“Correct.”
“It’s a possibility that he’s recently changed his name, so I’ve put in requests for court records in other states. That process could be lengthy.”
“I appreciate your effort.”
Gabe shifted. “However, I have been researching Gilead’s Cove, and I found out some interesting things that I thought you might like to know. I inquired with some other law enforcement agencies, including the FBI and local law enforcement in some neighboring states.”
“I’m all ears.” Cassidy straightened, anxious to hear what he had to say.
“A movement started in West Virginia about two years ago,” he said. “It was a church group—or so authorities thought. It didn’t seem like a big deal, but the numbers started to grow. It was led by someone named … Anthony Gilead.”
“Ah ha. So there was a record of him.” And this was another connection to West Virginia—the same state Trisha Hartman was from.
“Exactly. This man is fascinating. He’s apparently a charismatic guy who could sell a glass of water to a drowning man. People wanted to follow him and believe in his message. In fact, they’d do more than that. He convinced them to give up everything to be a part of a retreat center he was running.”
“Sounds eerie.” Cassidy took another sip of her coffee.
“Doesn’t it, though? The crazy part is that people were doing it. They were embracing this new way of life that he presented to them—one that was simple and where everyone was equal.”
“I have to admit, I could see where those ideas have their appeal.” She’d been in the rat race before, and she preferred a slower way of life herself.
“I can see it also. Authorities only learned about Gilead’s Cove when family members of some of the new ‘recruits’ started coming forward, concerned about their loved ones.”
Cassidy leaned forward. “How many people are we talking? How big did this grow?”
“When it was in West Virginia, we were talking about one hundred people who were a part of the core group—the group that lived together. However, they also have others who don’t live with the group. They’re called scouts.”
“Interesting.”
“The core group outgrew the land there. In the blink of an eye, they up and disappeared, and no one was sure where they went. Until I got your phone call.”
Cassidy tapped her finger against her desk in thought. “They came here. I wonder why Lantern Beach of all places.”
“That’s a great question.”
She leaned back, still processing everything. “Do they appear to be dangerous?”
“Not that we can tell. There have never been any reports on anything illegal. They seem to be a peaceful group.”
“No defectors that you’ve been able to talk to?” She needed the inside scoop.
“Again, not that we know of.”
She sighed, thankful for the answers she’d gotten yet wishing for more. “Thank you for coming. I appreciate it. But this is a whole new experience for me. I’m still treading water here and trying to find out how to handle this.”
“We’re going to look into things and see if we can figure out this Anthony Gilead guy’s real name. That would be a good starting place.”
“I agree.”
He stood. “And we’d appreciate you keeping us in the loop as much as you can.”
“Of course.”
He hesitated a moment, not seeming to be in a hurry to leave. “In fact, I’m going to be staying here on the island. This is my district, so it doesn’t hurt to stay in the area for a while so I can familiarize myself with this part of the state.”
“You must be new.”
Gabe nodded. “Worked in Tennessee before this, but I decided I needed a change of scenery. Anyway, you said there was a dead body that you suspect might be connected with this group, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“I think that’s worth putting some time into. And, if you need any extra manpower, I’m here.”
“Sounds perfect. Thanks so much.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Thanks for your help this morning,” Ty told Braden as they sat on the deck with some sweet tea in hand. Country music crooned on a small speaker in the corner, and the salty scent of the ocean surrounded them. The ocean was especially angry today, and foam flew all over the shore thanks to the temperamental waves. A few puffs of the foam even stuck to the screens surrounding Ty’s deck.
“Helping you is the least I can do since you’re letting me stay in one of the cabanas.” Braden, with his meaty muscles, had been one of the best special ops guys Ty had ever met—until a brain injury had caused his arms to tremble, at times uncontrollably. That, coupled with memory loss, had been a real struggle for Braden. Thankfully, a new doctor had straightened out his medications, and he was getting the help he needed. Having Lisa by his side had been one of his biggest blessings.
“Did Austin say you have someone coming later to check the septic?” Braden asked.
“Yeah, some new guy who moved to the island. He does septic work, so we don’t have to have anyone come down from Hatteras anymore. I know I’m thankful for that.” The septic had been compromised when the area flooded during the big storm last month, the same storm that had torn off a few of the roofs from his cabanas.
“We’re getting all kinds of new people around here,” Braden said. “And I’m glad I’m one of them.”
As Ty formed his next thought, he watched more foam fly in the air and listened to the waves crashing just over the dune. “I have a question for you.”
He’d been thinking about it ever since he’d visited Gilead’s Cove last night—actually, since before that. Since he heard about the scars on the man’s back.
“Shoot.” Braden leaned back in his seat and waited, looking as if he had all the time in the world to chat.
Ty put his drink down as memories filled him. He leaned forward and licked his lips. These weren’t the war stories people liked to tell. No, these stories reminded people of the depravity of the human soul. He only spoke of them when he absolutely had to.
