“Nope,” Ben said. “We just need your car keys, so we can get started.”

Drue typed the name Larry Boone into the search bar of her phone and waited. Thirty-two entries appeared. She sighed. If she was going to track down the man who’d harassed Lutrisha Smallwood, and possibly Jazmin, she really needed a laptop computer. That would go on her wish list, right after a new roof for the cottage.

She went back to the search engine and redefined her search, narrowing the location to St. Petersburg, Florida, and this time netting only five names.

One by one, she discarded the possibilities until she came to a Larry Boone who’d been named employee of the month at a local hardware store in 2018.

The citation was from a newspaper in Brooksville, a small town about an hour north of St. Pete. The story was accompanied by a photo of the man. This Larry Boone was white, balding, with a generous paunch and a dark eighties-porn-star mustache.

Drue gazed down at the tiny photo. Could this be Scary Larry?

She cursed herself for not asking Lutrisha Smallwood for her phone number. Then she pulled out a new index card and jotted down what little information she had from the article. Now what? Should she just call and ask for Larry Boone? What if he came to the phone? What would she say?

Before she could further ponder her line of questioning, she heard the front door opening.

“Drue?”

It was Jonah.

He had his head stuck inside the door. His hands and face were smeared with grease, and sweat dripped from his hair. “Hey, can I use the bathroom?”

“Come on in,” she said. He followed her through the living room and she gestured toward the bathroom. “Wait right here,” she said. A moment later she was back with a roll of paper towels.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping his hands on a wadded-up towel.

“I’m in the kitchen if you need me,” she told him.

Jonah appeared in the kitchen doorway a few minutes later. “This house is really awesome. It reminds me of my aunt and uncle’s house at Rehoboth Beach.”

She looked up from her notecards, trying not to act annoyed at the interruption. She reminded herself that he and Ben were doing her a huge favor.

“Rehoboth Beach?”

“In Delaware. My rich uncle was a lawyer in D.C. They had a house down the shore, as they called it, and they’d invite my family for a week every summer. My sisters and I looked forward to that all year round. For that one week, we thought we were rich too.”