Sandrift: A Lin Hanna Mystery Read online

  Sandrift

  Lin Hanna Mysteries: Book 2

  By

  Sharon Canipe

  Cover Design by

  Steve Canipe

  Copyright 2014 Sharon W. Canipe

  All Rights Reserved

  Other works in the

  Lin Hanna Mystery Series

  Earthcrack

  This novel is a work of fiction. All names, places, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my sister-in-law Carolyn Canipe Parker, who passed away in January, 2014. Carolyn was an avid reader and a great supporter of my writing efforts. She enjoyed the first book in this series, Earthcrack, and urged me to complete this second book. Thanks Carolyn for your support and friendship over the years. May you rest in peace .

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my friends who have supported and encouraged me in my writing. My family has been a great help, especially my husband Steve who provides editorial advice and worked on the cover design. My daughter Marti provides technical support and help with my website, as well as help with issues related to formatting and publication. Thanks also to son David and his wife Amber for support and encouragement.

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  PROLOGUE

  November, 2000

  Liz Frazier let the door to Tim’s bar slam behind her stumbling awkwardly as she went down the steps. She was angry that Tim had taken her car keys from her claiming that she was too drunk to drive home.

  “You’ll get caught,” Tim had insisted, “don’t need a DUI. Go on and walk. It ain’t far and, besides, the air might do you good—sober you up a bit. Carrying on with all your crazy talk. Some of these yokels will knock you senseless for that so-called treasure of yours—if it’s real!”

  Tim’s doubting her story sent Liz into a rage causing him to grab her keys and shove her more or less gently out the door. Now she stumbled lazily through the sandy parking lot heading toward the highway and the dirt road on the other side that led to her small frame house. It was just a short walk and maybe she could work off some of her anger. She’d show them all—thinking she was lying about finding the diamond jewelry.

  The stiff ocean breeze hit Liz in the face as she walked down the highway’s edge toward the dirt road. The fresh air felt good and seemed to clear her head a bit. Maybe she had drunk too much to drive home. Whatever, Tim would take care of her car—battered old heap that it was. She could get her keys tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a better day. Tomorrow she would take her treasure to town and find someone to appraise it and tell her what it was really worth. That was what her friend Billy at Island Pawn had told her to do. He said it was really good stuff—too rich for his blood. Liz trusted Billy. He always helped her out with her treasure hunting finds—a lost watch or ring here and there, sometimes a piece of silver flatware off a fancy wreck—but he refused to touch this jewelry she’d found saying it was far too valuable for his small pawn shop.

  Mark, Liz’s sometimes boyfriend, had also looked at the jewelry. Liz could still recall the greedy look in his eye when he offered to take it back to his art gallery in Manteo and do some research for her. He thought it might be worth about twenty-five thousand, give or take, but something about the way he said this made alarms go off in Liz’s head and she refused to let him take the stuff back with him at that time. He had argued with her about it insisting the jewelry would be safer with him.

  “I’ll bring it in myself,” she’d told him, “maybe we can go together to one of your jeweler friends and have him look at it.” Liz knew that Mark dealt mostly in art objects so what did he really know about the value of this jewelry?

  As she approached the end of the road where her house was located she thought to herself, that’s exactly what I will do—tomorrow. Mark might not be a jeweler, but he did know a lot of other businessmen in Manteo where his own shop was located. That was probably what he had planned to do anyway; maybe she shouldn’t have been so distrustful. Anyway, tomorrow would be soon enough. She would call Mark first thing in the morning and make the arrangements. He probably wouldn’t want her to come to town for fear his wife might find out about her, but Liz didn’t care. She was tired of just being his “beach playgirl.” Let him worry about his reputation. She had every right to show up in town anyway.

  Rounding the curve through the dark pine trees that grew thickly around her small home, Liz saw what she thought might be a light in one of her back rooms. That’s strange she thought; I know I turned all the lights off when I left. Maybe Dorrie has come home. A brief feeling of panic moved through her body, and she felt herself sobering as she quickened her step.

  Dorrie had seen that jewelry too, Liz thought. Liz showed it to her when she first found it after last week’s storm uncovered that old wreck of a yacht. Liz recalled the wide-eyed stare Dorrie had when she saw the shiny pendant, ring, and earrings in the small tin box where they had been sealed for, most likely, decades.

  Dorrie had been gone for a couple of days—probably on a bender. The young college dropout kept promising to stop her partying and go back to school but nothing had happened so far. Would Dorrie come back to steal her find? Liz didn’t think so, but then one never knew. Liz knew Dorrie was broke. She owed two- month’s rent money at least.

  Liz stepped up her pace toward the house inwardly cursing herself for her own loose tongue and her drunken bragging to others about how she was going to get money and use it to do something with her sorry life. She should’ve kept her mouth shut until she had found a safe place for her find. That had been Mark’s argument for taking the jewelry to his store and locking it up for her. Perhaps she’d been foolish not to listen to him.

