As she got closer, Cassidy saw the tissue balled in her hands. Saw that her eyes were swollen and her nose was red. Yes, she’d definitely been crying.
The woman rushed toward the window of the ice cream truck, wiping beneath her eyes with the crumpled tissue as she approached.
“I’m sure he didn’t pay you,” she said, her voice hoarse. “How much do I owe you?”
“I told him it was on the house.” Cassidy’s heart panged with compassion as she sensed something seriously bad had happened.
The woman dabbed her eyes again as more water filled them. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you. I’m Diane, by the way. Diane Goodlatte.”
“I’m Ca—Cassidy. I’m Cassidy.” She swallowed hard, contemplating what to say next. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
The woman sniffled again and twisted the necklace at her throat—some kind of locket was at the end of it. “I’m sorry. It’s just that my husband has been accused of a horrible crime.”
Cassidy remembered the body on the beach. This had to be connected. “I’m so sorry.”
“He didn’t do what he’s been accused of, but the police don’t believe him.” She shook her head. “Phil is just the most loving guy. He’s always on the floor with the triplets, playing and letting them climb all over him. He kisses them goodnight each evening and hello every morning. He’s a great father.”
Cassidy’s heart panged. He sounded like the father Cassidy had always wanted. Her own father had placed business and money as a top priority over family—over her.
“He sounds wonderful,” Cassidy said.
“This was supposed to be a fun vacation that drew us closer together. And now this. I just can’t believe it.”
“Why do they think your husband did this crime?” Cassidy asked, remnants of her cop life wanting to roar to the surface.
“He was the last one seen with Sarge Perkins—the man who died. Sarge was . . . our friend. My husband would have never killed him—or killed anyone, for that matter.”
Cassidy had heard that many times before. No one ever thought the people they loved were capable of doing the unimaginable. That was where shock came in. But eventually it would wear off, and people could see the clues—the subtle signs—they’d missed earlier.
“I’m so sorry,” Cassidy said. “Is there anything I can do?”
The woman’s gaze latched onto hers. “If you hear anything about this crime, let people know my husband is innocent before the court of public opinion finds him guilty. I have no idea who would kill Sarge. He was the nicest man.”
“How did you know the victim? You said you were friends?” Cassidy hoped she didn’t sound too eager for answers. At least she’d controlled her urge to pull out a pencil and paper to take notes.
“He worked with my husband. We were here for our annual vacation. For the past five years, our families have come here to Lantern Beach together.”
“Just your family and the victim’s?” Keep your voice easy, calm, and non-authoritative, Cassidy.
“No, the Hamby family also comes . Walter Hamby is the CEO of the company. And the Metts just came this year for the first time. I thought one of them might come over to check on us, but they’re all avoiding me. I guess none of them want to associate with an accused killer’s wife.” Her voice broke as another sob escaped.
Cassidy’s heart pounded with compassion. She knew about tragedy all too well. That empathy had made her a good cop, but she had to constantly keep it in check.
Her mind raced with questions. “If you don’t mind me asking, why would the police think your husband was guilty?”
Diane drew in a deep breath and wiped her tears. “We just got into town yesterday morning, and the first thing my husband wanted to do was go fishing.”
“Was he an avid fisherman?”
“No, not really. But he liked to do it once a year or so. This year, he and Sarge decided not to charter a boat but to rent their own. Walter Hamby—their boss—always treats them to an excursion while they’re here.”
“That’s nice.”
“Normally they’d golf, but there’s no place to do that here. Anyway Phil—my husband—and Sarge went out. It was just going to be for a short trip since there was a storm brewing and the waves were expected to get too choppy.”
“That sounds awfully brave of them.”
“They’d been working so hard at work lately that I think they just wanted to relax. Anyway, that also means Phil was the last person Sarge was seen with before he died.” A sob caught in her throat.
“I’m sorry. But did your husband even own a gun?”
“No, he didn’t. But there was gunshot residue on Phil’s hands.” She shook her head, full of mourning and grief. “I just don’t understand it.”
Compassion pulsed inside Cassidy. “Well, what does your husband say? Did he have an explanation?”
“He said he didn’t do it, of course. He said they got nervous because of the storm—it was coming in faster than they’d thought. They started to head back but the water was jostling them and he fell overboard. That’s the last thing he remembers before being found on the beach. All I can think is that someone must have found Sarge after my husband fell overboard and killed him.”
“The truth usually comes to light.” Cassidy believed in the justice system. She’d seen it succeed 90 percent of the time. Maybe even 95 percent. She had to believe it would prevail now also.
Diane swung her head back and forth. “This time, I just don’t know. I really don’t. Unfortunately, my husband hit his head when the boat capsized. He lost about an hour that night. The most important hour.” She glanced at her hands. Ice cream ran down her fingers. “And now my Nutty Buddy has melted.”
Tears poured down the woman’s face, matching the quickly dissolving ice cream.
