Free The Shore by Robert Dunbar Page A

town?”
    “They took it…took her…what they could find of…away to the lab in A.C. They’ll do all the…”
    “And her car?”
    “Still at the…they’ll send a tow truck to…get it.” Her face clouded, and she seemed to shake herself. “Well, thank you for speaking with me. If I…if we have any other questions, how much longer will you be staying in Edgeharbor?”
    Not bad-looking. He allowed himself to admire the way the glow caught in the stray curls around her face. But such an odd bird. As with so many redheads, her skin held its pallor deeply, showing none of the latent tan sported by most of the town’s residents. What the hell can she be doing here? Edgeharbor couldn’t have more than a handful of cops on payroll. It seemed unlikely she’d seen cases involving much besides summer vandalism. He knew enough about small-town police to guess the layer of professionalism in which she cloaked herself must have been acquired elsewhere, and he wondered how old she could be. Twenty-five? Twenty-six? He squinted, trying to make out the color of her eyes, but they glinted red in the glare. “Until my work is finished.” He rose abruptly, dismissing her. “A few more days probably.”
    The sudden sympathy in his smile startled her even more than the way he’d taken control of the interview. “I guess,” she said, a flush creeping up her neck, “that’ll be all for the time being.” She snapped the notebook shut.
    He barely responded as she thanked him for his time. The door closed behind her, and he listened to her footsteps going down the steps, then heard the muted growl of an engine. The front window lit for an instant, and the noise faded. Cops—last thing I need now. Shaking his head, he turned away, and the weariness claimed him. He almost staggered. Halfway up the stairs, he heard the office door creak open, and a woman’s voice lanced out, shrieking in Italian.
    I need time. Her screams scalded his back as he climbed. I’m so close. Can’t let anything stop me now.
    Stupid, stupid fool! Only when her stomach muscles finally unclenched did she realize how tense she’d been. Idiot! She pounded her hands on the steering wheel. What’s wrong with me? The tires heaved over cracked asphalt, and the jeep’s worn shocks creaked like mattress springs. I let him do all the questioning!
    An icy wind prowled the streets, rattling windows and doors and rustling through evergreen hedges. The town seemed truly dead.
    She’d gotten nothing from him. The jeep swerved through an intersection. Nothing! He had controlled the interview from start to finish. Except for those first few seconds when he’d looked startled.
    She fiddled with dials and knobs, trying to get some heat into the frigid vehicle. How could she have allowed herself to be interrogated that way? Just because he looked like that and smiled at her a little? Pathetic! With a screech of brakes, she pulled the jeep over by the darkened church. Who is he that he can do this to me? Fighting to get herself under control, she adjusted the rearview mirror until she could see herself. What’s the big deal though? Even an alley cat had gotten over on her this evening, assuming the damn thing was still alive. She almost laughed at herself.
    Switching on the overhead light, she examined the business card Hobbes had given her, held it closer to the dim illumination. It looked legitimate enough, but every instinct told her otherwise. All right, you won the first round, Mr. Hobbes, or whatever your name is. But I’m after you now, and I mean to find out who you are and what you’re doing in my town. She gunned the engine, but the jeep only grunted and fell silent. She cursed and twisted the key. So be careful, mister. This time the engine sputtered to chattering life, the stick vibrating like the controls of a mechanical bull. Be real careful.
    The scream flowered in the night.
    It coiled its tendrils about the fire escape, twining over broken gutters