She pushed open the door and peered inside from the safety of the porch. A casserole sat on the floor just inside the door, and her breath came out in a whoosh. A neighbor hadn’t gotten the door latched. That had to be all it was. But even as she reassured herself, she remembered her slashed tires.
Chapter 3
A building is only as beautiful as its construction—the parts you can’t see.
—HAMMER GIRL BLOG
Hope Beach, North Carolina, was a beautiful place with its thick sand dunes and clear blue waters. Grayson Bradshaw veered around a group of tourists who had blocked the sidewalk in front of the Oyster Café, then hurried away from the Coast Guard station in the harbor as fast as his lame leg would allow.
He worked in the Seattle area and was here to visit his parents, but an urgent phone call had summoned him from vacation. This station was the closest for reporting in. The commander here had relayed the full details of his new assignment.
Coast Guard stations up and down the West Coast had been on high alert ever since a seized shipment of two tons of cocaine worth twenty million dollars had gone missing three days ago. The stuff had simply vanished from the evidence hangar. He was being called back to Washington to investigate the seizure’s disappearance, and he’d have to board a plane for Seattle tomorrow.
As a sworn civilian investigator for the Coast Guard Investigative Services, or CGIS, for the past three years he’d been on the trail of Tarek Nasser, but the terrorist was a phantom, and every time Grayson got close to apprehending him, he’d slipped away, only to reappear in another part of the country.
His wounded leg throbbed, and he rubbed it. Thanks to Nasser, he was stuck at a desk, but even worse, his best friend, William Lacy, was in a grave. This time Grayson knew more about Nasser, and he’d get him. The man would pay for what he’d done.
Glancing in front of him, he saw the same couple he’d noticed yesterday. If it didn’t sound so paranoid, he would have thought they were following him, but Hope Beach would be filled with tourists for a few more weeks. Their sunburned skin showing below their shorts and short-sleeve shirts was a good indication they weren’t natives. He guessed them to be on their honeymoon, though, and the way his neck prickled when he saw them staring had to be just adrenaline from being tapped for a special assignment.
He crossed the parking lot toward his SUV but stopped when Chief Petty Officer Alec Bourne hailed him.
“Heck of a time to be called back to work. You just got here to enjoy yourself. Anything I can do?” Six two with blue eyes and an easy smile, Alec naturally drew people to him. He and Grayson had been friends from school but only saw each other on Grayson’s rare trips home.
“I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on Mom.” Grayson’s mother had been recently diagnosed with diabetes, which was why he’d come home now. She looked okay, but he’d seen her sneaking Snickers bars in the night. That wasn’t going to stop the disease. Dad was no help either. He’d long ago quit objecting to anything she wanted to do. She ruled the roost with a steely green-eyed gaze and a determined manner.
“Will do.” Alec’s gaze went over Grayson’s shoulder. “That couple seems to be heading straight for us. Know them?”
He turned to see the honeymooners. “Nope.”
The woman had her sights fixed on him, and a tentative smile lifted her full lips. Her nearly black hair was twisted atop her head in a messy knot that gave another inch or so to her height of about five two, and her green eyes were startling against her pale skin. The man with her had a protective hand at her waist. He was about six two or so and held his muscular build erect. His dark-blue eyes went from the woman to Grayson and back again.
A jolt of déjà vu shot up Grayson’s spine. The woman reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think who.
The man swiped dark-brown hair off his forehead. “Grayson Bradshaw?”
Heat radiated off the pavement, and Grayson squinted in the sun trying to think of a reason they would want to speak to him. “That’s right. Have we met?”
The man glanced at the woman, who clasped her hands in front of her and tilted an anxious smile up at him. She took a step closer. “I’m Shauna. Shauna Duval.” She bit her lip and glanced at the man. “Well, Shauna Bannister now. That part’s still new. This is my husband, Zach Bannister. We live in Lavender Tides, Washington.”
Shifting from foot to foot, she was as nervous as a seaman recruit in a room full of admirals. “Is there something I can do for you?” He vaguely knew Lavender Tides was near Sequim, though he’d never been to that area other than to the Coast Guard station at Port Townsend.
“I knew this would be hard.” She made a visible effort to drop her hands to her sides and force a smile. “I think you’re my brother, Connor Duval, who went into foster care following an earthquake in the Olympic Mountains in 1995.”
He started shaking his head as soon as she said the word brother. “I’ve only got one sister, and she lives in Okinawa where we grew up. I’m sorry,” he added when he saw the disappointment surge into her eyes.
Zach shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m pretty sure of the information I tracked down. You were adopted by Granger and Fiona Bradshaw six months after the quake. You were two, so you wouldn’t remember. They didn’t tell you?”
His chest tight, Grayson took a step back and shook his head. “I’m sure they would have told me about it if it were true. Look, I’m sorry you came all this way, but you’re very wrong. Nice to meet you.”
Shauna said something, but he couldn’t hear it past the blood roaring in his ears. Why was he feeling such panic over a case of mistaken identity? He’d tell his parents about it tonight and they’d all laugh about it.
