it. The sight was tearing Tate apart, but no one wanted to interrupt her train of thought, and so they sat, watching her relive the nightmare once again.
“The truth is, if I hadn’t been sick I probably would have evacuated days earlier. But I guess everything happens for a reason, because if I’d been gone, I wouldn’t have witnessed what happened. Once we all heard the outboard motor, we assumed it was the rescue we’d been praying for. When the boat appeared, there was only one man in it.” She glanced at Beaudry. “When he got close enough, I could see he was wearing a uniform, but I didn’t realize it was from your department until after he’d killed the Lewises and came by the tree where I was hiding, I’m positive about that.”
Beaudry frowned. “The description you gave Carroll doesn’t fit anyone who works for me, so it was obviously a fake uniform or a stolen one. We’ll check that out.”
“What happened after you saw him?” Tate asked.
“He saw the Lewis family and headed straight for the roof. Before I had time to make my move down the tree, he pulled out a pistol and just shot Whit in the head.”
She paused, pressing her fingers against her lips to keep from breaking into sobs. She reached for the tissues.
“Whit was in the water when he shot Candy and her mother. After they sank, he gunned the motor and headed downriver toward me. I climbed higher, scared to death he would see me, but at the same time I felt like I just had to take the chance of getting a look at him. I tried, but I was too high up and the brim of his cap hid his face when he passed by. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Even though it had nothing to do with their case, Tate had to know.
“How much longer were you up in that tree before you were rescued?” he asked.
Nola wouldn’t look at him. She didn’t want his damn sympathy. Not anymore.
“I have no idea. I was out of my head with fever. I finally tied myself to the tree because I kept passing out, and I was afraid I’d fall into the water and drown.”
That explained the abrasions on the palms of her hands and what looked like rope burns around her wrists.
“What about the boat? What can you tell us about the boat?” Cameron asked.
She frowned. No one had asked her about that before. She had to pause and think.
“It was just a motorboat. Chief, you know what I mean? It was the kind people use to go fishing. A plain white boat with a big blue outboard motor.” She closed her eyes, picturing it as it passed below the tree. Then all of a sudden her eyes were open and her voice was shaking. “There was a name painted on the back end of the boat. It was Gator Bait. Oh, my gosh, I just now remembered that.”
Tate smiled. “Good job.”
Nola almost returned the smile and then caught herself. They were not going to be friends, much less anything else, again.
Beaudry stood up. “I’m going to call the boat info in and get that registration check started. And then we’ll get you out of here.”
“Are you sure it’s okay for you to leave?” Tate asked Nola.
She shrugged. “My fever is gone, and my scratched hands and face are hardly worthy of a hospital bed.”
“Where will you go?” he asked.
“Where did the Red Cross set up?”
“The school gymnasium,” Beaudry said.
“Is that where the other displaced people are at?”
Tate frowned. “Yes, but—”
“Then that’s where I’ll ask you to leave me. If the water was gone tomorrow, I still wouldn’t have a place to live. The house was completely underwater, or maybe washed away. There’s nothing to salvage, but I want to go home. I need to be with my people.”
“Then you need to understand something first,” Tate said. “Cameron already told you this man is a serial killer, and we’ve been trailing him for over two months. The media has dubbed him the Stormchaser, because he shows up at the same time the Red Cross arrives after a disaster. We think he conceals himself
A.L. Jambor, Lenore Butler