Foal Play: A Mystery Read Free

Rescue.
    The alarm on Colleen’s watch went off. Sparky jumped, dropped the shoe, and ran to her side. The Border collie knew what the beeping meant. Time for morning rounds. Colleen smiled, not knowing which of them enjoyed rounds more. For Sparky, it was a time to put his nose out the window and into the wind. For her, driving the slim barrier island was a time of reflection about her life and the island.
    As she and Sparky toured the island, Colleen pondered how Corolla had changed from a rustic destination for sportsmen to a vacation retreat for northern suburbanites. She wasn’t sorry to see the practical, one-story, hurricane-proof cement structures go, but she wasn’t thrilled about the new estates either. She missed the miles of dune grass and wildflowers that once covered her island. And there was nothing like rounding a bend in the road and spotting a horse with her foal in the late afternoon sun.
    Colleen scanned the road ahead, squinted at the sky, and sighed. “Not again.” Sparky cocked his head. He saw it, too. Smoke. The brown-and-gray, billowy kind that comes from burning trees and brush. Colleen pressed the gas pedal, flipped on her vehicle’s flashing lights, and drove toward the development of Island Sands.
    Colleen’s breathing grew shallow as she neared Island Sands. She forced herself to inhale deeply. She needed to be calm, professional. Her past confrontations with Pinky Salvatore had not ended well.
    Antonio “Pinky” Salvatore was a developer from Long Island, New York, who had arrived in Corolla three years ago. His Island Sands was a community of opulent estates near the southern end of Corolla. The Mafia rumors made Pinky the closest thing the area had to the criminal element. But that wasn’t what bothered Colleen. What bothered Colleen was how Pinky repeatedly ordered his men to burn debris. Nothing stopped him. Not citations. Not fines. Not even threats to shut down construction.
    Pinky’s recurring violations made Colleen a frequent visitor to his construction trailer. Colleen’s visits to Pinky made Bill Dorman, her closest friend and the Currituck County sheriff, jealous. Bill was straightforward and sensible. He had told Colleen directly that he thought the New York developer was interested in her. She had told Bill he was being ridiculous but she knew what he said was true. Every time she visited Pinky’s trailer, the businessman made a romantic proposition. These inevitable, unwanted propositions were why Colleen dreaded her visits.
    Colleen’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the number. Bill. He must have sensed she was on her way to see Pinky. She hit the ANSWER button.
    “Good morning,” Colleen said, smiling in anticipation of Bill’s jealous warning.
    “Not so good for some of us,” Bill said.
    “Before you get started about Pinky—”
    “Mr. Salvatore isn’t my concern right now. I need you to meet me on the beach at the northern end, just inside the sanctuary.”
    Something was wrong. Bill only referred to Pinky as Mr. Salvatore when he was speaking in his official capacity as Currituck County sheriff. “What’s up?” she asked.
    “You’ll see when you get here,” Bill said and hung up.
    Colleen changed course and headed toward the northern end. She hit the button for the station on her cell phone. Pinky Salvatore would have to deal with Jimmy today. Colleen smiled picturing the disappointment on Pinky’s face when he opened the door to his trailer, two glasses of champagne in hand, and found the mustached and tattooed Captain Bartlett on his doorstep instead of her.

Chapter 2
    Colleen zipped up the wet sand of the restricted-access area of the northern beach. Sparky thrust his nose out the passenger window, wagged his tail, and barked at the water spraying from the tires onto his face. She spotted Bill’s white government-issue SUV, detailed with a black stripe and the word “Sheriff,” parked near the foot of the dunes. Bright yellow caution tape