Chapter 12
Savannah Webster popped the trunk lid of her car parked in her driveway under a giant live oak tree draped with lacy moss.
“I wasn’t sure how many years you needed, so I grabbed all of them from when your mom worked at TGU, Paradise.”
Blake grabbed the handles of the cloth bag. “That was a great idea. It might help us know who to talk to about her mom. She
likely had friends among the faculty.”
The wind blew Savannah’s shoulder-length auburn hair around her head, and she batted it out of her face. “I just thought of
someone who might be able to help you. Don Phillips was head of HR for forty years. He’s retired now, but I’m sure he would
remember your mom.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m texting you his number and address, and I’ll let him know to expect to
hear from you.”
“Thanks so much,” Paradise said. “This is the best lead I’ve had.”
“I’m happy to help.” Savannah shut the trunk and walked with them to Blake’s truck. “Let me know if there’s any other way
I can help.”
“We sure will.” Blake opened the passenger door for Paradise, then set the bag of yearbooks on her lap before going around to the driver’s side. “What years do we have there?”
Paradise had them out on her lap. “We have 1989 through 2005, which was when my parents were murdered.”
Blake inhaled the scent of old paper permeating the truck as she leafed through the first book.
“Are you sure we should be spending time doing this?” Paradise asked. “It’s a distraction from getting the park on its feet
and finding out who’s trying to shut you down.”
“Now that we know someone from your past is targeting you, we have to, babe. You’re more important than anything else.” He
put the truck in Drive and headed toward Pelican Harbor for dinner. “Are you sure you’re ready for the truth? Is that what
this is all about?”
She closed the book and set it back on the stack. “I’m afraid, Blake. Afraid the nightmares will come back, afraid I’ll find
out I caused their deaths in some way.”
He reached over and took her hand. She held tight with cold fingers. “You were nine. It’s not possible it was your fault.”
“I’d like to believe that, but the nightmare always leaves me feeling guilty.” Her long lashes swooped down and masked the
pain in her amber eyes. “What if I don’t like what I find out?”
“Let’s bring the truth out of the shadows. Things hidden are always scarier. We’ll do this together.”
“You already have so much on your plate.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Greene is trying to pin Ivy’s murder on you,
someone is sabotaging the park, and receipts are suffering from the backlash of those things. My parents’ murder was a long
time ago. I want to find the truth—it’s why I came back. But securing the park’s future is more important for the boys.”
“I’ll take care of the boys even if we must sell the park.
That’s not an issue. So we have a lot of arrows aimed at our heads.
The question I keep coming back to is that maybe they’re related, Paradise.
What if your arrival here triggered all of it, and the attack on the park is really an attack on you?
Someone wants you gone. I think we have to find that person in the shadows. ”
Her chin came up and she nodded. “I’d thought of that, but it seemed too ludicrous to believe.”
“So we go to the root of the problem—the person who paid Ivy Cook to spy on you. Once we find that out, a lot more pieces
might fall into place.”
Pelican Harbor’s city limits sign was just ahead. “Moreau’s Seafood sound good?”
“It sounds perfect. I can already smell the grilled oysters.”
Her stomach rumbled, and his own answered. “Was that my stomach or yours?”
“I didn’t hear a thing.”
He chuckled and pulled into the restaurant’s lot on Bon Secour Bay. The scent of fish and seawater greeted them when they
got out, and a bold gull swooped down, almost landing in Paradise’s hair. Blake shooed it away and took her hand. Light jazz
music wafted from the low-slung building. Inside he asked for a table out on the deck. If they were going to have a romantic
dinner, they might as well do it up right.
The server led them to a table at the end of the deck that overlooked the water and several pelicans watching for fish. The
moonlight glimmered on the waves gently washing against the shore. Gulls hopped along the boards looking for scraps, and he
pushed one away with his foot. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.”
She took his hand. “Mine, mine,” she chanted, imitating the gulls in Finding Nemo. “I can learn a lot from them.” She laced her fingers with his. “The odds seem overwhelming to me, but I can face anything
as long as we’re together.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Even Bertha couldn’t drag me from your side. You’re stuck with me.”
