She slipped out of her flip-flops now and let the sand rise up between her toes, knowing it was not the right time to be thinking about her brother. She simply had too much to do.
Instead she watched the gentle waves lap the shore and the lovely, smallPied Piperas it entered the harbor, ferrying visitors to Edgartown from Falmouth on Cape Cod. The Inn had a coveted strip of beachfront that stretched over four hundred feet in each direction—Earl said they should tell their “fitness-fervent guests” that, from one end to the other, a mere three and a quarter round-trips equaled a mile. Annie hadn’t checked his math, but assumed that he was right or, as he often boasted, he was “close enough.”
Heading south, she began to pace the first four hundred feet, hoping the activity would recharge her brain. She wondered if she should open the blog with an amusing anecdote that her choice of writing murder mysteries had absolutely no connection to having taught third grade for over fifteen years. At her appearances, that tended to bring hearty laughs. She wasn’t sure if it would have the same effect in print or if it would be creepy.
The truth was, Annie had no concrete idea why she’d landed firmly on mysteries. She supposed it was because, having been raised as an only child, she’d always loved to read. Agatha Christie—the woman whose 3-D head likeness graced Annie’s bookshelf—had been a favorite. But so had Joan Collins and her steamy romances. And Maeve Binchy and her small-town, friends-and-family dramas. However, for the blog, she supposed she should stick to the Christie vein—she could include a photo of the sculpture and add a short comment about her best friend who’d wanted Annie to be inspired by it.
“Whenever I see you out walking alone,” a voice interrupted her thoughts, “I’m not sure if you’re getting fresh air or if you’re working in your head.”
Annie bit her lip. Then she turned and looked up at John, who was standing on the grassy dunes. “A little of each today,” she said.
“Want some company?”
“Sure.”
As he jumped down to the beach, Annie noticed he was wearing cargo shorts and a T-shirt, not exactly a detective sergeant’s outfit.
“You’re not on duty?”
He shook his head and caught up to her. “Not right now. I worked midnight to noon. I switched with Dan when Abigail texted to warn me that Jenn was with her. I didn’t want to be in my house all night with . . .her. . . there.”
“Oh.” What else should Annie say? That seeing Jenn must have been a nice surprise?
Snarky, snarky,Murphy would have whispered though when John was around, she typically gave them privacy.
“I’m sorry about last night,” John continued. “I didn’t expect to run into you at The Wharf.”
Annie nodded and resumed walking; he fell into step beside her.
“I didn’t know what to say,” he added. “I thought it would upset you. That I was there with . . . her.”
“It did,” she replied. “But only because I wasn’t prepared. And because you didn’t say hello. It felt as if you thought you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing.”
“I know. That was pretty stupid.”
She didn’t feel a need to say she agreed.
“Jenn wanted to talk about Abigail. To tell me about some stuff she’s been doing. Like smoking. Cigarettes, you know? Who the heck in their right mind starts smoking cigarettes these days?”
Annie nodded.
“You’d never know it, but she’s a smart girl. Or at least she used to be.”
Because Annie did not really know the girl, she didn’t reply to that, either.
He stopped. He reached out and took her arm, so she stopped, too.
“I’m sorry, Annie. But everything happened so fast. I didn’t know what to do. When Abigail said her mother was coming with her and would stay overnight, I only had time to call Dan.” He huffed out a little air as if he’d run out of words. “I didn’t see the message ’til I was on my way to get her. I was going to wait to tell you until after Jenn left. As soon as I got off duty today, I changed my clothes, rustled her into the truck, and dropped her off at the one fifteen. Then I drove here.”
Annie pivoted in the sand until she faced him. She raised her hands, put them on his cheeks, and gave him a light kiss. “I believe you. It’s not as if you could have gotten away with me not knowing. Not on this island, anyway.”
He smiled. “Man, that’s the truth.”
“Can we have dinner tonight?”
A thin veil of apology crept across his face. “Sorry. I’m back on four-to-midnight.”
“I hate your job sometimes. Well, I hate the hours, anyway.”
