Free Fatal Disclosure by Sandra Robbins

looked just as amused as Betsy. “I don’t understand.”
    “I know how you feel,” her brother said. “The first time I saw this I couldn’t believe it.”
    Betsy leaned back into the boat and grabbed Mark’s arm. “I’m standing on a submerged sandbar that’s covered with a few inches of water. Get out and let me show you a curtain blind.”
    He climbed over the edge of the boat and joined Betsy. The water lapped at their ankles as she led him a few feet to a rectangular concrete structure built down into the sandbar. It looked like two men might easily fit inside. “This is a curtain blind,” she said. “Hunters can climb down into this concrete box and be at eye level with the water, and the ducks can’t see them.”
    “What’s that?” He pointed to a wooden frame that circled the top of the box.
    “That’s a waterproof canvas curtain. The owner of the blind brings hunters out here at low tide and leaves them. As the tide rises, they just pull that curtain up to keep the water from pouring in.”
    Mark’s eyes grew wide. “You mean they stay out this far from shore without a boat to get back?”
    Betsy chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s not dangerous. The owner of the blind picks them up at the end of the day. Hunters who use these blinds wouldn’t hunt any other way. I understand hunting is a way of making a living for a lot of our islanders, but I hate to see our wildlife killed.” She pointed across the water, and he turned to see a wooden frame with slats floating nearby. “See that? It’s called a wing and is about sixteen by twenty-four feet with slats about eight inches apart. It’s anchored away from the curtain right now, but in duck hunting season it’s brought closer, and decoys are placed on the wooden slats. When the ducks or geese flying overhead see the decoys, they come toward them, and the hunters have a clear shot.”
    Mark gazed in the direction of the shoreline, but it wasn’t visible from here. “I can’t believe you stay out here alone.”
    She smiled. “This blind belongs to Milt Wilson. He brings me out here and comes back for me several hours later. I like spending time alone with the birds on the water and feel the breeze blowing salt water in my face. It brings me closer to God. I can feel his presence.”
    The contentment and happiness he saw on her face made him envy what she’d found in her life, and a desire like he’d never known burned in the pit of his stomach. He longed for what Betsy had, but he knew he’d never find it. His course in life had been determined a long time ago, and it couldn’t be changed.
    “I’m glad you brought me here, Betsy. It’s given me another glimpse into who Betsy Michaels is now.”
    Her dark eyes narrowed. He thought she was going to respond, but after a moment she glanced back at her brother still in the boat. “Scott’s waiting. We’d better go.”
    Mark followed her across the sandbar back to the boat. When they were inside, Scott turned toward shore, and Mark settled back in his seat. When Betsy had asked him to come along on the early morning trip, he’d agreed because he wanted to know more about what Betsy was like now. And he hadn’t been disappointed in what he’d discovered.
    What he was going to do about that was what had him worried. He had to keep reminding himself he had a job to do and not to get emotionally involved. Something told him that wasn’t going to be easy.

SIX
    M ark had enjoyed the time he spent with Betsy and Scott on Pamlico Sound earlier this morning, but the past few hours had proved to be a letdown. After extracting a promise from Betsy that she would stay in her studio until lunch, he’d left Treasury’s house soon after their return to see if he could get a lead on the places John had frequented in the time he’d been on the island. A call to Brock had revealed they hadn’t been able to track any of his movements, and hanging out for several hours at the various gathering places for