10.

Elaine Shelby was working in her home office late Saturday morning when Graham called from Camino Island. “Touchdown,” he announced. “Looks like our girl spent the night in the big house.”

“Talk to me,” she said.

“She parked across the street around eight last night and her car’s still there. Another couple left this morning, don’t know their names. Mercer and Cable are inside. It’s raining hard here, the perfect morning to shack up. Go, girl.”

“It’s about time. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

“I’ll be down Monday.”

Denny and Rooker were watching too. They had traced the North Carolina license plates on Mercer’s car and done the background. They knew her name, recent employment history, current lodging at the Lighthouse Inn, publishing résumé, and partial ownership of the beach cottage. They knew Noelle Bonnet was out of town and her store was closed. They knew as much as they could possibly know, except what, exactly, to do next.

11.

The storm lingered and became just another excuse to stay in bed. Mercer, who had not had sex in months, couldn’t get enough. Bruce, the seasoned professional, had a drive and stamina that she found amazing at times. After an hour—or was it two?—they finally collapsed and fell asleep. When she awoke, he was gone. She put on her bathrobe, went downstairs, and found him in the kitchen, decked out in the usual seersucker suit and dirty bucks, refreshed and clear-eyed as if ready for another day of rigorous bookselling. They kissed and his hands immediately went inside her bathrobe and grabbed her rear.

“Such a gorgeous body,” he said.

“You’re leaving me?”

They kissed again in a long, groping embrace. He pulled away slightly and said, “I need to check on the store. Retail’s a bitch, you know?”

“When are you coming back?”

“Soon. I’ll bring some lunch and we’ll eat on the porch.”

“I need to go,” she said halfheartedly.

“Go where? Back to the Lighthouse? Come on, Mercer, hang around here and I’ll be back before you know it. It’s raining buckets, the wind’s howling, I think we’re under a tornado watch. Hell, it’s dangerous out there. We’ll crawl into bed and read all afternoon.”

“I’m sure you’re thinking of nothing but reading.”

“Keep the bathrobe on and I’ll be back.”

They kissed again, groped again, and he finally managed to tear himself away. He pecked her on the cheek, said good-bye, and left. Mercer poured a cup of coffee and took it to the back porch, where she rocked in a swing and watched the rain. With some effort, she could almost think of herself as a whore, a bad woman being paid to use her body to further her deception, but her heart wasn’t in it. Bruce Cable was a hopeless philanderer who would sleep with anyone regardless of their motives. Now it was her. Next week it would be someone else. He cared nothing for loyalty and trust. Why should she? He asked for no commitment, expected none, gave none in return. For him it was all physical pleasure, and for her, at the moment, the same was true.