He practically fled to his SUV to get away from those two. What a weird thing to have happen now. His mother would be appalled at his lack of manners, but those people should have been more sure of their facts before they showed up with such wild assertions.
Grayson waved at Libby Bourne, Alec’s wife, as he drove past Tidewater Inn on the narrow road to his parents’ cottage. The shingle-style house was across the road from the sand dunes, and the sea salt left the plants and shrubs his mother had planted looking straggly and forlorn. He parked in the oyster-shell driveway and stepped out into the ocean air.
His mother rose from in front of a leggy rosebush as he approached. She brushed the dirt from her hands on her khaki shorts that revealed how much weight she’d gained since he’d seen her last. “I didn’t expect you back for a while. When do you have to leave for Washington?”
“Tomorrow.” He stared at her short blonde hair, so like his own, and it was further confirmation the Bannister couple had their facts wrong. “Where’s Dad?”
“He was walking the beach. Here he comes now.”
Grayson waved at his dad strolling across the road. At fifty, Granger Bradshaw still possessed a military bearing even though he’d been out of the navy for ten years. There was little gray in his thick brown hair, still cut short. Since retirement he’d spent his time golfing and fishing.
His dad stopped at the foot of the porch steps and brushed his wife’s cheek with a kiss before smiling at Grayson. “There you are, son. Tell us all about your new assignment.”
Grayson told them about the cocaine theft. A jet ski revved in the waves behind the dunes, and he raised his voice a bit. “I might be gone a few days, or it might be weeks. I’ll keep you posted.”
His mother studied his face. “I thought you’d be excited at this opportunity. You seem a little distracted.”
Her green eyes were nothing like his, and his bulky height of six five dwarfed his father’s six-foot frame. He’d never for a moment entertained the idea that he might be adopted, and it was silly to let it nag at him. The easiest way to resolve it was to talk to them.
“A couple from Lavender Tides, Washington, tracked me down today. I’d seen them hanging around me since yesterday. The woman tried to tell me she was my
sister and that I’d disappeared after an earthquake. Crazy, huh?”
His mother went still and her eyes widened. She glanced at his dad and wet her lips. “I-I see. Did she give her name?”
His gut twisted at the way his mother stepped closer to Dad and took his hand. “Shauna Duval was her name before marriage.”
“Lavender Tides, you say?” Dad set his other hand on her shoulder. “Fiona, I knew we should have told him.”
She batted his hand away. “Granger, how could you!” His mother turned and rushed up the steps to the door, which banged behind her.
“Dad? It’s true, then?” His throat was so tight he barely managed to force the words out. He blinked and tried to squelch the sense of being adrift at sea.
His father’s brown eyes looked moist and his face resigned. “It’s true.”
Grayson took a step back and shook his head. “You can’t be serious. I’m adopted?”
How could he have forgotten something so important as another family? A sister? Something about the woman had seemed familiar, but that was crazy, wasn’t it?
His father settled on the porch step. “Have a seat.”
“I don’t think I can.” Grayson wanted to pace, to shout and yell at the puffy white clouds floating by. This perfect day had taken a drastic and unwanted turn.
So many memories from childhood rose to his mind. Beachcombing in Okinawa, playing with his sister, Isabelle, in the yard, making cookies with his mom. Every part of who he was revolved around those memories. This couldn’t be happening.
His father pulled out a roll of mints and popped one in his mouth. “We were foster parents, and you were about two when we got you. You screamed every time I got near you at first. We assumed your dad was either not in the picture or wasn’t good to you. You had quite a few injuries from the earthquake. A concussion, a broken arm, and lots of cuts and bruises. We’d been told a rafter fell on you. You had regressed speech and didn’t say anything at all the first six months, then you started repeating everything you heard. We’d been told no one claimed you, so it was assumed your parents had died in the quake.”
“They never looked for me? You never heard of this Shauna?”
His dad shook his head. “As far as we knew, no one was looking for you, so we started adoption proceedings as soon as we could. I was stationed in Lavender Tides when we first got you. As soon as the adoption was final, we shipped out for Okinawa.”
Grayson’s earliest memories were in Japan. Nothing sounded familiar about an earthquake or Washington. Even a toddler should have remembered something that traumatic.
“What about Isabelle?” Right now he’d like to get on a plane and visit his sister, hear what she had to say about all this.
“She doesn’t know.”
Grayson paced the sandy grass as he absorbed the news. It hurt like the dickens that the sister he adored wasn’t adopted too. It would have been easier to accept if she had been as well.
“I need to take a walk. This is too much to take in.” He jogged across the road and ignored his dad calling after him.
How was he supposed to find that cocaine with this news hanging over his head?
Chapter 4
The costliest renovations are on things you can’t see like plumbing and electrical.
—HAMMER GIRL BLOG
Sheriff Burchell’s office was located in a building built in 1895. Ellie nodded to the receptionist, who motioned her back to his office, a musty-smelling room with greenish-gray paint that would have fit right in with its original color. The old wooden bookshelves were battered as well and held a picture of the sheriff and his deputies receiving some awards along with a picture of his wife, Felicia.
