Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

those things here in Oyster Bay, where her journey had begun. But there’d been no straight path for Flynn to follow. Neither the lighthouse beam nor the lightning held still long enough to guide him. Yet he’d gone forth into the darkness all the same.
    Rawlings murmured a few orders to his team and then led Olivia downstairs and over the dunes to the keeper’s cottage. When he moved to open the door, she hesitated and held out her hand, palm facing skyward. A fat drop of rain splashed against her skin. Another drop followed. And another.
    She raised her face, inviting the water to fall on her. She wanted it to wash her salty tears away, but they stuck fast to her skin.
    “Come on, love,” Rawlings whispered and slid an arm around her waist. “It’s over now. Come on inside.”
    Olivia let him lead her into the house. He made her lie down on the sofa and then covered her with a blanket. He brewed a cup of strong coffee and stirred in a dollop of whiskey with the cream. All the while, he said nothing.
    He sat with her while she sipped her coffee. Outside, the rain fell harder. The sound of it hitting the roof was a beautiful symphony to Olivia. It muffled the gunshot that kept going off again and again in her head.
    “Would you open the windows?” she asked Rawlings. “All of them?”
    Nodding, he got up and moved around the cottage. When he was done, the snug house was filled with the cacophony of a summer storm. It was unexpectedly comforting.
    Olivia knew that Rawlings was waiting for her to speak—that he had an urgent need to know everything she’d heard on the lighthouse balcony. She would tell him of course. She would repeat every word, recall every terrible detail, if it meant helping him put two murderers away.
    But just for a moment, she wanted to lose herself in the storm. After weeks of drought and dryness and heat, she wanted to close her eyes and drown in the rush of water.
    A short while later, while Rawlings held her hand and the tempest raged outside the cottage, she began to speak.

Chapter 16
    The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.
    — R UMI
    R awlings listened without interruption. He asked her to pause a time or two while he wrote something in his notepad, but Olivia recounted the last conversation she would ever have with Flynn McNulty with disturbing quickness. She was surprised by the lack of emotion in her voice. It was as if the storm was reacting on her behalf, battering the earth with wind and rain and handfuls of sand while she talked.
    “And then you were there,” Olivia said when she was done. “You found me.”
    “I’ll always find you.” Rawlings gazed at her tenderly for a long moment and then glanced at his cell phone. “Cook’s called me a dozen times. He texted that it’s urgent.”
    Olivia had images of Cook frantically dialing the chief’s number to report that Amabel and Greg had somehow escaped, but knew she was being ridiculous. However, as she watched Rawlings’ reaction to Cook’s news, she sensed that the investigation was far from over.
    “It’s Lowell,” Rawlings said after ending the call. “He’s gone. A nurse entered his room to find it empty.” He pushed the phone in his pocket and turned toward the door. “Violetta’s murderers may be in custody, but Mr. McNulty’s confession must be corroborated. Our suspects might panic when they hear that Flynn bore witness to their crime, but unless I can get them to admit to the killing, I need Lowell. He has to press charges against Amabel Hammond and Greg Rapson.”
    Shoving the blanket off her legs, Olivia stood up. “Did anyone talk to Lowell after he woke up? Did he realize that he wasn’t in danger anymore?”
    “I have no idea,” Rawlings said. “New Bern PD had an officer stationed outside his door, so I don’t know how he slipped out to begin with. Two of my men are en route to the hospital and should arrive any minute now. They’ll report back on his condition when he disappeared, but we must find him without delay.” He checked his watch. “Cook will lead the search. As for me, I need to convince one of our murder suspects to talk.”
    “Dixie might know something about Lowell,” Olivia said, following Rawlings to the door. “She sent me a text while I was still at Decadence saying that he was awake.” Picking up her purse, she checked her