Page 35

The ice cream shop and inn are thirty minutes from East Hampton, on Hampton Beach, basically the midway point between North and South Hampton. Somehow it’s already lunchtime but speed is critical when it comes to finding Elsa and I ignore my growling belly and head straight to the inn; a cute beachy spot, with the doors open, compliments of a beautiful day, the waves crashing nearby. A massive stone fireplace burns brightly and rather hotly, and there are lots of hotel-ish furnishings and a wood framed front desk.

I greet the attendant, a pretty Asian woman about my age wearing a badge that reads “Vivian” and then slide my FBI identification in front of her.

She glances at it and then me, her eyes brightening with recognition. “I saw you on TV.”

“Yes, yes you did. I held a press conference on the Mark Walker murder.”

“That’s horrible what happened. My boss was telling me that Mark and his family came here every winter for a decade.”

Bingo. Maybe? “Have they been in recently?”

“No. In fact Anna, that’s my boss, said she was shocked to hear Mark lived here.”

No bingo on this card. “I’m looking for his sister. We’re worried about her. She’s lost Mark, and both of her parent’s fairly recently.”

“Oh my. How tragic. I don’t remember her by name.”

I pull up the photo of Elsa on my phone and slide it in front of Vivian. “This is her.”

“Hmmmm. She’s pretty. That red hair is glorious. I’d remember her.” She shakes her head. “She hasn’t been in, not when I was on duty which has been often.” She keys into her computer. “Let me check our recent check-ins.”

We talk through her list, and it’s a dead end, it seems. “She might not have red hair right now,” I push gently.

“I still think I’d recognize her. I’d certainly know the name.”

“Is Anna here? Maybe she can help?”

“No. She actually left for vacation a few days ago. Her mom’s in a nursing home in Westbury and she’s moving her to a place a little closer. I guess that doesn’t seem like much of a vacation.” She waves away the comment with her hand. “She called me to check in and that is when she told me about Mark.”

“That makes sense.” I pass my card to her. “Can you have her call me? And can you call me if you see Elsa?”

“Yes. I’d be happy to.”

“Just don’t tell her you recognize her or that you’re calling me. We’re very concerned she might need some sort of help and I don’t want to spook her.”

She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Is someone trying to kill her, too?”

“It’s better safe than sorry.”

We chat a bit more and when I depart, I’m feeling good about her calling me should she see Elsa, but Elsa knows we are looking for her. She’ll alter her appearance, not as well as Ghost, but she’ll make changes.

I exit the front door as Kit pushes off the wall and falls into step with me. Clearly he’s the only person Kane trusts with me up against Ghost, as I suggested yet again that Jay trade places with him and got declined.

“What’s next?” he asks.

“Food. Let’s hit the sandwich joint across from the ice cream shop, and we can just hang out a bit and see if she materializes. If not, we’ll divide up and hit the cluster of shopping surrounding us and show her photo to people.

A few minutes later, Kit has a giant meatball sub and I have Avocado toast which is extra healthy because I’m not saying no to ice cream. And I like Avocado toast. It’s a win, win. We eat in silence, both intensely studying our surroundings, the lack of words a non-issue. We talked on the ride to the beach when I asked him if he too had seen the brutality of Kane’s father and he said simply, “Yes,” and offered nothing more.

Kit and Jay are night and day. Jay spits out words like he’s handing out money everyone wants. Kit chokes on the very idea of the very same words.

We finish eating, sit a while, and when I would leave our table behind and head across the way to the ice cream shop, Kit objects. “You pissed her off. She’s emotional. She’s a sniper. Going to Elsa’s favorite ice cream shop might send her over the edge. I’ll get you ice cream.”

I hate that he’s right. “Fine. I’ll look at the flavors online real quick. And I want hot fudge no matter what.” After a quick scan I pick pistachio peach and pistachio chocolate.

Kit exits the restaurant and I watch him enter the ice cream shop, keeping my attention keenly aware. A woman with dark hair draping her face walks out of the ice cream shop that I don’t remember seeing go in, but it might have been when I was distracted by Kit leaving the sandwich joint.

The woman sits at a table with her back to me, enjoying the warmer weather, and then to my shock immediately after, Kit exits, no ice cream in hand, and to my surprise he sits down with the woman.

Elsa.

It has to be Elsa.

I push to my feet, and head for the door, thankful for the flats I keep in my bag and changed into on the way over here. My hand slips under my jack and settles on my weapon. I exit the restaurant and find Kit walking toward me. The woman remains at her table and makes no effort to run or escape.

“She’s an old friend of Elsa’s,” he explains. “Nothing overly helpful. Let’s go inside. I don’t want you in the open.”

Disappointment stabs at me, but the ice cream in my future helps. We have to take a number and wait our turn. We sit at a corner table, out of the earshot of the rest of the visitors. “I heard Luna,” Kit explains, “that’s the woman I sat down with, talking to the owner of the shop about Elsa. The owner doesn’t know her, but Luna told her all about going to school with her.”

“And?

“She hasn’t seen her in years. I don’t think Elsa would risk coming to a place where everyone knows her.”

It’s not an unfamiliar thought. I’ve had it myself and I agree with it, at least for the most part—but—and it’s a big but—Elsa also just lost her brother. Comfort is a human need and the familiar filled with memories can be just that. No sooner do I have the thought, than a woman walks in the door, a beanie covering her hair with what I think is a bad black wig underneath.

Her eyes rocket to mine and I know without question this is Elsa. As if proving my point, she turns and exits the ice cream shop. I’m on my feet and behind her in a blink, and with luck on my side, an old lady trips up Elsa. My luck ends when Elsa grabs the yelping woman and turns her toward me.

I grab her arms to move her but the woman yells out, “Help!” and then smashes her ice cream sundae, a rather big one, in my face. Cold sticky sundae mess consumes me and I’m blinded by hot fudge and whipped cream and it’s my turn to turn with the woman to get her out of my path.

Kit curses as I plant her against him, and then grab a stack of napkins, as I run fairly blindly, toward a cluster of shops, a worthless endeavor. Elsa is gone and I halt, aware that most of these shores will have a backdoor for parking and trash. I dial Tic Tac who answers on the first ring. “Any news?” he asks.

“We found her and lost her. Have Chief Taylor get a team canvassing the area though I don’t think they’ll find her. We won’t see her again until she wants us, too. And give Taylor my number and tell him to text me his. I’m going home to change and then coming to you next.”

“Change why?”

“I got a little ice cream all over me.” I don’t elaborate. I disconnect.

At this point, Kit is by my side, and he gives a grunt. “That went like shit. We looked like fools on some sort of hidden camera show.”

He’s not wrong and I lick chocolate from my lip. “The hot fudge is damn good. We owe the old lady ice cream for life. Let’s go make that happen and get some for us for the road.”

“I’m not going to argue. I either need a shot or ice cream. Hanging out with you is stressful as fuck, Lilah.”

“Oh stop being a whiny baby. You’re getting ice cream.”

This is over. At least, for now.

Not much later the old lady has her ice cream for a year for free, and the security guard has a pint to take home. But as I enjoy my pistachio with immense pleasure, Kit’s words play in my head. Going to Elsa’s favorite ice cream shop might send her over the edge . I mean maybe. I could get very personal and protective over this ice cream.