie plunged into the woods. Despite the shade, the air was as hot as a steam bath. A bumblebee buzzed near. She waved her hands and arms. She was absorbed in fighting off insects and almost walked into the huge web of a golden silk spider. Annie caught her breath and jumped back. That’s when she saw the alligator. He was nine feet long if he was an inch. Oh well, maybe six feet. But he was big and he was lying right across the path. She began to retreat. Quietly. Circumspectly. Respectfully. Oh yes, big fellow, very respectfully. Sweaty and breathing fast, she backed up, one careful foot after another. No matter that naturalists insisted Al Alligator didn’t want to munch on humans. Annie had no intention of tempting the many-toothed creature. She was almost around the corner, out of sight of the black creature that could, if he wished, outrun her, when her cell phone rang. She plunged her hand into her purse, fumbled, found the phone, lifted it. “Hello.” She listened then said quickly, “Don’t be upset, Rachel. I’ll come. Wait for me.”
EVEN THOUGH IT was Sunday afternoon, the police station was in full gear, officers in and out, Mavis at the front counter on the phone. She looked up, saw Max, gave a little head shake, and continued to listen. “Please come to the station. An officer will be glad to take your statement. Thank you.” She hung up, sighed. “Everybody in town thinks they know something and you have to pay attention. One of them might be right.” She shook her head. “This caller claims a sinister-looking man came out of the woods on a bike right after the shot. For starters, I don’t think she could have heard a shot that far from the pier. But it might help to find anybody who was in the woods around that time.”
Max gestured toward the door to the offices. “I’ve got something for Billy.”
Mavis looked uncertain. “He’s on overload right now, sorting out everything about the shooting.” She punched a button. “Max Darling’s here.”
There was a pause, then a gruff, “Okay.”
Billy’s office door was open. Sweat patched his white shirt. He was replacing the phone receiver in its cradle, his face hard and angry.
Max paused on the threshold.
Billy looked up. It took a moment for him to focus on Max. “Darren’s dead. He died without regaining consciousness. Another kid dead.”
Max felt his gut twist. “Maybe Annie and I should go to Savannah, help his mom.”
Billy shook his head. “She’s staying with her sister there. I don’t think you’re the right person to offer help.” He looked tired and impatient. “If you’ve got something for me, make it quick.”
Max talked fast. “Freddy Baker said Click had done a special computer job. I checked with José Ramirez. The job didn’t come through his shop. They had an agreement, everything Click brought in, he got a slice. He was paid ten dollars an hour except for stuff he did at the Haven. That was separate. I think Click was in the preserve to meet someone and get paid. My guess is that Click took his money and when he turned to go down the ladder, he was maybe whacked from behind, maybe shoved. The murderer came down, made sure he was dead, then pulled out his pockets to get the money. Click was getting enough to buy a scooter. That kind of money in his pockets would have indicated something wasn’t right. Click told Freddy he was part of a big joke with someone. He must have told Darren who was going to pay him. That’s why Darren was watching Friday night to see what would happen.”
Billy massaged one temple. “You keep tying everything to computers. Back up a minute, Max. Click told Freddy he had a special computer job. He also told him he was going to be part of a big joke at the program Friday night. Maybe,” Billy spoke clearly and distinctly, emphasizing each word, “these were two different matters. One, a computer job. Two, a joke. Maybe they’re connected. Maybe they aren’t. Maybe it’s the joke we need to find out about. As for computer repair, that brings everything right back to the Haven.” He thumped the legal pad on his desktop.
“Billy,” Max was insistent, “there are plenty of people with motives besides Jean Hughes.”
Billy leaned back in his chair. “You’re right. Adulterous wife. Her angry lover. Stressed stepson. Light-fingered daughter. Bitter ex-wife. I’ve considered all of them. There’s not a shred of evidence to link any one of them to Wagner’s murder.”
“How about intent?” Max objected. “Using your stepfather’s image as a target should qualify.”
Billy shrugged. “The family better get him to a shrink, but his twenty-two had nothing to do with the murder. You’re right about intent. Lugging a gun to the woods and perching up in a tree with a great view of the outdoor stage kind of suggests he had bad ideas. But the five-shot magazine was full. Either he didn’t shoot the gun Friday night or he reloaded before he climbed down that magnolia. Under the circumstances, lights off, people yelling, that doesn’t seem likely. Besides, no twenty-two bullet killed Wagner. I called Tim’s mother. She’s agreed I can talk to him this afternoon. I’ll take the gun with me, give it to his mother, tell her he needs help. As for the others, they were at the Haven but,” Billy sat upright and looked like a triumphant fisherman admiring a four-hundred-pound blue marlin, “only one person had to kill Wagner Friday night. The timing gives her away. Booth had Jean Hughes cornered. Give up the job or jerk her dying sister out of the place she loved. When the program started, Hughes had only minutes more to be the Haven director. Turns out, she’s still the director and still in the cottage. When the program started, Booth Wagner had only minutes to live.”
