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Death was always unsettling, even when it was expected. But violent, unexpected death? It had a horror, a grotesqueness that most humans simply couldn’t wrap their minds around. That’s because there was nothing logical or understandable about it.
He looked in the direction of Jocelyn Point, where two vulnerable women were hunkering down. Perhaps they were managing to get by together when they might have failed alone. At least he hoped so.
As Devine looked back out to the water he saw the lights of a boat that was very near the shore, and north of his position. He looked at his watch and wondered who it might be out there at this hour of the night.
He hopped into his SUV and drove toward where the boat seemed to be heading. He continually glanced out at the water to follow the vessel’s journey. And then the light vanished, which deepened his suspicions. He slowed the SUV, pulled over, and stopped. He slid his optics from his bag, got out, and looked through them over the vehicle’s roof. He swept the horizon for a glimpse of the vessel. But it was like the boat had disappeared into the night.
He got back in and was about to pull back on the road when a car passed him, going fast. He glanced quickly enough to see that it was Dr. Guillaume in a gray BMW sedan. He pulled in behind her and followed at a discreet distance. By now she had to have finished at Palmer’s place or squared things away at the funeral home before she did the post in the morning. She might be heading home, wherever that was. She had told him she lived here, but also kept a place in Augusta.
He lowered the window a crack because he was feeling warm and a little claustrophobic. The briny smell from the Atlantic flooded the interior and brought back memories of West Point and sailing on the brackish Hudson River.
Officially known as the United States Military Academy, West Point had been identified by George Washington as the most strategic location in the American Revolutionary War. Originally named Fort Clinton, it was the oldest continuously maintained military outpost in the country. It was on the west bank of the Hudson, hence the name. A branch of the U.S. Mint was located there. It was pretty safe, Devine thought, being on a military installation loaded with weapons and people who knew how to use them.
Four of the best years of his life had been spent at the Point. He had made friendships he expected to last the rest of his life. For his comrades who had been killed in battle those lifetime bonds would not happen. But that was something they had signed up for. Collectively, they were all supposed to make the world better, or freer, or safer. The jury was still out on that.
But regardless, we did our duty and did our best.
He slowed down when the Bimmer did. Then it turned onto a paved driveway on a stretch of coast road that was unfamiliar to Devine. The wrought iron gates opened, the Bimmer passed through, and the gates closed behind the car.
He pulled off and watched Guillaume drive up to the side of what could only be termed a mansion. Then the house swallowed the car as she pulled into a side-load garage bay.
He squared up the SUV and pointed the lights at the gate. Coming together, the twin metal gates formed a largeB.
BforBing?
He’d thought Jocelyn Point was impressive, or at least it had been back in the day. This place looked to be no more than a decade old and was even larger. He wondered if she lived there alone or with around fifty people. It was more hotel than house.
He drove off, his mind tumbling through a number of scenarios. Who would have thought such a little town would have such big secrets? And problems.
He slept deeply, got up early, and did his workout especially hard, as though punishing himself for his lack of progress. With every diamond push-up he chastised himself. Every sprint he dug deeper because he’d been such a failure thus far. He made every burpee hurt a little more as penance for his ineptitude.
He walked back to the inn, showered and changed, and then picked up Annie Palmer’s scooter and drove with it in the SUV to Jocelyn Point. It was seven thirty sharp when he knocked on the door. He noticed that the Harley still wasn’t there. Dak had left early for work or else had not come home.
Alex answered the door dressed in jeans and a long sweatshirt. She led him into the kitchen and made him a cup of coffee. They sat at a table in the small sunroom.
“How’s Annie?”
“She’s still sleeping,” said Alex. “I didn’t want to wake her.”
“Her scooter will be waiting for her out front.”
“It was nice of you to do that.”
“No trouble. She’s going through a lot.”
“How did you happen to be with her last night?”
Devine looked uncomfortable with the question. Part of him wondered why she wanted to know. But then he concluded it was actually a perfectly reasonable query. He said, “I just wanted to ask her some questions, and I drove her over to Earl’s because she wanted to check on him. It was raining hard, and it made no sense for her to go there on her scooter. That’s when we found him.”
“I still can’t believe that Earl would kill himself.”
Devine didn’t bother to tell her his theory about Earl Palmer being murdered. He had no proof to offer, only speculation. But there was something else he wanted to tell her.
“I don’t believe Jenny was killed at the spot where she was found. Based on the angle of shot entry, I think she was killed elsewhere and her body was placed on the rocks at that particular spot. For what it’s worth, the local ME agrees with my theory on the shot entry angle.”
Alex asked, in a forced calm tone, “Why would they pick that particular location to place my sister’s body?”
“It was where you were attacked.”
