Chapter 8
The moment Sean entered the room, he noticed the way Margaret and Stuart kept their distance from Frank. They were both rigid, apprehensive, and nervous. Frank, on the other hand, acted as if Sean didn’t exist as he studied the generator’s specifications.
Frank was tall, lean, and nearly groomed. Hair buzzed short, which accentuated his large ears. Fingernails clipped. Shirt tucked into his trousers. He was one of the few guests who had gotten dressed for the meeting at the dining room this morning. Unless those were the clothes he slept in.
“What brings you all to The Bonnie?” Sean asked.
“Vacation,” Frank answered, still not looking up at Sean.
“Where are you all from?” Sean asked.
“Philadelphia,” Frank answered.
“And when did you get in?” Sean asked.
“Yesterday afternoon,” Frank answered.
“Long drive,” Sean replied.
Frank didn’t reply. It was clear he didn’t want to talk, and Frank’s wife and son remained sheepish on the bed, the young boy hiding behind his mother.
Margaret Maynard was a small woman who couldn’t have been more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. She hunched her shoulders in a timid posture. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, save for a small wedding band on her ring finger. But above all, she looked afraid.
Stuart Maynard resembled his mother more than his father. He had the same dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. They even shared the same mouth and nose. But Stuart had inherited his father’s ears, though, the only defining feature for both Maynard men.
“You all enjoying your time?” Sean asked.
The question was directed at Margaret and Stuart, but Frank, again, answered for the family.
“We’re having a great time,” Frank said. “At least we were until this mess happened.” He looked up from the generator’s manual and sized Sean up. “You know what you’re doing, Sheriff?”
“Yes,” Sean answered calmly.
“Because if I find out someone is here to hurt my family, I might have to take matters into my own hands,” Frank said.
Sean had dealt with this kind of machismo before, and while Frank believed he was intimidating, he wasn’t.
“I have no reason to believe your family is in danger,” Sean said. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Frank’s cheeks flashed red, and then he stepped back, making sure to keep himself between Sean and his wife and son. “No.”
Sean nodded, then took a closer look at Margaret and Stuart. He noticed Margaret kept one arm in front of her son, a protective stance, and watched her husband’s movements. It was the kind of body language Sean had seen before, and unfortunately, it had usually led to the discovery of abuse.
“Well, if you need anything, or if you think of anything that might be helpful, come find me,” Sean said, and then he made sure to look at the wife and kid when he spoke next, “and there is never a bad time to come and find me. I’ll always be happy to talk or listen.”
“We’re fine,” Frank said, stepping in front of Sean again.
Sean nodded, then turned to leave when the little boy, Stuart, spoke up.
“I saw her yesterday,” Stuart said. “The girl.”
Sean turned back around.
“Where did you see her?” Sean asked.
“In the rose garden,” Stuart answered. “She was talking to a man.”
“Do you remember what the man looked like?” Sean asked.
Stuart nodded. “He was kind of young.”
“Young how?” Sean asked. “Younger than me? Your dad?”
Stuart nodded. “He had glasses, too.”
Sean thought back to the meeting with the others in the dining room. He recalled a man who fit that description. He thanked Stuart for the information and walked out of the room, Frank Maynard staring daggers into the back of his head.