Free Dare to Die by Carolyn Hart Page A

didn’t bother with a cap. As she came down the steps, a towel over one arm, she glanced toward Cabin Six. Cara’s white car was gone. The green bicycle rested on its kickstand. A solitary figure stood on the deck behind Cabin Six.
    Annie was halfway to the line of palmettos when she stopped. She turned to look. The deck behind Cabin Six was no longer visible. But she knew what she’d glimpsed in her peripheral vision, a thin, forlorn, too-alone woman staring out at the marsh, shoulders drooping, a picture of defeat and sadness.
    Annie wanted a quick dip, a plunge that would refresh her for a festive evening. She had no time or energy to waste.
    A long-ago memory bobbed, bright as a beach ball bouncing in the sun, her mother’s sweet and thoughtful voice when Annie had sloughed away a phone message from a too-earnest, too-plump, too-hungry-for-friendship girl in her class: “Don’t pass by on the other side.” Annie returned that call and discovered a bright, sweet, kind girl who’d grown to be a charming woman whose friendship Annie still treasured.
    Duane had asked Annie to look out for the girl in Cabin Six. Duane had known sadness. Ingrid’s kindness had lifted him up.
    Annie turned and walked slowly toward Iris’s cabin. It was all well and good to offer understanding. Yet, what right did Annie have? She was a stranger. How could she help Iris? What was she going to say? She skirted around the side of the cabin. The nutrient-rich scent of the marsh was pungent and wonderful to Annie though outlanders sometimes called the smell a stench. The tide was out. Fiddler crabs swarmed on the chocolate brown mudflat. Egrets stepped high, beaks flashing to snatch a crab.
    Iris heard the crackle of the oyster shells. She turned. Thelate afternoon sun wasn’t kind to her sallow, worn face, emphasizing dark shadows beneath her eyes.
    Annie reached the steps to the deck. “Hey, Iris.” Silence fell. Feeling uncertain and intrusive, Annie forced a smile. “I’m going to take a swim in the pool and wondered if you’d like to join me.”
    â€œA swim?” Iris spoke as if the words were strange.
    Annie was suddenly certain it had been a long time, measured both in time and emotion, since Iris had slipped carefree into the inviting blue waters of a swimming pool.
    Iris’s thin face held an instant of eagerness, then the light in her eyes faded. She massaged one wrist. “Thanks. But I”—she stared down at the old planks—“I guess pretty soon I’ll ride my bike for a while.”
    It was a lame excuse.
    Annie understood only too well. She knew—no one better—that Iris had no swimsuit. “Please join me. I hate to swim alone. I know you’re only here for a few days and you may not have a swimsuit with you. Ingrid—she’s the lady you rented from Wednesday night and I’m helping out while she’s gone to be with her sister—has a stack of suits in the”—Annie caught herself in time from saying the one-piece suits were in the snack shop. She’d be sure and remove the sale price if Iris agreed—“office and they’re for guests who forgot to bring a suit. I’ll run and get one for you.” Annie’s smile was warm. “The water will be perfect.”
    Iris stared for a moment like a child offered an unexpected gift. Her sudden smile was shy. “That would be very nice.”

Chapter 5
    T he water was perfect, not too warm, not too cold. With her dark hair sleek against her head, Iris looked younger and almost carefree.
    Annie concluded, “…and I inherited the bookstore from Uncle Ambrose. Max followed me to the island.” She’d run away from New York and Max because she cared too much. She was sure they didn’t belong together. Max was rich; she was poor. Max was laid-back and casual; she was intense and hardworking. Max enjoyed subtleties; she was