The Sweetest Summer(26)
“No need, Hal. He’s the Bayberry Island Chief of Police.”
The line went quiet for a beat. Then Hal said, “Ohhh, shiiit.”
“Yep, he saw us get off the ferry and walked right over to me to welcome us to festival week. It took me a minute to figure out why he looked familiar, but then I saw his badge. This is really bad, isn’t it? I think we need to leave tomorrow and go somewhere else.”
Hal made a deep growl of frustration, and Evelyn could hear the lightning-fast clicking of computer keys in the background. “Well, it’s certainly not good. Okay, well, it looks like the police chief of Bayberry Island is not just some chowderhead. Clancy Flynn graduated with honors from the Mass State Police Academy and was a decorated Boston patrol officer, six years on the beat.” The keys kept clicking. “Check this out—he got a meritorious service award for pulling victims from the rubble of a gas explosion and two years later got a community service award for working with neighborhood watch groups. Looks like your man is a frickin’ Eagle Scout.”
“He is?”
“That was just a turn of phrase, but if you hold on a moment I can check—”
“No! Stop!” Evelyn sighed deeply. “We’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll pack us up and we’ll take the first ferry out.”
“And go where?”
She closed her eyes. “I have no idea.”
“This is not the way to do it, Evie. Especially with a traumatized little kid in tow.”
“Do you have a better plan?”
Hal was quiet for a long moment. “I am still trying to figure out how Wahlman got custody. I’ll need to drive to Maine and track down the clerk of courts in your county, do some human interface.”
“That’s a four-hour drive from Burlington!”
“Four hours is just four hours, honey. I’ll do a little detective work. In the meantime—”
“We’ll leave the island.”
“Hold up! Listen. Are you sure this dude recognized you?”
“Actually, I don’t think he did. Not yet, anyway.”
“Good.” Hal made his humming sound again, and Evelyn knew he was thinking. “Listen, Evie. If your hair turned out anything like the Photoshopped ID, then you look nothing like you did when you were a teenager, right?”
“God, no. I had wavy brown hair past my shoulder blades back then, and I hadn’t yet discovered the magic of eyebrow tweezers.”
He snickered.
“And now I look like that eighties chick, what’s-her-name, the one who used to hang out with Sylvester Stallone.”
“Brigitte Nielsen?”
“Yeah. Her.”
Hal laughed hard. “Sweetie, don’t panic quite yet. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll keep monitoring FBI and state police activity and let you know if there’s any indication they have a lead. I’ll also keep an eye on your hottie police chief. If I see him doing any online snooping on Evelyn McGuinness or the so-called kidnapping, I’ll get in touch with you immediately. Even if he searches for Cricket Dickinson, you should be okay—unless he decides to dig deeper than the first couple levels. Let’s hope he’s satisfied with what I had time to throw together. Keep your phone with you.”
“I will.”
“In the meantime, don’t make any rash decisions. Do you promise me?”