Cape Refuge Series 2 in 1: Cape Refge And Southern Storm by Terri Blackstock Read Free Book Online Page B

his eyes just yet, and fragile laughter still rose from that open mouth. His hands were poised as if to clap. He loved to clap.
    She closed the wallet and buried it deep beneath her few belongings. She would go back for him soon enough, and then things would change. The bus engine changed its pitch, and she looked out the window again and saw the station up ahead. It was the end of the line, as far east as Greyhound would take her. Savannah, Georgia. Judging from the map on the wall in the Greyhound station, the Atlantic Ocean was just a few miles east from here. Then she would have to decide whether to stay put or go north or south. West was simply too treacherous.
    The man next to her grunted awake and turned his smelly mouth away from her. He got out of his seat and she followed, standing in the aisle waiting to get off. Through the window she could see people milling around just outside the station waiting for loved ones . . . or not-so-loved ones. She felt alone and cold, but she straightened her shoulders, pulled her bag over her shoulder, and cradled that arm against her stomach.
    The passengers began to file off one by one, and as she stepped down onto the hot pavement, she looked around helplessly.
    “Hey, baby. Need a ride?”
    She turned and saw a scruffy man with dreadlocks, a scraggly beard, and a lusty, amused look in his eyes. She knew that look, and she’d been around enough to know that he was not her answer.
    “No,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’ve got it under control.”
    “’Cause I can fix you up real nice,” the man said, “give you a place to stay, even some money. And if you use—”
    “I don’t use,” she snapped back, “and I don’t need a place to stay, and I don’t need a ride.”
    She started to go inside but realized that was where Jack had been waiting in the St. Louis station. This time she turned and took off across the street. When she was half a block away, she glanced back over her shoulder. No one had followed her, thankfully, but she wasn’t dumb enough to take that for granted. Walking fast, as if she knew exactly where she was headed, she made her way into downtown Savannah.

CHAPTER 8
    C ade pulled the squad car into the parking lot in front of the police station, still running murder scenarios through his brain. Someone had thought it through. They had deliberately used a weapon that wouldn’t make noise, so they wouldn’t draw attention from the people at Crickets or on the dock.
    Did that ruin the theory that Jonathan could have lost his temper and acted out of rage?
    For the life of him, Cade couldn’t conceive of Jonathan deciding to kill them, plotting the murders, taking out his speargun, going back to the warehouse, and looking them in the eye. . . .
    He had known Jonathan too long. It wasn’t like him.
    But what if he had had the gun in his car for some reason and in his anger had grabbed it and reacted?
    It was a brutal way to die. The spear could kill a large fish at a range of twenty-four feet. When they’d hunted off the Florida Keys, Jonathan had caught a forty-seven-pound amberjack with that gun. At closer range, the point could easily kill a human. But would Jonathan do such a thing? Maybe he would scream and yell, maybe even shove Wayne. But raise a speargun to their throats and fire?
    No way.
    Still, he couldn’t base his actions as police chief on gut feelings or on the years of history between him and Jonathan. He had to be objective. And objectively, he knew that the evidence pointed to Jonathan.
    “This is just a formality, right?” Jonathan asked from the backseat. “You just want everybody to know you’re a big man doing your job, right? You really don’t mean to parade me in there in handcuffs and lock me behind bars.”
    Cade looked over the seat. “Jonathan, what am I supposed to do? It was your gun. There are two people dead on this island. I have no choice.”
    He slammed out of the car. But before he opened the door to get