“Chief,” Conner spoke up, “we—”
The mayor held up a hand. “Conner, we’ll talk later. Right now, Ms. Newton has to go.”
Conner looked from the chief to the rest, eyeing each in turn before doing an about-face and walking out.
In the corridor Sarah stopped him. “You should stay. I can walk to the inn. It’s not that far.”
He glanced back at the door.
“You need to be in there,” she urged. She wanted to yell,Don’t be stupid! Get the story. Fill me in later.But she said none of that.
“You didn’t wear a coat.”
More of that whole protective-guy syndrome. “I’ll be fine.” She backed away a couple of steps. “Go before you miss something.”
He dug into his pocket and snagged his key fob. “Take my Jeep.”
She shook her head. No more allowing him to do that thing he was doing right now. She was a big girl. She didn’t need some guy taking care of her. “Call me later.”
“You want my coat?” he called after her.
Sarah didn’t turn around.
This was way too intense.
She just kept going.
Outside, she didn’t acknowledge the deputy on guard duty. He’d likely already gotten word not to let her back into the building and was feeling an ego rush at the idea that he’d been right to question her arrival.
Taking the same route she and Conner had used, she avoided the crowd of reporters in front of the Public Safety Office. She took a moment to get her bearings. Back to Main Street and then left. Follow it directly to the inn. She should have brought her car.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
Taking off without her coat was even dumber.
Determined not to be cornered by roving reporters or any damned body else, she strolled down to the harbor and stuck with the small back streets and parking lots. If she stayed on that path, she would avoid the traffic on Main as well.
The docked schooners groaned, shifting with the gentle undulation of the water. Seagulls chatted in their high-pitched language, floated down close to the water and then soared up and away. The wind bit her skin through the sweatshirt. She pulled up her hood but it didn’t help much. Since her trip to the chapel the morning of her arrival,her Converses hadn’t really dried out. Her new gloves were in her coat pocket—back in her room.
It was cold, damned cold.
Her cell phone vibrated once to let her know she had a voicemail. She checked the screen. Her shrink. Three missed calls from her already. Sarah hadn’t called her back as ordered. The doc wouldn’t be happy.
Definitely not in the mood for that.
“I told you the cops couldn’t catch the devil.”
Sarah spun toward the voice.
Matilda Calder leaned against the rock wall of the public restrooms, a half-smoked cigarette tucked between two fingers.
“You did.” Sarah walked toward her. “You heard about Alicia, I guess.”
The girl took a deep drag from her cigarette. Sarah watched with more interest than she cared to admit, even to herself.
“She was dead even before she disappeared.”
“Why do you say that?” Sarah waited while Matilda blew out a lungful of smoke.
