Breaker's Reef (10 page)

“Colonel, I’m counting on you not to tell anybody this, okay? I want her to be surprised.”

“My lips are sealed. You know I wouldn’t spoil this for either of you. So how are you gonna do it?”

Cade relaxed and looked from Zaheer to the Colonel. “I’m taking her out to Breaker’s Reef Grotto Saturday. I’m going to
pretend I found the oyster on one of the cavern shelves. When she opens it, I’ll direct her to the cave wall, where I’ll have written ‘Will You Marry Me?’”

The men laughed at the plan, and Cade knew he had a winner. He hoped Blair didn’t hear about it before he had the chance to surprise her.

T
he radio call from McCormick came when Cade was leaving the jewelry store. “GBI just located Gibson, Cade. He just came trudging up from the woods.”

“So he’s home now?”

“That’s right. They don’t plan to let him out of their sight from here on out. They said they’re going to question him, but since he lives here, they wanted one of us to go with them.”

“I’ll go,” Cade said. “I’ll head over right now.”

Two GBI agents—Yeager and Smith—were waiting near Gibson’s house. Cade got out of his truck and greeted them.

“Did you get a warrant?” he asked as they headed for the door.

“Yep.” Yeager patted his coat pocket. “Arrest and search warrants.”

They knocked, and moments later the door opened. The author blinked out at them. “If it isn’t the gestapo.”

He seemed amused—and slightly fascinated—as they identified themselves.

“May we come in?” Yeager asked.

He looked confused for a moment, then stepped back, offering them entrance. “One hardly says no to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, I’d suppose.”

They went inside, and Cade looked around at the boxes in the front room and the furniture dropped down but not arranged. They followed Gibson into his study, and Cade saw what Sheila had described. Papers everywhere, cluttering his desk and his bookshelves and the floor, organized into toppling stacks that seemed to cover everything.

He cleared off a place for them to sit, then pulled up a chair of his own. “Forgive me if I wasn’t my usual sharp-witted self when I answered the door, gentlemen, but I had just gone to bed. I’ve been camping to research my latest book and I haven’t slept much in days.”

“Where, exactly, have you been camping?” Cade asked.

Gibson gave him a long stare. “I’d be happy to answer your questions, Detective, but—”

“I’m not a detective. I’m chief of the Cape Refuge police department.”

“I see,” Gibson said. “Forgive me for not knowing that. I’m new to town. As I was saying, I’d be happy to answer your questions, but I’d like to know what they’re in regard to. Have I done something wrong?”

Cade deferred to Yeager.

“We’re investigating the recent murder of Emily Lawrence.”

“Murder?” Gibson sprang up and raked his fingers through his Einsteinish hair. “And you think
I
had something to do with that?”

“Just answer the questions, please,” Smith said. “Where were you on the night of the fourteenth?”

Gibson seemed to search his mind. “Well, I can see that I have a problem. I believe I was camping that night. I came home intermittently, but spoke to no one, except for the woman who does typing for me. Sandra, or Sharon, or …”

Cade didn’t correct him. “Then you don’t have an alibi?”

“Not one that can be verified for that night, unless you find a rabbit or snake in the woods that might have seen me.”

Cade didn’t find that amusing. “We understand you own a gun. Could you get it for us, please?”

The man hesitated, and Cade noticed him swallow. “I can’t. You see, it was stolen.”

“Stolen?” Yeager frowned. “When?”

“I’m not sure, but I think a couple of days ago. I had it in my pocket as I visited with some criminal types …”

Cade shot Yeager a look. Was this guy for real?

“Criminal types?”

“Yes. Drug dealers, addicts, prostitutes. It was research for my book. Some of them were a little too chummy, and eventually I found out why. They were robbing me blind. One of them stole my gun.”

“Where were these people?”

“Different places. I visited some seedy motels here and on Tybee Island and several in Savannah before I noticed the weapon was gone. It could have been stolen at any of them.”

Yeager got up and looked around the room. “Mr. Gibson, we have a warrant to search your house.”

Gibson looked disturbed. “My house? Why?”

