Page 91 of Deadline

“It hasn’t been digitally enhanced yet,” Tucker argued. “I’m not going to accept with one-hundred-percent certainty that Wesson is alive until—”

“He whacks Amelia like he did her nanny?” Dawson said.

“Why are you so eager for me to buy into this? So I won’t arrest you?”

Deputy Wills stepped in. “Considering all the unexplained things that have happened to Ms. Nolan lately, plus the fingerprint, which I grant needs further analysis,” he said to his partner, “plus the fact that we never located Jeremy Wesson’s body, I think we should proceed as though he is alive.

“If we err on the side of caution, the worst that can happen is that we’ll look like a bunch of bozos for supposing even for a moment that a dead man killed Miss DeMarco. But the alternative, which is to ignore the possibility, comes with considerably more risks to Ms. Nolan and her children.”

Even Tucker agreed that taking safety precautions was warranted.

Headly submitted a plan. “Actually this house is as easy to guard as any. This is the tip of the island. On an open stretch of beach there aren’t that many good hiding places. Jeremy can’t get here by water—either the sound or the ocean—that we won’t see. He can’t drive on without coming over on the ferry.”

“And he can’t walk on water, even though he can rise from the dead.” Wills’s joke eased lingering tension, but his statement was a further indication that he believed their quarry was Jeremy Wesson, alive and well.

Before they dispersed, Tucker got in one last potshot. He said to Dawson, “If I need you, do I look for you here first?”

The question and its embarrassing implication toward Amelia caused everyone else to go still and silent. Dawson saw red and wanted to knock the deputy on his fat ass. But Headly, sensing his fury, clamped a hand on his forearm and said blandly, “If you need to locate Dawson, you can always go through me.”

Everyone left except for the deputies who were to guard the house. Personnel from the sheriff’s office in Savannah were dispatched to pick up Hunter and Grant and bring them to the island. Amelia requested that the Metcalfs be allowed to accompany them. “They’ll be afraid of strangers.”

They were delivered about an hour later by two deputies, one a young woman. The Metcalfs were mild-mannered people, who seemed a bit overawed to find themselves in such a situation.

The boys knew no such restraint. After the two-day separation from their mother, they were excited to see her, talking over each other to gain her attention. Dawson stood back and watched as she hugged them tightly, kissing their faces when they let her, running her hands over them as though to reassure herself that they were well and safe.

The kids’ joy over finding Dawson there was almost as exuberant. Amelia introduced him to the Metcalfs by name only. They probably took him for a plainclothes policeman assigned to guard the family. In any case, they hadn’t questioned his staying behind when they and the two deputies left.

The boys then conducted him on a tour of the house that included everything from their Playstation to the empty bowl where their goldfish had met his demise at the beginning of the summer.

The tour concluded in their bedroom, where Amelia announced that it was time for bed. They put up an argument. A compromise was reached only after Dawson agreed to read them their bedtime story.

That had been nearly an hour ago. It had taken him that long to get them settled. Now as he entered the kitchen, he said to Amelia, “Ah, alone at last.”

Her smile was grim. “Except for all the guards outside.”

“A necessary evil.”

“The boys finally went to sleep?”

“Took two stories.”

“Thanks for doing that.”

“My pleasure.”

“Did they ask why Stef isn’t here?”

“Grant mentioned her in passing, but nothing more was said.”

“I’m surprised they’re not more curious.”

“They’re kids.” He shrugged philosophically. “To them, two days is a long time. They’ve been distracted.”

“By you being here.”

“I filled a gap.”

“And then some.”