Silent Witness by Patricia H. Rushford Page A

Jennie drove through Alligator Alley in the Everglades while Gram worked on her computer and Scott slept in the backseat.
    When they reached Naples, Gram insisted they take a beach break. Jennie pulled into a beach-access park and the trio waded, ran, and collected shells for nearly an hour. After a quick stop for lunch, they were off again, this time with Gram at the wheel. As the distance to their destination shortened on the map, Jennie’s excitement grew. If Lisa’s information had been right, she’d soon be meeting Maggie and Sarah. She’d also be talking to Ryan. She frowned and guiltily turned to look at Scott, who was stretched out in the backseat, sleeping. She did like Scott, she decided—but she liked Ryan too.
    The weary travelers reached the toll booth at Sanibel Island at exactly one-thirty. Twenty minutes later they crossed the bridge to Dolphin Island. They drove for about a quarter of a mile along a road bordered by tall palm trees and thick green vegetation. Just past a sign that read “Dolphin Island State Park” they came to an enormous gate bordered on either side by a high fence. A small white sign at the entrance read, “Private Property.” Another sign, a blue one with official-looking white lettering, told travelers that this was the Dolphin Island Marine Research Center.
    â€œWow, this place looks more heavily guarded than Fort Knox,” Scott offered.
    â€œDebbie told me they’ve had some vandalism lately,”
    Gram replied, pulling the car up to the guard posted at the gate.
    â€œAfternoon,” he said. “Can I help you?”
    Gram told him who they were, and he looked each of the three passengers over carefully, then checked his clipboard. Even though they’d done nothing wrong, Jennie was beginning to feel like an intruder.
    â€œOkay,” he said, punching a button inside the guard house, triggering the gate. “You’re clear. Just follow the main road until you get to the office. They’ll give directions from there.”
    The road wound through more shrubs and trees for another quarter of a mile, then opened up to a spectacular view of the Gulf of Mexico. A white sandy beach bordered a lush green lawn, then ended at a cluster of buildings and docks fingering toward the water. The road curved to the right and ended in a parking lot near a simple rectangular structure. Gram parked and the three made their way along the short graveled path. Before they reached the door, a tall, willowy woman with straight shoulder-length blond hair emerged, swept down on them, and threw her arms around Gram as if they were long-lost friends.
    â€œHelen, I can’t believe it. You’re finally here. It’s so good to see you again.” The woman backed away and turned to face Jennie and Scott. “And this must be Jennie.” Without giving her a chance to respond, she added, “I’m Debbie Cole. Oh, you do look like Kate and Jason. I mean, your hair and eyes.”
    Who was this woman? Jennie stepped back and bumped into Scott. His hands grasped her shoulder to steady her. “You know my aunt Kate … and my dad?”
    â€œDidn’t Helen tell you?” She cast Gram a teasing shame-on-you look. “Kate and Jason are old school chums of mine. Kate and I roomed together at the University of Oregon. I went there for two years before I transferred to UCLA.”
    Jennie glanced at Gram, who looked surprised that Jennie wasn’t aware of the relation. “Oh dear, I was certain I’d mentioned it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I must be getting old. Memory isn’t what it usedd to be, I’m afraid.”
    Jennie laughed. “It isn’t old age, Gram, and you know it.” To Debbie she said, “She gets so involved with her writing, the whole world could fall apart, and as long as it didn’t affect her computer, she wouldn’t know what happened until she