Page 82 of Death of a Grill Master

“Day or two after the fireworks, maybe? She was definitely home. I’d seen her go in earlier. But she didn’t answer. Lights all went out. Like she was hiding.”

“Did you see his face?”

Terry shook his head. “Nah. Too dark. Baseball cap, I think. But he looked frustrated when she didn’t come out. Pounded on the door a few times, then left.”

Hayley felt the hairs on her arms rise.

Another man in a baseball cap.

Another shadow.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Thanks for the info,” she said tightly.

Terry gave a half shrug and turned to leave.

“Give your mother my best,” Hayley added. “And tell her I said you turned out exactly as she feared.”

He didn’t reply.

Lacy returned from the bedroom, shaking her head. “What a peach.”

“Did Tina ever mention someone bothering her?” Hayley asked.

“Not really. But … that email. The one I told your husband, Bruce, about.”

Hayley leaned in.

“She sent it the morning after the fireworks. Said she saw someone in the water that night. Someone she recognized. She didn’t say who. But it clearly rattled her. She kept saying something wasn’t right. And then she vanished.”

Once everything was boxed up, the house felt even emptier. A shell inside a shell.

“She didn’t have much,” Lacy said quietly. “No clutter. No mess. I guess that made this easier. But it still feels … sad.”

“You want some lunch?” Hayley asked. “I know a place.”

Lacy sighed with relief. “I’m starving. Skipped breakfast thanks to your friend Terry and his ticking clock.”

They headed to the Dockside Café, where the view of the harbor stretched wide and bright beyond the deck railings. The interior was cool and airy, with hanging string lights and a quiet hum of lunchtime conversation. A waitress with pink bangs and a joyful bounce in her step greeted Hayley with a hug.

“Hey, stranger! You back for the haddock sandwich?”

“Not today, Missy,” Hayley said. “We’re keeping it light.”

She glanced at Lacy. “This is Tina’s sister.”

Missy’s smile softened. “I’m so sorry. She was a sweet customer. Always ordered the same thing.”

Lacy looked surprised. “She never mentioned this place.”

“She came alone. Sat near the window with a book. Never said much, but she always tipped well.”

They also chose to sit near the window, the water glittering just beyond the glass. Lacy ordered a grilled cheese and chowder; Hayley got a Caesar salad, though she doubted she’d eat more than half.

“She really didn’t tell me anything,” Lacy said, stirring her chowder. “Not about work, not about friends. Just sent short emails every few weeks. And then that last one …”

Hayley leaned in. “Do you still have the email?”