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

“Letty,” Maya said, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Let’s go to the beach now, okay?” She kicked her sandal-clad feet. “Swimmy, swimmy, swimmy.”

“Okay,” Letty promised. “As soon as the laundry’s done.”

7

JOE PAINSTAKINGLY TYPED THE LICENSE tag number into the South Carolina Division of Motor Vehicles database. After a few moments, he had the answer to one of the questions in the list he’d compiled about their newest guest at the Murmuring Surf.

The Kia was registered to a Myles Nordan, in Pickens, South Carolina, a town he’d never heard of. He wrote down the name, then entered Nordan’s name into the South Carolina DMV database.

Nordan, it seemed, owned lots of cars. Eight, to be exact. So maybe he was a small-scale used-car dealer?

He rested his stubby fingertips lightly on the computer keyboard. He would have liked to type Letty’s name into the National Crime Information Center Database, but he didn’t actually know her last name. As he’d pointed out to his too-trusting mother earlier that morning, there was very little they did know about this newcomer.

His sergeant poked his head into Joe’s cubicle. “Hey, ace. Got a situation at Sharky’s. Some drunk parked in their lot and wandered off to the beach. Their security guard called for the tow truck, which arrived at the same time as the drunk, who decided to take a swing at the guard.”

The Treasure Island Police Department was small, with eight uniformed officers and two detectives, including Joe DeCurtis, but with a department that small, the distinction between patrol and detective was frequently blurred. Like today.

“On it,” Joe said.

He didn’t get back to the computer until two hours later. By then, he had a last name to go with Letty’s first name. It was Carnahan. When he typed her whole name into the search engine, his screen lit up.

He shook his head as the pieces to the puzzle began to fall in place. Shit. Letty Carnahan was a fugitive, wanted for murder, who, if you believed the tabloid news accounts, abducted that little girl who’d already claimed Ava’s heart. She was living at the Murmuring Surf. It would only take one phone call. Just one.

If he went by the rule book, he’d make that call. But his cop’s intuition, which had never failed him, told him that there was much more to this story. He would hold off on that phone call until he had all the pieces of the Letty Carnahan puzzle.

Maya sat in waist-deep water, the gentle waves washing against her chest. She leaned back against Letty. “Fishes,” she said, pointing at the small shadowy green shapes darting beneath the surface of the water.

“Minnows,” Letty said, giving the child a hug. “Little baby fishes, just like you.”