The cool morning mist left a peaceful fog over the harbor. Boats in the distance skated on the water’s surface like graceful apparitions. The faint scent of fish added authenticity to the scene. I doubted a more serene location existed.
“Yeah?” He cocked his head to one side.
“I see you’ve got a shiner.” I made my best admiration face. Men prided themselves on the number and extent of their injuries. Three agents at an FBI softball game last summer spent the entire ninth inning comparing scars and the accompanying stories of courage or misadventure. I related to the latter more each day.
The fisherman shook his head and continued winding a length of rope between his elbow and palm.
“Did you get that fighting?”
He grunted.
“I hear some fishermen had a problem with James Trent, the marine biologist studying the sharks.”
That stopped him. He looked me over, studying my outfit. “He said we interfered with his research. I told him he interfered with our paychecks. We fought. We’re done.”
I’d hit the jackpot. This guy had fought with Mr. Trent. “He give you that?” I inclined my head, indicating the bruise.
“Sucker punch. He was a hothead. He got his, though.”
“How do you mean?”
He dropped the newly wound rope in a pile at his feet. “What’s this about?”
My muscles tensed. I was poking a bear again. Bad habit.
“James Trent washed ashore yesterday morning. Can you think of anyone who might want him dead besides you?”
He lowered his gaze. “I heard that, but I didn’t want him dead. He pissed me off.” He shifted his feet, scanning the area around us. “Look, I wanted to ring his neck the other day, but I didn’t. I’ve been deep sea fishing for the last forty-eight hours. I wasn’t anywhere near the shoreline. You can check that.”
“What’s your name?”
The crazy expression he shot me was all the answer he intended to supply. No problem. He didn’t have to give me his name. Every other fisherman here knew it and they’d tell.
“What do you know about the body parts washing up at the national shoreline?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Yeah. Nothing.”
“You cut bait?” I raised one eyebrow.
He stared.
“Cutting people isn’t much different, right?”
“That’s disgusting. Look, lady, I don’t know why you’re down here harassing me at quitting time, but I’ve been on a boat for two days and I want to go home and take a nice hot shower. Do you mind?” He pushed past me, but I followed.
“Thanks, Sean. See you tomorrow.” A fisherman waved as we passed.
“Sean?” I gloated.
“Sean Findley. Jeez. I didn’t do it, okay?”
“Of course not.” I smiled, satisfied with my ability to get answers from Sean Findley.
To my surprise, he laughed. His blue eyes almost twinkled, and the zombie daze of two days on a boat lifted for a moment. Sean Findley had potential. Subtract the ugly waders and add a good shampoo, and he was probably handsome. A matchmaker might send Missy and her giant dog over here sometime and see if they hit it off. She needed a human companion. Thor was a hairy menace.
“Cutting fish and cutting people are two different things. I couldn’t do it.” The sour look on his face spoke volumes. “Whoever did that ain’t right.” He shook his head. “If you want to know about the cutting, try a doctor or something. Like a medical examiner.”
“Thanks.”
He swung his hat in the air and walked away.
I’d spoken with Mark at the funeral home and Jennie at the morgue. I didn’t ask either of them how to cut people up. I needed another talk with the pathologist. Was there a proper procedure for something so morbid? My nose crinkled and I swallowed hard. Sean Findley was right. Gross.
My phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Boss.” The edge in Sebastian’s voice scared me.
“Everything okay?” I turned toward my ride.
“Meet me at the police station.” Not good. Not at all. I moved toward the Pony cart at a faster clip. “The florist washed up on shore about an hour ago,” he said.
I cursed under my breath. My parents were in big trouble, and poor Minnie. Who would hurt a florist? “What does this mean to my parents?” And the island. Obviously our community was dealing with a monster. Only, he didn’t say part of Minnie washed ashore. Had our guy given up on mutilating the victims, or were there two killers?
“I didn’t arrest your folks last night. I talked the sheriff into holding them for twenty-four hours. I hoped to clear them before he had to arrest them or let them go. He didn’t want to arrest them any more than I did, but you know what happens now.”
