Footprints in the Sand Read online

A white-haired man in the front row raised his hand. “Are there tiger sharks around here?”

  “This tiger shark was found near the Central Pacific islands,” said Dan. “But make no mistake, there are various shark species in the Gulf of Mexico. And while sharks usually avoid human beings and attacks are exceedingly rare, there are things you should do to further lessen the chance. On your way out today, pick up one of our free pamphlets on the subject.”

  Dan continued with the show. Sea snakes could paralyze their enemies. Moray eels possessed teeth designed to tear flesh. Stingrays hid under the sand on the ocean floor before shooting their prey with poison. A blue-ringed octopus was strangely beautiful but carried enough venom to kill twenty-six people. Puffer-fish toxins were more powerful than cyanide.

  “The toxins paralyze the victim. It’s not a pretty picture. Sweating, headaches, tremors, seizures, cardiac arrhythmias, and respiratory failure. Although completely paralyzed, the victim may be conscious and lucid before death, able to see and hear but unable to speak or move. It’s a horrible way to die.”

  Vin’s hand shot up again. “Is there any treatment?”

  “No antidote has been approved for human use yet,” said Dan. “Treatment usually involves pumping out the stomach and taking standard life-support measures to keep the victim alive until the effects of the poison wear off. Not everyone dies. If the patient survives twenty-four hours, he’ll usually live. But that’s a very big if.”

  Chapter 27

  A flash of scarlet caught their eyes. They dug farther, recoiling in horror when they saw what it was. The bright red was painted on a human toenail. Openmouthed, the fraternity brothers drew closer together and stared into the trench.

  “What the . . . ?”

  “No way!”

  One of them reached down, cautiously pushing away more sand, revealing the rest of the foot. A delicate gold bracelet encircled a thin ankle. He recoiled and dropped his plastic bucket.

  “We can’t dig anymore,” he commanded. “We gotta call the cops.”

  Chapter 28

  While she and Kathy waited with Roz for the deputy from the sheriff’s department to arrive, Piper took the plates and teacups into the kitchen. As she was rinsing them, she glanced up and looked out the window over the sink. Three law-enforcement vehicles came careening down the driveway, emergency lights flashing.

  “They’re here already,” Piper called to Roz and Kathy. “But I can’t believe they’ve sent three cars.”

  The white sedans came to a stop in front of Roz’s unit. The deputies got out and hurried right past the town house, running into the vegetation at the side of the property. Piper quickly dried her hands and returned to the living room.

  “They aren’t here for us,” she said. “I’m going out to see what’s happening.”

  Piper joined the small crowd that had gathered on the beach, watching as officers cordoned off an area of sand and foliage with stakes and yellow tape. She noticed Brad O’Hara standing on the periphery of the group. He was shirtless despite the cool breeze. Piper went over to talk to him, getting a clear view of the crying woman’s face tattooed on his arm.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Some kids found a body,” he answered flatly, his eyes glued to the crime scene.

  Standing on tiptoe and craning her neck, Piper watched as the officers shoveled, carefully placing the sand they dug up into piles. Two men dressed in street clothes crouched at the edge of the pit looking down into it, while another took photographs.

  “Okay, everybody. Stand back,” ordered one of the deputies. “Stand back!”

  The spectators obeyed, but just barely. Piper separated herself from the crowd and then inconspicuously made her way to a spot where she could get a better view. She noticed that Brad had followed her.

  “Oh, dear God!” cried an onlooker as the sand-covered body was lifted from the hole. The dead woman’s eyes were closed. Her skin was gray, and her matted dark hair hung long and loose. She was dressed in a short skirt and a yellow cotton sweater, which stretched tightly across her chest. Her feet were bare, and her arms were stiff. Piper noticed there were several rings on her fingers and a small tattoo on her left hand in the space between the thumb and forefinger. Piper couldn’t make out the design. She was trying to identify the mark when Brad O’Hara stepped forward.

  “I know who she is,” he said. “Her name is Shelley Hart.”

  Piper stood by and was able to listen while one of the officers questioned Brad.

  “I’ve known Shelley since we were at Sarasota High together,” Brad said. “We hung out. In fact, I was with her when she got that little cupid tattoo on her hand.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I might as well tell you—if you ask around, you’ll find out—I’ve done a stretch in jail.”

  “For what?” asked the deputy.

  “Dealing,” answered Brad. “But that was years ago—I’m totally legit now. You can confirm all that.”

  The deputy showed no reaction. “When had you seen Ms. Hart last?” he asked.

  “Last week,” said Brad. “She came over to the pavilion where I run my business. She wanted to make sure that I had enough kayaks for a wedding group that would be staying at the inn.”

  “When exactly was that?”

  Brad thought back and calculated. “I think it was last Tuesday.”

  “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” asked the deputy. “Did she seem upset or worried about anything?”

  Brad shook his head. “No, she seemed like Shelley.”

  “Which means what?” asked the deputy.

  “Look, she didn’t stay long or talk to me about much. Shelley spoke to me only if she absolutely had to. After I went to prison, she pretty much washed her hands of me.”

