Frank licked the tip of his tiny pencil. Charlotte didn’t know how licking it helped, but pencils were about as common as VCRs. She kept one in her utility drawer for marking walls when hanging pictures.
“So tell me exactly what you saw,” said Frank.
Jack rubbed his nose and stared at the body as if trying to recreate the scene in his head. “Nothing really. I came out to get my paper and that little Mexican lady screamed. I thought Ted fell—”
“Ted? You know his last name?”
“No. He’s pretty new.”
“So you didn’t know him well?”
Jack shook his head. “No, no. We introduced ourselves when he first moved in, but we didn’t become fast friends. Not really my type.”
“How so?”
“No reason really. He’s just old.”
Charlotte snorted a laugh and then cleared her throat to disguise it.
Jack, the spring chicken.
Frank glowered at her. “You need a tissue?” he asked.
She sniffed. “No. Sorry. Allergies.”
Frank grunted and refocused on Jack. “Okay. Go on. You saw Ted there, dead?”
Jack stabbed his club into the ground and leaned on it. “I didn’t know he was dead right away. I saw the ladder and figured he fell. I asked her what happened, but you know...I figured she was illegal and too afraid to call the cops.”
“Why would you assume she’s illegal?” asked Charlotte.
Frank took a half step in front of her. “Do you know her?”
Jack cast a condescending glance in Charlotte direction. “She’s dressed like a housekeeper and she’s Mexican. I did the math.”
“So you know her well enough to know she’s Mexican?” asked Charlotte.
Jack rolled his eyes. “No, I mean Hispanic. Whatever.”
“Did you touch the body?” asked Frank, leaning to further block her from Jack. She took a step back.
“I checked his pulse,” said Jack.
“How?”
“The usual way, I guess.”
Frank shook his head. “How exactly. We have to account for fingerprints on the body.”
“Oh. His neck. With two fingers, like they do on TV.”
“And you didn’t feel anything?”
“I didn’t have to. He was cold as a stone.”
Charlotte elbowed Frank. “Ten bucks says he died last night.”
Frank scowled. “Why would he be on a ladder at night?”
“Exactly.”
They turned back to Jack, who stood glaring at them.
Frank cleared his throat. “Figure of speech. We’re not really betting on the investigation.” He glanced back at Charlotte. “Isn’t there somewhere you need to be?”
“No.”
“I think Dan could use your help.”
Charlotte sighed. “Fine.”
She made her way to Deputy Daniel. He’d finished interviewing the housekeeper, who’d taken a seat on the front step.
“Anything good?” she asked.
Daniel looked up from his notes and grinned. “Hey, Charlotte.”
“Hey, Daniel. Did she know anything helpful?”
“Nah. She found the body and that dude over there called it in for her. Name’s Corentine Flores. She’s from El Salvador.”
Charlotte glanced back at Jack. “I knew it. Not Mexican.”
“What?”
“Nothing. How long has she been working for Ted?”
Dan’s eyes grew wide, pupils bouncing in the direction of Corentine. “I don’t know. Should I have asked her that?”
The quick whoop whoop! of a police cruiser made them jump as the FDLE officers pulled to the scene.
Charlotte frowned. She needed to leave so Frank didn’t get in trouble for letting her poke around. Technically, her training was over and while Frank did deputize her from time to time for particular cases, she hadn’t been officially assigned to this one. Though after the discovery of the brick, she hoped she’d earned a spot on the team should FDLE ask them for additional help.
Two officers approached Daniel. One ignored her completely, the other gave her a head-to-toe eye washing and grinned.
“Where’s the body?” asked the other.
“Are you a witness?” asked the one with eyes on her.
“Nah, she’s Charlotte,” said Daniel. “She’s the witness.” He pointed to Corentine on the step.
“I’m just a neighbor. I’ll get out of your way,” said Charlotte. “You’re going to want to look at the brick in the back west corner of his back yard though. Sheriff thinks maybe someone hit him with it.”
Both men seemed to refocus on the task at hand and headed toward Frank with a touch of their hat brims as goodbye. The all-business officer slapped his partner on the arm and pointed him toward Corentine.
The other clucked his tongue, but headed in her direction.
Daniel leaned toward Charlotte. “Is that true?”
“What?”
“You think someone hit him with a brick?”
Charlotte nodded. “Looks like it to me.”
Chapter Four
Three Days Ago
“Headed for Tampa,” murmured Jamie Moriarty from the common area of her current home, the Lowell Correctional Institution in Marion County Florida. Her gaze moved like a laser-pointer past the word Tampa on the weatherman’s map to a little area southwest in Manatee County. The tiny town of Charity didn’t earn a spot on the weatherman’s map, but it was there. There, with her daughter and the people who’d sent her to prison. Something about the hurricane made the synapses in her brain fire like lightening.
I need to be there for this storm.
“Why we watchin’ weather? Nobody care about no weather.”
Jamie looked down at the skinny punk sitting in the chair beside her, the girl’s body speckled with tiny holes where earrings and bolts once threaded.
Charming.
She didn’t respond, just stared, until the girl looked away.
Jamie strolled away from the television. She didn’t want to press her luck. She had moves, but she wasn’t a large woman. Taller than average and thin, she was athletic without being athletic. If the punk wanted to hurt her, she could have, easily enough.
The first thing Jamie did upon hearing where she’d be remanded for life—or at least until Texas tried her for her crimes there and she