“Mom fought with Minnie at First Friday too.” My mouth was suddenly as dry as a desert.
“Yes.”
“I’m on my way.”
I climbed into the Pony cart and motored over to the station at a wild ten miles per hour. Commuters blocked Main Street, waiting their turn on the bridge leading out of town. The mainland bridge became a parking lot this time of day. People crammed into the narrow lanes heading to offices in the city then performed the return process every evening.
Arooga! I pressed on the horn. No one cared.
By the time I arrived at the station, my parents were locked in the only jail cell. I blew past the front desk on my way in. Mom and Dad sat on a cot playing Rummy.
“Hi, sweetie.” Mom floated to the cold metal bars between us. She reached a thin arm to me, stroking my hands which had wrapped around the barrier on instinct.
“Where’d all this stuff come from?” Their cell looked like a page out of a catalogue. Mom’s silver satin throw pillows and periwinkle comforter covered the cot in the corner. Tassels spilled over the edge. A hanging fern graced the wall near their small window in a hand crocheted pot holder. Dad’s books lined the sill. A microfiber rug covered half the floor. “Is that your rocking chair?”
“Mmm-hmm. Sheriff Fargas picked up some things for us. He checked on the Pony and promised to drive by the house in the evenings until we’re out.” She patted my cheek.
Emotion lodged in my throat and I blinked back tears. Doofus might not be a super sheriff, but he was island folk. He was good to my parents and I owed him. For starters, I’d try calling him by his real name.
“How’s your head? Where’s the neck brace? Why aren’t you wearing it?” Dad reached my other cheek with one palm. He had a white Monopoly shirt on with a guy behind bars.
“I’m fine.” I rubbed my neck. The Tylenol didn’t help as much as whatever they put in my IV, but considering the condition of my car, I was good.
“You should rest. Didn’t you tell her to rest?” Mom’s eyes shifted upward, over my head.
Sebastian made a throaty noise. “She doesn’t listen to reason.”
“He’s not the boss of me.” Unbelievable.
“Your mom’s right.” Sebastian moved into my periphery and held out his keys. “Why don’t you take the Range Rover. I’ll bring the cart to your place later. I can use the cruiser.”
“Your Range Rover is a gas hog and an air polluter.” I refused to look at him. “Why were you fighting with Minnie, Mom? I get it about the rig being close to shore, but what did Minnie do wrong? She was a florist. A florist. She was the least offensive person on earth.” My shoulders sagged. “Why?”
“Never mind that. I’ve given my statement and we’ll be free in no time.”
I leaned against the bars. Clearly she was deluded.
“Yes, you will. Mr. and Mrs. Price, I’d like you to meet my attorney and yours, George Glenn.” Adrian strode into t
he small space, smiling. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Quite an upgrade from my time here.”
Adrian wrapped an arm around me and squeezed. Sebastian glared. Adrian smiled. I pushed off and met Frankie in the doorway as I attempted an escape.
“Hi, Patience.” Frankie’s lips turned down.
“Hey.”
“Agent Clark?” Frankie turned to Sebastian. “The birders are getting rowdy again. Sheriff Fargas is tied up with the other thing.” Her thick wavy hair hung over both shoulders onto her T-shirt. “Team Sebastian” was printed across her chest.
I pointed at the shirt, speechless, turning back to face the little crowd behind me. Sebastian glowered at Adrian, who looked less jovial than normal. “These aren’t campaign shirts.” My head dipped forward. I knew it.
“Define campaign.” Adrian’s dimple caved in.
“Oh. My. Word.” Sebastian wasn’t running for mayor, or any other office. “The ‘campaign’ is for what? My bed?” I stamped my foot. The whole town and random birders had sided up on this. I’d seen dozens of Team Adrian shirts this week.
“They’re nice quality.” Dad’s voice scraped my last nerve. Good thing he was in jail.