Chapter 5
Cassidy stood on her deck that evening after selling a whopping eighty-five dollars worth of ice cream. She’d seen two meltdowns by overly exhausted kids who’d had too much fun in the sun, one fight between a husband and wife, and one college-aged boy chasing an escapee chicken through the streets.
Now she would relax. Except not too much. Because relaxing too much gave her too much time to think—something she didn’t want to do.
Instead, she stood outside her temporary home. The inside wasn’t nearly as relaxing. Whoever the cleaning crew had been, they hadn’t done a good job. Small things had been out of place—bathroom towels, curtains, pillows.
The exterior was much more relaxing with its amazing ocean views.
Cassidy couldn’t believe Samuel had been able to secure this place at the last minute like he had. It had probably only been available because it was too small and primitive for most vacationers, who liked to bring not only their own family but their family’s family as well.
There were only a couple of other houses at the end of this gravel lane, and the yards—if that’s what you’d called the sea oat covered sand—were spacious enough that she had privacy.
Right now, as the pastel sky turned gray, she stared at the abode across the dune from her.
The cottage had been empty when she’d arrived last night—at least, there had been no lights on. It had appeared empty this morning also when she’d stood on the sand dune talking to Samuel. She’d hoped it might remain empty for her stay, that maybe it was a vacation home for some couple who lived up in Maryland and who only came down three times a year.
Apparently, that wasn’t the case. The back light was on, and a man stood on his deck. He didn’t see her. Or, if he did, he didn’t acknowledge her.
He was probably her age. Broad and thick. His face looked smooth. His dark hair was short and spiky on top. Military maybe?
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard him talking in low tones to someone, his head angled downward. A moment later, a golden-haired dog hopped in the air and grabbed a treat from the man’s hand. Her neighbor rubbe
d the dog’s head as a reward, and the canine barked in appreciation.
Cassidy’s heart instantly panged. The exchange made her miss Colombo, her German shepherd mix. Leaving him had nearly been as hard as leaving Ryan. At least she could explain to Ryan what was going on. Kind of.
On the other hand, she couldn’t explain her absence to Colombo. Her partner had been taking care of him since she started her undercover assignment with DH-7.
As Cassidy watched her neighbor, she was thankful she’d left her deck light off. It afforded her some privacy. Darkness out here was so much darker than Seattle.
Just then, the dog next door bounded over the sand dune. And he didn’t stop. He was headed . . . right toward Cassidy. The whole not turning her light on thing hadn’t fooled the canine.
Her eyes widened as she soaked in the golden retriever. His tongue flapped in the wind. His eyes sparkled. His step had more than a spring in it—he was outright bounding.
She braced herself as the dog gained momentum. He leapt onto her deck, and his front paws hit her shoulders, shoving her to the ground. He pinned Cassidy and licked her cheeks, her neck—anything and everything within his reach.
“Kujo, no! Heel!”
Kujo? What a name.
Her neighbor was suddenly in front of her, pulling his dog off by the collar. “Kujo, bad boy.”
The dog sat beside Cassidy, still panting but looking rather pleased with himself. Kujo obviously thought Cassidy should be flattered by his greeting.
Finally, the neighbor turned toward her, and Cassidy looked up at him.
“I’m so sorry about that.” The man’s eyes bounced back to the dog. “He’s usually not so disobedient. I’m Ty, by the way. Ty Chambers.”
“I’m Cassidy—” Her eyes narrowed as the moonlight caught the man’s face.
Her neighbor was the man who’d cut her off while driving earlier—only now he’d shaven and cleaned himself up to look presentable, so presentable that she almost hadn’t recognized him.
She pushed herself up onto her palms and wiped at the remaining dog slobber. “You? I should have known. You and your dog share the same manners.”
“Not you again.” His eyes narrowed as if he’d just then realized who he was dealing with. He let out a sardonic chuckle before shaking his head. “I assure you—I deeply regret that my dog set foot on your property. It won’t happen again.”
“Seems to be a lot of sorrys in your life.” She stood and wiped the grime from her shorts and hands.
She almost gave Kujo a dirty look, but the dog seemed so happy that she couldn’t do it. Instead, she sneaked in a head pat and made a mental note to save any leftover food as treats for him later.
“A lot of sorrys in my life? You can say that again. Right now, they mostly consist of any interaction I’ve had with you.” Even though his words were harsh, they were still slow and easy with a flabbergasting amount of amusement behind them.
Cassidy didn’t find any humor in the situation, only irritation. “The feeling is mutual.”
“I guess I should be glad I didn’t bring you some fish from my camping trip as a welcome gift. No doubt you would have found fault with that also.” His gaze held challenge and a touch of laidback teasing.
“Maybe I should have offered you some ice cream.” She barely moved her teeth as she said the words.
He chuckled—a slow, drawn out sound that had untold stories behind it—and shook his head. “I don’t like ice cream. And I wouldn’t eat any from that truck of yours, even if I did.”
Okay, now Cassidy was not only irritated but she was also insulted. It was one thing to be cranky with her, but what had that truck ever done to him? “What does that mean?”
