Hidden In The Everglades. Margaret Daley
camouflage pants and shirt, boots and a ball cap, pulled down low on his forehead. He was about six feet, slender build. That’s all I got. Sorry.” As a police officer for twelve years before founding Guardians, Inc., she knew the importance of a detailed and correct description of an assailant.
“It’s better than a lot I’ve gotten. Did you see the man kill either victim back at the Pattersons’?”
She shook her head. “I did see him shoot at a girl who fled the scene. I don’t think he hit her. I thought he might be going after her so I took off after him.”
“What’s the girl look like?”
“Sixteen, maybe seventeen. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Black hair.”
“Do you think the killer had her in the boat?”
Kyra shook her head. “Not from what I saw. Is the guy in the bedroom still alive?”
“No, he didn’t have a chance.”
“I didn’t think he would even with immediate medical help. I’ve seen nasty gunshot wounds like he had, and they usually don’t end well.” Remembering the young man on the tile floor by the sliding glass door only reinforced why she left the police force. Six years ago she’d seen too much death and had needed to do something different. She’d still wanted to help make this world a safer place, but she couldn’t continue investigating one murder after another. The Lord had something else in mind for her. Guardians, Inc. gave her the sense she was helping others without being personally involved in so much death.
Gabe began walking back toward the crime scene. “That’s what I thought, but we called the local doctor who lives down the street to help. The victim died before Dr. Hunt could do anything.”
“Michael Hunt, Ginny’s little brother?”
“Yep, he’s all grown up and has returned to Flamingo Cay to run the medical clinic. We’ve needed another doctor in town for quite some time.”
The Michael Hunt she remembered used to follow her and Ginny, her best friend in high school, around generally making life difficult for them. She’d known from Ginny her little brother had gone on to be a doctor, but she hadn’t seen him in years. The last time she’d heard about him, he’d been practicing in Chicago, so she hadn’t thought she would see him in Flamingo Cay.
“Michael came back about four months ago.”
As they neared the edge of the swamp, Kyra’s tension returned, gripping her neck and fanning out along her shoulders. “I thought you were retiring.”
“This is my last year.”
She tilted her head. “Promise? When I was home for Dad’s funeral, didn’t you say that to me? I thought you meant it that time.”
“Two years ago there wasn’t anyone I felt could take over for me, but Wilson is a good man. He should do fine when I retire.”
Kyra emerged from the heavy foliage that marked the beginning of the swamp that made up the Everglades. Flamingo Cay, not too far from Naples, was between the Glades and the Gulf of Mexico with its many islands off Florida’s western coast.
She caught sight of a large man over six feet tall carrying a black bag, standing on the side deck off the bedroom talking to an officer. At that moment Michael glanced over his shoulder at her. For a few seconds their gazes linked across the yard. Then recognition dawned on his face, and he smiled at her, two dimples appearing and bringing back more memories of her childhood. Even as a kid he’d had a great smile—one that drew people to him.
“Tell me what happened here.” Gabe paused in the side yard, returning her attention to the problem at hand.
Kyra reluctantly wrenched her look from Michael Hunt. “I was out on the beach after my aunt left to go walk with a friend at the track. I’d taken my towel and beach bag out there to just enjoy the sunrise and read and relax. Before I had a chance, I heard muffled gunshots. A young man stumbled out onto the beach from the Pattersons’ backyard, collapsed and mumbled something about helping them, then died. I knew someone else was in trouble. I had my gun, so I called 911 and went to see if I could help.”
“You might not be a detective anymore, but it’s hard to get it out of your system.”
“Instinct. I was a cop for a lot of years.”
“Can you tell me anything else about the girl besides age and hair color?”
“She’s pale, not much of a tan, with heavily made-up eyes in black. The color of them, though, was blue. When she glanced up at me, she looked so scared. But she kept going, which saved her life. The killer got off a shot, but she disappeared down the deck steps. I didn’t see which way she went because I was focused on the assailant in the hallway. He never came into the room. He might have sensed me there. Maybe he saw a reflection in the sliding glass door. I don’t know. I checked the rooms down the hallway, and that’s when I found the other victim. Then I saw the killer running toward the swamp. I felt I had to go after him in case he was pursuing the girl.”
Gabe rubbed his chin. “Hmm. The teenage girl could be Amy, Michael’s younger sister.”
“The one Ginny was raising until she went to the Philippines as a missionary?” Her childhood friend’s little sister? If anything had happened to the girl, she would have been at a loss how to tell Ginny.
“Yup. Amy said she would run away before she’d go to the Philippines. She wanted to finish high school this coming year in Flamingo Cay. Michael agreed to come home and take care of her.”
Kyra slanted her glance toward Michael striding toward them. His medium-length black hair lay at odd angles as though he’d run his hand through it multiple times. Even from a distance his blue eyes, so much like the teenage girl’s when Kyra thought about it, lured her in. Compelling. Captivating. Even better than his smile. She dragged her attention away from his gaze, fastening it onto the cleft in his chin, then his full lips, which were tugged in a look of concern.
Gabe greeted Michael with a handshake. “Thanks for coming.”
“I was too late. I don’t think there was anything I could have done, though.” Michael’s look shifted to her. “Kyra Morgan?”
She nodded. “It’s been a long time.”
“Sixteen years. I think the last time I saw you was the summer right before I went to college. It’s good to see you.” He held out his hand to her.
She fit hers in his clasp, and his large fingers surrounded hers. The connection, warm, full of strength, further surprised her. “How’s Ginny doing? I haven’t heard from her since she went to the Philippines.”
“Getting settled in.” A smile leaked through the tired lines about his eyes and mouth, and he wiped moisture off his brow. “I forgot how bad the humidity could get here, especially in the summer. It takes some getting used to.”
“I know. I had planned on spending a lot of time in the water to counter that.”
Gabe cleared his throat. “I hate to break up this little reunion, but Michael, where is Amy?”
“At home. Why?”
Gabe fully faced Michael. “She may have been involved with what went down here.”
Michael’s tanned features paled. “No, that’s not possible. Amy wouldn’t hurt anyone. She won’t even eat meat because animals are being killed to provide it.”
“I saw a teenage girl fleeing from the house. She had blood on her hands and shirt.”
Michael shook his head. “Not Amy.”
Gabe pointed toward the house. “The person dead on the beach is Preston Stevens. Hasn’t Amy been seeing him?”
“Not lately. She promised me.” Panic seized Michael’s cobalt-blue eyes.
“I