Dead Days of Summer Read online

  Annie welcomed the lights of the marina. It was a relief to be free of the pressing weight of darkness on the tree-shrouded road. There were only three cars in the lot, so she was able to park next to the path to the boardwalk. She grabbed the cell phone, flung herself out of the car, broke into a jog. Everything was suddenly familiar and reassuring, the cheery splashes of light from yachts in the harbor, the crackle of oyster shells underfoot, a distant strain of music, the scent of a cigar from a solitary stroller on the pier, the slap of water on the pilings. She’d check Max’s computer, find out who’d hired him. There would be a paper file, too. Although she often chided Max for appearing slothful, actually he was orderly and precise. It was more that he rarely was called upon to exercise those talents. She’d find something to reassure her, convince her that Max’s silence was necessary, understandable. Who knew? Maybe he’d tried to call and he’d been in one of those pockets on the island where cells didn’t function. She slowed for an instant. Why hadn’t she thought about that possibility earlier? She felt buoyed by hope. Everything was going to be all right.

  Annie’s shoes clattered on the boardwalk. The shops faced the marina in a crescent. Death on Demand was the first unit. Annie was almost to the door of Max’s office when she saw a flash of light. It was a single quick bright gleam but she knew it came from Confidential Commissions.

  She broke into a pulse-pounding run. Max, oh, Max…No light glimmered when she skidded to a stop at the door to Confidential Commissions. All was darkness beyond the plate glass. She grabbed the knob. Locked. She fumbled in her pocket for her keys, pulled them out, flicked through to Max’s office key. She poked the key in the lock, turned, flung open the door. It banged against the wall.

  “Max?” Annie looked into darkness. Though she couldn’t now see the contents of the room, she knew the outer office of Confidential Commissions, white wicker chairs with sea green cushions, a sisal mat on the heart-pine floor. During winter downtime, Barb had insisted on repainting the walls aquamarine and replacing the Modigliani prints with seascape watercolors in white frames. Barb’s white-pine desk was perhaps twenty feet ahead. Filing cabinets stood against the wall behind her desk. A door led to a storeroom-cum-kitchen where Barb enjoyed creating delectable treats when business was slow, as business often was.

  Max’s office door was to the left, midway between the front door and Barb’s desk.

  Annie stared with such intensity her eyes ached. Her ears thrummed. It was as if she stood beneath a huge breaker, knowing tons of water would crash down, envelop her. The darkness felt malignant, menacing. A sound broke the silence. Was it the whispery shuffle of a footstep?

  Framed in the doorway, she knew she was silhouetted in the faint wash of light from the marina. The glow behind her emphasized the utter lack of light she faced. It took every ounce of her will to move forward. She reached for the light switches on the wall to her left.

  The silence exploded in a rush of footsteps. A momentary stab of light near Barb’s desk illuminated the floor. A dark form plunged toward the storeroom door.

  Annie’s hand swept across the wall. Damn, the switches were here. Or here…Light flooded the anteroom as the door to the storeroom slammed shut.

  Throat tight, heart thudding, Annie raced across the room. She twisted the doorknob even as her mind warned: Danger, danger, danger. The door was locked. She didn’t have interior keys. Whirling, Annie ran back through the anteroom and the open front door to the boardwalk. She heard a car engine. She pelted to the end of the boardwalk and down the wooden steps. As she reached the alleyway, red taillights disappeared around a stand of pines.

  She turned, heading toward her car, then slowed, catching her breath. It was too late. The car was long gone and could turn a half dozen ways. Moreover, she didn’t have a description of the car or the driver. She had a vague sense from the taillights that it was a sedan. More than that, she couldn’t say. All she knew with certainty was that danger had been near when she and a faceless, formless figure stood in darkness. Despite the heat of the August night, she felt cold and clammy.

  Once again she ran, heart pounding, lungs aching, legs straining.