  Now, thinking much more clearly as she opened her own front door, Liz called out, “Dorrie, is that you? Where have you been?”

  There was no answer. The house was totally quiet and there was only one small light leaking from the door to the back bedroom—Liz’s room. She carefully approached the bedroom door flicking the switch to illuminate the living room as she went. Calling out for Dorrie once more, she cautiously pushed the bedroom door open.

  A gloved hand grabbed her from behind as she entered the room grasping her firmly across the mouth and stifling the scream that tried to come out. She tried to slip away, but her assailant had a firm grasp on her head. Liz felt a knee in the small of her back; she was shoved face first to the floor—her assailant landing full weight on her back, twisting her arm behind her. Again she tried to scream—knowing full well there was no one close by to hear her. This time a heavy object smashed into the side of her head momentarily stunning her. Liz tried to shake off the blow. She twisted violently trying to shift the weight from her back and catch her breath. Just as she thought she
might be gaining on her attacker, she felt a sharp stabbing pain between her shoulder blades. She could almost hear the air seep from her lungs as she lost consciousness. She was totally unaware of the warmth of her blood gushing from the wound onto the pale gray carpet.

  ***

  Deputy Pete Midgett picked up the phone in his Manteo office. It was after midnight, almost one, couldn’t be anything good at this hour. The caller id indicated it was the deputy out in Kill Devil Hills. He probably had drunks fighting after the beach bars closed down. Pete spoke sleepily, “Midgett here, what do you need Mike?”

  “Better get a team out here,” Mike drawled. “Liz Frazier’s house is on fire and we think Liz might be in it. Tim saw the blaze from across the highway and called it in. Says Liz was so drunk he took her keys and sent her walking home. Looks like she might have been smoking or something and started a fire.”

  “Be there in a few,” Pete responded, now wide-awake. He quickly called the other deputy on patrol to meet him out at Kill Devil Hills. Gathering up a crime scene kit just in case, Pete headed for his patrol car while alerting the night dispatcher at the desk as to his destination.

  No need to wake everybody up with lights and sirens Pete thought as he left town heading for the Baum Bridge. This is a fire; whatever has happened has happened already. Traffic was light enough given the late hour. His speeding toward the beach on the mostly deserted highway was not really a concern.

  Pete thought about Liz Frazier as he crossed the moonlit sound toward the beach towns of the Outer Banks. A pretty girl, just behind him in school, but Liz was always looking for the next party. She had quite a reputation for taking up with almost any man who would buy her dinner and drinks, and, even though she was no dummy, she seemed to never be able to find more than seasonal work at the beach—waiting tables, cleaning motel rooms, and the like. Liz spent most of her off time treasure hunting, always dreaming of finding something really valuable from one of the many wrecks that dotted the area and were frequently uncovered in the shifting beach sands after storms. Lots of folks did that, but only a few found anything of real value. Most of those only earned a few hundred dollars a year selling what they managed to salvage. Beach treasure hunting was generally just a fun pastime for residents and tourists alike.

  Looks like this time Liz had had one drink too many and maybe had a terrible accident. Pete felt sorry at this thought. He always liked Liz when they were growing up, but we reap what we sow he reasoned.

  As he approached the sandy road that led through the woods to the house where Liz lived, Pete noticed a crowd of folks gathered at Tim’s bar across the highway. He pulled in. Maybe some of these folks saw something. Better ask some questions before they all left.

  Pete quickly spotted Tim, the bar owner. At more than six feet tall and pushing three hundred pounds Tim was hard to miss. Pete was a big guy himself. The two of them had played football together in high school.

  “Hi Tim, you call this in?” Pete asked.

  “Sure did,” Tim responded, pointing toward the slight glow visible through the woods on the other side of the road. “Blaze looks like it’s almost out now but it was a humdinger! Heard a big “swoosh” and there it was. Had to be Liz’s place,” Tim hesitated, his voice cracking, “…and I had just sent her packing—made her walk home. Her car is still right over there.” Tim pointed to a battered old Ford at the end of the parking lot.

  “I’m sure you did the right thing Tim,” Pete was reassuring, “not to let her drive drunk. It was just a short walk.”

  “I’m just afraid she was in that house,” Tim said quietly. “ One group of firefighters just left, said they didn’t see anyone outside and it was too hot to go in when they arrived.”

  Pete nodded, “Well, I’m sure they’ll check when it cools a bit.” They could hope that maybe she hadn’t gone straight home, but where else would she go on foot at this late hour? Pete remembered her folks lived down in Nags Head.

  Noticing that the crowd was beginning to break up and drift away, Pete hastily called to a few of the onlookers. He got some names and phone numbers and asked what they had seen, but no one had seen more than the view of the fire through the woods—no cars coming from the dirt road, no walkers other than Liz. At least, no one admitted to knowing more. A couple of the guys had seen her leave the bar apparently heading toward her home.

