Hidden in the Everglades

Kyra reluctantly wrenched her look from Michael Hunt. “I was out on the beach after my aunt left to go walk with a friend at the track. I’d taken my towel and beach bag out there to just enjoy the sunrise and read and relax. Before I had a chance, I heard muffled gunshots. A young man stumbled out onto the beach from the Pattersons’ backyard, collapsed and mumbled something about helping them, then died. I knew someone else was in trouble. I had my gun, so I called 911 and went to see if I could help.”

“You might not be a detective anymore, but it’s hard to get it out of your system.”

“Instinct. I was a cop for a lot of years.”

“Can you tell me anything else about the girl besides age and hair color?”

“She’s pale, not much of a tan, with heavily made-up eyes in black. The color of them, though, was blue. When she glanced up at me, she looked so scared. But she kept going, which saved her life. The killer got off a shot, but she disappeared down the deck steps. I didn’t see which way she went because I was focused on the assailant in the hallway. He never came into the room. He might have sensed me there. Maybe he saw a reflection in the sliding glass door. I don’t know. I checked the rooms down the hallway, and that’s when I found the other victim. Then I saw the killer running toward the swamp. I felt I had to go after him in case he was pursuing the girl.”

Gabe rubbed his chin. “Hmm. The teenage girl could be Amy, Michael’s younger sister.”

“The one Ginny was raising until she went to the Philippines as a missionary?” Her childhood friend’s little sister? If anything had happened to the girl, she would have been at a loss how to tell Ginny.

“Yup. Amy said she would run away before she’d go to the Philippines. She wanted to finish high school this coming year in Flamingo Cay. Michael agreed to come home and take care of her.”

Kyra slanted her glance toward Michael striding toward them. His medium-length black hair lay at odd angles as though he’d run his hand through it multiple times. Even from a distance his blue eyes, so much like the teenage girl’s when Kyra thought about it, lured her in. Compelling. Captivating. Even better than his smile. She dragged her attention away from his gaze, fastening it onto the cleft in his chin, then his full lips, which were tugged in a look of concern.

Gabe greeted Michael with a handshake. “Thanks for coming.”

“I was too late. I don’t think there was anything I could have done, though.” Michael’s look shifted to her. “Kyra Morgan?”

She nodded. “It’s been a long time.”

“Sixteen years. I think the last time I saw you was the summer right before I went to college. It’s good to see you.” He held out his hand to her.

She fit hers in his clasp, and his large fingers surrounded hers. The connection, warm, full of strength, further surprised her. “How’s Ginny doing? I haven’t heard from her since she went to the Philippines.”

“Getting settled in.” A smile leaked through the tired lines about his eyes and mouth, and he wiped moisture off his brow. “I forgot how bad the humidity could get here, especially in the summer. It takes some getting used to.”

“I know. I had planned on spending a lot of time in the water to counter that.”

Gabe cleared his throat. “I hate to break up this little reunion, but Michael, where is Amy?”

“At home. Why?”

Gabe fully faced Michael. “She may have been involved with what went down here.”

Michael’s tanned features paled. “No, that’s not possible. Amy wouldn’t hurt anyone. She won’t even eat meat because animals are being killed to provide it.”

“I saw a teenage girl fleeing from the house. She had blood on her hands and shirt.”

Michael shook his head. “Not Amy.”

Gabe pointed toward the house. “The person dead on the beach is Preston Stevens. Hasn’t Amy been seeing him?”

“Not lately. She promised me.” Panic seized Michael’s cobalt-blue eyes.

“I want Kyra to meet her. If it’s not the same girl she saw in the bedroom, then that’s the end of it. If Amy was there, I need to talk to her. She’s the only one left to tell us what happened before Kyra came on the scene,” Gabe said using his usual laid-back approach, all the while assessing his surroundings and the situation.

She wanted to reassure Michael about his sister, to wipe that apprehensive expression from his face. “I don’t think she had anything to do with either killing. The girl I saw was scared. The assailant I chased into the swamp shot at her but didn’t hit her.”

Michael gritted his jaws together so tightly a nerve jerked in his cheek. “Fine. I’m sure this is all a mistake.” A vulnerability beneath his words infused his voice with doubt.

“You said she’s at home. There’s no time like the present to get this straightened out.” Gabe started around to the back of the house and the beach, skirting Connors, who was with Preston’s body, putting up crime-scene tape while another officer was talking to some of the neighbors outside.

Michael hung back, opening and closing his hands at his sides. He peered at Preston lying faceup on the beach, then back at Kyra.

She approached him. “You’re not so sure, are you?”

He shook his head, bleakness in his eyes. “Not the way Amy has been acting lately. The first month I was back here everything was all right. Then at the start of the summer, she began to change into the little sister that Ginny warned me about.”

“What?”

“Wild, rebellious, stubborn.”

“Some of that describes a typical teenager. I can remember some of the things I pulled with Ginny.” She grinned. “And you took pleasure in letting your mom know all about it.”

For a fleeting second humor flashed into his eyes until his gaze fixed upon a point down the beach. Kyra turned and saw Gabe waiting for them four houses down.

“When we get this all straightened out, I hope we can talk.” Michael began walking. “The one thing I know about Amy is she wouldn’t hurt anyone. Just last week a bird flew into the glass window. She had me out there trying to revive it. I kept telling her I was a doctor for humans, not birds.”

Kyra fell into step next to him as he passed near the crime-scene tape. “Did the bird make it?”

For a long moment Michael didn’t say anything, only stared at Preston, a dark shadow in his eyes. Finally he blinked, shook his head slightly and focused on Kyra. “Yes, Twitter flew off an hour later as if nothing had happened.”

“Twitter?”

“Amy named the bird that. Now do you see why I don’t think she could have been involved? It had to be someone else.”

“Sometimes people get caught up in something they never intended.” Kyra touched his arm and stopped on the beach, compelling him to do likewise. “I used to investigate homicides for a living.”

“Yeah, Ginny told me.”

“You talked to Ginny about me?”

“You were Ginny’s best friend, even if you two didn’t get to see each other much in the past few years.”

“I don’t know about y’all, but I have a lot to do,” Gabe shouted, his fists on his hips, his glare directed at them.

“I forgot how impatient he can be,” Kyra said with a laugh and continued her trek toward the police chief. “My point in telling you that is if Amy is involved I might be able to help you.” The second the words were out of her mouth, Kyra wanted to snatch them back. Help Michael? How? She was only going to be here a week. Besides, what business was it of hers? She had so needed a break finally. Gabe was quite capable of finding the killer without her help.

“This little reunion will have to wait, y’all. Where’s Amy?” Gabe charged up the back steps to the deck and waited at the door while his foot tapped against the wooden planks. “We haven’t had a murder in Flamingo Cay in four years, and now I’ve got two in one day.”

Michael reached around Gabe and opened one of the double glass doors. “She went to her bedroom. I’ll go get her. Have a seat.” He waved toward the den, then headed down the hall.

Before going into Michael’s place, Kyra slipped off her swamp-soaked tennis shoes and strode to the outside water faucet and rinsed the mud off her legs and sneakers. After setting them out to dry, she entered the house.

Gabe removed his ball cap and scratched his thinning hair. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Then he plopped the hat—a sore subject with the town council, which thought he should wear his complete uniform—back on his head.