the family after Lorrie’s disappearance. The austere woman had answered his questions curtly, maintaining she hadn’t even been aware of Lorrie Davis leaving the house. Edith Mertz’s attitude had given him the impression that she hadn’t thought the comings and goings of the young woman were worthy of her attention.
“Will you inform the family that Ashley Davis, sister of the missing woman, has just arrived from California.” Brad’s tone made it sound more like an order than request.
“They’re in the family sitting room,” she replied curtly. “Understandably upset. I certainly hope you will clear this up quickly, Officer. The entire household has been distressed by this unfortunate event.” Her tone clearly indicated she thought the island’s poor police protection was to blame. “Follow me, Miss Davis.”
As she turned away, Ashley shot him a questioning look. Despite all her bravado, he could tell she was looking for his support.
“You want me to stay?”
“Yes, please.”
He had decided to leave her suitcase in the car until they knew what kind of reception she was going to get. Clearly accepting guests in their home, unless they were personally invited, was not the norm for a prestigious family like the Langdons; they might expect Ashley Davis to find accommodations elsewhere. Unfortunately, seaside cottages were already closed for the season and only a couple of questionable boarding houses took in transient year-round visitors.
He boldly put a guiding hand on her arm as they followed the housekeeper across a wide foyer. They went past a curved staircase mounted against one wall and then down a hall paneled in dark walnut.
They had passed several closed doors when they met a man, wearing a raincoat and carrying a medical bag, coming toward them.
Brad nodded in recognition of the island’s doctor. “Evening, Dr. Hadley.”
He was a tall, nice-looking man in his late forties, with graying dark hair and a well-toned body that matched his alert expression. The doctor was Clayton Langdon’s private physician, and he handled only routine medical cases that arose on the island. All others he sent to the mainland either by boat or arranged a helicopter pickup at the school playing field. A makeshift ambulance van was kept in the garage of the doctor’s home office.
“How is he, Doctor?” Mrs. Mertz demanded in her usual curt manner. “We hated calling you out on a night like this but—”
“No problem,” Dr. Hadley quickly assured her. “Clayton is less agitated now, and I left something for a good night’s sleep when he’s ready to retire.” He nodded at Brad. “Evening, Officer. Any new developments?”
“’Fraid not.”
The doctor glanced at Ashley. “My goodness, young lady, you look chilled to the bone. You’d better get into some dry clothes and have something hot to drink. We don’t need another patient in the house.”
“No, we certainly don’t,” Edith Mertz echoed with pursed lips as if Ashley were bringing some kind of sickness into the house.
“From the sound of that wind, we’re in for a night of it.” He gave them a brisk nod and continued down the hall toward the front door.
Mrs. Mertz led them deeper into the house and then turned into a brightly lit sitting room warmed by blazing logs in a large fireplace.
Three people sat in chairs near the fire. Brad kept his hand on Ashley’s arm as they moved toward them. An elderly Clayton Langdon squinted at them, and his fifty-year-old son, Jonathan, frowned at the intrusion. A slightly built woman, somewhat younger than the men, rose to her feet with the habitual response of a hostess to unexpected guests.
She was Ellen Brenden, the sister of Jonathan’s late wife, Samantha, who had been killed in that automobile accident on the mainland nearly twenty-five years ago. Now in her forties, Ellen had become a fixture in the Langdon’s household.
Brad liked her. Ellen was a spry and energetic woman with dishwater brown hair cut short around a full face. She wore a colorful, trendy outfit designed for a younger woman. Living with the Langdon family afforded her a comfortable lifestyle, but Brad thought that meeting the demands of the two Langdon men couldn’t be an easy row to hoe.
“This is Ashley Davis, the dead girl’s sister,” Mrs. Mertz announced in her abrasive manner.
“Missing sister,” Brad loudly corrected her.
“Oh, yes, of course…missing,” Ellen Brenden stammered as if trying to rectify the housekeeper’s embarrassing error.
Brad guided Ashley across the room to where Clayton Langdon and Jonathan were sitting. “Miss Davis flew in from California this evening in response to her sister’s disappearance,” he told them briskly.
Jonathan had quickly risen to his feet. He was a man of medium height and weight, slightly round-shouldered, with a furrowed brow which seemed to reflect heavy responsibilities. As acting head of the family, he looked older than fifty.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Davis.” He offered his hand. “I regret the unhappy circumstances,” he added in an apologetic tone.
“Damned confounding! That’s what it is,” bellowed the seventy-nine-year-old Clayton. As he fastened wrinkle-lidded eyes on Ashley, he clamped his sagging mouth shut and lapsed into a belligerent silence.
“Is there anything new?” Jonathan quickly asked Brad, ignoring his father’s outburst.
“Not yet.”
“This must be very trying for you, Miss Davis,” Jonathan said sympathetically.
“How could such a thing like this happen?” Ashley demanded, worry and bewilderment in her voice.
“Very unfortunate,” Jonathan agreed in a people-management tone.
“Just awful,” Ellen echoed. “She was…is…a very pleasant and agreeable young woman. All of this is too frightful to believe. What could have—”
“Where is your home, Miss Davis?” Jonathan asked, deliberately interrupting.
“San Francisco. I came as soon as I received the news of her disappearance. It took all day because I had to change planes and make three connections.”
Clayton grunted as he leaned forward in his chair. The old man’s heavy-lidded eyes reflected a far-off look, but his voice was surprisingly firm. “Traveling is always exhausting under the best conditions, young lady. Even in a private plane you have to contend with all the time changes.”
An exasperated look crossed Ashley’s tired face. Brad knew her nerves were already threadbare. Trying to cope with mounting anxiety was taking its toll. He quickly intervened.
“Dr. Hadley wanted Miss Davis to have something warm to drink and perhaps a robe around her shoulders.”
“Oh yes, a cup of hot tea,” Ellen responded quickly. “It’s a late hour for coffee, isn’t it? Please sit here, Miss Davis.” She motioned to a nearby chair and as Ashley wearily dropped down into it, Ellen handed her a knitted afghan.
“Thank you,” Ashley said
