She tucked it into her purse and grabbed her cell phone before leading Tango out the front door, feeling completely unsettled. On the porch, Tango whined when she stopped to untangle his leash from around the cell phone in her hand. “Hold on, boy,” she appealed. She had forgotten how eerie Oyster Point could be when no one was around. Even in broad daylight, there was something about being at the end of a lonely road, with only one way out, surrounded by the croaking marsh, that had always given her a bit of the willies. Add to that her reservations about the property’s history and it wasn’t exactly a place she had ever longed to be. Flo must be laughing it up in her grave right now to have forced her into sleeping under this wretched roof again. It didn’t help much that Cody’s disappearance brought Sammy to mind, and that today of all days she would find Sammy’s photo lying on the kitchen counter. Sweat beaded between her breasts, dampening her bra. August in Charleston had always been a bit of a steam bath and anything but white cotton in this weather was a mistake, but Tango couldn’t wait long enough for her to change out of her funeral garb, so she adjusted her bra, then wrapped the leash about her hand, and took the opportunity to look around.
