by Dani Pettrey
“You like running Last Frontier Adventures?”
“Pursuing adventure for a living . . .” A flicker of delight flashed across his face. “It’s like a dream come true.”
“I saw the shop. Looks like you’ve really changed it around since the old days.”
“Yeah, the bait and tackle shop wasn’t quite me. Gage and Kayden and I sat around and brainstormed how we could take the business Dad built and reinvent it to best suit our skills and passions.”
“Looks like you did a great job.”
“Thanks.” He smiled. “What about you? Do you enjoy your profession?”
While she loved Russian history, teaching wasn’t her heart’s desire. Running a shop like Agnes had, sharing her knowledge and love in a hands-on way suited her much better.
She shrugged. “I do . . .”
“But?” He leaned closer, and her heart fluttered.
“I don’t know. . . . I . . .”
He studied her with such interest, such compassion, she found it hard to breathe.
He rested his hand atop hers. “You okay?”
She jerked her hand back; his touch felt too good. “Yeah.” She straightened as heat flushed her face. “It’s just a little stuffy in here.”
“Would you like some water?”
“That would be great.”
“No problem.” He fished a bottle out of his pack, opened it, and handed it to her.
She swallowed the tepid liquid, waiting for her heart to settle. “Thanks.”
“Better?”
She nodded, even though it was a lie.
Landon stepped off Cole’s porch and raked a hand through his hair, more spent than he’d been in a long time.
Noise rustled in the woods and he turned.
Light from the main house illuminated a figure—petite and feminine. But something else was making the noise, and moving fast in his direction.
Aurora bolted from the trees, her sleek white fur nearly a blur as she leapt on Landon. “Hey, Rori.” He bent, ruffling her fur.
A moment later, Piper emerged. “Landon.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for Cole.”
“He’s not home.”
“So I gathered.” He straightened and assessed Piper’s outfit—white T-shirt, black exercise capris, and a pair of trail shoes. “Going for a walk?” He wished she’d walk with one of her siblings. Her being out alone on their secluded property, in the woods, at night, didn’t sit well with him. Especially not with a killer on the loose.
“Trying to.” She huffed. “Rori caught your scent and I had to chase her halfway across the property.”
“How’d you know it was me and not some intruder?”
“Because Rori was panting with excitement.”
“I’m afraid I have that effect on all the ladies.” He tugged his shirt collar with a grin. “It’s a curse.”
Piper’s lips twitched and she burst out laughing.
“It’s not that funny.”
“I beg to differ,” she said between spurts of laughter.
“Any idea where your brother is? I’ve got something I need him to take a look at.”
“Yeah, I know where he is.” She linked her arms across her chest.
He waited, and waited.
“Mind telling me?” he practically grunted. It was like the girl made a sport out of vexing him.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a busybody.” She turned and stalked back into the woods.
With a grimace he took off after her, knowing a little groveling would be required and being not one bit pleased about it.
Catching up, he tugged her to a halt. “Piper, it’s important.”
She exhaled and glanced at her watch, the digital numbers blue in the moonlight. “What could be so important at ten thirty on a Friday night in Yancey?”
“Liz Johnson’s sister just called.”
17
Piper poured Landon a cup of coffee.
He looked exhausted and she felt half sorry for him. Then again, it was Landon—annoying, irksome, overprotective Landon.
He set the mug down and raked a hand through his hair. “When do you think they’ll be back?”
“Probably another hour or two.” She frowned, noticing how haggard he looked—mottled black in the shape of crescent moons rimmed his bloodshot eyes and stubble covered his hollow cheeks. “Have you eaten?”
“Today?”
She rolled her eyes. It was a wonder the man didn’t turn to skin and bones. “I’ve got some lasagna left in the fridge. Let me heat you up some. It’ll only take a bit.”
“All right.” He started to straddle the stool and stopped short.
Her lips twitched. “Problems?”
He yanked an evidence bag from his pocket and tossed it on the counter.
“What’s that?”
“A key I found on the boat earlier today. I wanted Cole’s opinion on it.”
“Looks like a locker key.”
“That’s what I thought, but I tried every lock in Yancey from Burt’s gym to the ferry station. No luck.”
“Maybe it goes to something on another island or in another state. Jake said he thought the truck Liz was driving had Washington plates.”
“It’d help if there was a manufacturer name or number on the key, but it’s blank.” He shook his head. “It’s like this guy wanted to remain untraceable. And that, quite honestly, scares me.”
“Why?”
“Because it means he knew he was going to do something wrong ahead of time.”
She pulled the plate from the microwave, the mouthwatering scent of tomato sauce and oregano hovering in the air as she set it in front of him, the cheese golden and bubbling.
“Thanks, Piper. It smells delicious.” He bent to take a bite and paused. “You made this?”
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t feed you something Kayden made.” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless I was really mad at you.”
He chuckled and took a bite.
She leaned against the counter, thankful to see him eat. He worked too hard and took horrible care of himself. He needed a good woman, someone like Nancy Bowen.