“You were with me on that mission when we found the soldier who was being held captive,” Ty started.
Braden grimaced and set his drink on the railing also. “I don’t think any of us will ever forget that. His back was so raw from …”
Braden didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The scene had been horrific, and it had been a miracle the soldier had even survived what he’d endured. No human should ever have to go through that. Never.
“What about it?” Braden asked.
Ty’s gaze flickered up to Braden’s. “What was he whipped with? Do you remember?”
Braden’s eyes widened, and he shrugged. “I don’t really know. We rescued him, and we were out. I left all those details to the higher-ups. Sometimes the less we knew, the better, right? Why are you asking?”
They both had emotional scars from the battlefield. No one left situations like they’d been in unscathed, even when it appeared on the outside that they did.
“Between you and me … that dead man who was found this week here on the island? He had scars on his back that reminded me of the soldier we rescued. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Braden grunted. “You don’t think it’s connected, do you?”
Ty shrugged. The idea hadn’t wanted to leave his thoughts. Not even right now.
He absently reached down and stroked Kujo’s head as he formed his words. “I don’t want to think it’s connected. I mean, Iraq is a long way from Lantern Beach. But there was just something about it …”
“What are you getting at?” Braden suddenly looked stiff and uptight. “You think someone from our war days is here on Lantern Beach torturing people? Why would someone do that? To send a message to us?”
“I don’t know, Braden. The theory sounds outlandish. I know that. I just can’t shake the feeling that I have some kind of connection to this
.”
“If you do have a connection …” He swung his head back and forth. “I don’t even know what to say, except that you should run fast. Away from here. With Cassidy. I mean, we never caught the guys responsible. They were gone when we got there. You don’t think Akrum Abadi is here on Lantern Beach, do you?”
Ty shook his head, unable to imagine the terrorist leader coming here. “No, I think we’d notice that. But I … I just think there’s a connection. That’s all.”
Braden picked up his drink again. “I’ll keep my eyes open. And, if you need anything, let me know. Okay?”
Ty nodded, still feeling unsettled. “Okay. I will.”
After Agent Abbott departed, Cassidy wasted no time. The pressure to find answers only grew by the moment. Cassidy could feel it. Danger was rising like the sea level in a storm.
She pulled up to the home of Rebecca Jarvis, hoping she might find some answers there.
The woman, a pretty blonde in her early thirties, answered on the first knock. She wore dress slacks and a blazer, and her hair was back in a neat twist.
Cassidy smiled when she saw her. The real estate agent had begun a campaign here on the island a couple years ago, according to local folklore. She’d decided to make life-sized cardboard cutouts of herself to place beside For Sale signs on the island.
Only, the island was known for its steady winds, and none of the signs ever stayed in place. Instead, people found them blown all over Lantern Beach.
Someone had taken it a step further and apparently began putting the stray cardboard cutouts all over town. In bathroom stalls. In the showers at rental houses. In windows.
Cassidy couldn’t be sure who started it, but she suspected Wes.
The whole thing had become a running joke here on the island.
And Cassidy had to admit that it was pretty funny. She just wasn’t sure Rebecca shared that humor.
“I thought I heard someone pull up,” Rebecca started. “Didn’t expect it to be you. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about a case I’m working on.”
Rebecca opened the door farther. “Of course. My husband just left to go fishing, and I don’t have anything scheduled for another hour. I’m showing one of the homes here on the island. It’s to a tourist. They always seem to be interested until they hear the price with insurance and taxes. But it’s worth it to let people see it, just in case they’re one of the few who actually aren’t deterred by cost.”
Cassidy stepped inside the warm and cozy cottage. Rebecca directed her to a little breakfast nook and poured her some coffee.
Cassidy didn’t know the woman well, but their few exchanges had been pleasant. From what she understood, Rebecca was one of a handful of true locals left here on the island. She’d been born and raised here—and she’d stayed.
“What can I do for you?” Rebecca paused with her cup rested on her knee, one hand holding it steady.
“I need to ask you some questions about a recent real estate deal you helped with,” Cassidy started.
“Of course. I’ll share whatever I can—whatever I can legally share.”
“It’s about Anthony Gilead.”
Rebecca’s face went pale. “I see. What do you need to know?”
Cassidy rubbed the edge of her coffee cup, her eyes never leaving Rebecca. “Did the man give you any indication about why he was buying Henderson’s old campground?”
“He wanted to start a spiritual retreat center. That’s what he told me. It sounded like a fanatical religious group. Nothing that raised any red flags. I mean, I’m religious myself and I appreciate those freedoms—like we all should, right?”
“Did everything proceed as normal with the purchase?”
Rebecca crossed her legs and leaned back, slightly more at ease. “Yes, everything was fine. Nothing abnormal at all. I was just glad to finally sell that property. As you know, it’s been an eyesore for quite a while around here.”
“What was your impression of Anthony Gilead?”
