Hidden in the Everglades. Margaret Daley

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      “Why do you say that?” Kyra asked as the sound of rushed footsteps resonated down the corridor.

      A second later Michael appeared, his eyes huge, fear carving deep lines into his face. “She’s not in there.” He brought forward a bloody T-shirt. “But this was on the floor.” His hand quavered as he thrust it toward Gabe.

      “This is Amy’s?” Gabe asked, making no move to take the article of clothing.

      “Yes. She was wearing it yesterday.”

      Kyra headed toward the kitchen but paused in the entrance. “And this morning when you saw her?”

      “I don’t know. I didn’t see what she had on. All I saw was a glimpse of her before Wilson called me.”

      “Where’s a paper sack?” Kyra had known the Hunt family for years, and although she and Ginny didn’t see each other in person much anymore, they did keep in touch by phone and email occasionally. Now she knew why she’d told Michael she would help—because of the years of friendship.

      “In the top of the pantry. Why?” Michael clamped the edge of the T-shirt between his thumb and forefinger.

      While she rummaged around in the pantry, СКАЧАТЬ