“The only consolation is,” he said, tracking back between bites, “with the amount of blood we found on the boat, it’s highly unlikely our mystery man is still a threat to anybody.”
“How do you know it was his blood?”
“Since it’s already leaked, I guess it wouldn’t hurt any for me to tell you. The blood found on the boat doesn’t match Liz Johnson’s. We’re definitely looking at a second victim.”
“Okay, but how do you know the blood belonged to our mystery man?”
Landon paused midbite. “We made an assumption.” He dropped his fork. “I made an assumption.”
“It’s a natural one.” She skirted around the counter and hopped on the stool beside him. “The only reason I thought of it was because Cole mentioned the mystery man sent a text. . . .”
“He did. It could have been the person on the receiving end of the message that . . .”
“Was killed,” they said in unison.
Landon wiped his mouth. “Good work, Piper.”
She let the counter support her weight. Had Landon Grainger just paid her a compliment?
Landon finished off the hearty slice of apple pie and sat back satisfied. “That was delicious. When’d you learn to make a pie?”
“I used to make them with Mom.”
He winced at the sadness in Piper’s eyes. It was stupid of him to bring it up. She’d been young when Libby died. He hadn’t thought. . . .
She took his plate.
“I can get it,” he offered.
She ignored him and moved to the sink to rinse it off. “So . . . still haven’t found Liz’s missing truck?”
“Nope.” He stood and stretched. It’d been a long day—a long couple of days. “Starting to run out of places to look.”
“Have you
tried the glades?”
“No. It’s next on my list. So far all my time’s been swallowed up by taking the boat apart.”
“Looks like you did good work.” She indicated the key with a tilt of her head.
“Found it taped inside the toilet of all places.”
Her face scrunched. “Eww.”
Landon chuckled as his radio crackled. He pulled it from his belt. “Grainger.” The peace had lasted longer than expected.
“You found McKenna yet?” Slidell grumbled.
“Found one of them.” He winked at Piper.
“The one we want?”
“No, but he’s expected back soon.”
“Back from where?”
“He and—”
“I’ll be right there!” Slidell hollered. “It’s the blasted phone again. I’ve got to go. You heading back over here?”
“Be there in twenty.”
Piper slipped the clean plate into the drying rack. “He sounds happy.”
“About as happy as a bear who stuck his hand in a honey pot and found a swarm of angry bees. Word of the murders leaked out, and the phones have been ringing off the hook ever since.”
“You’d think he’d be thrilled with all the publicity.”
“This is bad publicity, and he wants nothing to do with it.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t be sheriff, then. How you handle hard times is a true show of character.”
Sadly, in that area, Landon found Slidell wanting. It wasn’t easy working for a man he didn’t respect. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll have Cole call as soon as he gets in.”
Landon slid his hat on, and Piper walked him to the door.
“Lock the deadbolt behind me,” he instructed.
“Yes, sir.” She gave a mock salute.
“Cute, pipsqueak.” He tugged her ponytail. “I mean it.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Fine. Good night, Piper.” He shut the door and waited until he heard the lock click into place before leaving.
18
Cole and Bailey entered the sheriff’s station to a frenzy of ringing phones uncommon for ten o’clock on a Thursday night, and every hand was on deck bustling about to answer them.
Cole dropped one of Elma’s pryaniki on Landon’s desk. She’d insisted on sending a bagful home.
Landon looked up and relief swept across his face. “You’re back.”
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t you answer your cell anymore?”
“I wasn’t on call today.” It’d been on vibrate in case of a true emergency, but Landon hadn’t paged him with their emergency code. Not to mention he’d been out of cell-phone range the better part of the day.
Slidell stormed out of his office, an unlit cigar butt clamped in his teeth. “McKenna. Where have you been?”
“We—”
“Sheriff,” Tom called, “Mayor Cox’s on the phone.”
“Again?” Color rose up Slidell’s neck.
Tom held the phone out to him. “Afraid so.”
Slidell waved him off. “Take another message.”
“All right.” Tom shrugged. “But he says if you don’t take his call this time, he’s coming down here.”
Slidell growled and grabbed the receiver. “Slidell.”
Cole looked to Landon. “What’s going on?”
Spewing out a few choice words, Slidell slammed down the receiver. That conversation hadn’t lasted long. It sounded like Mayor Cox was headed to the station.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on. Someone”—Slidell glared around the station—“leaked word of the murders.”
“Murders, as in plural?” Cole asked.
Landon nodded. “Blood sample collected on the boat does not match Elizabeth Johnson’s.”
It had been Liz. “Elizabeth?” Had they learned something more?
“I got a call from Elizabeth Johnson’s sister today. Poor girl is distraught. She said Elizabeth and some mysterious boyfriend of hers came up here from California to do some wreck diving, and Rachel—that’s the sister—hasn’t heard from her since. The description matches. We’re just waiting on dentals to confirm.”
“Mysterious boyfriend, huh?” Cole said.
“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
“How’d she define mysterious?”
