Ellis looked at Madison and shrugged. “Come on,” she said. “It’s our last night. Might as well get it over with.”

Dorie herded them all onstage, and they heard the distinctive introductory bass thumps. “Okay,” she said, taking charge. “Julia and I will do the Travolta part. Ellis, you and Madison do Olivia Newton-John.”

And the next moment, the four of them were sashaying across the stage, warbling “Summer Nights” from Grease. And when it came to the part about how summer flings don’t mean a thing, Ellis Sullivan sang that verse with newfound wisdom.

50

“That was awesome!” Dorie cried, throwing her arms around her friends at the end of the song.

“Yeah, we totally rocked it,” Julia agreed, herding the women in the direction of the table. “But you guys, I think the birthday princess needs to go home now, before she turns into a pumpkin.”

“Sounds good to me,” Madison said readily.

They piled into the red van, with Dorie behind the wheel, and were almost home when Julia, trying to sound casual, pulled out her cell phone and groaned.

“Oh, no. My battery’s dead. And I promised Booker I’d call him before midnight. Damn!”

“I’d let you use mine,” Dorie offered, “but I’ve used up all my minutes for the month.”

“Here,” Ellis said, rummaging in her purse. “Just call him on mine.”

“Okay,” Julia said, holding out her hand.

“Well, hell,” Ellis said, sounding puzzled. “It’s not in here.” She dumped the contents of the purse onto her lap, and pawed through the lipsticks, pens, billfold, Kleenex packets, and a notebook of lists.

Julia turned around from the front passenger seat. “Are you sure it’s not there?”

“Positive,” Ellis said. “And my keys are missing too. Dorie,” she cried, “turn around. We’ve got to go back to Caddie’s. I think maybe my phone and keys fell out of my purse back there.”

“What?” Julia said, sounding panicky. It was ten minutes before midnight. “I didn’t see your phone and keys on the table. And I was sitting right beside you all night.”

“They’ve gotta be there,” Ellis insisted. “Dorie, please go back. You guys can stay in the van, I’ll just run inside and check the table and be right back.”

“It can’t be there,” Julia countered. “Right, Dorie?”

“When was the last time you remember seeing your phone?” Dorie asked. “Think back.”

“I don’t know,” Ellis said. “I’ve been running around all day, between the house and the beach, and packing, and cleaning, and starting to load the car.”

“The beach!” Dorie cried. “Oh my God, of course. Ellis, it completely slipped my mind. When I was picking up my chair and towel this afternoon, I noticed your phone and keys on your beach chair. I meant to say something, but I just figured you were planning to go back down there later in the afternoon.”

“Dorie!” Ellis said, annoyed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Or just pick it up and bring it to me?”

“I’m an idiot,” Dorie wailed. “It was so hot out there today, and then Willa called me on my cell to yell at me some more, and I just forgot.”

“For Pete’s sake,” Ellis grumped. “That means my phone and keys have been out on the beach for hours. Somebody probably already walked off with them.”

“Maybe not,” Madison said helpfully.

“Look,” Julia said, “we’re almost home. You can just hop out of the van as soon as we get back to Ebbtide, and go check. I’m sure they’re still there.”

“Not likely,” Ellis said gloomily.

*   *   *

Ty’s hair was still wet, but he’d managed to shower and change out of his work clothes in ten minutes flat and walk down the beach from his new cottage to the stretch in front of Ebbtide. Now, at exactly five minutes ’til midnight, he stood on the beach, wondering if coming back here tonight was a mistake.

He glanced up at the spot where the garage, and his apartment, had been only twenty-four hours earlier, and looked quickly away. He’d done the right thing, what needed to be done, but he’d miss the old rattrap.

Somebody had left a folding beach chair in the middle of the spot where the Ebbtide girls had pitched their camp for the past month. A pink-and-orange striped beach towel was tossed across the back of the chair, and as he looked closer, he saw a cell phone and set of keys under the edge of the towel. He picked up the phone, pushed the on button, and seeing the call log, realized it belonged to Ellis.

Ty sat down on the chair to wait.

*   *   *

He was waiting, sitting quietly in the dark, on the chair by the window—the same window Madison looked out countless times, every morning and night, searching for any sign of trouble. A bead of sweat trickled down his back as he sat in the stifling closet-sized room. He’d considered turning on the rusty air conditioner stuck halfway into the window by the bed, but then decided to do so would alert her that somebody had been in the room.

He glanced down at the LED display of his wristwatch. Nearly midnight. Had she met another man? His eye twitched at the thought of Maryn with somebody else. Then he shook his head. Impossible. He’d seen the red van roll away from the house hours ago with the four women inside. Girls’ night out. Completely harmless.

Not that it mattered. He patted the laptop case on the floor, its sides bulging with the cash he’d easily discovered hidden on the top shelf of the armoire. His cash. He’d earned it. He meant to have it, and he would have it, just as soon as he dealt with Maryn. He’d had time to count it, waiting for her, stacking the bills in rows that completely covered the bed. And it was all there, save for one hundred dollars. That surprised him, that Maryn hadn’t spent the money, hadn’t fled the country as soon as she figured out what she had. Maryn had never struck him as a particularly noble type. She was a hard-edged realist, just like he was. Which was why he’d been attracted to her.

He saw the play of lights on the opposite wall of the darkened room and stood up to look out the window. The red van was bumping down the driveway at a fast clip. It didn’t stop until it was directly in front of the porch. Then the engine switched off, and a petite redhead jumped from the driver’s seat and raced for the front porch. A moment later, the back doors of the van opened, and he watched, his pulse quickening, as Maryn climbed out, stretched, and said something to the lanky blonde who got out the other side of the car. The two of them looked up at the house, and he stepped back, quickly, even knowing that there was no way she could see him up here, in the dark. Still …

Getting up and walking softly to the door, he opened it just far enough to hear the front door opening below. Lights clicked on, and there were more voices. This time he was certain he heard Maryn, and one of the other women, giggling conspiratorially. He closed the door and took up a position just to the side of it.

Minutes passed. He heard steps coming up the stairs. “G’night, y’all,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice called gaily. The steps stopped at the second floor, and he heard a door close, water running, and then the flush of a toilet, the sound of the bathroom door opening, and moments later, another door closing.

He resumed his wait, slumped against the wall, listening to his own even breathing. He heard more footsteps on the stairs, and tensed. His hands were slick with sweat. He dried them on his jeans, stood, moving towards the door, his hand on the pistol shoved into his waistband. The footsteps paused at the second-floor landing. Maybe it was one of the other women, Maryn’s housemates? But then the footsteps resumed, slowly climbing the stairs to the third floor.

It was serendipity, really, that she’d chosen this room, isolated on the top floor of the house. Not a surprise though. Maryn didn’t trust anybody, especially other women. The big surprise was that she’d moved in with these strangers at all. Didn’t matter why she’d choosen this room, all that mattered was that it was perfect for his needs.