He smirked, a satisfied look in his eyes. “You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
Ty stepped closer, his eyes glimmering like the ocean in an approaching storm. “Did any of the locals buy from you today?”
“I don’t know who’s a local and who’s not. I just got into town.”
The glimmer grew brighter. “Well, I assure you, the locals don’t. And if any locals do, they’re saying their prayers right about now.”
“That’s just insulting.” Cassidy was seething now. What in the world was this man talking about? And why was he so . . . rude? And why did he have to be her neighbor?
“I should go,” Ty said. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”
“I guess.”
She watched Ty and Kujo walk away. She’d have to avoid him while she was in town. Because a man like that would only make her life here even more unpleasant. And it was already unpleasant enough.
Ty played fetch with Kujo on the beach to burn off some of the dog’s energy—which seemed endless sometimes.
But his mind wasn’t on the game of fetch. No, he was thinking about his new neighbor.
Of all the people who could have moved in next door to him, it had to be the crazy ice cream lady.
As uptight and impossible as she seemed, there was also something very intriguing about her. Ty needed to put that intrigue to rest, though. The last thing he needed was another woman causing him trouble. Because that’s all women were—trouble.
His ex-fiancée was a case in point. She’d been loyal and faithful during the good times. But as soon as things hadn’t gone the way she wanted, she moved on.
Ty rubbed his leg at the memory. No, he hadn’t come back from the Middle East as the same person. He’d been broken—both physically and mentally.
And it had changed his life and ultimately led him here with a brand-new purpose for his future.
All things worked out for the good eventually. His life had proven it over and over. But it was the working out part that was hard—those moments when the end wasn’t in sight and the past and the future tugged at a person until a subtle but constant ache formed.
He picked up the ball that Kujo left at his feet and tossed it again. His mind wandered once more to his new neighbor. Though he’d been partly amused by their conversation, he partly regretted his words. They could have been kinder, yet they reminded him that he was still a work in progress. He’d need to make amends . . . eventually.
Ty supposed that part of his problem was that he hadn’t expected to see the woman again—and especially not here so close to his house. He’d assumed those two men were staying at the house—the two he’d seen there yesterday.
Ty had swung by his house in the middle of the camping trip so he could pick up some pain medicine. His knee had been bothering him. That’s when he’d noticed the two men at the house.
Normally, he might not give them a second thought. But these men hadn’t looked like the average tourists here. No, they’d dressed mostly in black and looked entirely too uptight to be staying in that fishing cabin. His gut had signaled that something wasn’t right.
At the memory, his spine pinched.
Who were those men? If his gut was right, what were they up to?
His psychologist might tell him he was paranoid. Might warn him against PTSD. But he knew that wasn’t the case right now.
Even if he didn’t like Cassidy, he’d keep an eye on her. At least until he figured out who those guys had been. After all, the houses on this street were fairly secluded. That fact brought him peace and solitude.
But it could also be an invitation to trouble.
And trouble was one thing he didn’t want around here.
Chapter 6
That night, as Cassidy tried to rest on the lumpy cot that had come with the cottage, a noise outside awoke her.
She sat up in bed, and a cold sweat spread over her.
Had they found her? Were DH-7 here?
She froze and listened more closely, her heart thumping out of control.
Finally, she released her breath, along with a little chuckle.
No, DH-7 hadn’t found her yet. But, for some reason, her ice cream truck had started to play music. Why in the world would it do that
in the middle of the night?
She climbed out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt, and grabbed a gun from her nightstand. She tucked it into her waistband and stepped toward the front door.
“It’s a Small World” sang cheerfully in the nighttime summer air. The effect was eerie out here in the middle of nowhere. At least there were only a few neighbors close enough to hear it.
“I’m trying to get some sleep over here!” someone yelled in the distance. The voice sounded like it came from an open window.
That had to be Ty.
She scowled at him—not that he could see her—and then glanced around, just to make sure this wasn’t some kind of ruse to get her outside alone.
She didn’t see anyone, only the sand dunes and the sea oats swaying in the breeze.
The wind, along with the crashing of the waves and the merry little song playing from her speakers, concealed any noises, making it the perfect cover for any approaching footsteps.
Cassidy needed to keep that in mind.
Moving carefully, she walked toward her truck and climbed inside. She hit the music button. Hit it again. And again. Finally, “It’s a Small World” went silent.
Why had this truck done that? It was so weird.
But it didn’t matter.
The only thing that mattered was that the music was now off and she could get back to bed.
As she climbed back onto her deck, she paused.
Was that a light out there on the beach?
She squinted and ducked behind the railing, just in case someone might spot her.
As she peered out, she spotted an orb bobbing on the shore. Two of them, for that matter.
Who would be out there at this hour? A couple taking a midnight stroll?
Cassidy highly doubted that. The motions of the flashlights were too fast, too frantic.
She watched another moment.
A boat pulled up on the shore, the lights hurried toward it, and then they were gone.
Just what was going on here in this sleepy little town?
Did Cassidy want to find out?
Lantern Beach Mysteries Box Set Page 4