Last Chance Harbor (23 page)

While Ryder chased
down and rounded up a bunch of cows on the road to town, Troy and Bree spent their day exploring Treasure Island. This time, they had the pebbly beach and craggy ground all to themselves.

“We should really take some time to dive the shipwreck.”

“I’ve only snorkeled in shallow water, never dived before.”

“Hmm, that pretty much sums it up for me, too. Maybe we should take lessons together,” Troy suggested. “Russ Dennis dives. We should go see him about it. Maybe he could point us to a good instructor.”

“You’re really thinking I can do this?”

“I know you can. And it would be good for the area.”

“I’ve never had anyone believe in me like you do, Troy. You make me want to succeed at whatever I try.”

“We all want to get ahead. In fact, I’m talking to Logan about buying one of the houses he bought in his grandparent’s old neighborhood. You know the one, that row of little Spanish bungalows on Athena Circle, behind the old newspaper office. They’re tiny but so is the cul-de-sac they’re on. Logan bought three of them. They need a lot of work but I’m willing to fix it up. Just look at what Julianne’s taking on with that beat-up old cottage over on Ocean Street. I figure if I help her I’ll learn how to do my own.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so because I think you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet.” He picked up the strands of her red hair as the breeze tossed it around her face. “All this ginger color makes you stunning.”

She leaned into him, pressed her lips to his. “It’s nice having the island to ourselves. We should make a fire.”

“I think we already have.”

T
he first Saturday in March Julianne showed up at the gingerbread cottage along with her dad to a waiting crowd of townspeople.

Her jaw dropped at the sight. The group headed by Ryder and Troy stood on the lawn. She looked into the faces of Nick, Brent, Murphy, and a man she recognized as Wally Pierce from the service station.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Ready to remodel a house,” Ryder stated with a grin. “Logan spared Troy and me for the day. Give the word where you want us to start first and we’ll kick this weekend project through the roof.”

“All of you are…incredibly generous with your time. Look, Pop and I were prepared to do the work ourselves.”

“No need for that,” Nick assured her. “Logan would’ve been here too but Kinsey is about ready to pop.”

“Anything we can do for them?”

“If there is, I’m sure Logan will let us know.”

As Julianne led the way up the steps, she was all but bouncing on her toes. She stuck her key into the lock and turned to the group.

“I really need to thank Nick and Logan, even though he isn’t here, for making this all possible, for bringing me to this point. But right now we have a house to renovate.”

To make the most of the workforce, they split up into three teams. Julianne, Ryder, and Brent started in the kitchen, ripping up the flooring. Troy used his people to bust up the fixtures and cabinets in the bathroom, and then rip out an adjacent closet wall to make the space larger. Nick’s team spread out to the living area and the bedrooms. Using commercial sanders, they buffed out the hardwood floors.

At their first break, Julianne turned to Brent. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about the case. Have you found who that shirt belonged to?”

“My standard response is to say I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you at least tell me if Henry Nash was of any help IDing anyone in those photographs?”

“Stubborn, that’s Julianne Dickinson,” Brent muttered to Ryder. “Henry was as helpful as his memory allowed. He has Alzheimer’s. I’m in the process of going through the list of students that I got from old records.”

Julianne couldn’t help prodding, meddling. “That box belonged to a member of the Jennings family, didn’t it?”

“How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“Easy. The deed gave it away.”

“I hate to burst your bubble but the box doesn’t belong to them. None of the Jennings kids recognized anything inside except for their grandfather’s deed and a couple of the class pictures. The photos were of classmates taken while Cooper and Drea were enrolled there. That was it. No big mystery.”

She shrugged and traded glances with Ryder. “Okay, so much for me grilling the florist on my own.”

“Julianne, do
not
do that,” Brent insisted. “Stay out of this.”

“It was just a stupid plan that I never had time to put in motion anyway. But are you certain none of them claimed the box? Did you talk to each one? You don’t find that strange?”

Brent cocked his head, gave her a withering stare. “Yes, I talked to each one. Visited Caleb at the garden center, Drea at the florist shop, and emailed Cooper wherever he’s living now. I think he mentioned something about Oregon, or it might’ve been Orinda. I forget which.”

“But no one else in those pictures has a father who went missing,” Ryder insisted. “How did they explain the deed in the box? None of them laid claim to the toys?”

“No. They had no idea how the deed ended up in there. But the store closed several years back after Andrew passed away. Who knows how long the deed had been lost? It’s a moot point anyway since the county collects the taxes on the store property and the three kids go in together every year to pay it.”

The notion she’d been building of solving the case, evaporated. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

To keep the conversation going, she told Brent about what Cleef Atkins had said accusing Eleanor of doing away with her own father. “If you had the original medical examiner’s report on Euell Jennings’ death it might shed some light on what happened that day.”

Before Brent could answer, Ryder asked him, “Did you know Eleanor? Do you think she was capable of something that sinister?”

“I didn’t know her. But I’m learning a lot about the woman’s state of mind back in the days
before
Layne took off with Brooke. You won’t find a person around town who will do much vouching for Eleanor. Not a single one. As to whether or not she could have shot her father, I honestly have no idea. But I suppose it’s worth looking into.”