  Billy Cameron, acting chief of police, frowned as the telephone shrilled. He glanced at the clock. Midnight. No good news comes during the midnight hour. He grabbed the phone, answering on the extension out in the garage. He held a paintbrush in one hand. He was almost finished with the toy chest he was making for Lily’s birthday, pink with blue forget-me-nots. Lily was almost two and Billy still considered her the miracle of his life. That’s how they all felt about the tiny little girl who’d come as a late-life surprise to Mavis, and an adored little sister to Kevin. Billy hoped he’d caught the phone before it woke Mavis. As he listened to the high, frightened voice of Annie Darling, he waited for the kitchen door to open.

  Billy tried to sort out Annie’s breathless report. Billy wasn’t sure what had Annie so riled up, somebody sneaking around Max’s office or Max’s failure to call her, but he knew her well enough to decide without further consideration that she needed him at Confidential Commissions. Pronto.

  He cut her off. “Got it. On my way. Stay there.” He hung up. He was a big man, but he could move quickly. There was no time to change from his T-shirt and paint-spattered jeans to his uniform, but he retrieved his gun from the locked safe. He snapped the holster to his belt next to his beeper. On his way out, he scrawled a message on the chalkboard by the phone in the kitchen. There was no one stirring in the house. Mavis and Kevin and Lily were still asleep. Billy grabbed his cell and was out the back door and into the patrol car in three minutes. Four minutes and forty seconds later, he strode toward Confidential Commissions, one hand resting on his holster, heavy-duty flashlight in the other. Light spilled from the open front door, glaringly noticeable in contrast to the darkened windows in the rest of the shops.

  He frowned as he stepped inside. The anteroom was empty. “Annie?”

  “In here, Billy.” Her voice was high and strained.

  Billy Cameron stopped in the doorway to Max’s office. Desk drawers gaped open. The computer monitor glowed green. Annie clicked the mouse; the monitor emitted electronic burbles and the screen darkened. Annie pushed up from Max’s big red chair, gazed frantically around the office. “I can’t find a file anywhere. There should be a file.”

  Billy swallowed hard. When he’d first met Mavis, she’d been a battered wife, escaping with her toddler son. Mavis had looked like that, her eyes like dark pits, her face tight and fearful. “Hey, Annie. What’s going on?”

  Annie clasped her hands. “Max got a case late this afternoon.” Her voice was jagged and uneven. “He called and said he couldn’t tell me what he was doing or when he’d be home, but he’d be late. I haven’t heard a word since then. Something’s happened to him—”

  Billy felt the tightness in his chest ease. He maintained his stolid expression, a look that had served him well over the years. It didn’t do for a cop to signal his assessment of a situation. As far as he was concerned, a good cop took it all in, didn’t let anything out. He would have thought Annie Darling had a better handle on reality than to go to pieces because her husband got busy and didn’t give her a call or maybe had car trouble. He hoped she and Max weren’t having trouble. He would have thought they had a great marriage, but only the people inside a house know the truth about that marriage.

  Annie glared at him. “Listen to me, Billy. You think I’m being silly. I’m not. He’d know I’d be worried if it got late—” She choked back a sob. “So he would have called me. Something’s happened to him and—”

  Billy nodded slowly. Something had happened. Best-case scenario: Lost his cell phone. Ran out of gas. Had a wreck, pinned in his car. Worst case: He met a gal and…Billy hoped not. He liked Annie and he liked Max.

  “—now I know it’s something bad.” She shivered. “I came to try and find out where he might be tonight and there was somebody here and they ran away.”


  Billy rubbed a sticky hand against his jeans. He needed some turpentine. “Okay.” This was more like it. Breaking and entering he could deal with. Maybe Max had gotten involved in something dangerous. Broward’s Rock was an idyllic sea island, but there were drug deals and drunks and fights. “What happened?” Billy reached for his notepad, shook his head. He’d left the house without a notebook or pen. He pointed toward the desk. “Can I borrow some paper, a pen?”

  Annie found some index cards, brought the cards and a pen to him. She talked, fast.

