“Have her parents been notified?”
“They’re on their way from Kansas, but since they have to make a couple of connections, they aren’t expected to arrive until midafternoon.”
“How did they take the news? Never mind,” she said before Tucker could answer. “I know how they must have taken it.” She exhaled a long, sad sigh.
At the sound of footsteps on the porch, Dawson moved to the door and looked through a flanking window. “It’s Bernie.” He opened the door just as Bernie, arriving for breakfast, was raising his hand to knock. He was carrying a basket of citrus fruit. His face was creased with worry.
“What’s a sheriff’s car doing here?”
Dawson stood aside and motioned him in. He nodded to the young deputy, looked Tucker up and down, then his gaze moved to Amelia, and, seeing her tears, he asked, “What’s happened?”
She took a deep breath. “It’s Stef.” She told him as much as she could before emotion made speech impossible. At that point, Dawson finished imparting the terrible news.
Bernie’s mouth worked to form words, but he achieved none. Finally he was able to say, “She was a sweet young lady.”
Amelia hugged herself. “I feel responsible.”
“You’re not,” Dawson said brusquely.
“She was on an errand for me.”
“Don’t do that to yourself.”
She nodded, as though agreeing, but for as long as she lived, she would regret letting Stef go out into the storm on a mission that should have been hers.
Bernie asked, “Where are the boys?”
“They’re still sleeping.” Shakily, she stood up. “I’d better go wake them.”
“I’ll go up with you,” Dawson said. “Telling them won’t be easy.”
“I’m not going to tell them. Not right now. But I want to leave for Savannah as soon as we can. I want to be there with Stef at the…” Because of the images it conjured, she couldn’t bring herself to say the word morgue. “I want to be there when her parents arrive.”
“I’ll take you.” Dawson closed his hand around her elbow and together they turned toward the stairs.
“Uh, actually, Mr. Scott, I’d like you to ride with me back to the village.” The three of them looked at Deputy Tucker, who squared his shoulders and took a step toward Dawson. “Besides coming out here to inform Ms. Nolan of her nanny’s death, I was coming after you.”
“What for?”
The deputy gave Dawson a sly smile. “You’re leaving it to me to tell them?”
Dawson didn’t answer, not even when Amelia turned to him and spoke his name softly, with inquiry. “Tell us what?”
His jaw remained tightly clenched.
Tucker said, “Seems he was the last person seen talking to Miss DeMarco.”
* * *
Her mind in turmoil, Amelia switched onto autopilot. When she woke the boys, they were grumpy and out of sorts, especially when they learned that Dawson wasn’t there.
Along with Bernie, they trooped back to her house. The electricity was still out, so she fed the children a breakfast of cold Pop-Tarts and the oranges that Bernie had contributed. She herself couldn’t stomach the thought of food.
While her neighbor supervised the kids’ meal, she went upstairs and gave herself a cold sponge bath in the sink of the semidark bathroom. Once she was dressed, she summoned the boys up to change their clothes.
Hunter complained about the shirt she chose for him. “Not that one, Mom.”
“You can’t wear one of your beach shirts. We’re going to Savannah. You’ll be visiting Mr. and Mrs. Metcalf today.”