Laurie’s heart rate began to slow. She recalled David mentioning something about a support group some time last year, but hadn’t been able to face the idea of attending. “What has that got to do with Rebecca?”
David pursed his lips, as if disappointed in her. “There’s nothing between me and Rebecca. She’s just part of the group. She’s gone through what we went through, Laurie. I had no one else to talk to. I tried to talk to you, but you always changed the subject. I lost her too, you know.”
Laurie lowered her eyes. It wasn’t quite how she remembered things. She’d tried to talk to David on a number of occasions, but maybe she hadn’t been as open as she’d imagined. One thing she couldn’t deny was that David had suffered as much as she had, and maybe she’d lost sight of that at some point. “I know you did, David.”
“I swear, nothing has happened. In fact, I’d like you to meet Rebecca. She’s a lovely woman and she’s really helped me. She could help you too.”
This time, Laurie let David place his hand on her arm, before grabbing him close. “I’ve been stupid,” she said, allowing him to embrace her, breathing in his familiar scent.
“We’ve both been stupid. I should have told you where I was going. We shouldn’t have secrets.”
“You’re right,” said Laurie, taking one more sniff of David’s sweater before pulling free. “What say we get Warren, and get the hell out of here? Once this hurricane is over, we can maybe both be stupid together, for a change?”
David smiled, and hugged her once more. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was another hour before they finally convinced Warren he had to leave, the Weather Channel swinging his decision. Even the most optimistic forecaster couldn’t deny that Hurricane Heather was going to make landfall, and the satellite images alone—the swirling mass of white and gray, hovering within touching distance of Galveston—were enough to make Warren grudgingly pack a bag.
That didn’t stop the former police chief sulking like a petulant child as Laurie drove his pickup truck, filled to the brim with provisions, to the makeshift shelter at the high school. As Galveston was usually a mandatory evacuation area during hurricanes, no official shelters had even been designed for the island. Only essential staff were supposed to remain. Contracts had been struck with hotels to offer such essential staff accommodation, and a last-minute decision had been made to use the local high school to accommodate more staff and equipment.
Anyone left who was still considering fleeing the island had now given up. Water was spilling over Seawall Boulevard. Laurie eased the truck through the deluge, David following behind in their car. The world felt like it was on pause, the road all but empty, and although Laurie still held on to the faint hope that the storm would either weaken or change course at the last minute, as had happened many times in the past, part of her just wanted it to arrive so they could be done with it once and for all.
The high school was situated on Avenue O, and although it was inland it was, like most of the island, less than a mile from the water. The surrounding field with the athletics track was filled with emergency vehicles and equipment, and the school building swarming with emergency personnel.
Laurie nodded to acquaintances as she walked Warren and David to one of the school halls, where cots had been arranged for the essential workers. The three of them secured a bunk each, before David walked her to the door.
She was still coming to terms with what David had told her. She had no other option at present than to take what he had said at face value. If it was a lie, then it was one hell of a bit of theater. No. She knew in her heart that he was telling the truth. In her grief, and self-induced isolation, she’d sometimes forgotten what David had also been going through. He’d remained strong during those terrible months following Milly’s stillbirth. Instead of trying to help him, and therefore herself, she’d buried her emotions away, had fed them to her obsessive exercise routine. She’d been selfish, and if David had fallen into Rebecca Whitehead’s arms, then who could have blamed him? She recalled the times he’d asked her to go to the group and she’d refused. She’d thought the pain would be too hard to face, but it seemed she’d been wrong about that, as she’d been wrong about so many things of late.
“What can I do to help?” asked David, as they stood in the corridor, both still a little awkward with one another.
“The best thing you can do is keep Warren safe . . . and out of mischief,” she said, pleased when he smiled. “I’ll make this up to you,” she added.
“Make what up to me? You haven’t done anything. I should have been clearer about what was going on. I could have told you about Rebecca, but . . .”
“I wouldn’t have listened.”
David continued smiling.
“Listen, I’ll be back soon. I need to catch up on some work.”
David nodded, and it was harder than she expected to walk away from him. In truth, she didn’t really need to be on the island. If there were any active criminals in town, then they would be risking their lives staying here. Sandra Harrington, Tilly Moorfield, and Mia Washington had all left Galveston, as had everyone else involved in the Grace Harrington investigation except Frank and his brother.
All she could really do now was tie up a few loose ends, then wait for Heather to make landfall and help deal with the consequences. If she’d wanted to bring Frank in, then she should have done so yesterday evening. Yet, unable to get the investigation off her mind, she made one last call to the forensic center in Houston.
“I thought you’d be long gone by now,” said the operative who answered.
“Should be. Somehow, I’ve found myself volunteering to stay. Any news for me?”
“Hold tight, you’re on my to-call list. This place is like a goddamn ghost town right now. Let me see, Grace Harrington . . . Yes, some news for you, just came in the last hour. I’ll email the full details now, but looks positive. Some DNA profile was discovered on the body of Grace Harrington. Nothing from either parent, but some matching Mia Washington, and, more importantly, a strong match for Frank Randall.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Laurie couldn’t wait for the email from the forensic center. Ideally, she would have liked to obtain an arrest warrant, but that wasn’t likely to happen this side of the hurricane. Fortunately, the presence of Frank’s DNA profile being found on the body of Grace Harrington was enough probable cause to justify his arrest without a warrant. She called Lieutenant Filmore to confirm, but his phone was either switched off or he had no signal.
It was risky going alone, but she had no option. Although Heather had yet to make landfall, the storm was already battering the west end of the island. All available personnel were tied up either preparing for the storm or helping those who hadn’t evacuated. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t justify taking someone with her. Instead, she called in to dispatch, which was now working from a remote center in Austin, and headed to Frank Randall’s place.
The dirty gray sky appeared lower than she’d ever seen it. The rough sea was spewing onto Seawall Boulevard, which would soon be unpassable, the water threatening to seep further inshore as the wind increased its ferocity. If this was pre-hurricane, what would happen when Heather finally hit? One thing was for sure, she needed to be back at the high school by the time it did.