LITMIR.BIZ

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raced over to Liz. As well intentioned as Ian MacNeal wanted to seem, and as incredibly engaging as he might appear, with his position of pastor and his outward care for Charlie, there was no way, Liz decided, that she was going to get herself mixed up with him. He was exactly what Charlie didn’t need in his life—another man with a gun. Charlie didn’t need the extra stress.

      And nor did she need a man who could so easily move from compassionate Christian to cold-blooded bodyguard in a blink of an eye.

      Her sister had been fooled by Jerry, who’d gone from charmer to drug dealer that quickly. Those kind of chameleon men only hurt women like her who trusted people.

      The sooner she and Charlie left the island, the better. Except getting past Ian, the man with a gun, wasn’t going to be easy.

      FOUR

      Ten minutes later, after he called his supervisor and detailed what had happened, Ian called the local police to say an ambulance wasn’t needed. Liz listened as he stated briefly that she’d been sideswiped by a car that roared up out of nowhere, just at the start of the causeway. Nothing more, she noted, saying as little as possible.

      Within an hour, the police arrived, and together with the two officers, they returned to the causeway to stare into the murky water of the blocked-off strait.

      “Why were you coming over this causeway, when you said you noticed that it was under construction?” the bigger officer asked Liz.

      “The concrete blocks were at the side. There was only one sign that said Construction Ahead. It didn’t say that the road was closed.”

      “The causeway is supposed to be closed to all traffic. I don’t know why the blocks were moved.”

      “There’s a resort being built here,” she pointed out. “How did they get their equipment there?”

      “Special permission. The causeway will hold vehicular weight, but it’s just not finished yet, hence the fact it’s closed.” The highway patrol officer peeled off his sunglasses and his broad-brimmed hat and stared out at the still, dark water. He shook his head. “It’s going to take some doing getting that car out of there. No one likes to get in with the snakes.”

      Snakes? Liz grimaced. “Should I call a tow truck or will you?”

      “I can, ma’am. I know which company to call. But I don’t know when he’ll be able to get out here.”

      The other officer walked toward the island for a few feet and then turned around again. “Did you see where the car went?”

      Liz shook her head. “I don’t know. The engine revved a bit. I remember that, but that’s all.”

      The officer inspected the ground. “It looks like it turned around here a few times.” He looked at Ian. “Any new cars on the island that you know of?”

      “No.” Ian indicated the direction of the resort. “You may want to check with the resort, though. They have several vehicles. The smaller ones are vans bringing in workers.”

      The officer nodded. After the police took her statement and promised to call with a time when the tow truck would arrive, they left. Despite the anticlimactic way they arrived and left, Liz found herself feeling much better. She needed a shower. With the heat around her, her clothes had dried quickly, but the salt left on her skin was making her itch. She needed to clean up.

      And change into what, she thought. The few clothes she’d taken were at the bottom of that inlet.

      Lord, you know I need clothes. And some relief from this heat, please.

      As they returned to Moss Point, she glanced around the small village. Huge, spreading trees that couldn’t decide which way to grow shaded much of the hard-packed dirt street, but it was the thick, pale droops of Spanish moss hanging nearly to the ground that must have generated the village’s name. There seemed to be few lawns for children, just dirt that carried in from the road until it reached the houses. In places that caught the sunlight, a few gardens had been worked. But in the heat of the summer, the vegetables looked burdened and sad.

      Around them, small bungalows and trailers seemed plunked down willy-nilly. Most were simple, unadorned except by obvious poverty. Liz lived in a modest area of the country herself, and as a Christian, she tried not to focus on earthly wealth. But the brand of poverty here caught in her throat.

      Several of the villagers were sitting in the shade of their homes, wisely keeping their activities to a minimum during the oppressive afternoon heat. All were quietly fanning themselves. Ian waved and called out friendly greetings to most of them.

      The first house on the right sported a small store in front. The old, faded sign on the door stated that it was open. The older couple lounging nearby watched them closely.

      She attracted attention, she could tell. By now, everyone probably knew she’d plunged her car into the water. It was like that in small communities. There were no secrets.

      “What do most of these people do for a living?” she asked Ian quietly as they walked down the dirt road.

      “Some fish. A few are artisans, making handmade souvenirs for tourists.” He swatted away a mosquito. “But most are unemployed. ‘The Shepherd’s Smile’ will change the lifestyle here. Change it for the better. I know it.”

      “It hasn’t already?”

      “It’s new. The Vincentis have hired me to implement it. Both are good Christians who can see beyond the poverty and the blame that gets tossed around and are willing to do something to help these people.”

      They slowed where the road curled into a cul-de-sac. “What are their plans?” she asked.

      “First up was to plant a church and let God reach these people.”

      They stopped at one of the trailers on the right. Rusting in several streaks, it sat parallel to the dirt road. In front sat a small garden of tomatoes and peppers. Several banana palms and one orange tree offered a bit of shade to its side deck, which was met by a tidy path of white rocks and crushed shells. All over the place, potted geraniums and other heat-loving flowers nodded in the light breeze. Liz could smell their blossoms from the road.

      A loud, squawking sound sliced through the hot air. With bright colors, a bird flashed past them, startling Liz.

      Charlie laughed. “It’s Joseph, Auntie Liz! He’s come to say hello!”

      Ian took her arm to steady her. “Joseph is named for his colorful coat. He’s our local runaway and has been around for years. We think he’s a rainbow lorikeet that escaped from someone’s home in Northglade. He follows people around. Everyone likes him except Elsie, who says he’s always pecking at her plants just to annoy her.”

      The bird landed on the small side deck in front of them, cocked his head and said something unintelligible.

      “Shoo, you crazy bird! You’re always getting where you don’t belong. Shoo!” The voice continued, “Come in! We’ve been waiting too long with this meal, and George says he won’t wait any longer.” A tall, strong woman exited the trailer. She stopped when she spotted Liz. Her short, frizzy gray hair stuck out in all directions, and her dark skin bore a sheen of perspiration.

      She turned to Ian and set her hands on her hips. “You could have told me we were having company.”

      “I’m sorry, Elsie. I only just found out. This is Liz Tate, Charlie’s aunt.”

      Her frown deepening, Elsie wiped her hands on her apron and trotted down the steps. Over the hot breeze, Liz listened to the woman’s footfalls crunching on the shell walkway. Elsie stuck out her hand toward Liz. “Charlie’s aunt, you say? I didn’t know he had one. Not that the boy talked any.”

      “He can, though,” Ian answered blandly. “He used my cell to call Liz, who figured out where we were.”

      After shooting Ian a questioning frown, Elsie

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