by Lena Gregory
She disconnected the call and walked toward the water. She could call Luke, but even if he did agree to come, it would take him hours to get there. Stephanie would come in a heartbeat, but she seemed to be dealing with enough of her own problems at the moment. When she reached the edge, she stopped and sat beside Beast. “You okay, boy?”
He propped his head in her lap, and she weaved her fingers into his thick mane, then dialed Bee’s number.
It took four rings before his groggy voice came over the line. “This had better be good.”
“What are you doing?”
“Well, I was sleeping.”
“I . . . um . . . I thought you might still be at the shop.”
“No. I finished up around four, stopped for a donut, then came home and went to bed.” He sighed, apparently accepting that he wasn’t going back to sleep just yet. “What are you doing up so early, and why are you calling from your cell phone? If you woke me up because you saw another ghost, I’m not going to—”
“Actually, I did see another ghost.”
“That’s it. I’m hanging up now.”
“This time it led me to a skeleton.”
Silence.
No way would he hang up after hearing that. If he had to get gossip like that at the deli, he’d never forgive himself. She outwaited him.
“Where are you?”
“On the beach. Almost to the shop. I was walking to work when Beast dug up a skeleton. Well, at least, I think it’s a skeleton. I’m pretty sure the sticks are bones, and I don’t know what else could look so much like a skull. But it’s all wrapped up in a net, and I’m all alone on the beach with Beast, but the police are coming. I hope it’s Tank and not one of those other clowns that—”
“All right. Enough. Stop babbling. You just woke me up, and it’s taking my brain too long to process all of this. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“I’m already half-dressed. I’m on my way out the door.”
Bee didn’t get up early for too many people. “Thanks, Bee.”
At the sound of a motor, she tucked her phone into her pocket and watched a white SUV fly toward her, lights flashing. She didn’t know why she assumed they’d walk down the beach just because four-wheeling wasn’t allowed on Bay Island beaches. Obviously, in an emergency, the police would be allowed to have vehicles.
Tank hopped out of the driver’s side and strode toward her, his pace brisk, his jaw set in a firm line.
She checked the urge to run to him.
His partner, Harry Gunther, emerged from the passenger seat. He hiked up his pants and strolled toward her as if he had all day. He was only a couple of weeks away from retirement, and his mind had already beat him to it.
“Please tell me it wasn’t you who called it in.” Tank stood staring at her, hands propped firmly on his hips.
She shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Where?”
She pointed toward the dunes.
“Wait here.” He walked away muttering something about her being a magnet for trouble.
Cass bristled. It wasn’t her fault. Besides, this time trouble had found her. She couldn’t control it if a spirit wanted to lead her somewhere. All she could do was follow. Well, technically, that wasn’t true. She could have walked away and left well enough alone. She could have continued to believe she wasn’t psychic, just intuitive. Now . . . well, now she had no idea what to think, but trying to figure it out was beginning to give her a headache.
She lost sight of Tank as he crouched behind the dunes.
Harry stared at her, a pen poised over a beat-up notebook. “So, what happened?”
Okay. This was the tricky part. Did she admit to seeing an . . . apparition?
Harry continued to stare at her, pen held ready to record any brilliant insights she might share. Harry was one of those guys who looked like a basset hound, jowls sagging, eyes drooping, frown etched firmly and permanently in place. He was also a real sweetheart.
“Beast dug up something I think might be a skeleton.” She would have to remind Tank to talk to Artie Becker. The thought that the bones might belong to his daughter made her stomach lurch. Luckily, she hadn’t eaten breakfast.
6
Tank emerged from the dunes a little while later and headed toward the shore, where Cass stood barefoot in the gently lapping waves.
Beast frolicked happily in the surf, despite her command—as well as some seriously intense begging and, she was ashamed to admit, whining—for him to stay out of the water.
Harry had already given up on trying to get answers and started directing arriving personnel toward the suspected crime scene. He’d made no attempt to join Tank. Even though Harry was a nice guy, he wasn’t exactly the picture of ambition.
“Want to tell me what happened?” Tank asked when he reached her side.
“We were walking down the beach toward Mystical Musings when Beast dug up what I suspect are bones.” She drew circles in the wet sand with her big toe, then watched the gentle waves come in and erase the lines as if they’d never even been there.
“Is that all?”
She shrugged. No way was she sharing anything more with Tank. He was her best friend’s husband. He was already a little leery of her getting Stephanie into trouble. Best to leave well enough alone. Besides, nothing she’d seen could help their investigation in any way.
She was saved from having to answer when Bee charged down the beach toward them. “Cass,” he yelled.
All eyes turned in his direction. Even Beast stopped and stared.
Bee was a sight to behold on a good day, even without the platform shoes he was plowing through the sand in. Now, with his bleached blond hair completely disheveled and sticking up everywhere, wrinkled clothes, shirt buttons askew, and if she wasn’t mistaken, two different shoes, he was jaw-dropping.
Beast surged out of the water. Cass realized his intentions a moment too late to grab him.
“Beast, no!” She started after him.