“Yep. They’re awesome. I’ll be back soon. Adrian will take care of you guys.” I snatched the Range Rover keys from Sebastian’s finger and left the station. On the sidewalk, I slid into the Pony cart and cranked the engine. I wasn’t driving his giant truck-beast around this island and neither was he.
Chapter Eleven
I pointed the Pony cart toward the marsh. Tears brimmed in my eyes from mass amounts of frustration and humiliation. I wasn’t always so grouchy. I needed to unwind before I did or said something I would regret. I had a whole day ahead of me and, after news of Minnie’s death, I needed to think. Someone had framed my parents, and I couldn’t ignore the blatant threat or attempt on my life. I had really ticked someone off. Who?
The red-and-white lever lifted as I approached the guard gate to the national forest. No need to flash my pass when my bright purple ride and Purple Pony insignia announced my arrival from half a mile away. My limbs twitched with anticipation as I wound through the long forest drive. The beach was my solace. Every fiber of my being sensed the ocean’s nearness and yearned for the surf. I’d found answers on the national shoreline since I was old enough to get there. I’d braved the ponies for years to get to my beach. A coil of anger turned in my tummy, hating whoever had sullied my haven with murder.
Sunlight flashed over the road striping my way. Hikers tromped paths near the road with backpacks and binoculars in place. A mile later, the cool wet air hanging under the trees gave way to freshly heated sand and sunbaked seaweed. Squawking gulls swarmed the beach for things left by the tide. I swung my cart onto the grass outside a small parking lot at the beach’s edge and planned a walk long enough for working through the puzzle pieces cluttering my head.
In the distance, a cluster of birders stared at their feet and waved their arms. At least two of them wore bright red shirts. For their sakes I hoped they weren’t Team Adrian shirts. In my current disposition, I might act a tiny bit impetuous given the slightest provocation. At the moment, those red shirts looked like flags taunting a bull. Those people didn’t even know who Adrian was. Maybe after they finished examining their feet, the group would follow some birds to the rock caves and fall in.
Ugh! I shook my head, hoping to remove the negativity. Maybe I needed an aura cleanse. The rock caves were beautiful, probably home to more bats than birds, but whatever. When the tide came back anything inside the cave needed gills to survive. Even gills wouldn’t guarantee survival, thanks to the new shark infestation.
I’d reached a new low. Plotting the death of birders for standing around wearing red. Get it together, woman. I was kind. Hopeful. Frustrated. Argh. The bleakness that had befallen my island was taking a toll on my spirit. It was one thing to mess with me, but why my parents? They never hurt anything or anyone. Ever. Though, they had picked a few fights lately and the parties subsequently floated ashore. My head fell forward and I rubbed my stiff shoulders. What was happening?
“There she is!”
I lifted my head in the direction of the voice. The circle of birders stared at me. One man pointed. Those shirts said Team Adrian.
In the distance, a muted siren roared to life.
“It’s her.” More voices joined in for a round of “It’s her. It’s Patience. Look. It’s her.”
Their circle loosened and spread, losing its shape and revealing a treasure. They weren’t examining their feet. Where the center of the circle had been, a red Igloo cooler appeared. Every face creased with emotion. Worry. Disgust. Fear. My feet sprang to life. Slipping in sun-warmed sand with every step, my body moved in a familiar rhythm toward the cooler. My neck ached with the impact of my steps, but their voices pulled me forward.
Red and blue lights lit the shadowed road on my right as Sheriff Doo—Fargas’s cruiser appeared on the road through the forest. He drove onto the beach, stopping only a few feet from the crowd. The birders huddled in the sand nearby.
Sebastian sprang from the passenger door and ran to my side. The moment I caught his eye, he jerked his chin sharply. Apparently, he wasn’t happy to see me. Fargas and Sebastian went straight for the cooler. I nearly forgot my mission. I closed the distance in two steps and flipped the lid open.
“Ah!”
I fell back into the sand and covered my face.
“Who called this in?” Fargas approached the little group of spectators.
“Don’t touch anything.” Sebastian snapped latex gloves over each hand. The terror of my heart beat between my ears.