“Because the girl’s murder mirrored the murder in your book
Crescent Hill.
”

“So you have decided in those twisted brains of yours that I must somehow be responsible? Tell me, detectives, what would lead you to believe that I would be so foolish as to murder someone in such an obvious way, with all signs pointing to me? Don’t you think if I wanted to commit murder that I would be creative enough to come up with something new?”

That thought had occurred to Cade, but the man didn’t seem all there. Maybe he was mentally ill—as Sheila suspected—and hadn’t thought it through.

“Fine, search my property, then. But keep in mind that murder is my business. When you find books on weaponry and
poisons and forensics, don’t get the idea that these are somehow clues that I’m a mad killer. I write about killers, and I research my subjects well.”

“We’d like to take you in for questioning while we search.”

Gibson looked at first annoyed, then almost intrigued. “Yes, of course you would. And I’ll certainly cooperate. I’ve never been questioned in a murder case before. It might prove to be useful.”

Cade hadn’t expected that. Were all writers like this?

“And I’d like to take my laptop with me, if I may. I may want to take notes.”

Now Cade was amused. “I’m afraid we’ll be taking the notes, Mr. Gibson. And your laptop is evidence.”

That
seemed to upset him. His face reddened, and a vein in his temple began to pulsate against his skin. “I’m afraid that’s not acceptable.”

“Not acceptable?” Yeager’s brows arched.

“No. You see, I have a first draft of my work in progress on that laptop. I don’t show anyone my first drafts.”

“Something to hide?”

“Yes! Bad writing. My first drafts belong in the garbage dump. I’m a rewriter. I rewrite extensively, and I can’t abide anyone reading my work before I’ve had the chance to rewrite it! It’s in my will. If I drop dead, they’re to burn my first drafts. I certainly don’t want a bunch of halfwit police critics poring over my words!”

Cade had been called many things, but never a “halfwit police critic.” He doubted if
anyone
had ever been called that before.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to control that,” Smith said.

Visibly shaken, Gibson threw his hands in the air. “Then I demand a lawyer. I insist on calling him immediately.”

They allowed him to make the call to an attorney in Atlanta, and the man promised he would charter a plane to get there as soon as possible.

Cade hoped he would hurry. Marcus Gibson knew more than he was telling, and Cade was ready to pry it out of him.

B
y that evening, the news was rife with reports of Marcus Gibson’s arrest, along with televised clips from his hastily arranged arraignment. Apparently the judge was a fan of the eccentric writer and handled the case with star-struck incompetence. He set bond at $100,000. Gibson’s lawyer paid it without blinking, and Gibson was released by dark.

The police put him under twenty-four-hour surveillance and warned him not to leave the county.

Cade prayed there would be no more murders.

Maybe he should cancel his day with Blair tomorrow. He’d asked her to take the day off and spend it with him out at the grotto. Both the day and the place had special significance. Though he doubted she realized it, it was the one-year anniversary of their first kiss …

No, he wouldn’t cancel. He’d waited this long to propose, and he didn’t want to wait one more day.

The grotto held a special place in Blair’s heart. Her father used to take her out there to fish, and they’d often
explored the cavern, which was one of the most unique and beautiful spots on the east coast, as far as Cade was concerned. A couple of divers had discovered it fifteen years ago, and spelunkers from the Atlanta Grotto group had begun to explore it.

Because it was difficult and dangerous to get into, it hadn’t become the tourist attraction it could have been. The sole entrance could only be reached by swimming twenty-five feet under the rock formation and coming up from the reef, to the one place where it jutted out. If one knew where the entrance was, and had strong lungs and a lean build, he could swim through it and come up inside the most beautiful natural work of art that God had ever created.

The entrance wasn’t large enough for divers with air tanks to get through, which prohibited the average swimmer from ever getting into it. Years ago, the cities of Tybee Island and Cape Refuge had formed a commission to investigate how they could broaden the entrance to make the place more publicly accessible, but the logistics were too complicated. They’d never been able to agree on how it should be done.

Cade was glad. He liked keeping the grotto the special treasure of a privileged few.