  Billy listened, making notes. When Annie concluded, he pointed at the desk, the open drawers. “This the way you found it?”

  Annie looked startled. “No. I was trying to find the file.”

  Billy frowned. “What file?”

  Annie dragged fingers impatiently through sun-streaked hair. “When he gets a new case, he always makes a file. Name, address, phone and cell numbers, e-mail address of the client, objective, relevant information, contacts, fee. I’ve checked the computer and the filing cabinet and his desk. I didn’t find a thing about a new case. The only funny thing is a folder that was tucked beneath the desk pad.” She pointed to an orange folder on the desk. She took two quick steps, held it up. “Maybe it has something to do with the case. It’s a real estate circular about an old wreck of a house for sale near downtown. Some of the information is highlighted. There’s a name and number written on it.”

  Billy was glad to have something concrete but the circular didn’t tell him much. He knew the old Franklin place. It had been on the market for a long time. He had patrols keep a check on it. It was a fire hazard and the kind of place that might attract kids and they could get hurt playing inside it. He glanced at the sheet, saw the name, Darrough, and a phone number. He tucked the folder under his arm. Then he jerked his head toward the desk. “You made this mess?”

  Annie waved away the handful of letters she’d plucked from the out box. “Those are just bills and a letter to his sister, stuff like that. Nothing about a new case. Anyway, none of this matters. What matters is Max. We’ve got to find him. Can you call Lou? Maybe Mavis could take a car and look, too.”

  Ever since he became acting chief when Pete Garrett was called up for duty after 9/11, Billy had worked long hours. Billy had hired the island’s first woman officer, Hyla Harrison, when Joe Tyndall’s reserve unit was sent to Iraq. Now three did the work of four, alternating night duty. Lou Pirelli was at the station now. The station was the place to start. Billy slipped the real estate circular from the folder, folded it and tucked it along with the cards into his pocket. He punched automatic dial on his cell.

  “Police.” If Lou had slipped into a catnap, his voice gave no hint.

  “Yeah, Lou. Billy here. Had a break-in—” Billy’s eyes narrowed. Was it a break-in? “—or unidentified—” Again he hesitated. Annie had made the mess. “—person at Confidential Commissions, plus Max Darling’s out of pocket. You got any report of a car wreck, problems anywhere?” He knew the answer. His beeper would have buzzed if anything had broken the nighttime quiet of the island. Billy’s orders were strict. He wanted to know everything that happened on his island. That’s how he thought of Broward’s Rock, his island, and everybody on it his responsibility to protect.

  “Nada. Need me to come over?” Lou sounded eager. The cot in the break room at the station was comfortable enough, but Lou liked people and fun and excitement. He wasn’t a TV fan except for baseball, and his beloved Braves had played a day game.

  “You stick there. Check the hospital. Ditto on the mainland. Check the highway patrol for an accident involving—” He glanced toward Annie.

  She swallowed. Max had gotten a new car for his birthday. “Red Jaguar coupe. Plate number ConCom1.” He’d been pleased with his choice for the license plate.

  “—a red Jag coupe. Personalized tag: ConCom1. Beep me if any call comes in about anything out of the way.” Billy knew that didn’t make a lot of sense, but nothing about this night was making sense. He clicked off the cell.

  Annie was shaky but determined. She moved toward him. “I’m going out. I’ll look for him by myself.”

  Billy held up a big hand. “Hold up. Give me a chance to see what we’ve got here.”

  With Annie at his elbow, they checked the anteroom. Barb’s desk was clear, her computer covered, no disarray. The filing cabinets were closed and appeared not to have been touched.

  Billy rattled the knob to the storeroom. “I should have checked out the alleyway first. You stay here.”

  Annie didn’t. She was right behind him as he strode through the front door and down the steps to hustle into the alley, the big swath of light from his flash swinging to and fro. He swung the beam over the loading dock behind Confidential Commissions. The door stood open.

  “Billy, look.” She gestured toward the door and ran ahead to the stairs leading up to Confidential Commissions’ back entrance.

