Blood Island by H. Terrell Griffin

Police Procedurals

By H. Terrell Griffin

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I hit my brakes just as the pistol fired, the bullet passing over the hood of my car. Logan sat up abruptly. " I swerved to my right, still braking. The brake lights on my assailant's car flash on. He wasn't finished. We were at the south end of Anna Maria Island, driving along Coquina Beach. No other cars were in sight. I kept to the right, trying to turn around and head back toward Bradenton Beach, where there would be people on the sidewalk. The car in front of me came to a stop. I pulled the steering wheel to the right and drove into the parking lot that edged the beach.

Let me know if you hear anything," I said, and left. At my condo, I scanned Peggy's picture into my computer, cropped it so that I had a good head shot, and ran off several 4 x 6 prints. I'd start at the northern end of Anna Maria Island and work my way south to the southern end of Siesta Key. Bartenders have good memories for attractive young women, so I'd start there. If that didn't turn up anything, I'd try hotels and then the condos that rented by the week. Maybe I'd get lucky. I called my friend Logan Hamilton.

I asked. " I was surprised. I didn't expect to get a working number, much less Jake Yardley. "Mr. Yardley, my name is Matt Royal. I live on Longboat Key. " "Yes. " "Yes. " He had a southwestern accent, probably Texas. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm trying to find a young lady who has disappeared. " "I was. " "She was using a different name. " "Sure. " He gave me directions to his house. I called Logan to tell him what I had discovered, and that I was going to Tampa. "Give me a few minutes and I'll go with you," he said.

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