Fargas pinched the walkie-talkie attached to his shoulder. “That’s affirmative. We need a crew out here.”
I closed my eyes against the images I’d never unsee. I opened them to Sebastian inches away, hovering over the cooler, speaking acronyms into his phone. He shoved the phone into his pocket and stood at attention, scanning the scene for an invisible enemy. The remorse in his eyes broke my heart. Kneeling, he reached into the cooler. Breath caught in my throat as I waited. Nothing could convince me to put my hand inside that cooler. Rolling back on his heels, he held a slip of paper between us. Thick black letters warned You are next, Patience Price. I gagged.
Sebastian swore and stowed the letter in a crime lab baggie. Next, he pulled his phone out and made another call, this time to his team at the FBI. Our little community population would increase by half a dozen special agents by sundown.
“I can’t believe you’re in danger again.” Sebastian swore a few more times and rubbed his forehead.
“I’m sorry.” I wished he understood me better. The fact he didn’t saddened me. He was a special agent. He solved crimes and protected people every day. Exactly what I tried to do this week. Why didn’t he get that? I mustered up my best puppy dog face. It wasn’t great considering the cooler of flesh and possibly eyeballs beside us. I swallowed slow and deep. They weren’t eyeballs. I’d only had a glimpse. I was wrong. Not eyeballs. Not eyeballs.
“It was stupid for me to move here.” Sebastian paced in the sand, keeping an eye on both me and the cooler, as if one of us might disappear. “I’d bet my badge this has more to do with me than you. Someone’s provoking me by threatening you.”
“No. Moving here wasn’t a mistake. This has nothing to do with you.” I hopped to my feet. If he left, my heart would break. No matter how mad he made me, I cared for him. “I promise to...” The words died on my tongue. I promised to what? Stop investigating? Not with some bully threatening me. Not with my parents locked in a jail cell. I wouldn’t stop until I chased whoever did this into the open and held him responsible. This island was my happy place. All the death and tragedy these last few months needed to stop, and I’d make sure of it even if it killed me.
>
Sweat beaded at my temple and across my upper lip. Holy crab cakes. Did this person plan to kill me? Stuff me in a cooler?
Bile rose in my throat. “I’ll be more careful.”
“More careful doing what?” he asked.
I shaded my eyes with one hand and wrapped the other around my tummy. “Researching.”
Sebastian glared at me. He stopped pacing and anchored both hands over his hips. Long tan fingers tapped the holstered gun at his side.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “What were you saying?”
He looked me over, searching me for the truth. His lips pressed tight. He’d found it. Ding ding! Written in neon on my forehead was Liar liar pants on fire. I wasn’t researching. I was meddling.
“I assumed the bodies and the things happening to you were about Jimmy the Judge. Threats for me. Warnings for me. Taunting me. I kept you at arm’s length this week in case I’m right. If he’s found me, I don’t want him connecting you to me and doing something rash.” He ground out the last word.
Relief washed over me and I took his hand. “No. It’s not him. This is about me.”
Sebastian wrapped his arms around me and I was home. Tucking my head against his chest, he nuzzled his cheek in my hair. “I can’t lose you.”
My heart melted. We hadn’t declared our feelings or relationship status, but there was no doubt in that moment what his feelings were. All the anguish about him avoiding me washed away. He was protecting me. I bit my lip and smiled against the warm fabric of his soft cotton shirt. He smelled like sun, salt and sand. Like cologne, soap and spice.
“How do you know this is about you?” He wrapped his hands around my arms and leaned me away from him. Dangerous brown eyes bore into mine, daring me to lie.
“Truth?”
He narrowed his eyes.
Truth. I wiggled free of his grip and dug in my purse. “Someone stuck this on my door a couple days ago.”
Sebastian unfolded the note. He kept his eyes on me until the paper flapped open between us. “Son of a bitch.” He stuffed the note into another evidence baggie and marched away from me several paces. He couldn’t leave the cooler until someone came to claim it.
Murder Comes Ashore Page 13