Max tried again. “Maybe the timing had to do with Click’s work on a computer. Maybe that had to be kept secret before he was murdered.”
Billy still looked triumphant. “Maybe. But you heard his boss. The only repair work Click did that wasn’t funneled through the shop was for the Haven. You’ve got plenty of ideas. I’ve got some, too. Maybe Click was deleting something from Jean Hughes’s computer that would have nailed her. Was she skimming some money off purchases? Had she sent a threatening e-mail to Wagner? We’re going to check all of that out. As for the big joke, we may never know.”
HER EYES LIKE saucers, Rachel jumped into the passenger seat before Annie had the car fully stopped. “I didn’t do a thing, but she was all over me, like everything was my fault. She wasn’t making sense. She said I had to come and tell her where he is. She hung up on me before I could say anything. When I tried to call back, the line was busy.”
Annie loved the sleepy lane where Pudge and Sylvia and Rachel and Cole lived. Comfortable houses were surrounded by live oaks and palmettos, willows and crape myrtle. The unpretentious rambling ranch house was perfect for her dad. Occasionally, she felt a pang at how much her own mother would have loved the house and how sad it was that misunderstandings could part two people who had loved each other. Her mother had died much too young. Annie was glad Pudge had found happiness. She liked her stepmother, and she especially enjoyed watching coltish Rachel grow up, sometimes coolly sophisticated, other times flustered and uncertain.
Now Rachel’s dark eyes were stark with fear. “I heard about Darren. Everybody’s been texting. But not Tim. He doesn’t have any friends. You know how people are. Tim’s kind of jerky and rude. When somebody talks to him, he always turns the good side of his face toward them. I know guys aren’t supposed to be vain, but I think he minds a lot about that scar. Some of the guys called him Scarface. You know,” there was a plea in her voice, “if he had handled it right, you know, said he was the original for the movie, they’d have thought he was cool.” She sat hunched forward. “Can’t you go faster?”
Annie picked up speed, but she slowed as she came around a curve. This was the season for visitors on bikes. The Wagner house was a Mediterranean-style mansion on the ocean. Annie didn’t understand why anyone would choose to live in a ten-thousand-square-foot house, one of the largest on the north end of the island. Most of the huge homes were within the south end gated community. “Okay, Neva Wagner called you and said Tim is missing. Missing from where? Why did she call you?”
Rachel twined a dark strand of hair around one finger, talked faster and faster. “See, I’m about the only name she found in his phone. I mean, I told him the other day that sometimes if he wanted to call someone, you know, just to say how awful everything was, I liked to gripe, too. Once when he called he said wasn’t it the pits to have a stepfather. I didn’t tell him how great Pudge is. I mean, what good would that do? I said something like life is complicated. He said the only thing that would make his life better would be if Booth died. And he hung up. Anyway, a little while ago his mother called and asked if I’d seen him. She was real upset.”
Annie turned into a drive lined by live oaks. There was a disconnect to Rachel’s narrative. “Why is she upset? Had they quarreled?”
Rachel turned a worried face toward Annie. “He was supposed to come down to the living room when the police came to talk to him about the twenty-two. When he didn’t, she went up to his room. She found a note. It said,” she took a deep breath, “‘Mom, I’m sorry about everything.’”
Annie braked behind a police car. Several people clustered on the broad front steps of the stucco mansion. Neva Wagner faced Billy Cameron, who stood with his arms folded, frowning. He glanced at Annie’s car, turned his attention back to Booth’s widow.
Neva was crisply dressed in a cream silk blouse and black linen slacks and black lattice slide pumps. Her mother-of-pearl necklace matched her earrings. She was as elegant as usual, but fear glittered in her dark eyes. Despite delicately applied makeup, her face looked gaunt and pale.
Rachel grabbed and held Annie’s hand as they started toward the house. Broad marble steps reflected the late-afternoon sunlight. Heat rebounded from the concrete drive.
Neva looked at them blankly, then hope lit her eyes and she hurried down the steps. She ignored Annie, stared at the girl. “Are you Rachel? Do you have any idea where Tim might be? You’re the last person he talked to on his cell.”
Billy joined them. His face was red and perspiring in the unshaded drive.
Rachel shot an uncomfortable sideways glance at Annie. “Tim phoned last night and asked me not to tell anyone about the gun. I had to tell him my sister called the police. He said,” and her voice quivered, “he thought I was his friend, then he hung up on me.”
Neva looked stricken. “If you don’t know where he is, I don’t know how I can find him.” She whirled toward Billy. “You have to help me. He’s only thirteen. He must be terribly frightened.”
