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Back Sunset Beach Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. Epilogue
  71. Also by Mary Kay Andrews
  72. About the Author
  73. Newsletter Sign-up

“Oh, hell no,” Hernandez started.

Drue plowed ahead. “It’s been nearly two years, and you’ve admitted you don’t have any real suspects. What could it hurt, letting me look at the video? Remember, I want the same thing you want—to solve this thing and get a settlement for Yvonne and Aliyah.”

Hernandez gazed at her for a moment, her face dispassionate. “You won’t like what you see. The video shows Jazmin Mayes was working, way past the time Yvonne insists she wasn’t.”

“I don’t care,” Drue said. “I’d really like to see the video.”

“I don’t want you coming in to the station,” Hernandez said, choosing her words carefully. “I’ll put it on a flash drive. Where do you live?”

“Sunset Beach. Pine Street, I’m just a few blocks away from the Gulf Vista.”

“That’s convenient. My husband’s working tomorrow. Text me the address and I’ll have him drop it off to you in the morning on his way to work. But I warn you, there’s not much to see. I should know. I’ve been staring at that damn video for two years.”

“Thank you!” Drue said, touching Rae’s arm. “I mean it. Thanks.”

The detective looked over her shoulder and waved at an approaching man, who wore dress slacks and shoes and a short-sleeved dress shirt. “Here’s my husband now. The game’s about to begin, so your time is up.”

Drue stood and looked toward the field. The stands were filled now, and the opposing team, kids in green jerseys with a yellow Phillies logo across the front, had taken the field for their batting practice.

“Hey, can I ask you one more question?”

Hernandez looked annoyed. “Last one.”

“Why are you sitting way out here for your son’s ball game? Why aren’t you up in the bleachers with the other parents?”

Hernandez shrugged. “I had a run-in with one of the umps last season, after he called Dez out at home. My boy was safe by a mile. The ump had it in for me all season, and Dez, just because I had the nerve to question his strike zone. So I got banned from the stands! Totally unfair. Now I watch the games out here. Which is fine, because I don’t have to put up with all those bitchy baseball moms griping about how their precious angel isn’t in the starting lineup.”

On the way home, Drue replayed her conversation with Rae Hernandez, elated at the possibility that she’d actually get to view the video from the hotel. She pondered something Hernandez had said, as an aside.

“I rarely believe anybody,” the detective had told her. Drue wondered what that was like, to never trust anybody. Earlier in the day, she’d admitted to Ben Fentress that she didn’t even trust her own father. The question was, who did she trust?

34

July 1976