By H. Terrell Griffin
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It was an open secret that the sanctuary was in financial trouble. It depended on donations and admission charges for the daily tours, and the just-ended winter season had not been kind to the birds. Donations had dried up. The policeman turned back to me. Vince winked, signaling that he knew I wasn't a donor. The cop looked closely at me, a small scowl on his face. " "Don't run off. " He pulled his radio mic from the Velcro tab on his shoulder and called for the detectives and a crime scene unit.
No. " "Breakfast. " "I'll be there in twenty minutes," I said. She hung up. Longboat Key is a small island, about ten miles long and a quarter-mile wide. It lies off the southwest coast of Florida, south of Tampa Bay. I live on the north end in a condo facing Sarasota Bay. The Hilton Hotel sits on the Gulf of Mexico about three miles south of my home. We'd met soon after Laura finished her degree in nursing. She was standing in my cubicle in the emergency room, grinning. I had just finished law school and begun practicing in Orlando.
I know, Matt. But I don't know what else to do. I'll keep trying to get the police involved, but I don't think they're going to help. " We talked a while and drank another cup of coffee. She looked at me, staring at my face for a long time, long enough that I was getting uncomfortable. Then she shrugged, as if snapping out of a trance. "I've got to go," she said. " We hugged each other and she left. I watched her walk across the deck with the languid movements that had always been Laura. She'd never understood how beautiful she was, and she didn't posture with any intent of evoking desire in men.
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