Brock and Scott looked straight at her. “We thought we’d talk to the two witnesses together,” Brock said.
Betsy crossed her arms and sighed. “Don’t try to be evasive with me, Brock. I suspect Mark is an undercover officer.” She turned to face Mark. “I also know the Memphis Police Department has no jurisdiction on Ocracoke. So who do you work for now?”
“Betsy, please don’t…” Brock began.
She held out her hand with her palm facing Brock and shook her head. “No. I will not be tricked again by this man.” She turned to Mark. “Are you here to investigate me? Do you still think I must be involved in something illegal?”
Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Betsy, I never expected to see you when I came here. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”
She took a step toward him. “Then be honest with me for a change. Why are you here?”
Neither of them blinked as they stared into each other’s eyes. Brock was the one to finally break the silence. “Mark, Betsy’s whole family has been involved in law enforcement as long as she can remember. She knows how important it is to keep matters confidential. You’re going to have to trust her.”
Mark’s forehead crinkled. “I do trust her, even if she doesn’t believe me.” He took a deep breath. “Betsy, I’m with the Drug Enforcement Administration stationed in Raleigh now. I’m undercover on Ocracoke to bring down a drug ring that’s smuggling illegal drugs into the country. The man murdered today was John Draper. He’s been undercover here for the past few months. I came to the island to replace him. Now it looks like I’ll be helping find his killer, and I think you can help.”
Betsy blinked in surprise. “How?”
“I received a message from him that he had some information for me and wanted to show me some evidence he’d discovered. But there was nothing on his body. Did he give you anything?”
“Like what?”
Mark shrugged. “I have no idea. All I know is he had something he said would blow our case wide open. I thought maybe he gave it to you.”
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t have time to give me anything. He died right away.”
Mark inched closer. “He must have done something with whatever it was. Think, Betsy. What happened after he came out of the forest?”
The events of the morning replayed in her mind, and she frowned in thought. “When I got to him, he said something about being caught. I thought he meant in the forest, but I didn’t see anybody else. Then I told him I was calling the sheriff’s office, and he mumbled something that sounded like ‘tell him.’”
“Tell him what?” Brock asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I told him to be still, and he said something about decoys. I thought he was delirious and maybe was thinking about duck season.”
Mark rubbed his hand over his head. “Did he just say the word decoy?”
“No. He said the decoys weren’t what they seemed. Then he gasped for breath, and I thought he had died. I closed my eyes and prayed for him, but it was no use. He was dead.”
Scott touched her arm, and she turned to him. “Are you sure he didn’t do or say anything else?”
She shook her head again. “No, that’s all he said.” She glanced from Scott to Brock. “If there was anything else, I would tell you. But that’s all he said.”
Brock let out a long breath. “We just want to make sure. If you think of anything else, let us know right away.”
“I will. Now is it okay if I go? I’m supposed to do some volunteer work at the British Cemetery today. I need to run by Treasury’s bed-and-breakfast and check on Emma before I go over there.”
“Who’s Emma?” Mark asked.
“My little sister,” Betsy said. “She lives with me in our family home out close to the beach. Scott lived with us until he and Lisa married recently.”
Mark nodded. “I do remember you telling me about her. How old is she now?”
“Eleven.”
Scott smiled. “Tell my little sister I’ll see her later.”
“I will.” She turned to leave, but Mark stepped in front of her and blocked her way.
His dark eyes stared at her. “Be careful. There’s still a killer out there somewhere.”
She lifted her chin and returned the intense gaze. “There may be a murderer on the island, but it has nothing to do with me. I’m not involved, just like I wasn’t the last time.”
He clenched his jaw and stepped out of her way. Betsy nodded to Scott and Brock and strode from the office. Lisa was on the phone and didn’t look up as Betsy rushed by. It was just as well, Betsy thought. She needed to get out of the office. Being around Mark brought up too many memories, and she didn’t need to dwell on things that happened years ago.
When she stepped onto the sidewalk, she saw her bicycle leaning against the side of the building. She jumped on and pedaled down the street toward Treasury Wilkes’s bed-and-breakfast. Whenever she needed someone to talk to, she ran to Treasury, who had been like a second mother ever since her own mother had died when Betsy was sixteen.
When she reached the two-story Victorian, she rushed inside, but Treasury and Emma were nowhere to be seen. They were probably off on one of their morning walks on the beach and wouldn’t be back until the middle of the afternoon.
Betsy glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that it was only ten o’clock. She had time to do her work at the cemetery before lunch. She hurried out the back door of the house to her truck, which she’d parked here this morning before her trip to Springer’s Point. Her gardening tools lay in the truck bed.
She grabbed the keys from under the driver’s seat and within minutes was on her way to the small cemetery where she spent time each week. The only way she knew to rid her mind of the events of the morning was to work off her pent-up energy on one of her projects. The British Cemetery topped the list of her favorite island spots.
She wanted to forget everything about the morning at Springer’s Point, especially the part about seeing Mark again. When she left Memphis, she thought Mark Webber was out of her life for good. Now he’d shown up undercover on her island. She couldn’t afford to let him into her life again, especially since she’d once thought they could have something special together.
Maybe a few hours of hard work and perspiration would erase that silly notion from her head.
* * *
Mark found it difficult to keep his mind on what Brock and Scott were saying. His mind kept wandering to the events earlier today. His gaze flitted across Brock’s office and came to a stop on a photograph sitting on a bookshelf behind Brock’s desk. Two women and a young girl smiled at him from the frame. One of them was Betsy.
Brock glanced at him and noticed him staring at the picture. “That’s my wife, Kate, and her two sisters. Emma is the youngest one’s name, and of course you know Betsy.”
He nodded. “Yeah. You can tell they’re sisters. They look alike.”
Brock picked up a paper off his desk and continued his discussion on leads John Draper had passed on to their office since his arrival on the island, but Mark tuned him out as he stared at Betsy’s picture. All he’d thought about all morning was how beautiful she looked at Springer’s Point.
She’d almost looked happy to see him in that first moment, but it passed quickly. A scowl replaced the smile, and he realized he was dreaming if he thought she’d ever