“Julianne doesn’t think Layne ever left town,” Ryder explained.

Brent turned to stare at her. “Why not give up teaching for real. Come work for law enforcement. The pay’s just as lousy as teaching but the mayor says I can add on a deputy in about six months.”

Julianne huffed out a laugh, tilted her head in response. “Sarcasm won’t work with me. But it is a nice way of telling me to butt out.”

It was Ryder who piped up, “Actually, that’s his way of paying you a compliment because he agrees with you.”

She glanced at Ryder then Brent. “Really?”

“What I’m curious about though is why you made the jump,” Brent wanted to know.

“Because everyone is of the same mindset. The consensus is Layne would never have left those kids behind in Eleanor’s care. She was too unpredictable, too unstable, too mean, whatever ‘too’ you want to apply to the situation. Layne felt very uncomfortable at the idea of walking away from them. I doubt seriously he would have.”

Brent nodded. “After talking to half the town and those that were still around back then, Layne’s reluctance to leave seems to be the prevailing reason he didn’t. Layne didn’t trust Eleanor to take care of his kids. Period.”

“So if Brooke and Layne didn’t run away together, that could only mean one thing.”

“Don’t go leaping,” Brent urged them both. “I’ve submitted the piece of shirt for DNA testing and if I have to I’ll ask for swabs from Layne’s kids.”

“To see if there’s a connection blood to blood?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t there a Native American ceremony that covers this sort of thing?”

“You mean moving into a new house? Sure.”

“Hmm, interesting, that would be cool, too. I’d like one of those here. But no, I was thinking more along the lines of a ceremony for clarity, something that would tell us what happened to Layne and Brooke.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Brent huffed out. “Why don’t you say what you mean? You want to procure the services of my father or brother and their psychic abilities?”

“Well, they have done it before. And your father is known for that, Ethan not so much. He keeps that side hidden from everyone else other than his close circle. Even if we just got a few of those people to come together for a…”

“Séance?”

“That isn’t where I was going with this at all. I was referring to an enlightening ceremony.” Just to needle him, she added, “But we could definitely add séance into the mix. The more people, the merrier.”

“It’s fairly ridiculous. I prefer old-fashioned police work, if you don’t mind.”

“The séance thing was your leap, not mine. The more energy we generate there has to be power in that. We might learn something we didn’t know. Besides, you’re Native. I know for a fact you’ve used your father or brother before on some of your more desperate cases. Why not now on a case this cold?”

Ryder realized the two squabbled like brother and sister. “She has a point.”

“You’ll go talk to both of them no matter what I say, won’t you?”

“No, not if it’s something that upsets you this much.” When she saw Brent take a calming breath she had hope.

“I’ll think about it. Right now, that’s the best I can do.”

“Then I guess we’re on hold until you get back to me.”

“Why don’t you stick to what you know best? Getting teachers lined up for next year. I’ll do what I do best.”

“Fine,” she muttered under her breath.

For the remainder of the morning the three of them worked in companionable silence. But their conversation caused a cloud to hang over what should have been a festive gathering. Her fault, she decided.

The idea that the bloodstained cloth might belong to Layne meant someone, presumably Eleanor, had killed him. Or were they rushing to blame the evil wife without proof of anything? Could Brooke have killed Layne in a fit of rage because he had refused to leave with her and then fled to parts unknown?

Those questions lingered while they worked. Around noon they hauled out the mess they’d made—old laminate, rotting wood—then started knocking down the old pine cabinets. Once that was done, they dragged everything out, filled up the dumpster again at the curb.

By three o’clock they were exhausted and starving.

“I’m buying everyone dinner,” Julianne announced.

“Not me,” Nick said. “I gotta get home and relieve Jordan from having two toddlers all day.”

“Same here,” Brent said. “River’s planning spaghetti.”

Julianne looked at Troy, but he shook his head. “Live music at McCready’s tonight for me and I’m spending the evening with Bree, even though she has to finish her shift. I have to get home and clean up.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Gotta look my best.”

“I can’t stay either. We’re expected at Carla’s mother’s tonight for chile relleno,” Murphy called out.

“What about you, Ryder? Want to join Pops and me for dinner?”

“Count me in. But I need a shower first.”

“Oh no you don’t. We all smell. Which means I’m ordering takeout from the Diner. I already know Pop wants a burger with everything. So what’s your pleasure?”

“I’ll take their Saturday special, the steak sandwich with everything.”

“Got it. Be back in a flash.” She took her dad’s truck and cruised past the pier and the dig site, spotted River trying to corral her three-year-old.

On impulse, Julianne pulled to the side of the curb and waved. River jogged over but continued to keep an eagle eye on Luke since the toddler was running around on the beach like a little wild man.

“Your hubby’s back at the house packing up for the day.”

“I know. He sent me a text. I’m letting Luke burn off excess energy. Did you get a lot done? I’d have joined in the fun, but trust me, with Luke underfoot it would’ve been a challenge.”