She flinched, some of her ease disappearing. “He was … he was nice. Very charismatic. The kind of person who could make you feel like you’re the only one in the room.”
“And you met face-to-face with him for the deal?”
“Mostly. I mean, he came here to check out the property, and he made an offer on it. He paid cash.”
“What name did he use on the documents?” If Cassidy could find out the man’s real name … that would help her incredibly. Or even if she didn’t know his real name, if she found out he’d signed documents using his alias, it would be Cassidy’s opportunity to arrest the man.
Rebecca let out a laugh. “Oh, he didn’t actually put his name on the deed. He has a board of directors, and they were on the papers. Like I said, they paid cash so it wasn’t a big deal. It becomes complicated when a mortgage is involved.”
“I see.” Another dead-end. Disappointment bit at her. “Is there anything else he said that stands out to you?”
Rebecca tilted her head, her drink all but forgotten. “May I ask what this is about?”
“It’s for a case I’m working. It’s been difficult to find information on the group living behind those gates. I’m trying to cover all the angles here and learn a little more about them.”
“Did they do something wrong?”
“It’s really too early to say.”
“Does this have to do with that dead body?”
Cassidy held back a sigh. “Again, I can’t say.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed on Cassidy’s. “But you’re not denying it.”
“Rebecca, this is an open investigation. I can’t give you any details.”
“I understand.” She let out a sigh, as if disappointed. “But I can’t really think of anything else of note. My exchanges with Anthony Gilead were pleasant and professional. I wish I could tell you more.”
Cassidy set her cup on the table. “Thank you for your time, then. And if you think of anything else, please let me know.”
She rose and headed toward the door. She’d so been hoping for more information. But, again, Gilead appeared to have covered his tracks.
“Chief?” Rebecca called.
Cassidy paused by the door and turned. “Yes?”
“Maybe this isn’t my place, but, just in case it’s important, I thought you should know …” Rebecca pressed her lips together, as if nervous. “The board of directors for Gilead’s Cove just bought two other properties here on the island. And I know they want to buy more as they have the funding for it.”
“More properties? What are they trying to do? Take over the whole island?”
Cassidy was halfway joking. But when she saw Rebecca’s face, she had to wonder how much truth was in her question.
Chapter Sixteen
“Chief, there’s someone here to see you.” Melva greeted Cassidy at the front door of the station.
Cassidy was so distracted by what she’d just learned while speaking with Rebecca that she barely heard Melva. “Who’s that?”
“Trisha Hartman. She’s in your office.”
“Trisha Hartman?” Cassidy repeated, her eyebrows furrowed together. “Thanks.”
Cassidy paused for just long enough to compose herself before pushing the door to her office open and plastering on a smile. “Ms. Hartman. You made it.”
Trisha looked to be in her early forties, with dark hair cut to her chin. The oversized clothing she wore did nothing to flatter her twenty-or-so pound overweight figure. Coral-colored nails adorned each finger—except for one, which looked strangely naked beside the rest.
As Trisha stood, Cassidy noted red rims around her eyes and dark circles beneath them. To say the woman looked tired would be an understatement. Not only did she look tired, but as she wrung her hands, she also looked nervous.
“Chief Chambers.” Trisha nodded and sat back down.
Cassidy lowered herself behind her desk. “Can I
get you something? Some water? Coffee?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Cassidy clasped her hands together in front of herself. “Thank you for coming. I know it was a long trip.”
Trisha nodded. “It was. But, of course, I had to know if Al was the person you found.”
“I understand it might be difficult for you to identify him, but we appreciate the fact that you’re willing to try.”
“Of course.”
“Rather than having you look at the body itself, I have a photo to show you.”
“I’m much more comfortable with that.”
Cassidy pulled a glossy six-by-four from her desk and gently nudged it toward Trisha. “Is this man your husband?”
Her eyes welled with tears. “It is. That’s Al. I mean, he looks a little different. But it’s clearly him. Did you check for the birthmark and the scar near his appendix?”
Cassidy nodded. “I did.”
A gentle sob escaped, and Trisha’s hands covered her face. “I can’t believe it’s him. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know this must be hard for you.” Cassidy pushed a box of tissues toward her.
She raised her head, grabbed a tissue, and dabbed her eyes. “Do you have any idea who did this?”
Cassidy pressed her lips together, everything she’d learned racing through her mind. “We’re working on it, but we don’t know anything definitive yet.”
Trisha’s gaze darkened. “Was it that religious group? Did someone who’s a part of that do this?”
Cassidy swallowed hard, trying to choose her words carefully. “We don’t know. The group is pretty tight-lipped.”
“They’re the only ones I can imagine who would do this. Al probably ran out of money, so the group had no need for him anymore.” She sneered.
Cassidy tilted her head. “I thought he gave all his money to you?”
“I found out yesterday that he didn’t really. He only told me he did. In truth, he gave half his money to Gilead. I knew those cars were worth more than he’d told me.” Bitterness edged her voice.
On the Lookout Page 9