Billy’s expression was sympathetic, but his head-shake firm. “There’s no indication that your son is in any danger, or, for that matter, that he’s a missing person. You saw him a little over an hour ago. He would have to be gone more than twenty-four hours for us to put out an alert.”
“Twenty-four hours.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Anything could happen to him.”
“There’s no reason to think he is in danger.” Billy frowned. “Was your son acquainted with Click Silvester or Darren Dubois at the Haven?” His blue eyes were abruptly intent.
“I don’t know those names. Who are they?” She looked hopeful. Neva had no knowledge that two teenagers had died within days of each other, two teenagers with links to the Haven.
Rachel’s grip on Annie’s hand tightened.
Billy looked grim. “Click Silvester died in a fall from a viewing platform at the nature preserve Thursday. Darren Dubois died today after he was shot on Fish Haul Pier by an unknown assailant. The shot came from the woods opposite the pier. No one has been apprehended.”
Neva reached out, gripped his arm, held as if to keep her balance. She flung questions at him. “Who were they? Why were they killed? What do they have to do with Tim?”
Billy looked thoughtful. “Click and Darren were regulars at the Haven. Darren was Click’s best friend. Nothing can be proved about Click’s death, but it is possible he told Darren something special was planned Friday night at the Haven. We believe Darren was watching someone and that he saw your husband’s killer. Darren set a trap and the murderer shot him. If Tim was in contact with either Click or Darren, there might be cause for concern.”
Rachel loosened her grip on Annie, took a step toward Billy. “Tim hardly knew anyone at the Haven. He never talked to anybody but Meredith or me or Mrs. Hughes. The guys didn’t have anything to do with him. Besides, Click and Darren were older.”
Billy’s gaze was sharp. “Are you sure?”
Rachel was solemn. “Yes. I don’t care who you talk to, they’ll tell you the same. Half the time, Tim left right after he and Meredith showed up in the mornings. When he did stay, he fished, but he always sat by himself on the pier. Chief Saulter was real nice to him.”
Billy looked relieved. “As long as there was no contact between Tim and the dead boys, I see no reason to be concerned for his safety.”
Neva wavered on her feet, her face twisting in fear. “You’re telling me two boys have been killed and now Tim is missing and you won’t help hunt for him?”
Billy was crisp. “Your son ran away because he didn’t want to talk to the police about the twenty-two we found in the magnolia behind the stage. Or,” Billy’s face was grim, “his target practice. You told him I was coming and he thought he was in big trouble. You’ll probably find him at a friend’s house.”
“But that note he left…I’m frightened of what he might do.”
Billy was patient. “Your son wrote that he was sorry. He could be sorry for shooting at targets fashioned like his stepfather or sorry for taking that rifle to the program. It’s clear that the gun found in the tree behind the stage belongs to him. His initials are scratched on the stock. Maybe seeing his stepfather killed made him sorry for wanting to shoot him. I hope so. It’s lucky for him that we know a twenty-two bullet didn’t kill your husband.” Billy gave a short nod and turned toward his car.
Neva watched him walk away. Her face twisted in despair.
Annie understood Billy’s attitude, but someone had to reassure this fearful woman. “Neva, I’m Annie Darling, Rachel’s sister. We’ve met before.” It was as if she spoke into a void. Neva stared at her with no change in expression.
Annie felt uncomfortable and intrusive. Even though they had come because Rachel was summoned, there was no place for them here. They had no help to offer, only sympathy. Neva Wagner was suffering from new shock laid upon old. Her husband shot dead. Her son’s whereabouts unknown. Annie spoke quickly. “I wouldn’t worry. Billy’s probably right. Tim was scared. That’s why he ran away. Why, he may be watching us right now, waiting for the police to leave.”
Neva lifted her head, looked beyond the well-kept lawn at the surrounding woods. “No.” Her voice was dull. “I would know if he were near. He’s gone.” She looked at Annie with anguished eyes. “He doesn’t have anywhere to go.”
Rachel took a step forward. “Look, why don’t we call people, ask about Tim? And you can tell us where he likes to go, and we’ll go look.”
Annie’s eyes widened. Who would go and look? Where would they look? The island was small, not more than twelve miles long and three miles across at the widest point, but there were deep woods tangled and choked with underbrush and creepers. Anyone could remain hidden for a long time. Had Tim taken any food? Was he prepared for mosquitoes and chiggers and horseflies? She pushed away thoughts of nightfall and the creatures that moved in darkness: lean, quick foxes, stealthy bobcats, sharp-hooved feral hogs.
Neva took a step toward Rachel. “You’ll help me?” Neva’s cry was glad. She turned to Annie, hand outstretched. Her eyes, huge and dark in her pale face, were beseeching. “I’m so frightened. Will you help me find Tim?”