by Dani Pettrey
Butterscotch rubbed against her leg, purring.
“Our first sale,” she said with a smile that quickly faded. “Our first and only.”
It was silly to be surprised that she’d enjoyed playing proprietress. She always had enjoyed helping Agnes around the shop. It was the glances and snickers of the local customers that wore her down.
A crazy idea filled her head. Perhaps she could move the stock back to Oregon and reopen the Post there. Then she could have the best of both worlds—running the Post and not having to face her past every day.
She lifted Butterscotch into her arms. “What do you think, Scotch? It’s not such a bad idea.”
She carried him to the kitchen and poured him a saucer of milk.
Leaning against the doorjamb, she watched him lap up the milk.
Move the Trading Post. Agnes would think it a horrid idea. It had existed in Yancey as far back as anyone knew. For a town so immersed in history, the Post was a cornerstone of Yancey’s identity.
No, her only option was to find a buyer fast. She wasn’t strong enough to keep combating the memories, or the pain they evoked.
He tossed his cane on the bed and peeled the gray moustache and beard from his face, rubbing his tingling skin.
“How’d it go, boss?” Kiril stood in the doorway, keeping his distance respectful. “Is she going to be any trouble?”
He pulled the pillow from his shirt and tossed it beside the cane. “I don’t think so. It sounds like she’s going to put everything where it belongs and sell.”
“What about the papers?”
“We’ll wait until she gets them back in place from wherever the old lady hid them, then we’ll go in and take them.”
“And the girl?”
“As long as she stays out of my way, I’ll stay out of hers.” No sense drawing attention to himself. Planes crashed all the time, no one would tie that to him. Nik and the girl . . . they were inconsequential. And besides, Nik had left him no choice. But if something happened to the old lady’s niece, questions would arise. Better to bide his time.
“You still want me to keep an eye on her?” Kiril asked.
He pulled off the wig that had added twenty years. “A very close eye.”
The girl was bright, with a doctorate in Russian Studies. And she was the only one with access to the old lady’s files. While her plan was to organize things and sell, the remote chance existed she’d come across what he needed and recognize it for what it was.
If that happened, he’d have no choice. He’d have to get rid of her just as he had her dear old aunt.
11
Landon tossed what he hoped was the last kernel of popcorn in the trash. Leave it to Cole to start a game of popcorn toss, which—given the fact the group consisted of a dozen teenagers—had morphed into an all-out popcorn war.
At least the kids had a blast. For a few of them, youth group was the only place they could relax and be themselves. Despite the mess, it’d been a great idea, though he’d not readily admit it—it’d only encourage Cole’s quest for the messiest game ever.
Cole cut the vacuum cleaner. “All clear over there?”
Landon got to his feet. “I believe so.”
Cole chuckled. “You might want to take another look.”
Landon glanced down at himself. Popcorn kernels clung to every nook and cranny of his henley. He leaned over the trash and brushed himself off, then straightened. “Next time I’m in charge of games and you’re in charge of cleanup.”
Cole grinned. “Fair enough.” He wound up the cord and slid the vacuum in the storage closet. “It was a good group tonight.”
Landon sat on the edge of the empty snack table. “Yeah it was. Glad to see Jesse made it.” The kid reminded him of himself. Same drive, same hunger. Same penchant for pushing the limits.
“Zach gave him a lift in.”
“That’s what Jesse said.” Landon eyed his friend. “You really worry about him, don’t you?” As youth group leader, Cole worried about them all—always looking out for those in need, always trying to pull the lost back into the fold. But Jesse Ryan seemed to hold a special place in his heart.
“I’m not a big fan of his stepdad.”
None of them were. Samuel Hancock married Jesse’s mom, Sue, less than a year after Jesse’s dad died in a hunting accident. A hunting trip Samuel Hancock had been on.
Once the vows were taken, Hancock let it be known he’d be a lot happier if he wasn’t shackled with a kid.
“At least Jesse seems to be on the straight and narrow. I think the time you spend with him has really helped. Most everyone in town had already given up on the kid.” He remembered what that felt like.
“He’s a good kid in a bad situation. If he can make it a couple more years, finish high school and go on to college, he’ll be fine.”
“Can his family afford college?” The Hancocks didn’t exactly live well. A rusted double-wide on the outskirts of town hardly boded well for college ambitions.
“His dad was smart. He had a stipulation in his will that if he died before Jesse graduated college, a certain amount would be set aside for that purpose. Fortunately, Samuel can’t weasel that away from Jesse’s mom. We just need to help Jesse stay on the straight and narrow until then.”
“He will.” They’d make sure of it.
“I hope so.” Cole gave a halfhearted shrug.
Landon narrowed his eyes. “What?” What was Cole holding back?
He exhaled. “When Piper told me about the theft at the library, Jesse immediately sprang to mind. He’s been spending a lot of time over there, and with the vandalism he and his gang did there last winter . . .” He shook his head. “I feel rotten I assumed the worst.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. Given Jesse’s history, it’s a natural assumption.” Though he knew how deadly assumptions could prove to be. “But I honestly don’t think he had anything to do with it.”
