“Yeah, I seen her,” he said testily. “I keep an eye out for that one—I’ve called the cops on her before, you know, because they do all sorts of weird stuff back there. And that tree—she don’t care at all about that tree!”
Flynn had no idea what he was talking about, but closed in on him, leaning down so that his face was inches from the little man’s face. “When did you last see her?”
“A while ago! She took a taxi.”
“And what do you mean, a while ago? Within the last hour? Two hours? Longer?”
“She left sometime after seven,” he muttered, fearfully clutching the rake.
“Thank you,” Flynn said, let his gaze slowly flick the length of the man, then turned and walked back to Joe. “She’s gone,” he said. “A cab, more than three hours ago.”
“Shit!”
“I suspect,” Flynn said, shooting a glare at the neighbor, who was sneaking up to eavesdrop, “that her friend will know exactly where she is.”
“Let’s go,” Joe said, and came off the steps, pausing in front of the neighbor. “Go back home before I punt you there.”
The man scurried away.
“What is it about people with plastic yard art?” Joe muttered, and shaking his head, walked briskly with Flynn to the car.
Unlike Rachel, Dagne hadn’t appeared to have left the table, much less her flat. She opened the door timidly when Joe pounded loudly, and offered no resistance when he pushed inside. The girl had been crying; it was plainly obvious, what with the red face, swollen, bloodshot eyes, and clogged nose.
“Now what’s the matter?” Joe demanded impatiently.
“Oh, right, like you care.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Where’d your friend run off to?”
Dagne responded by blowing her nose.
“Dagne,” Flynn said, before Joe could scare her out of her wits. “You know that Rachel’s in trouble. I want to help her—but I can’t help her unless you tell me where she’s gone.”
Dagne sniffed loudly and glanced at Flynn from the corner of her eye. “Do you honestly believe she had something to do with it?”
Flynn instantly shook his head. “I honestly believe quite the opposite. But I must speak with her to prove it, eh?”
With a sigh, Dagne considered that, and finally cried out, “I don’t know what to do!”
“Tell the truth,” Flynn softly urged her. “It’s always the best course.”
Dagne wiped her nose, glanced up at Flynn again. “She’s on her way to Hilton Head,” she said, and the tears welled up again.
“Oh, that’s just great,” Joe groused, and fell into a chair at her little table.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The jet landed at a small air strip on Hilton Head Island just after midnight. Thankfully, Dad had arranged a car for her, and the driver took her to The Inn at Harbor Town in Sea Pines, an exclusive resort.
It was late, and Rachel tried to get some sleep, but she tossed and turned. Her sleep was just below the surface of consciousness, her heart and mind on fire with the enormity of what Myron had done to her.
It was impossible to imagine how someone who was her friend, who had even been a lover, could have so carelessly put her in harm’s way. Did he even think of the danger he put her in? The sort of criminal charges something like this could bring, even if she was an innocent, ignorant bystander, made her shudder. She could well be on her way to prison.
What hurt the most was how blind she had been to it all. She’d been so quick to settle for being Myron’s “friend;” just something to make her feel worthy of a man’s affection, and it had all been a lie. Somehow, she had let her insecurities meander along until even her friendship with Myron was seriously out of balance.
The most frightening thing was that it had all happened without her even questioning it. She’d been a stupid little goose, waking up in a fresh new world every day, the past blithely forgotten. It had just been so easy to just go on and on, pretending. But then someone had come into her life who mattered, someone who admired her for being Rachel, and she’d had the baggage that was Myron hanging over her head.
The image of Flynn scudded across her mind’s eye, and she buried her face in a pillow with a breath-snatching sob. Just yesterday, her future had seemed so bright—but now it suddenly seemed coldly distant and lonely. Surely God had made a mistake with all of this; surely He would take it all back.
Rachel was up before dawn the next morning, walking along the beach and trying to clear her head. Her fury had resumed in full gale force with the first morning’s light, and she wanted to find Myron desperately, to wring his neck until he could not draw a breath.