Water poured from his thick coat as he sprinted toward Bee.
“Whoa! You stop right there, Beast.” Bee held his hands up and backed up frantically. “No, boy. Down.”
Beast lunged, planting his paws firmly on Bee’s chest and bowling him over.
Bee landed sprawled in the sand on his back, a soaking-wet Beast straddling his chest. “Get. Him. Off,” he managed between clenched teeth.
Several officers rushed to his side, reaching him a few seconds before Cass.
When they finally rolled a confused Beast off him, the big dog toppled over in the sand and rolled onto his back. Then he squirmed around a bit before he scrambled to his feet and shook water and sand off his massive body, managing to spray everyone in the vicinity.
“Beast. No.” Cass grabbed his collar and pulled him away, then looked up into half a dozen angry glares. “Um . . . sorry.”
Tank and another officer reached Bee and helped him to his feet.
He brushed himself off, shot Cass a dirty look, then tried to compose himself.
Tank was the first to laugh. To his credit, it seemed as if he tried to control it, and he did manage to keep it reined in, at first, but not for long. A deep belly laugh blurted out.
Some of the sand-covered officers tentatively joined in while trying to brush the mess of sand and water from their uniforms.
Cass turned away. No way in the world she’d let Bee catch her laughing at his expense, and yet, she couldn’t help but find humor in the situation. Maybe because it hadn’t been her lying spread-eagle in the sand with more than a hundred pounds of wet dog on her chest.
“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, Cass.” Tank’s voice in her ear startled her. “If there’s something more going on here, I will find out.”
Cass just nodded, resisting the
urge to swallow the guilt threatening to choke her. She wasn’t exactly lying, but Tank was a friend, and she was definitely withholding information. Just not relevant information. She hoped.
He hovered quietly by her side for another moment, then let the matter drop. “Do you need a ride?”
She looked down at Beast. “No, thanks. I’ll walk back to the house and call the groomer.” Hopefully they could get him in and she could drop him off on her way to the shop. So much for being early.
“Okay, then I’ll talk to you later.” He turned and started back up the beach. When he caught sight of Bee, he just sighed and shook his head.
“Wait. Tank?”
He stopped and turned back.
She pitched her voice low. “Was I right? Is it a skeleton?”
He pursed his lips, and she didn’t expect him to answer. But then he gave a brisk nod.
A million questions beat at her. Knowing she had only seconds before Tank would walk away, she blurted out the one most prominent in her mind. “Can you tell if it was a woman? And how long she’s been there?”
He held her gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me anything?”
She sighed. No way she’d tell him she saw a ghost, but she could mention Artie’s visit. “I don’t know if it has anything to do with this or not, but a man came into the shop for a reading Friday night. His adult daughter is missing, and he wanted to see if I could contact her or offer any information.”
Tank pulled out a notebook and pen. “Name?”
“Artie Becker.” She struggled to keep from offering her personal opinion of Artie.
“How long has she been missing?”
“He said he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t seen her in years, but he thought maybe she disappeared sometime in the past six months. He said he’d already reported it to the police.” She pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping to quell some of the queasiness.
“All right. I’ll check it out.” He flipped the book closed and dropped it into his pocket. “I’m going to ask one favor, Cass. Stay out of it. If Mr. Becker returns, find an excuse to stall him and let me know.”
She nodded, a small niggle of fear rushing up her spine.
Tank’s expression softened, and he smoothed a hand over his closely shaved crew cut, then looked around and leaned closer to her. “If it makes you feel any better, I doubt this is Mr. Becker’s daughter if she’s only been missing a few months. I can’t say for sure, and I’ll still check it out, but a body doesn’t . . . um . . . deteriorate . . . that quickly, especially when it’s been buried in sand.”
Relief rushed through her, and she offered a small smile. “Thanks, Tank.”
“Sure.” He squeezed her arm and returned to the crime scene.
Bee stood a little ways away, looking sort of dazed. Fully expecting him to read her the riot act, she trudged toward him, intent on apologizing.
Beast trotted contritely beside her.
“Look, Bee, I—”
“Save it, Cass. I already know, you’re sorry. Let’s move on.”
Grateful he was willing to let it go, she hugged him.
He stepped back, brushed his hand over hers, and frowned. “What happened to your hand? What are these red marks running across the back? They look almost like . . .” He lifted her hand closer to his face. “There’s no blood, but the marks look like scratches, like someone raked their nails over your hand.”
The memory of the woman’s cold fingers grazing that same hand assailed her. She pulled her hand away and tucked it behind her. “I don’t know. Beast knocked me over before, maybe I got scratched.” Sorry, Beast. The half truth sat like a rock in her gut, but Bee definitely wouldn’t want to hear that a ghost had raked her hand, and she most definitely wasn’t ready to admit it.
“Well, you’d better put something on it, so it doesn’t get infected.”
She snatched the bucket she’d been carrying but didn’t bother to fill it back up. She could pick up some stuff near the shop if it was slow later. Right now she just wanted to go home, get cleaned up, and get the shop open at a halfway decent hour.