“You spoke with him?”
“In a roundabout sort of way.” The last thing he’d wanted to do was hamper the trust they’d built with Jesse.
“Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“So . . . if Jesse didn’t take it, who do you think did?”
“I still half expect it to turn up somewhere. Mrs. Anderson is notorious for misplacing things.”
“Piper’s convinced it was stolen.”
Landon sighed. “Believe me, I know.” He wouldn’t say anything bad about the girl, certainly not in front of Cole, but sometimes she drove him nuts—always coming up with theories and trying to tag along on his cases. If she wasn’t so annoying, he might actually find it endearing. She was the pesky little sister he never had.
Cole chuckled. “I figured she came to you.”
“She’s convinced it’ll turn up for sale on eBay.”
“I know. She’s been watching it like a hawk. I blame it on one too many Nancy Drew mysteries.”
Landon cracked a grin. “Speaking of books . . . I’ve got something for her.”
He pulled a bag out from the front seat of his truck and handed it to Cole.
Cole peered inside the bag and read the title. “Butt Out! Breaking the Busybody Habit in Five Easy Steps.” He chuckled. “She’s not going to like this.”
Landon grinned, feeling like a schoolboy. “I know.”
“I’ll drop it at the shop on my way home.” Cole tossed it on the seat of his truck.
“I’d love to see her expression, but I think it’s best I’m not present when she opens it.”
“You think?” Cole climbed in his truck and started the engine. “I hate to see the payback on this one.”
“I’ll worry about that when it comes.”
“If you live that long.”
Landon laughed.
“Thanks for helping again tonight.”
“No problem. I enjoy working with the kids.”
“Next week?”
“Sure.”
&n
bsp; “Great. Now get some sleep. You look wiped.”
Landon sighed. “Long day.”
“Any luck?”
He shook his head. “Spent all day at the docks, looking for whoever may have rented a slip to our gal or ferried her out there, but no luck. No one recognized Liz’s description.”
“She had to get the boat somewhere. It stands to reason if she rented the tanks in Yancey, she most likely rented the boat here too.”
“I know.” Landon rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles tightly coiled. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Have you tried Cleary yet?”
“Old Man Cleary?” He was a piece of work. Crusty and ornery, Cleary lived to torment others.
“He still rents out a few slips.”
Landon grimaced. “That’s right. I’ll take a drive out to his place tomorrow.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“If you need any help, let me know.”
“I appreciate it. I keep thinking someone will report our girl missing, but so far nothing.”
“She wasn’t diving alone.”
“I know, which means her dive buddy either killed her or is unable to report her missing.”
“You think there’s another victim out there?”
Landon sighed. “I pray not.”
Cole entered the shop a half hour before closing.
Piper looked up from the counter and smiled. “Hey, Cole.”
“Hey, kid. Where’s Jake?”
“Grabbing another box of those all-natural power bars from the back. They’re selling like hotcakes. But don’t tell Kayden. She doesn’t need to know she was right again.”
“Trust me.” Cole kissed the top of her head. “I know better.” He eyed the stack of envelopes and labels strewn across the counter. “Looks like you’ve got a project going.”
“Invites for my birthday barbeque.”
“You have a birthday coming up?”
She’d only been talking about it for a month. They were all hoping Reef would make it home this year, but Cole wasn’t holding his breath. It’d been five years since he’d seen his brother. Five years too long. At least he always remembered Piper with a gift. It wasn’t always on time, but it was always extravagant.
Piper tapped the pencil against her full bottom lip. “I feel like I’m forgetting somebody.” She handed him the guest list. “Do you see anyone I’m missing?”
Cole skimmed it and chuckled. “You’ve pretty much invited the entire town.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Okay, it’s a lot, but I didn’t want anyone to feel left out.”
“That’s sweet.” And so Piper. She put everybody’s feelings before her own.
“Anyone you want to add?”
“Actually, there is.” He’d send one to Bailey. It couldn’t be easy losing Agnes, the closest thing she had to a mother. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, both in fact. He’d send the invite with a personal note, show her not everyone in Yancey was trapped in high school like Murphy and Thoreau. Perhaps it would even give them a chance to part on better terms.
“The more the merrier.”
“For what?” Jake emerged from the rear with box in hand.
“My birthday bash—and I expect you to be there. I know you’re not Mr. Social, but it wouldn’t be the same without you. It’s Sunday afternoon. Say you’ll come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling.” Jake winked.
“Yay.” She clapped, then turned her attention to Cole. Propping her elbows on the counter, her eyes alight with glee, she asked, “Soooo, who are you inviting?”
“Bailey Craig.”
“Good idea.” He could practically see the wheels turning. Always the matchmaker.
“I almost forgot. I’ve got something for you.”
“An early present?”
“I suppose you could say that. It’s from Landon.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’d he send this time?”
Cole handed her the bag, and she yanked the book out, her eyes skimming the title.
Jake read over her shoulder and burst out laughing.
She turned and Jake smothered his laugh, pronto.
