Free Home to Stay by Terri Osburn Page B

definitely hiding something, and Rebecca King was determined to figure out what. She was certain she’d seen the woman’s face before. Gut instinct, which a reporter always trusted, told her there was a story here.
    If Will was indeed a person of interest, then Rebecca scooping the story would be the break she’d been hoping for. No more fluff pieces. No more coconut drinks and tiki bars. And no more traveling with mindless photographers only interested in the pretty sunset and bikini-clad tourists.
    No one Rebecca had talked to that week knew anything about Willow Parsons beyond the moment she showed up on Anchor Island a year ago. A cursory background check revealed various jobs up and down the coast, but none that dated back more than three years. That provided a starting point.
    She’d spent two nights combing most-wanted lists for crimes committed three to five years ago in the New England area, but with no hits. Then she switched to the missing persons cases. Strikingly, there were many more people missing than wanted, and the search was taking longer. If she hadn’t had to cater to the local yokels all day, Rebecca might have found something by now.
    “Knock knock,” Jude said, stepping through the balcony door to her room. Though they’d each been given their own suite, they shared the balcony overlooking the harbor. Rebecca had to admit, the view was stunning. “Heading over to Dempsey’s for dinner. You want to come?”
    Jude almost never invited Rebecca anywhere when they were on assignment together. They weren’t exactly friends, and she didn’t have a problem with that. The Brit had his charms, but his only goal in life was to snap some photos and have a good time. The perpetual Peter Pan syndrome incarnate. When she thought of what he could be accomplishing with his talent, Rebecca couldn’t help but lose respect for the man.
    “I’m good, thanks.”
    In spite of her clear dismissal, Jude remained. “You haven’t left this room one evening since we got here. I realize the tourists aren’t here yet, but there is a nightlife on this speck of sand. Don’t you think you’d better check it out if you’re going to write about it?”
    Rebecca looked up from her laptop. “Are you telling me how to do my job? Last I checked, I didn’t tell you how to work that contraption around your neck.”
    “I was simply suggesting that the article should include something that happens after sundown,” Jude said through clenched teeth. “Hard to do when you won’t leave the room.”
    “Stick with taking pictures. I’ll handle the rest.”
    With a glare that more than communicated where he’d like to tell her to go, Jude retreated back to the balcony, allowing Rebecca to return to her computer.
    “If you do have a secret, Ms. Parsons, I’m going to find it. Then maybe we’ll both be famous.”

    Knowing Sam was anxious for an update, Randy arrived at the Anchor Inn bright and early Friday morning. Yvonne let him know Sam was in his office, pointing him in that direction. The hotelier was sipping his coffee while reading something on his tablet when Randy knocked on the door.
    “Hey there. Can I get you some coffee?”
    “Never drink the stuff,” Randy said, shaking Sam’s hand before taking a seat. “Anything interesting in the news?”
    Sam lifted one brow. “Same old, same old. The rich are getting richer, and the rest of us are stuck shoveling the shit.”
    Randy guessed Sam to be the wealthiest islander in the village, but compared to the ultrarich decorating the news these days, that still left him at the bottom of the net worth totem pole.
    “And that’s why I don’t read the news.” With little time before his tour duties resumed, Randy cut to the point of the meeting. “The visits have gone well so far. We hit every major sight, and a few of the minor ones. The tour has run from the ferry landing to the preservation museum at the other end. We’ve done nose to tip, with a trip out on