  Piper took out her phone and snapped a picture. Distasteful as it was, a photo of a crime scene would get lots of comments from her Facebook friends.

  Chapter 29

  Walter’s heart sank as he stood at his office window and watched the people striding past the inn on their way up the beach. Word had spread quickly. Everyone was curious about the unearthing of a dead body. They wanted to see the site and be able to tell their friends.

  Surely there would be stories on the news tonight and in the newspaper tomorrow morning. While interest in both the event and the investigation would be high in the short run, Walter worried about the long-term effect of the discovery. Would it ultimately be bad for business? Would people recoil from staying at a place so closely associated with something so horrible?

  The phone rang. Walter turned away from the window, went to his desk, and picked up the receiver. The woman identified herself as a reporter with the local television station.

  “Mr. Engel, I’m hoping you would be willing to do a short interview with us about the woman found buried on the beach at the end of the Whispering Sands property. I’ve just about finished shooting at the scene and could be over to your office within half an hour.”

  Calculating, Walter quickly decided it would be better to accept the request. He could take the opportunity to declare how shocked and saddened everyone at the inn was and simultaneously give reassurances that the Whispering Sands Inn was a safe and totally reputable establishment. What was that saying? Any publicity is good publicity. If he declined, it could look as if he had something to hide.

  Walter was waiting in the lobby to greet the reporter. She carried a black equipment bag and a tripod over her shoulder.

  “Where’s your crew?” he asked, glancing behind her.

  The reporter laughed. “There is no crew. Only me.”

  Walter looked at her quizzically.

  “Budget cuts and advanced technology,” she said. “I shoot the pictures, conduct the interviews, write the story, and edit the piece all by my little ol’ self.” She glanced at
her watch. “Shall we get started?”

  The reporter surveyed the room and decided that the area was too dark. With time at a premium, she didn’t want to bother setting up extra lighting and suggested they go outside instead. Walter led the way.

  “How about here?” he asked. “With the Gulf in the background.”

  She set up her tripod and attached the camera to it. When she had it positioned properly and had fastened a microphone to Walter’s shirt, she announced she was ready to go.

  “I’ll stand behind the camera and ask you questions,” she said. “Ready?”

  Walter took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Mr. Engel, the body hasn’t been formally identified, but a man on the beach said he recognized the young woman. He wouldn’t appear on camera, but he said she’s Shelley Hart and she worked here at the Whispering Sands Inn.”

  Swallowing hard, Walter paused for a few minutes before answering. “Until there is a formal identification, I wouldn’t want to comment on that,” he said.

  “What was Shelley Hart’s job here?” asked the reporter.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s appropriate to comment.”

  “Why not?” asked the reporter. “What does it hurt to disclose the dead woman’s employment?”

  “Because Shelley Hart has not been identified. Until that time comes, Ms. Lehane, I’m not going to talk about her.”

  The reporter shrugged and took another tack. “All right. What do you think about a dead body being discovered on your property? We can agree to that much, can’t we?”

  “Of course. This is a terrible thing, a tragic thing. It’s especially upsetting since it’s so close to home. Unfortunately, things like this happen too much in our society. It could happen anywhere.”

  “One more question, Mr. Engel. Do you have an opinion as to who might have wanted to kill Shelley Hart?”

  Damn this woman. She just won’t give up, will she?

  Walter hesitated before sputtering out his answer. “Shelley is the kind of woman . . . I mean, she wasn’t the kind of woman . . .” He stopped to compose himself before completing his comment. “If it is Shelley—and that’s a very big if—I don’t know the answer to your question. I can’t imagine who would want her dead.”

  Chapter 30

  When Piper returned to Roz Golubock’s town house, the elderly woman was sitting with a blood-pressure cuff on her arm and her legs up on the sofa. Kathy was frowning.

  “It’s a little low, Roz,” she said, unwrapping the cuff. “You’ve got to be more diligent about taking your medication.”

  “I know,” said Roz. “I just forget sometimes.”

  “Well, hang a calendar on your fridge or somewhere. Mark it off every time you take it. You’ve got to keep track, Roz. This time you’re okay, but the next time you might really hurt yourself.”

  Dreading what she knew she had to tell Kathy, Piper looked at her cousin with admiration. “I’m impressed,” said Piper. “I can’t believe you actually know how to read that thing.”

  “I had a lot of practice with my father,” said Kathy matter-of-factly. “I want to be able to tell Dr. Robbins and see what he says.”

  Kathy made the call, relayed the blood-pressure figures and listened.

  “Okay, ten o’clock,” she said. “We’ll make sure that she’s there.” Kathy ended the call and turned to Roz. “He said he’d feel better if you came in tomorrow morning to see him.”

  With that settled, Kathy suddenly remembered. “Hey, what was happening out there on the beach, Piper?”

  Chapter 31

  Levi sat in the gift shop, trying to keep his attention focused on the large white wooden disk on the worktable in front of him. He had carefully sketched out the figures around the periphery of the circle. Now he would begin painting them.

