‘‘I remember moving that summer. I was so mad at you and Dad for taking me away from school and my friends. Why didn’t you tell me? I never understood why we up and moved with no warning.’’
‘‘You were just fifteen, Ellen. What was I going to tell you?’’ Sarah said. She looked at Diane and Kingsley. ‘‘You said a woman escaped from prison. Is this her?’’ She picked up the photograph and looked at it. ‘‘She looks kind of like my sister. Is she one of the triplets?’’
‘‘We believe it’s Iris,’’ said Diane.
‘‘You said she is a murderer?’’ she said.
‘‘She was convicted of murder in Georgia, sent to prison, and recently escaped,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘We believe she was sold by her father when she was about fifteen. We think what she went through turned her into a serial killer.’’
The grandmother looked shocked. Frankly, Diane found it hard to believe that anything about her sister’s family would shock her at this point.
‘‘Poor little Iris.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘I told my sister. I told her. She wouldn’t listen. Stupid, stupid woman. They were the cutest little girls, just like three little peas in a pod.’’
‘‘Do you know what happened to any of the family?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I never tried to find out. I never wanted to be in their crosshairs again. I was afraid to move back to this area, but Earl wanted to retire here and Ellen had married a boy from here. I just prayed they’d forgot about us and we would never run across them. We never have.’’
‘‘How old would Alain Delaflote be now?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Let’s see, he was five years older than my sister; that would make him about sixty-five. Young enough to still be in business,’’ Sarah said. ‘‘Can you arrest him? I wouldn’t want him coming after Carley. She’s a little older than he likes, but...’’
‘‘We will certainly take a careful look at them,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘We will not tell him you talked to us. We won’t mention you or your family.’’
‘‘Thank you for that,’’ Sarah said.
‘‘Do you know where they live?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘Like I said, I have never tried to find them. They used to live out on Mosshazel Island. Back when they moved out there it was the only privately owned island on the coast. You follow Highway 70 about thirty miles beyond Beaufort to a little village called Croker. They had their own private ferry used to run from there to the island. It might still be there. They had one of those big white-columned houses in the middle of the island. There was a little village on the island called East Croker. Not much to it.’’
Kingsley rose as if to leave. ‘‘Thank you for speaking with us,’’ he said. ‘‘I can see it wasn’t easy, but we really need to find Iris. We’ll investigate the whole Delaflote family and look into the lost children.’’
‘‘Do you think you can find any of them?’’ she asked.
There was so much hope in her eyes that Diane hated to say no, I doubt we have a chance in hell. She didn’t know what to say.
Kingsley spoke first. ‘‘I don’t know. But Iris escaped from her captors. There is always hope.’’
They left Carley’s house, thanking the three women and taking cookies Carley’s mother wrapped up for them.
‘‘Carley’s life changed today,’’ said Diane.
‘‘It did, didn’t it? I think things are better out in the open. At least now she knows to avoid anyone named Delaflote,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘So, do you want to ride out to the island?’’
‘‘Not without backup,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Are you nuts?’’
Kingsley laughed. ‘‘I guess you’re right. It’s exciting to be so close. Let’s look for a motel near this place— what did she say, Croker? We’ll call the marshals. Maybe they’re finished with chasing their wild goose and will hurry out here.’’
Diane followed Highway 70 south to Morehead City and on to Beaufort. It was a little over fifty miles. She wanted to find a motel in Beaufort. According to her GPS maps it was the last large city they would pass near. But Kingsley wanted to get closer.
‘‘Why?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘We aren’t going over to the island. You heard what she said; you have to take a ferry. That means there’s no quick getaway in case of emergency.’’
‘‘I know, but there are other tourist towns beyond Beaufort. They will have motels,’’ said Kingsley.
Diane threw up her hands and agreed. Beaufort was a little more than an hour’s drive from New Bern. She drove about twelve miles beyond Beaufort. It wasn’t a straight drive. This part of North Carolina was a water world. They crossed large rivers and small creeks and passed through many small tourist towns.
Many places Diane would have liked to stop and just look at the scenery—the water, the boats, the ships. The low green landscape was less lush than the vegetation she was used to in Rosewood; the trees weren’t as tall. Nor was it as subtropical as the barrier islands of Georgia. It was beautiful away from the towns, very peaceful looking. She would have stopped to look, but she was tired from their long trip. Maybe they could find a good place to watch the sun set over the sound. Sunsets here were supposed to be pretty spectacular.
‘‘You can pull in at this convenience store ahead and we can stock up,’’ said Kingsley.
‘‘You don’t want to find a restaurant?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Not really. Do you? I’d rather just get some snacks and find a place to stay.’’
Diane filled up the gas tank while Kingsley went in for food. When the tank was full she moved the vehicle to the side of the store and went in to pay. Kingsley had two bags full of food—junk food, from the glimpse she caught of the contents of one of his bags.
‘‘I got us some of those dip dogs,’’ he said.
‘‘Some what?’’ said Diane.
‘‘Corn dogs, you may call them,’’ he said, grinning as he went out the door.
There were few people in the small store, so Diane was able to pay quickly and grab a Coke and a bag of peanuts. She paid for the gas and snacks and slipped the peanuts in her pocket.
She walked out to the SUV and fingered the UNLOCK button on the key chain. A bottle of water rolled from behind the SUV and bumped into her foot. She turned to look and everything went black.
Chapter 48
Diane heard a groan coming through the pain and fog in her head.
‘‘What the hell?’’ It was Kingsley.
She opened her eyes and tried to move. Her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied together. She stayed still a moment and breathed deeply, assessing her situation.
They were in the rear compartment of a minivan with its backseats stripped out. It was new by the look of it. The windows were dark but she could see out the front. It was still daylight. The driver was young. She could see his cheek and his blond hair. The kid. The one who drugged them at the restaurant and the one who was renting an apartment in her building. It had to be him. Hell, has he been following us— from Rosewood?