  He caught up with her and took the stairs two at time. The door was open to darkness within. He was inside, the light on by the time she joined him.

  The storeroom was in perfect order, the kitchenette sparkling clean and boxes of supplies in orderly rows on shelves. Billy dropped the beam to the grainy cement floor. The light stopped a few inches from the interior door, making a bright circle around a smudge of mud with a distinct mark. “Going in, probably.” He thought aloud. “Somebody came in with a muddy shoe, left that mark. I’ll get a picture, then take it up.” He clicked off the flashlight, hung it from his belt. He skirted the mud streak, studied the door into the anteroom. The lock was depressed in the knob. “I’ll check for prints before I open it. Now, I want to get things straight. Does Max check to be sure the back and front doors are locked before he leaves for the day?”

  Annie twined her fingers together. “I think so. I can’t imagine he wouldn’t. Billy, we don’t have time to waste. We’ve got to find Max.” She moved toward the back door, her eyes twin pools of misery in a bloodless face.

  He wished Mavis were here or another friend, someone to grab Annie’s hand, pull her close, try to give her comfort. And he wished Annie could understand that he was doing his best. There had been no sign of trouble anywhere on the island. No calls to the Broward’s Rock Police. Where was he supposed to look for Max? Here was the place to begin. Understand what had happened here and they would know where Max was. “This break-in—” Once again he felt like he’d slammed into a wall. So far as he could tell, there had been no break-in. “You opened the front door with a key?”

  “Oh my God, what difference does it make?” She was frantic with impatience. “Yes, I used my key.”

  He thought it through. No break-in at the front then. Frowning, he looked toward the back door, which still stood open. He moved toward it, muttering to himself. “Doesn’t look like there’s any damage here.”

  Annie burst past him without a word, clattered down the wooden stairs.

  Billy lifted a hand, called out, “Annie.” By the time he reached the railing on the back porch, she was at the end of the alley, turning the corner. Gone.

  Billy felt the hot rush of blood to his face. Where did she think she was going? What good would it do? He drew in an exasperated breath. He felt jumpy and uneasy. As far as he could see, Annie had overreacted big-time. Sure, Max hadn’t been in touch since he’d called her at the bookstore. Billy checked his watch. Twelve twenty-two. Yeah, it was late, but maybe Max thought Annie would have gone on to bed and he didn’t want to call and wake her up. It was probably going to turn out he’d had car trouble and his cell wouldn’t work. He wasn’t going to be happy about Annie racing around the island in the middle of the night hunting for him.

  Billy yanked his cell from his pocket. Lou answered on the first ring. “Get on the horn to Hyla. Tell her Max Darling’s unaccounted for, Annie’s beside herself and she’s driving around the island looking for him. I don’t know where she’s gone, but have Hyla make a circuit, keep her eyes open. You dig up an
ything?”

  “Nada.” Lou was regretful. “No wrecks. No fights. No calls. Quiet as a graveyard.”

  Quiet as a graveyard…Billy dropped the cell in his pocket, turned back to the storeroom of Confidential Commissions. Quiet as a graveyard here too. There was nothing to show anyone had been here except for that single smear of mud. And no proof it hadn’t been there awhile. Might turn out Max had made that track himself. In any event, he’d dust the interior knob for prints first thing in the morning. Hell, he’d dust all the knobs. He would attend to that smear of dirt. Just in case it meant anything. But for sure there was no evidence of a break-in. Which meant…

  He pulled out the index cards, wrote swiftly:

  Arrived Confidential Commissions 12:06 A.M. in response to call from Annie Darling at 12:01 A.M. She said she found front door locked, opened it with a key, surprised an intruder. She said someone turned on flashlight to find way out through the back. No description. Intruder could have been male or female. Exited through storeroom door. Mrs. Darling gave chase. Storeroom door locked. Subsequent investigation in alley behind the office revealed loading-dock door open. No evidence of break-in.