  His hand shook as he picked up the brush and dipped it in the red paint. As he brought the brush to the wood, a droplet dribbled beyond the lines that defined the first bird. Levi wiped at the paint with a cloth, only spreading the stain. Now he would have to sand and re-cover the spot with white paint and wait for it to dry before he could continue.

  He was determined to get the hex sign finished. He had given his word to Piper Donovan, and he wanted Kathy and Dan to have something to remember him by. He wanted to make sure that it would be meaningful.

  Levi blew on the wet paint, willing it to dry faster. He felt pressured and scared.

  He couldn’t find his cell phone. He’d looked for it everywhere. He’d retraced his steps, returning to the Whispering Sands Inn, hoping he had put it down in the kitchen when he’d delivered the pies this morning. He’d searched the lobby area, beneath cushions and under the chairs. He’d checked with the receptionist, but nobody had turned it in.

  Levi followed the exact same path all the way back to Pinecraft. He carefully scanned the trail, searching in vain, feeling more and more desperate. The last time he remembered using the cell phone was the previous night. Right before he went to Shelley’s grave.

  Chapter 32

  After breaking the news of the discovery of Shelley’s body, Piper wrapped her arm around her cousin’s shoulders as they walked back to her mother’s town house.

  “I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe that Shelley is dead!” Kathy cried. “How can this be happening?”

  Pulling her cousin closer, Piper whispered, “I don’t know, Kathy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  They traveled the rest of the way in a silence punctuated only by the sound of the driveway pebbles crunching beneath their feet and Kathy’s weeping. When they got to the front door, Kathy paused.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, opening her purse and pulling out a tissue. “Let me clean myself up. There are only four days before the wedding, and I don’t want my mother to see me so upset.”

  Zipper, the black-and-white cat, was waiting at the front door, but Nora and Terri barely looked up when Piper and Kathy walked into the town house. Their eyes were riveted to the television screen. The twenty-four-hour local news channel was reporting on the grisly discovery. A female reporter told the story.

  “A woman’s body was found on the beach on the northern part of Siesta Key today. College students vacationing in Sarasota on semester break found the body as they built a sand castle.”

  A shirtless, unshaven young man appeared on the screen and spoke. “Man, when I saw that foot sticking out of the sand, it totally freaked me out.”

  “While beach lovers looked on, police secured the crime scene and searched for clues.”

  “It didn’t appear like she’d been there too long,” said a sheriff’s deputy. “There was no noticeable decomposition.”

  “The burial site was on the far end of the property of Whispering Sands Inn. The owner was clearly shaken.”

  “Look, there’s Walter!” cried Nora as she pointed at the screen. Walter looked uncomfortable as he squinted against the sun and commented.

  “Of course, this a terrible thing, a tragic thing. It’s especially upsetting since it’s so close to home. Unfortunately, things like this happen too much in our society. It could happen anywhere.”

  The reporter appeared again.

  “The body of the woman was taken to the Sarasota Memorial Hospital morgue, where an autopsy will be performed. Her identity is being withheld until next of kin can be notified. Lois Ryan for Peninsula News, on Siesta Key.”

  “Awful,” said Nora as she clicked off the set.

  “It gets worse, Mom,” Kathy said quietly.

  Nora looked at her daughter and noticed her red-rimmed eyes. “What?” she asked with urgency. “What’s wrong?”

  Kathy sat down next to her mother on the sofa and took her hand. “It was Shelley.”

  Chapter 33

  After the body was taken away and the onlookers drifted off
, sheriff’s deputies continued to search the area. Scanning the beach was a relatively simple matter. The sun shone brightly, illuminating the smooth white sand. Metal detectors led the way to a safety pin, a hair clip, and some bottle caps.

  “I doubt these have anything to do with anything,” said a deputy as he put the items into plastic evidence bags.

  “You never know,” said his partner.

  Searching the vegetation area took more time. The leather ferns and sea grapes that covered the ground were heavily shaded by taller elderberry, Australian pine, and palm trees. The lack of light and the density of ground growth made the hunt for evidence more difficult.

  The deputy picked up a ripped rubber flip-flop and held it out.

  “It’s so faded,” observed the other. “It looks like it’s been out here a long time. But bag it anyway.”

  The deputy squatted down at the base of a palm tree where the weathered shell of a baby sea turtle lay in the sand. “The little guy didn’t make it last season,” he said ruefully.

  “Over here,” called the other deputy. “I found something.”

  In his glove-covered hand, he held up a cell phone.

  Chapter 34

  They found her. They found Shelley. It was on television, on the radio, and it would be splashed across the front page of the newspaper in the morning.

  Sarasota was a city, but in some ways it was like a small town. This wasn’t New York or Chicago or Los Angeles, where the discovery of a dead body could go virtually unnoticed. In Sarasota, uncovering Shelley Hart’s body was huge news, especially because she’d been found on Siesta Beach. Everybody paid attention.

  Sarasota’s financial system revolved around the tourist trade. Visitors pumped millions of dollars into the local economy. The designation of Siesta Beach as the best beach in the nation had been a tremendous boon to hotels, restaurants, theaters, boat- and car-rental companies, and all the other enterprises that provided what tourists wanted. As a result, the district tax coffers had benefited immensely.