Thankfully, Bee dropped his interrogation and fell into step beside her as they headed toward her house, only giving Beast one wary stare.
“So, are you still coming for dinner tonight?”
“Are you still up to cooking?”
“Actually, yes. I’d really like the company.” The admission brought a rush of heat to her cheeks.
“Then I wouldn’t miss it.”
She slid her hand into his and leaned her head against his arm. “Thanks, Bee.”
Leaving the chaos of the crime scene behind, they walked together in the quiet of the morning.
Bee didn’t stay silent long. “So, tell me what happened.” He held up his free hand. “At a reasonable pace, please.”
She laughed. “Sorry about that. I was a little . . . uh . . .”
“You weren’t a little anything, Cass. You were freaking out completely.”
“All right. I guess that could be true.” She grinned and filled him in, leaving out the hand-grazing incident. “But Tank said he doesn’t think it’s Artie Becker’s daughter. He thinks the bones have probably been there too long.”
By the time she was done talking, they’d reached her house. She dug her keys out of her pocket and opened the door.
Bee leaned against the deck railing.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“Nah. I’ll wait here.”
She held his gaze, trying to judge if he was too scared of her ghost to go inside.
He offered his best innocent look. “What?”
“You are going to have to come in at some point, Bee.”
He shrugged. “I’m coming for dinner later, aren’t I? I just want to stand out in the sun a few minutes and let my shirt dry.”
“Hmm . . .” She let it drop. He was right, he was coming for dinner later, and if he wanted to eat, he’d have to come in.
Leaving Beast to run around the yard and Bee leaning against the railing to dry off, Cass ran in and grabbed the phone. She strode toward the bathroom while she dialed the groomer. She didn’t have time for a shower, but she could change her clothes.
“Already? What’d he get into now, Cass?”
Shocked, she yanked the phone from her ear and stared at it for a moment, then remembered caller ID and laughed. “We went to the beach.”
“I hate to tell you this, but I can’t get him in until tomorrow. I’m totally swamped all day.”
She sighed. It would have to be good enough. “I’ll take it, but could you call the shop if you get a cancellation?”
“You bet.”
“Thanks.” After making the appointment and hanging up, Cass quickly stripped down, sprinkled herself with baby powder, and brushed most of the sand off with a towel. She pulled on a clean pair of yoga pants and a long, loose-fitting top. Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, she took a deep breath, braced herself, and looked down at her hand.
Bee was right. Four red lines marred her left hand from her wrist to her knuckles, the exact path the woman’s fingers had followed. Had she been trying to take her hand? To lead her into the dunes? Cass looked in the mirror. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Exhaustion was definitely getting the better of her.
A hazy image shimmered into view, its reflection hovering over her shoulder.
She jumped and spun around.
The woman from her dreams backed away but remained visible.
“Help me.” The words echoed in Cass’s mind as if they’d been spoken aloud, but the woman’s mouth remained closed, lips pressed tightly together, strain lines bracketing her mouth.
All right. Enough was enough. She couldn’t keep cowering in fear each time the apparition materialized. “I thought I did.”
“No.”
“I followed you on the beach. I found the skeleton you’ve been trying to show me.”
“No.”
“Then what is it you want?” Frustration and lack of sleep shortened her temper.
“Help me.”
“I’m trying! I can’t help you unless I understand what you want.”
The woman spun and surged toward the door.
A stack of magazines on the side of the garden tub ruffled as she passed.
The apparition jerked to a stop and stared wide-eyed at the magazines. Then she disappeared, simply winked out of existence as if she’d never been there. Who knew? Maybe she hadn’t.
Cass splashed a few handfuls of cold water onto her face, then grabbed a couple of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and swallowed them with a handful of water from the faucet. She grabbed her makeup bag and strode toward the kitchen.
Apparently finding the body wasn’t enough—she was going to have to try to figure out who the woman was and what she could possibly want. She dropped her makeup bag into her oversize purse, tossed Beast’s brush on top of it, and locked up.
Bee still stood in the same spot she’d left him, eyes closed, face turned up to the sun. For a minute she thought he’d fallen asleep that way. Then he slit open one eye. “So, anyone in there?”
“Uh . . .”
“Never mind. I don’t really want to know.” He pushed away from the railing and started toward the steps. “My car is parked at your shop, so you’ll have to drive. We can drop Beast off at the groomer on the way, but then I want coffee . . . and breakfast.”
“Actually, they couldn’t get him in. Apparently Sunday is one of their busier days. After I get the shop open, I’ll just take him out back onto the porch and give him a good brushing.”
“Fine. I’ll pick up my car at the shop and go to the deli while you take this monster out and brush him.” His mood seemed to improve. “I’ll let you know what’s being said about the skeleton when I get back.”
“Thanks, Bee. You’re the best.” And if the skeleton wasn’t the latest gossip fodder when he got there, it most certainly would be by the time he left. She grinned and gestured to Bee’s misbuttoned shirt. “But you might want to fix yourself before you go into the deli.”