Lowcountry Boneyard Read Online Free PDF

for lunch. The hostess escorted me to my favorite spot, tucked into the back corner of the brick-walled courtyard. I ordered iced tea and pulled out my laptop. I transcribed my conversation with Colton Heyward, typing the salient facts into an interview form. Nate and I had cloned an FBI FD 302 a few years ago due to its popularity with attorneys and judges, who become familiar with the format in law school. If we ever had to give testimony regarding a case, this gave our work product an instant pedigree.
    I pulled a notebook and pen from my computer bag. I start every case with a list of questions. I began my list for the disappearance of Kent Heyward with, “What happened to her laptop? Did she take it with her to dinner? If so, why?” If I were leaving and not planning on coming back, I would take my laptop, no doubt. If Kent hadn’t taken it with her, someone else had removed it from her room. I added the question, “Was she taking any prescription medications?” If prescription meds were missing, it would also point to her leaving with no plans to return.
    Sonny took a seat across from me. The redhead at my ten o’clock went on high alert. She stared at his back, no doubt appreciating his broad shoulders and the way his jeans fit. I smiled into his kind, hazel eyes and admired the neat cut of his dark brown hair. I would enjoy telling Nate I had lunch with Sonny. Served Nate right if it got his back up a little. He’d dilly-dallied in Greenville far too long. He might know in his head Sonny was like a brother to me—he was my brother Blake’s best friend. But other parts of Nate liked Sonny best at a distance.
    “Your timing is impeccable.” I stowed my laptop in its case.
    “You order yet?”
    “No, I was waiting for you.”
    Sonny flagged down our waitress. We both knew what we wanted, so ordering was quick business. With lunch on the way, he leaned back in his chair and raised his chin. “What are you into now?”
    “Kent Heyward. That’s a Special Victims Unit case, right?”
    “Yep. Technically, she’s a missing person. A high-profile missing person. Daddy hire you?”
    “Yep. Do you know anything about the case—anything that hasn’t been on the news?” I was counting on departmental gossip.
    “I’ve heard a few things. No evidence of foul play whatsoever. No ransom demand. No witnesses to an abduction have come forward. Special Victims handled the case like a crate of C-4. But…” Sonny winced, tilted his head. “You know how these cases play out. After a month there are no more leads to follow.”
    “She’s just gone and not likely coming back. That’s got to be a singular kind of hell for the family—not knowing.”
    “I would imagine it is precisely that.”
    “Colton Heyward told me the investigators think Kent left home due to family discord?”
    Sonny raised both eyebrows, blew out a long breath. “That’s one theory. I’m not surprised he latched on to it.”
    I felt my whole face squint. “See, here’s the thing. The way he tells it is exactly the opposite. Like he’s mad as all get out at Charleston PD because he doesn’t believe she ran off. Says he believes something terrible has happened, and he wants me to find out what.”
      “Hypothetically, in this type situation, we’d be looking at one of two scenarios. Either she decided it was time to get out from under Daddy’s thumb, he disagreed, so she left surreptitiously—this being both the best-case scenario and the least likely. Or, she was taken by a person or persons unknown. You ask me, Mr. Heyward can’t tolerate the notion that nothing more can be done. He’s in denial, wants to hear us say that maybe she’s run off, but doesn’t believe it for a minute. He hires you because he can.” He held his hand out and seesawed it back and forth, indicating things could go either way. His grim expression told me what he really thought.
    “Handled?”
    “Say what?”
    Our waitress dropped off Sonny’s iced