Page 6 of Light of Day
Judy answered with a sniff. “Indeed. At any rate, your father wants this cleared up as soon as possible. The last thing we need at the start of the summer season is a missing guest. Especially…”
His eyebrows rose at the way she hesitated. “Especially what?”
“Well, the young lady in question is African-American. Not our typical kind of guest.”
True enough. So many of the guests were from “legacy” New England families who’d been coming for generations. It made for a very monochromatic clientele. It might make his job easier; maybe more people would remember her. “I’ll have to poke around the hotel, question the staff and so forth.”
“That’s fine. I’ve already cleared that with your father.”
“Good.” Everyone knew it was better if he and his father stayed far away from each other.
Luke would have moved off the island years ago if it weren’t for Carrie, his ex, and Izzy, their six-year-old daughter. As long as they were on Sea Smoke, he planned to cling to it like a barnacle. “Do you know why she was here so early in the season?”
“From what I can gather, she was working on some kind of project. The girls said she would bike all over the place, then at night she’d sit at the bar and tap away on her iPad.”
“The girls?”
“You know, cleaners, waitresses.”
Judy really was old-school, which was probably why she and his father got along so well.
Now inside his office, he scribbled a few notes on his pad. An investigation—this would be a change of pace for him. Usually there was no real mystery in any of his “cases”—although tracking down the perpetrator who had cut the lines on half of Billy Vane’s lobster pots had taken a couple of days.
“All right, I’ll see what I can find out. If I don’t get anywhere in the next couple of days, I might have to call on Harbortown.”
Luke took the “keeping the peace” part of his job seriously, and to him, that meant resolving conflicts without resorting to referring culprits to the Harbortown Police Department for charges. His biggest challenge so far had been convincing his father not to file charges against Petey Barnstable, who had broken into the hotel’s wine cellar.
“Please don’t do that,” said Judy. “I’m under strict instructions to keep this out of the news at all costs.”
Luke’s jaw muscles tightened the way they always did when his father tried to control everything, especially him. “I get it. But if she’s in danger, I’ll need help in the search.”
She could be lost in the woods, although the untouched forested area of the island was only about four square miles. She could have climbed down on the rocks somewhere and slipped, or gotten stuck. The island had miles of coastline, much of it inaccessible except by boat.
He’d take his boat out this afternoon and do a circuit. Maybe Marigold could help, if he could tear her away from dress designs.
After he ended the call, he opened the front door so he could take off the “come around back” sign. A gust of lilac-scented air danced into the office. Two lush lilac bushes grew on either side of the entrance. They were desperately in need of pruning, but Sammy Barnes, who took care of the mowing and so forth, had his hands full this time of year. Besides, Luke didn’t mind the lilacs. They were better than room fresheners when it came to purifying the air in the lockup. That cot had seen too many drunk folks to ever smell right again.
He tilted his head back and inhaled the enchanting fragrance of the lush blooms. Sunshine on his face, salt in the breeze, plans to take Izzy out for ice cream later…a guy couldn’t complain, even though Judy’s call had brought him right back to his painful long-running conflict with his father. Fighting with a granite cliff would be easier.
The jingle of a bell made him snap back to attention. A banana-seat bicycle—vintage cruiser style, but not in the cute retro way, just the rusty way—lurched to a stop before him. It looked like it belonged to a ten-year-old, but the rider was a full-grown woman. Did she look vaguely familiar? Maybe, but he searched his mind and couldn’t place her. Her eyes were a bright hazel, her hair in a ponytail under a flamingo-pink helmet, her flushed face nearly matching it.
“Constable Carmichael?” she asked, sounding quite formal.
He stood at attention and gave a salute, then swept into a deep bow. Hell, he had to keep this job interesting one way or the other. “That’s me, here to protect and serve.”
Her eyebrows lifted and laughter flashed in her eyes. “I feel safer already.”
“Glad that’s settled, because I’m on my way out, actually. Got a big case to investigate.”
He knew her. Somehow he did. She wore cutoff shorts and a hoodie unzipped over a red shirt that barely reached her waistband. A sliver of flesh was visible between shirt and shorts, though he tried not to notice it.
“This is urgent.” The merriment disappeared from her face. “My friend is missing. We were texting just like normal, and then she just stopped answering and that’s very much not normal for her.”
A lead. Just like that. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll take your statement.”
Now he was the one sounding formal and professional. This was starting to feel like a real case, maybe that was why. The missing girl’s friend wouldn’t have come all the way out here if she didn’t believe something was wrong.
She propped her bike under the lilac bush, against the wall of the station.