Burchell rose from behind his desk. “You been sleeping at all?” His dark-blue eyes missed nothing, and she knew he had to see the dark circles under her eyes, even behind her glasses. She felt like she’d been tossed against ocean rocks for the past forty-eight hours, but she held her shoulders back as she shook his hand, then settled onto the worn chair across from him.
“Not much. I hope you called me down here to share good news.” Mackenzie’s body hadn’t surfaced, which meant Ellie had managed to hang on to a slight thread of hope on her sister’s fate, even though logically she knew the chances of finding Mac weren’t good.
He stroked a long, seventies-style Elvis sideburn. “I wish I had better news. We do have preliminary confirmation that the blood is Mackenzie’s; at least it’s the same blood type. We ran all the fingerprints we found at her house and on the ship but came up with nothing other than hers and known friends or family members.” He cleared his throat. “Including Jason’s prints.”
She ignored his comment about Jason. The sheriff couldn’t seriously suspect Jason. “No unaccounted for hair or fibers or anything?” What she knew of forensics came only from TV and movies, but she desperately wanted some hint on how to find out what had happened to Mac.
He shook his head. “We’re still looking at those things. We seized her computer, but nothing seems relevant to her disappearance. It’s all university business as far as we can tell.”
“Could I take a look?”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t think that would be helpful, Ellie. I’ve got my best detectives working on it.”
“Maybe a student took her.” It was a long shot, and she knew it even before the sheriff raised a brow. “You never know.”
“For what reason?”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I don’t know.”
The sheriff was doing all he could, but maybe Mac’s coworkers would tell her things they were reluctant to tell the sheriff. It was worth a try.
Her muscles ached from lack of sleep as she rose. “I’ll let you get back to work. Please let me know if you hear anything.”
“Will do.”
The university where her sister worked was on the outskirts of town. Ellie found her way to her sister’s office and swallowed hard when she saw the yellow police tape across the door. Across the hall was the break room, and she should be able to find some of the other professors there.
Ellie yanked open the door and stepped into the room flooded with sunlight from the big windows overlooking the parking lot.
Two women and a man seated at a break table together looked up. Darcy rose first. About forty, her short, round figure implied softness that was missing in the sharp hazel eyes under red hair that owed most of its color to a bottle.
She embraced Ellie, and the lavender scent she wore enfolded her as well. “Ellie, I don’t know what to say. We’re all grieving.”
Ellie clung to her for a long moment. “I’d hoped to find you all here. I still can’t believe it.”
“We can’t either.” Darcy pulled back, and her hands moved to grasp Ellie’s shoulders. “What can we do to help?”
“You’ve been looking for her like the rest of the town has. I think that’s all we can do now.” People had come by the house with food and hugs, and she’d seen searchlights out every night since Mac disappeared.
Penny Dreamer had been waiting her turn to greet Ellie. In her fifties, her hair was pure white, and she had chiseled features and clear blue eyes. Mac had always called her the Fairy Godmother because of her calm, helpful manner. She’d been widowed for ten years and had two grown boys. Her students loved her, and she’d always said she never wanted to retire.
Darcy stepped back and let Penny grab Ellie. She closed her eyes as she sank into the comfort of Penny’s embrace. The woman could hug like nobody’s business, and she always smelled of lemon and frankincense essential oils. Inhaling the aroma could calm a charging bull.
Ellie’s eyes burned, and moisture forced its way past her determination not to cry. Crying always made her glasses fog up. She swallowed and pulled back, then dug in her purse for a tissue. It was hard to talk past the lump in her throat. These women loved Mac fiercely.
She glanced at the man, Isaac Cohen, who taught government and politics
classes. He wore an impeccable navy suit that enhanced his black wavy hair and dark eyes. Mac had been interested in him when she first started teaching at the university, but he hadn’t been interested in her. They had become good friends, though.
He reached out and took her hand. “I haven’t been able to sleep from worrying about Mackenzie. She’s a special person.”
Ellie squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
Penny pulled a chair out from under a long table holding computers and equipment. “Sit down. Want some coffee or anything? Darcy brought in donuts, and they’re still warm.”
Ellie shook her head. “I haven’t been able to choke down more than tea and toast.” She waited until the teachers pulled out chairs opposite her and settled. “The sheriff said he talked to you.”
They looked at each other. Darcy shrugged but didn’t say anything.
Penny bit her lip and shook her head hard enough that her white bob bounced against her cheeks. “They have to find out who did this. The deputy took her computer and everything.”
“So she never said anything to you that might explain who could have hurt her?”
The teachers all shook their heads.
“All I knew about was her breakup with Dylan. He said she’d been a little paranoid about him and thought he might be watching her,” Penny said.
“I forgot to ask the sheriff if he’d talked to Dylan. Maybe he knows something.”
Penny put her arm around her. “I wish we had some sort of clue to share, but there’s nothing.”
Ellie’s throat thickened. “Thanks. I’d better go.” She fled the building before she could burst into tears again. No amount of crying would find her sister.
A car drove slowly past. Was that the same black Taurus that had driven by her after her tires were slashed? She stared at it, but the tinted windows prevented her from seeing anyone inside. It probably wasn’t even the same one.
The House at Saltwater Point Page 3