HELL'S HALF ACRE a gripping murder mystery full of twists (Coffin Cove Mysteries Book 2), JACKIE ELLIOTT [best ereader for graphic novels .TXT] 📗

look at your maps. We don’t have much manpower, so we need to narrow down the places Whilley might be holding the mayor.”

Clara spread her maps across the table.

“He’ll have her down a mineshaft. He knows ’em all.”

“Which one?” Vega asked Clara. It was a tall ask, he knew. He didn’t want to put Clara under pressure. “It will be my final decision,” he told her, “I just need to rule out those shafts which are too dangerous or difficult to access.”

Clara didn’t hesitate. “These,” she said, pointing to three shafts. “These have black damp.”

Vega looked at her questioningly. “What’s that?’

“Gas. Bad gas. It’ll kill you, but you’ll not know it until it’s too late,” Clara explained.

“These are too far, and there’s no way out,” she said, pointing to others on the outskirts of Coffin Cove. “If he wants to take the girl.”

If she’s still alive, thought Vega.

“This one, this one and this one,” Clara said.

Harry peered over her shoulder. “That one is an old smugglers’ route. The exit is here, near those rocks. He might go that way.”

Vega thought for a moment. “Doug South said he left via Sharps Point before. Where’s that?”

Clara and Harry showed him.

“OK,” Vega said, “here’s what we’ll do.”

* * *

Vega stood on the steps in front of City Hall. Jim had done a good job, he thought. The response from the community had been better than he’d hoped.

A sea of expectant faces looked at him as he called for attention.

“Thank you for coming. Mayor Jade Thompson is missing. We believe she’s been abducted by the same man who killed Nadine Dagg and Dennis and Sandra Havers, and we believe he’s still in the Coffin Cove area.”

He waited until the murmur of shock subsided. It was only a few hours ago, Vega realized. It felt like another lifetime to him, but some people here might not have heard about the murders. Was this a good idea? Too late now, he thought. Jade needed him, needed everyone.

“We’ve narrowed down four areas where we think he’s most likely to be holding Jade. I do not have the resources I need to search them all without alerting the killer and allowing him to move Jade and escape. So I need your help.”

Vega looked at the crowd, at the faces of men and women who had answered Jim Peters’ call for help.

“We have to find Jade Thompson. We’ll divide up into four search parties. My officers will be with each party, and we’ll search one area each. We’ll conduct a grid search — we’ll explain how that works — and hopefully, hopefully, we will locate Jade. If any of you see this man—” Vega held up a picture — “do not approach him. Let my officers do their job. Please do not discharge your firearms.” He looked sternly at the men in the crowd carrying shotguns. “I need this man in custody. Let him face the consequences of his actions. And please, do not place yourself in any danger.”

Vega let Sergeant Fowler arrange the search parties. He walked over to Andi.

“Are you feeling OK?” he asked.

Andi nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Join that party over there.” He pointed to a group of people gathered around an officer. It wasn’t until she joined the group that Andi saw the officer was Charlie Rollins.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Clara Bell pulled the lines free and threw them on the deck. Then, nimble as a goat, she hopped on board. The low chug of the diesel engine was barely audible above the cry of the gulls, as the Pipe Dream idled away from the dock.

Harry sat in the wheelhouse steering the boat. When they reached the edge of the no-wake zone, Harry pushed the throttle forward and the Pipe Dream picked up speed, slicing through the silver-grey waves. He looked down and saw Clara standing on the deck, her face tilted up slightly into the morning breeze. She was wearing her customary long dark skirt, and her white hair was lifting and billowing behind her. She reminded Harry of a Viking warrior, invoking his own Norwegian heritage.

Harry was fond of Clara. There was more than one mixed-up boy who had sought refuge at Clara’s trailer. Before Greta, Harry’s mother, had left Ed, Harry had escaped from the drunken violence of his home and found a protector in Clara. She’d never stood in judgment of either.

“It’s a sickness, boy,” she’d told Harry once, when he’d stormed to her in anger, cursing his father and his drinking.

Now, Clara looked out for Ed. She dropped in to see him, leaving food in the fridge and occasionally sitting with him on the porch.

Harry could understand how young Art Whilley had befriended this solitary woman. What he couldn’t understand is how that boy had become a murderer, and, in cold blood, cut short another human’s life. Not once, but four times over. Clara had taught Harry compassion. Unwittingly, she’d taught Art Whilley how to kill.

The first glow of sun was appearing on the horizon. By now, the search parties would be well underway. Harry frowned to himself. He wished Andi had stayed at the detachment, where she’d be safe. He didn’t understand why Vega sent her out with Charlie Rollins, of all people.

Harry shared Andi’s opinion of Charlie, but she didn’t understand that he hadn’t been angry with her over the article, just frustrated. It wasn’t the way to change things in Coffin Cove. The people who lived here didn’t want to be told they were wrong, or backward, or living in the past. They knew they couldn’t be cut off from the rest of the world forever. But Andi Silvers and Jade Thompson would not change things overnight. And it would take more than Andi’s articles or Jade’s plans for funky murals and new bistros for Coffin Cove’s