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Of course he recognized her. There wasn’t a man in the world who dared not, and he was sure she approved of his reaction, of the surprise and approval she saw on his face. Introductions were made, smiles and knowing glances passed between them. He remembered looking at her eyes as he said something inanely banal, and he’d watched that smile again, the same lips he’d admired on the silver screen. She smiled again at an awkward complement — his unease clear to see, yet the woman was gracious — she did her best to make him feel at home. Would they mind going to Burbank, she asked, as she had to tape a segment with Johnny Carson at five-thirty. They were expected for dinner at The Bistro, joining her husband there, hopefully, he remembered her saying cautiously. He rode with them in the limousine NBC had sent, and watched the taping as if he had disappeared down a rabbit hole — and taken a wrong turn. Had he taken a wrong turn? Had the wind confused him so? He could smell the sea now —. CHAPTER 5 We’d left the restaurant at 8:45 and the sky had become cloudy and overcast so the night was black as pitch when we passed through Calabash around ten after nine. The road forms a big ‘S’ with a right turn that takes it down near the ICW and a left that runs roughly parallel to the waterway. We were about a mile from the house when I first noticed the bright blue, red, and white blinking lights in the distance. As we approached we realized the lights were coming from my driveway. Sunset Beach has its own police force, but the majority of law enforcement is still done by the sheriff and his deputies. There was one car from each agency in the driveway as I parked on the front lawn. Of course, I was challenged by one of the town officers until I identified myself as the owner of the house. ‘What happened?’ ‘We got an alert from the alarm company. Your sliding glass door was forced open. Looks like they got some of your stuff. I’d like you to check and tell us what.’ .
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