Blair often talked of her most precious memories with her dad, when he’d taken her out there, and she’d followed him under that wall. It was one of Cade’s favorite places as well, a reminder of God’s extravagant artistry. He’d never forget the first time he and Jonathan went under, their lungs screaming for breath, then burst up into the cavern. Sunlight had poured through the slitlike openings at the top of the cavern, providing natural light for the beauty around them. Stalactites hung like diamond icicles from the ceiling, and helictites that looked like magnificent flowers sprang from the limestone ledges.

The breath he’d just gulped had been taken away at his first glimpse.

What a perfect place to ask Blair to marry him.

He wondered if his timing was bad. Was it irresponsible to take off now, when the state might need to call on his police force?

“Cade, you’ve been planning this for weeks.” McCormick sat in the chair across from Cade’s desk, bent on convincing him to go. “Tybee and the state guys are handling the investigation. Our part is peripheral at best. They don’t need us. If something comes up, I can handle it.”

“I know you can.” Cade pulled the oyster out of his desk drawer and eased it open. He turned it around and showed it to McCormick. “So what do you think?”

McCormick whistled. “That’s some investment. What’s your plan?”

He grinned. “In the morning, I’m going out to the grotto and writing ‘Will You Marry Me?’ on the wall.”

McCormick threw his head back and laughed. “You’re doing
what
? Do you know what you have to do to get into that cave?”

Cade grinned. “’Course I do. That’s what makes it special.”

“So you’ll deface that gorgeous place with graffiti?”

“Just in chalk during low tide. As soon as the tide comes up, it’ll wash it all away. And under the sign, I’m leaving a bouquet of yellow roses, her favorites. Then tomorrow afternoon, I’ll take her out there and lure her into the cavern.”

McCormick was clearly enjoying this. “
Lure
her, huh? With little minnows? Pieces of tuna?”

“Nope.” Cade leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “Just my charm, my friend.”

They both laughed.

“So don’t tell me. You’ll have the ring stuffed into the mouth of a sea bass, and it’ll jump out of the water at the exact moment that she sees the proposal on the wall …”

Cade leaned forward. “No, but that’s a great idea. You know any trained bass?”

“No, but I hear they’re intelligent critters. You can probably recruit one on the spot. They’re always looking for good gigs.”

“Yeah, but Sea World gets the best ones. No, I can’t rely on some Flipper wannabe to do it. I’m gonna have the ring in my pocket and I’ll slip it onto the ledge right under my sign. I’ll make sure she finds it.”

“She’ll drown. You know that, don’t you?”

Cade smiled and looked down at the ring. He hoped it did take her breath away. “We can get out and sit on one of the ledges while I make my case.”

“Make your case? You don’t think she’ll say yes?”

Cade was pretty sure she would, but it was impossible to be sure. Blair was a complicated woman. “Hard to tell.”

“No, it’s not. She’d have tied the knot months ago. I don’t know what’s taken you so long. And the cave, that’s great. Women love that stuff. They gotta have a story, women do. My sister has married three different guys because they gave her romantic proposals.”

“Two of them also gave her black eyes, if I recall.”

“Yeah, that. But she still talks about those proposals.”

Scott Crown stepped into the doorway, and Cade looked up, hoping he hadn’t heard.

“You talking about my mother?”

“Yeah.” Joe looked back at his nephew. “You eavesdropping?”

The kid hesitated. “I didn’t mean to. But for what it’s worth, Mom quit falling for the romantic proposals. I don’t think she’ll ever get married again.”

“No, now she just moves in with them.”

Cade wished Joe would let up on Scott. He clearly wasn’t amused.

“I just wanted to give you this report, Chief. It’s the summaries of all the murders in Gibson’s books, just like you asked.”

Cade took it, but he kept his eyes on the young man. “Hey, Crown. Whatever you just saw or heard—besides the stuff about your mom—you didn’t see or hear it. Got it?”

For a moment he thought Crown was going to deny he’d seen or heard anything, but then he grinned. “My lips are sealed, Chief.”

Cade hoped that was true. Crown left the doorway, and Cade looked at McCormick.

“He’s all right, Cade. I don’t think you have to worry. And there’s just no question about your going through with it. You
have to do it, and it has to be tomorrow. No more discussion. I can hold down the fort.”

Cade looked down at the ring again, unable to hold back his grin. “All right. I guess it’s a go then.”