“Never saw the guy except through a car window. Elizabeth told her he was private and shy. Rachel found it strange.”
“She have a name on the guy?”
“Only a first. Nick,” Landon supplied. “What description she had of the guy didn’t contradict Cleary’s.”
“We’re still going by Cleary’s description?”
Landon shrugged. “So far it’s all we’ve got.”
“Any luck with the boat? Fingerprints?” Cole asked.
“Too many to even sort through, being a rental, but I did a more thorough search and found a couple more items that might be of help.”
Landon spread a series of photographs across Slidell’s desk.
Cole studied the images of ornate censers, candle stands, and a remarkably beautiful chalice set. “Where’d you get these?”
“An underwater camera I found stashed on the boat,” Landon explained.
Bailey lifted a photograph. “These weren’t taken underwater.”
Landon shook his head. “No, they weren’t.”
“But you just said . . .” Slidell began.
“That they were taken with an underwater camera, but not underwater,” Landon clarified.
“Why on earth would you take regular photographs with an underwater camera?” Slidell asked, the remaining thread of his patience nearly worn bare.
“Maybe because they expected these things to be underwater,” Cole said.
Slidell gnawed his cigar butt. “Go on . . .”
“Let’s say our divers—Liz and her mystery man—took the camera diving. They expected they’d only need an underwater camera, but they found submerged ruins filled with air.”
“What kind of ruins would have these types of artifacts?” Landon asked.
Cole exchanged a knowing glance with Bailey and smiled. “A church.”
“Let me get this straight,” Slidell began. “You’re saying an entire island, including a church, sank into the sea, and somehow these images are from the inside of that church.”
“As crazy as it sounds, yes,” Cole said. Based on the evidence, it was the most logical solution, no matter how illogical it sounded.
“My aunt kept fastidious records,” Bailey said. “Give me a few days to go through them. Maybe there’s something on the church there.”
“In the meantime, I can come up with some coordinates for a search grid based on where Elizabeth’s body was found in relation to the area of the sunken island,” Cole offered.
“If one even exists,” Tom scoffed from the periphery. He hadn’t managed to keep his opinion to himself yet. Hogwash was the term he used to describe what he felt about their theories. But, fortunately, he wasn’t the one making the call.
Slidell rocked back in his chair. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Landon, you work on the traditional leads we’ve got. Give the sister, Rachel, a call. See if there was an angry ex-boyfriend in the picture—someone who could have followed the happy couple up here. And find out all you can about this mystery man. Contact Elizabeth’s neighbors. Maybe someone else got a better look at Romeo. And keep up your hunt for the truck Liz was driving. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find it was rented in our mystery man’s name, though I doubt it. Bailey, you search Agnes’s files. See what you can find. You said this icon, if found, would be worth money?”
She nodded. “A fortune.”
“All right.” Slidell rubbed his chin. “Cole, you go ahead and make up a series of search grids. We’ll give it a few days, if nothing else pans out we’ll see if we can’t locate whatever started all this trouble.”
Lan
don leaned against the doorframe. “I think it’d be wise to assume whoever killed two people over this isn’t just going to walk away. The longer we wait, the more opportunity he has to kill again.”
19
“What do you keep looking at?” Piper asked, a little too loud.
“Shh.” Cole didn’t want to disturb any of the other worshipers as Grace’s praise band sang. Leaning over, he placed his mouth a breath away from Piper’s ear. “Bailey. At the back. Sitting alone.” She looked so small in the long, empty row. A measly couple of days without seeing her and he’d missed her. Missed the twinkle in her eye when she talked about Jesus, missed the gentle smile that occasionally broke past her guard.
He clutched the bulletin. He couldn’t go there, couldn’t plunge in no holds barred. He’d given it all once, and she’d knocked his knees out from under him.
He’d tried to be enough, tried holding on tight enough for the both of them, but it had proved as futile as trying to rope the wind.
Wind always slipped through, always found a way to go where it wills, and Bailey was no different. She’d changed, but she was still running—and he was tired of chasing the wind.
The song concluded, and Pastor Braden took the stage. “How’s everyone doing this beautiful morning? Please take a moment to greet one another.”
Cole turned to find Piper’s retreating back.
A moment later she returned with Bailey in tow, nudging her down the aisle toward him, an enormously pleased grin tickling her lips.
“Morning,” he said, yearning to give Bailey a hug but settling for a chaste handshake.
“Morning.” She yanked her hand back.
Was she shaking?
“I’m glad you came today,” Cole said once they were outside and had a little more elbow room.
“It was a good sermon.” She’d remained stock-still, almost frozen in stiff repose through its entirety.
“Yeah, it was.” How did she do that? Make his heart ache to hold her? To comfort her?
“Bailey.” Piper waved. She darted across the parking lot at them, her heels clicking along the pavement. “I’m glad I caught you. You’re coming to the barbeque today, aren’t you?”
“I’m afraid not.” Bailey backed toward the sidewalk. “I’ve got a ton of work to do.”