She smiled at the reference to their hippo. “We found out who was behind the attacks last time. We can do it again.” She released
his hand and scooted her chair back. “I think I’ll wash my hands. They smell like old yearbook. I’ll be right back.”
He watched her enter the restaurant and head for the restroom. What a lucky man he was.
Paradise washed her hands in the restaurant bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Dark circles lurked under her eyes,
and her hair was a windblown mess. With no comb, she’d have to make do, so she smoothed it with her fingers. She pinched some
color into her cheeks and went to grab a couple of squares of toilet paper from the stall to wipe the mascara smears from
under her eyes.
As she was bending over, the metal stall door slammed behind her and she whirled. She pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge.
“Hey, it’s occupied.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” The low, guttural voice sounded like a man’s. “If you want to live, you need to leave and never come
back.”
Her hand fell back to her side and she backed away from the door. If only she had her phone or some kind of weapon. She stooped
to look at the person’s shoes. Her tormentor wore jeans and sneakers, about a nine or a ten, so it could be a man or woman.
She straightened and shoved at the door. “This is my home. I grew up here.”
“And you’ll die here if you don’t listen and quit poking around. Go back to where you came from and forget about this place.
‘No one ever sees the Angel; but he is heard by those who are meant to hear him.’”
Paradise gasped when she recognized the line from The Phantom of the Opera. The gap between the door and the frame opened half an inch, and steps went quickly away.
Paradise pushed open the stall door, but she was too late to see more than a glimpse of blue as the door to the bathroom closed.
She rushed out of the stall and threw open the exit into the hall.
No one was there.
She stepped into the restaurant and looked around for that shade of blue she’d glimpsed. It was not quite royal and not quite
navy, but no one wore that unique shade. Maybe she hadn’t seen it clearly enough.
Shaking now that it was over, she headed back to the deck. The night breeze cooled her overheated cheeks when she stepped
outside.
Blake’s welcoming smile vanished. “What’s wrong?”
Her legs felt wobbly and rubbery beneath her, and she sank onto the chair. “There was a welcome committee of one in the bathroom.”
She told him about being trapped in the stall and the warning that had been issued. “I checked the restaurant but didn’t see
the color of top they wore.”
“Call Jane. I’m going to see if there’s anyone matching that description in the parking lot.” He leaped to his feet and rushed
for the side of the restaurant.
Paradise called Jane and left a message on her voice mail. By the time Blake returned, she was beginning to feel less vulnerable and shaky.
He dropped into his chair and took her hand. “No one was out there. Clearly this is someone who knew you from when you were
a teenager. This has to be connected to the murders.”
She took comfort from his warm fingers. The shivers didn’t seem to want to leave her. “There’s one other thing it could be
related to.”
He searched her face and realization dawned in his eyes. “The search for your brother. Everything ramped up with that. As
soon as you sent off that DNA, things started happening.”
“But it makes no sense. When I find him he can tell me whether or not he’s interested in meeting me. Where’s the danger in
that?”
“We don’t know what we don’t know. I think you’re onto something though. Someone doesn’t want him found. It might not even
be Andrew who is trying to discourage your search.”
A thought found its way to her tongue. “What if Andrew is dead and someone doesn’t want me to know? What if whoever killed
my parents killed him too?” She rubbed her head. “That’s crazy, isn’t it?”
“But he was adopted. Your mom got letters from his adoptive parents.” A frown settled between his blue eyes. “I think the
priority should be on finding Andrew. That feels right. We can work on your parents’ murders once he’s found.”
She nodded, relieved he was tracking with her. “Our romantic evening got derailed.”
His thumb made lazy circles in her palm. “I have you all to myself, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely derailed. And we’re
about to have grilled oysters, so that’s a plus. I’ll take you home and we can make a plan of action.”
“You always do that.”
“What?”
She smiled. “You always know what to say to give me hope.”
“God has plenty of hope to pass around.”
A quote from The Two Towers by Tolkien came to mind. “‘You can only come to morning through the shadows.’”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
The server came with their drinks, and Paradise forced away her worries. Blake was right—there was always hope. And she was
determined not to stop until she found out the truth.