need to think about everything. I won’t say anything to anyone today, and I’ll stop by the Pirate’s Inn tonight sometime during my shift and let you know what I’ve decided to do.”
She opened her mouth as if to make one more plea, but closed it and nodded. “Then I guess I’ll see you sometime tonight.”
He left her house and walked around to his car. No patrol car today, just a nice red convertible sports car that most women would definitely consider a boy toy.
He’d bought the car a year ago, and the day he signed the ownership papers, his head had been filled with the memory of his twin brother, Jacob.
When the two boys had been growing up, they’d dreamed of owning a car like this...flashy and fast and nothing like the old family car their parents had driven. That old car had been held together by string and hope because new cars cost money the Griffin family didn’t have.
Driving to his house, he once again thought about the surprising discovery of the tunnels. The presence of them had been such a shock. Had they been made by pirates who were rumored to have used the Lost Lagoon town as a base camp? Would there be treasures and artifacts in one of those passageways that would identify who had made them and why?
It was much easier to think about the tunnels than about the woman he’d just left. But thoughts of Savannah intruded. Of the two sisters, he’d always thought she was the prettiest. She was softer, a little bit shyer than Shelly, but she’d drawn Josh to her.
She’d had a smile that lit up her face and made it impossible not to smile back at her. He wondered if she had smiled at all in the last two years.
He pulled into the driveway of his three-bedroom ranch house. He’d bought the house when it was just a shell and had added amenities like an extra-long whirlpool tub for a tall man to relax in and a walkout door from the bedroom to a private patio. He’d also put in all the bells and whistles in the kitchen area. He’d been told by the builder that it would be good for resale value.
The cost of living in Lost Lagoon was relatively low, and his salary was good, as few lawmen would choose to spend their careers in a small swamp town.
When he got inside, he sat at his kitchen table with a bottle of cold beer, and once again his head filled with visions of Savannah.
One week. That was all she’d asked for. Just seven days. But was it even right for him to indulge her in one more ghost walk? Wasn’t it better just to end it all now and hope that she got some sort of help for the grief that had obviously held her in its grip for far too long?
And what if Sheriff Trey Walker found out that he’d known about the tunnels and hadn’t come forward immediately? Trey was a tough guy who demanded 100 percent loyalty from his men. Would Josh be putting his job on the line to give Savannah what she’d asked for?
He took a long sip of his beer and reviewed his options—none of which he liked.
Savannah stood behind the reception desk in the large quiet lobby of the Pirate’s Inn. The inn had two stories, and the centerpiece of the lobby was a huge, tacky treasure chest that the inn’s owner, Donnie Albright, had been repainting for the last couple of weeks.
He’d finished the six-foot-tall chest itself, painting it a bright gold, but he still had to spruce up the oversized papier-mâché and Styrofoam jewels and strings of pearls that filled the chest.
He was also in the process of re-carpeting the guest rooms, all in anticipation of the amusement park that had bought land and was building on a ridge above the small city.
Most of the businesses were eager for the park to be done, knowing that it would bring in tourists who would shop and spend their money in town. There were plenty of people in town who wanted Lost Lagoon to be “found” and hoped that would happen with the large amusement park under construction nearby.
At the moment, the last thing on Savannah’s mind was the new pirate-themed park. It was a little after 2:00 a.m., and Josh hadn’t come in yet to tell her his decision about giving her one final walk before telling other people about the tunnels.
She sat in a raised chair and began to doodle on a notepad. There was only one couple staying in the inn tonight. Beth and Greg Hemming stayed in a room at the inn once a month. They had four children, all under the age of six, and Savannah suspected the night out was not so much about romance, but more about a good night of uninterrupted sleep.
For years the inn had mostly catered to occasional people who came to Lost Lagoon to visit with family members. It was rare that real tourists stopped in for a room for the night unless they were lost and desperate to spend the night someplace before returning to their journey.
Shelly had worked as the night manager before her murder. Savannah had taken on the same job a year ago. She was certain it was the most boring job in town.
She had a degree from a culinary school and had at one time entertained the idea of opening a restaurant in town. Lost Lagoon had a pizza place, George’s Diner, which was just a cheap hamburger joint, and the café. There was no place for anyone in town to have a real fine dining experience.
That was why she had been living at home, working at the café and saving her money before Shelly’s murder. But the loss of her sister had also stolen Savannah’s dreams.
A rap on the front door drew her attention, and she grabbed the ring of keys that would unlock the front door. The inn was always locked up for security purposes when she arrived for her shift at eleven.
She rounded the monstrous, gaudy treasure chest to see Josh standing outside. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly at the sight of him, so tall and handsome in his khaki uniform.
It was impossible to tell what news he brought by the lack of expression on his face. She fumbled with the key and finally got the door unlocked to allow him inside.
“Busy night?” she asked as she led him back to the reception area where, in front of the desk, two sofas faced each other and were separated by a large square wooden coffee table.
“Probably no busier than yours,” he replied. He sat on one end of a sofa, and she sat on the other. “Any guests in the house?”
“Beth and Greg Hemming are in room 202.”
“No sightings of old Peg Leg or his drunken friend?” There was a touch of amusement in his eyes as he mentioned the most popular “ghosts” in town.
“Donnie probably made up that story about pirate ghosts haunting the hallways when he first bought this place years ago,” she replied and wished he’d just get to the point.
“With the new pirate theme park going up, I imagine Donnie is anticipating lots of guests in the future.”
“There are certainly going to be big changes around here when the park is finished next summer,” she replied.
“Whoever thought Lost Lagoon, Mississippi, would become a family vacation destination? I expect we’ll see some new businesses popping up in the near future.”
“Josh,” she said impatiently.
