“The roads are a mess. Half the streets are flooded.”
“The Tybee highway’s still clear,” she said, stubbornly.
There was a pause. When he spoke again he’d clearly realized there was no point in arguing.
“For God’s sake, be careful,” he told her. “If it gets much worse they’ll close that highway. You could get stuck out there.”
“I will.”
As soon as she hung up, she switched to hands-free and called police dispatch to let them know where she was going. They directed her to a nearby street for an escort.
The next number she dialed was Miles’s. “Get out to Tybee,” she told him. “There’s trouble at Xavier Rayne’s house.”
“Ah, hell,” he complained. “They couldn’t wait until there’s a nice little hurricane to do this?”
“They just called me, screaming about a gun. I’m heading out there now.” He didn’t say anything, but she could sense his reluctance. “Something’s going to happen out there tonight, Miles,” she insisted. “I can sense it.”
He heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll head out there.”
Baxter, when Harper called her a minute later, was even less impressed. “We’ve got a dead FBI agent to deal with and you’re going to babysit a movie star?”
Harper was nearing the marshes by then and the phone began to break up, the signal crumbling from distance and bad weather.
“This is it, Baxter.” She raised her voice to be heard above the crackle. “I can feel it. Someone’s getting arrested tonight. Just hold the front page until you hear from me, okay? Baxter?”
The phone was dead.
Harper didn’t know if the editor had hung up on her or she’d lost the signal. The wind was blowing the car so hard it shimmied. Driving required all her attention now.
This time, no county patrol car met her on the marshes to escort her across. All the deputies were probably too busy dealing with the storm. The road was deserted. Water blew across it like shallow ocean waves. The car’s wide tires sent wide sheets of spray high in the air.
If anything, the weather grew worse as she neared the coast. Even with the wipers at top speed, she could see the highway only in flashes before it disappeared beneath streams of water again. She slowed to twenty miles per hour, and gripped the wheel so tightly her hands ached.
When she finally reached the bridge onto the island, she let out a long, relieved breath. At the first intersection, the traffic light had come loose and swung by a wire, buffeted by the wind. The light was flashing red.
Danger.
Her phone rang as she was navigating cautiously around a fallen tree that had blocked much of the road. She hit answer without looking at it. “McClain.”
“Harper, it’s Luke.”
He said something else, but the signal was terrible. The sound broke apart before she could catch it. “What, Luke?” she raised her voice. “I can’t hear you.”
“Tybee Police … busy … can’t … won’t…”
“You’re breaking up, Luke,” she said.
“Soon … careful.” His voice disappeared.
Harper hit recall, but the phone had no signal at all. She thought she’d got the gist anyway: The local police were tied up with storm damage and couldn’t get to the house right now. She’d be on her own. And she wouldn’t be able to call Savannah if she needed help.
The realization made her stomach tighten. If her suspicions were right, there was a killer in that house. But she couldn’t go back now. Not without knowing the truth.
When she neared the turn for Admiral’s Row, everything was strangely dark. Not a flicker of light came from any window. Every streetlight was out.
A power line must be down, she thought as she turned cautiously into the narrow street. Her headlights were blinding in the pitch-black night. The darkness gave the island an abandoned feel, as if everyone had fled in a panic, leaving behind cars and homes full of belongings. It was eerie.
The trees swayed violently, casting skittering shadows. A frond broke loose from a palm and shot across in front of her car, making her jump.
Harper pulled up behind number 6 and cut the engine. The century-old house sat in absolute darkness, its windows closed and opaque.
Nervousness sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel danger around her. Taste it in the air like salt water.
Putting a hand on her side, she touched the hard metal of the gun and hoped to God she wouldn’t have to use it.
Then she grabbed the door handle and pulled it. The second she stepped out of the Camaro she could hear nothing except the enraged roaring of the wind. She fought to close the door, leaning her weight against it until it finally latched.
Squinting against the rain, she bent forward and ran to the house. At the top of the low steps, she knocked twice, hard.
No one answered.
The wind lashed wet strands of her hair into her eyes as she knocked again, harder this time, shouting into the howl of the storm, “It’s Harper. Are you in there?”
The storm was so loud she almost missed the sound of the gunshot.
Crouching low, she spun around just as Cara stepped out of the darkness, a gun glittering silver in her hand.
Her billowing white dress and flying pale hair gave her the appearance of a vengeful angel as she strode purposefully toward the house.
Harper froze, uncertain whether to run away or try to stop her. In the end, though, Cara made the decision for her, pointing the gun at her chest. “Get out of the way, Harper. I’m going to kill her.” Her voice was steady, but the hand holding the gun trembled visibly.
Harper didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.
“Don’t do it,” she pleaded, holding up her hands. “You don’t have to do this.”
The actress shook her head, rain streaking her face like tears. “She thinks she can just take whatever she wants. Destroy whatever she wants. Because her life has been hard?” She took a sobbing breath. “They both betrayed Xavier and they lied to me. I lived with them and they were murderers. They have to pay.”
At that moment, the door flew open. Hunter stepped out into the rain and took in the scene.
“Jesus Christ, what is this?” He gestured to where Harper was huddling—hands held out as if they could protect her from a bullet. “You’re going to shoot Harper because you’re mad at Allegra?”
“I’m not hurting Harper.” Cara raised the gun toward him. “But I will hurt you if you try to stop me. Where is that cowardly bitch?”
“You can’t do this.” Pale but determined, Hunter didn’t flinch when she jerked the gun at his head. “Killing Allegra won’t bring him back.”
“Stop protecting her,” Cara snapped. “You’re pathetic, you know that? You protect her like she’s a little kid. She’s a murderer. She’s a cheat. She’s insane.”
“She’s insane?” Hunter was incredulous. “You’re standing in the middle of a storm waving a gun at me and a newspaper reporter and Allegra’s the crazy one? Put the gun down, Cara. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She held the gun steady. “The best thing about prison is that I won’t have to listen to you anymore.”