  “Liz was pretty drunk,” one of the locals said. “ She was carrying on about finding some jewelry in an old wreck—said she was going to get some real money for a change. Drunk as she was, that might have been just braggin’ though.”

  Or it might have been a good reason to rob her, Pete thought to himself.

  Leaving the bar, Pete headed down the dirt road toward the fire scene. There were still a few flames coming from the back of the house, but the roof was already partially caved in. The small place was definitely a total loss, Pete realized. If Liz was in there… he didn’t finish his own thought.

  The remaining fire crew was busy dousing the few flames at the back. One of the crew was talking to Mike, the deputy who had called for Pete. As Pete approached them, he noticed another patrol car pulling into the driveway. That was probably Jerry, the deputy he had called to meet him there.

  “It’ll be morning before this mess is really cooled enough to sort through,” the fire team captain was saying. It was Dick Taylor, another of Pete’s school classmates.

  “Hi Pete,” Dick greeted the deputy, “ I hate to say it but we are pretty sure there’s a body in the back bedroom. Hard to see for sure but looks that way.”

  Pete nodded soberly, “Was Liz alone here, sometimes she had boarders?”

  Mike spoke up, “I think she was mostly alone these days. I saw her earlier today, and she was complaining that her latest boarder, Dorrie Johnson, had been gone for a couple of days. Said she hoped Dorrie would be back soon; she owed her some rent money it seems.”

  When the last of the flames were extinguished, the remaining fire crew began to load up their equipment. “We’ll leave one man here to watch for awhile, make sure it doesn’t flare up again. We’ll be back in the morning to start our investigation.”

  “Can we look inside, at least,” Pete wanted to see for himself if there was a body there.

  “Sure,” Dick responded, “come with me.” He grabbed a large flashlight and led Pete around to the back of the house. Waves of heat were still rolling from the ruins and steam rose from puddles of black water.

  “We think this is where the bedroom was,” Dick shined his light through the downed timbers into the smoky interior.

  Pete leaned in as close as he dared and saw what he was dreading. A charred figured, grotesquely twisted, lay near what must have been the entrance to the room. A twisted charred timber from the roof lay across the remains. There was no way to identify the victim—too burned—but Pete saw something there that caused him to do a double take. Something was sticking up out of the remains. It was certainly charred but it still retained the familiar shape. Pete was fairly certain that what he was looking at was the end of a large knife. If this was Liz, as they thought, then perhaps she was already dead when the fire began with no way to get out to safety.

  Pete looked at Dick Taylor. He had seen the knife also. “It was too hot to get this close earlier,” Dick said, “but this looks like the fire was no accident. This looks like murder!”

  ***

  October, 2011

  The phone was ringing as Lin Hanna entered her condo laden with groceries. She hastily dashed to the kitchen to put down her load, and tried to grab the phone on the kitchen desk but she was too late—voice mail had already clicked in and she realized that the caller was her good friend Kate Jarman. Fortunately, Lin was able to grab the phone before Kate finished recording.

  “Hi there Kate, what’s happening?” Lin was delighted to hear from her former graduate school buddy. The two of them had spent many long nights studying and reading each other’s papers. Their friendship h
ad continued through the years when they worked as school administrators, seeing each other at association meetings and sometimes traveling together to conferences. They had the kind of friendship that picks up where it left off even after long absences.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” Kate responded. “It’s good to have you back in North Carolina. I saw Lucy in Raleigh last week. She said you had quite the adventure out west. How is the shoulder?”

  “Much better,” Lin responded, wondering what her daughter had told Kate. “I’m still doing exercises but I’m almost one hundred percent back to normal now.” Lin’s volunteer stint at Wupatki National Monument in Arizona had proved far more adventuresome than anticipated.

  “Well, I want to hear all about it and I’m coming to UNC-Charlotte day after tomorrow for a one day meeting and hoped we could get together, maybe for lunch or coffee?”

  “You are definitely on,” Lin was eager to see her friend, “Not only that but I know you are planning to stay overnight somewhere and it’d better be here with me—two nights actually—I know Charlotte is at least an eight hour drive from the Outer Banks.”

  Kate protested that staying overnight would be too much trouble and she already had hotel reservations near the university, but Lin would hear nothing of that. She insisted that her friend plan to stay with her in Davidson near Lake Norman, still less than half an hour from her meeting on campus.

  The plans made, Kate ended the conversation with a subtle hint, “From what Lucy told me there is a new gentleman in your life. I plan to learn all about your handsome professor!” She hung up the phone before Lin could respond to that.

  Returning the phone to its cradle on the desk, Lin turned to put away her purchases. She guessed the story of her months in Arizona was getting out among her friends. She’d only been back home for three weeks, but Kate had obviously heard all about it. Who else had her kids talked to?