She stuffed the book back in the bag. “He thinks I’m a busybody. Fine. I’m through trying to help him.”
“You’ve got to admit you’ve been riding him pretty hard about Nancy.” Cole wished he could swallow the words back the minute he said them.
Color flared in her face. “It’s not my fault Landon is too stupid to see what a great lady Nancy is. I mean, what she sees in him I’ll never know. He’s gruff, and messy, and spends entirely too much time at his cabin with his dog. He has no fashion sense whatsoever. . . .”
She paused for breath, and Cole jumped in. “Don’t take it out on the messenger.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She blew a stray hair from her face. “He just makes me so mad. But—” she took a deep breath and exhaled, a mischievous gleam breaking on her face—“there’s always payback. . . .”
Cole shook his head. It seemed the two lived to annoy each other. They were worse than Gage and Kayden growing up—always trying to one-up the other.
“I’m glad I didn’t cross you,” Jake murmured, stuffing snack bars into the basket.
“Wise man,” she murmured, a grin spreading on her face.
Cole was almost afraid to ask. “What?”
She practically glowed. “I just thought of the perfect payback.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“It’s probably best you don’t.”
“On that note, I’m outta here.” He kissed the top of Piper’s head. “Try not to be too devious.”
“What would be the fun in that?”
With a chuckle, Cole stepped out of the shop and into a gorgeous night. Stars blanketed the charcoal sky, and the temperature hovered at a balmy fifty degrees. The tourists had returned to their ships, and the town once again belonged to the locals.
While most of Yancey was settling down for the night, Cole was far from it.
Seeing Bailey again had triggered something inside him. Something he couldn’t wrap his mind around—it danced on his tongue, fluttered across his subconscious, but he couldn’t grasp hold. Frustration oozed inside, taunting him. A flame, long dead, had been rekindled.
12
Cole woke to a ringing phone. “McKenna,” he answered, blinking the haze of sleep from his eyes.
“Looks like we may have found our gal’s boat,” Landon said.
Cole rolled onto his back, blinking against the sun’s rays slipping through the blinds. “Cleary rented it?”
“Yeah, and it gets better. Coast Guard got a call shortly after dawn about a boat run aground on the reef in Herring Cove. You interested in towing it in?”
“Absolutely.” He looked at the clock. “I’ll meet you at the marina in a half hour.”
“I’ll bring coffee.”
Climbing from bed, Cole took a quick, brisk shower and then downed a bowl of cereal. Grabbing his gear, he headed across his property to the boat launch.
Owning one of only two boats on the island capable of refloating and towing disabled vessels, he and Gage were called on often—yet another one of their many services. The majority of the time inexperienced sailors were to blame, but occasionally a more serious matter presented itself. He had the feeling today’s would fall in the latter category.
The sun hung orange over the horizon, signaling another warm day as he steered the North Star around Tariuk’s southern shore. Skirting the rock-strewn inlets, he maneuvered his way to the house Gage rented. Situated on the very tip of the south shore, Gage’s cabin boasted a decent dock and plenty of privacy. Cole pulled up to the pier and cut the engine. Only the rhythmic lap of the waves and the occasional rustle of leaves broke the silence.
Securing the Star to the dock, he walked the pier’s length, noting the absence of Gage’s kayak. No w
onder he hadn’t answered his phone.
Sitting down, Cole let his feet dangle over the edge as he relaxed against a piling. He hoped Gage would show soon or he’d be forced to make the trip without him.
Fortunately it wasn’t long before the steady stroke of an oar gliding through the water reached his ears. A few minutes later, Gage rounded the bend. Shirtless, his muscles flexed with each rhythmic row. Catching sight of Cole, he waved.
“I tried calling,” Cole said as he helped Gage lift the kayak onto shore.
“What’s up?”
“I got a call from Landon. It looks like they found our victim’s boat. I could use your help towing her in.”
Gage wiped the sweat from his brow. “Sure. Just let me grab a shirt.”
“Maybe take a moment and swipe on some deodorant.”
Gage smiled. “No promises.”
A little shy of seven o’clock, they pulled the North Star into Yancey’s marina and found the place practically empty. All commercial fishermen were long gone and any serious recreational ones had joined them. Fish were most plentiful and easiest to catch at sunrise and sunset. It didn’t surprise Cole the call had come in shortly after dawn.
Landon waited on the pier, three cups of steaming coffee in hand and a bag of gear at his feet.
Cole eyed the crime-scene kit. “Something we should know?”
Landon climbed aboard. “I’ll explain on the way.”
An hour later, Cole maneuvered past the breakers, easy on the draft around Blindman’s Bluff and into Herring Cove.
The sloop, one of Cleary’s old CAL 2–27s, was run aground on a reef at the far end of the cove.
“Watch where you step,” Landon instructed as they climbed aboard the abandoned vessel.
An awful stench assailed Cole—cloying and dense, like rotting hamburger on a hot summer day. “What on earth?”
Landon had said the fisherman who made the call had mentioned a problem on the boat—but what would cause such a stink?