Dare to Die by Carolyn Hart Page A

anything, everything, trash, footprints, broken brush.”
    Lou nodded and loped toward the picnic grounds.
    â€œSergeant, get the strobe lights and cameras. Set them up near the victim.”
    Harrison hurried toward the van.
    A shabby black coupe with a battered fender squealed to a stop behind the police vehicles.
    â€œDoc Burford’s here.” Max squinted against the glare of the lights.
    Face thunderous, black bag in hand, the island’s burly medical examiner bulled toward them. Annie knew anger carried him. Doc Burford fought death with ferocious tenacity as theisland’s most beloved GP. As M.E., he encountered deaths that shouldn’t have happened, drownings, car wrecks, drug overdoses, fires, murder. To have life stolen infuriated him.
    Iris’s life was stolen.
    His expression remote, Billy glanced at Annie and Max. “You can leave now. Please come to the station at nine tomorrow. Bring the party guest list, plus I need to know who Iris spoke to at the picnic.” He nodded at Annie. “Don’t clear out her cabin. We’ll do that. And get some fingerprints.”
    Annie knew that Billy was remembering her belief that someone had hidden in the cabin, knocked Emma forward. If only she’d told Iris of her suspicion.
    Oyster shells crackled underfoot as Doc Burford hurried toward them. His face bleak, he grunted hello, turned to Billy.
    â€œThis way, Doc.”
    As the men disappeared into the woods, Annie shivered, cold from the offshore breeze, cold from the icy ache deep inside. “I should have warned Iris, told her I thought someone hid in the cabin and hurt Emma. Iris might have been scared. Maybe she wouldn’t have gone into the woods.”
    Max took her hand, gripped it hard. “Emma’s fall looked like an accident.”
    â€œPamela told me about the bruise on Emma’s back.” Annie’s voice quivered. “Any fool should have put it together.”
    He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Everyone thought Emma fell.”
    She was grateful he understood her anguish, the empty feeling of having failed to act when action mattered. It might have made no difference if she’d warned Iris. But, oh, it might have saved her.
    Max gently turned her away from the woods. “Let’s gohome, honey.” They walked through the silent picnic area, the tables ghostly now, all traces of laughter and life gone.
    Annie carried with her the memory of Iris’s thin face, burdened by sorrow. Iris had fought a good fight, one day at a time, until the days were no more.
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    T HE TREMULOUS MOAN OF A SCREECH OWL BROKE A NNIE’S shallow, fitful sleep. They’d left open the sliding door to the deck. Annie watched the rippling curtain, smelled the heady scent of the marsh. She lay as still as she could, trying not to disturb Max.
    The late watches of the night often spawned formless fears, phantasms that danced at the edge of consciousness, darting from the dark places of the soul, leaving corrosive trails. Iris’s death was another reminder of the fragility of life. No one was safe. Not ever. Not anywhere. In an instant, everything could be lost.
    Swept by anguish, Annie rolled up on her elbow. The hounds of death bayed in her heart. She flung an arm across Max. He was alive and living and so was she and there was goodness and love no matter how dark any night might be. She held tight to him.
    He came awake.
    Her lips found his, warm and living and loving.
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    T HE SUN SLANTING THROUGH THE WINDOW OF B ILLY’S OFFICE Saturday morning emphasized the pouches beneath his eyes, eyes reddened by lack of sleep. His fresh uniform already looked wrinkled. This was one Saturday morning he wouldn’t spend mulching his roses. Two crumpled Coke cans topped discardedpapers in an overflowing wastebasket. He had likely been at his desk since dawn. The files stacked on his highly varnished yellow oak desk tilted a little to his