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He took a small spiral notebook from the pocket of his rain jacket. “Do you own a car with Georgia license plate number…” He flipped open the notebook and read out the characters of her license plate.
She confirmed that that was her car.
“Are you acquainted with a young woman named Stephanie Elaine DeMarco?”
“She’s my children’s nanny. Is something…Has she been involved in an accident?”
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry to have to tell you that Miss DeMarco was found dead this morning.”
Her knees gave way. Dawson and the uniformed deputy both reached for her, but Dawson got to her first. He supported her as he backed her into the nearest chair, where she sank down onto the seat. “Dead?” she wheezed. “Stef is dead?”
“My condolences, ma’am.”
Madly, she wondered if she was dreaming. Or if someone was playing a vicious practical joke. Or if a dreadful mistake had been made, a mix-up of identities, perhaps. It happened, not often, but she’d read about such instances. Anything was possible except that vibrant, healthy, funny Stef was dead. Her mind refused to accept it. “There must be some mistake.”
Tucker said, “A purse containing her identification was found on the passenger seat of your car. Her body was discovered just a few yards away.”
“Discovered by whom?” Dawson asked. “Where?”
“In the parking lot behind the café. Kid who works the kitchen at Mickey’s was taking out trash, noticed the car and wondered what it was doing there that time of morning. Then he saw the body behind the Dumpster. When my partner and I got to the island, we were told she worked for you. Your numbers were programmed into the cell phone found inside her purse. We’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I haven’t checked my pho
ne this morning, but the last time I did, I didn’t have service. I’ve been here since late last evening. I left Stef a note so she’d know where we were when she got home.” Her voice cracked with emotion and she stifled a sob.
Dawson took over the explanation. “Practically the whole island lost power last night. This house has an emergency generator. I invited Ms. Nolan and her two young sons to ride out the storm here.”
“You own this house?”
“I rented it for the Labor Day weekend.”
“Are you Dawson Scott?”
“That’s right.”
“Mickey mentioned you. Where’re you from, Mr. Scott?”
“Alexandria, Virginia.”
He moved to the table where his laptop sat and took a business card from the pocket of a brown leather messenger bag. He handed it to the deputy, who studied it thoroughly before placing it in his pocket. “Did you know the girl?”
“I met her a few days ago, along with Ms. Nolan’s family.”
At the sound of her name, Amelia raised her head and realized that she’d been following their conversation with only half an ear. Her mind was still trying to process the inconceivable. “You said Stef was ‘found dead’ near the car. Was she struck by lightning?”
Tucker divided a glance between her and Dawson, but addressed his answer to her. “We’re in the process of conducting a full investigation.”
“But you know what killed her, so why don’t you just tell us?”
It was clear that Dawson’s impertinence was an affront to Tucker, but Dawson stared him down until he relented. “She suffered a head wound. She might have been struck from behind by debris carried by the strong winds, but foul played hasn’t been ruled out.”
Amelia couldn’t speak at all, leaving Dawson to say the unthinkable out loud. “You mean she could have been murdered?”
“The ME will make a determination as to the manner of death.”
For several moments following that, no one said anything. Then Amelia asked, “Where is she now?”
“Miss DeMarco’s body is being transported to the morgue in Savannah.”
