‘‘A chill went up my spine like I’ve never felt before. I couldn’t say anything. All I could do was sit there staring at him. He just turned and walked away. That evening my husband was late, and I was scared to death. Scared that they killed him. When he finally did come in, I told him we were leaving the Outer Banks, I didn’t care if we had to wash toilets or panhandle for the rest of our lives, I wasn’t staying here. He agreed to go and we moved to Tennessee. It was a good move. We did well there. Earl and me both found good jobs. After a while he opened his own office. I have never again to this day laid eyes on my sister,’’ said Sarah.
They all sat in silence for several moments. Carley looked at the thin, gold chain bracelet on her arm and back up at her grandmother. She put a hand over hers. It was Ellen who spoke first.
‘‘I remember moving that summer. I was so mad at you and Dad for taking me away from school and my friends. Why didn’t you tell me? I never understood why we up and moved with no warning.’’
‘‘You were just fifteen, Ellen. What was I going to tell you?’’ Sarah said. She looked at Diane and Kingsley. ‘‘You said a woman escaped from prison. Is this her?’’ She picked up the photograph and looked at it. ‘‘She looks kind of like my sister. Is she one of the triplets?’’
‘‘We believe it’s Iris,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You said she is a murderer?’’ she said.
‘‘She was convicted of murder in Georgia, sent to prison, and recently escaped,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘We believe she was sold by her father when she was about fifteen. We think what she went through turned her into a serial killer.’’
The grandmother looked shocked. Frankly, Diane found it hard to believe that anything about her sister’s family would shock her at this point.
‘‘Poor little Iris.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘I told my sister. I told her. She wouldn’t listen. Stupid, stupid woman. They were the cutest little girls, just like three little peas in a pod.’’
‘‘Do you know what happened to any of the family?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I never tried to find out. I never wanted to be in their crosshairs again. I was afraid to move back to this area, but Earl wanted to retire here and Ellen had married a boy from here. I just prayed they’d forgot about us and we would never run across them. We never have.’’
‘‘How old would Alain Delaflote be now?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Let’s see, he was five years older than my sister; that would make him about sixty-five. Young enough to still be in business,’’ Sarah said. ‘‘Can you arrest him? I wouldn’t want him coming after Carley. She’s a little older than he likes, but...’’
‘‘We will certainly take a careful look at them,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘We will not tell him you talked to us. We won’t mention you or your family.’’
‘‘Thank you for that,’’ Sarah said.
‘‘Do you know where they live?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Like I said, I have never tried to find them. They used to live out on Mosshazel Island. Back when they moved out there it was the only privately owned island on the coast. You follow Highway 70 about thirty miles beyond Beaufort to a little village called Croker. They had their own private ferry used to run from there to the island. It might still be there. They had one of those big white-columned houses in the middle of the island. There was a little village on the island called East Croker. Not much to it.’’
Kingsley rose as if to leave. ‘‘Thank you for speaking with us,’’ he said. ‘‘I can see it wasn’t easy, but we really need to find Iris. We’ll investigate the whole Delaflote family and look into the lost children.’’
‘‘Do you think you can find any of them?’’ she asked.
There was so much hope in her eyes that Diane hated to say
Kingsley spoke first. ‘‘I don’t know. But Iris escaped from her captors. There is always hope.’’
They left Carley’s house, thanking the three women and taking cookies Carley’s mother wrapped up for them.
‘‘Carley’s life changed today,’’ said Diane.
‘‘It did, didn’t it? I think things are better out in the open. At least now she knows to avoid anyone named Delaflote,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘So, do you want to ride out to the island?’’
‘‘Not without backup,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Are you nuts?’’
Kingsley laughed. ‘‘I guess you’re right. It’s exciting to be so close. Let’s look for a motel near this place— what did she say, Croker? We’ll call the marshals. Maybe they’re finished with chasing their wild goose and will hurry out here.’’
Diane followed Highway 70 south to Morehead City and on to Beaufort. It was a little over fifty miles. She wanted to find a motel in Beaufort. According to her GPS maps it was the last large city they would pass near. But Kingsley wanted to get closer.
‘‘Why?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘We aren’t going over to the island. You heard what she said; you have to take a ferry. That means there’s no quick getaway in case of emergency.’’
‘‘I know, but there are other tourist towns beyond Beaufort. They will have motels,’’ said Kingsley.
Diane threw up her hands and agreed. Beaufort was a little more than an hour’s drive from New Bern. She drove about twelve miles beyond Beaufort. It wasn’t a straight drive. This part of North Carolina was a water world. They crossed large rivers and small creeks and passed through many small tourist towns.
Many places Diane would have liked to stop and just look at the scenery—the water, the boats, the ships. The low green landscape was less lush than the vegetation she was used to in Rosewood; the trees weren’t as tall. Nor was it as subtropical as the barrier islands of Georgia. It was beautiful away from the towns, very peaceful looking. She would have stopped to look, but she was tired from their long trip. Maybe they could find a good place to watch the sun set over the sound. Sunsets here were supposed to be pretty spectacular.
