Murder Comes Ashore

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  My hands went for his waist, tugging the shirt from his pants and up over his head. He whipped it off and tossed it without taking his eyes off mine. My heart pounded. Second base with Sebastian was something to brag about. People needed to know this. He was an enormous, rippled specimen of man. I’d seen him without a shirt plenty of times on the beach, but when it happened privately...

  As Sebastian worked my cotton sundress down to my waist, his slow hands caressed the newly revealed skin. He kissed me with renewed tenderness, igniting fires inside me. The changing pace made it impossible to hold onto coherent thought. All I cared about was what he’d do or touch next.

  When his tongue slid over mine, I moaned. Sebastian lifted me and my legs wrapped around him on instinct. The kiss deepened and we moved toward my bedroom. He carried me like I weighed nothing, which ironically made me feel more powerful and sexy. He tossed me onto my bed and I laughed.

  “What’s this?” He froze, shirtless at my bedside, pointing to the giant dresser against my window. Before I answered, he sat beside me and hung his head. “I had no idea you were that frightened.”

  Um. At this point, does a lady hike the straps back up or have a conversation with her dress around her waist? I pulled them up. “Birders.”

  “I think I should stay with you until this is over. Dead animal deliveries are a bad sign, and you’re clearly afraid.”

  Not going to happen. It was fine when we weren’t an item and he stayed to keep an eye on things, but now it seemed inappropriate or something. I shook my head. Another thought pressed to the forefront of my rattled mind. “If we know there’s no serial killer...where did someone get enough parts to fill a cooler?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Well, Adrian saw a few names in the hospital database. We know at least three or four people that washed up on shore in pieces died at Chincoteague Community Hospital. Unless they all died the same day, wouldn’t they be in varied states of decay or something? I mean, who has a freezer big enough to hold a half dozen or more people?”

  “Mrs. Tucker?” He joked.

  I’d never look at a Tasty Cream burger the same way again.

  I nudged him. “Listen, if you’re going to be my sidekick on this case, we need to share information.”

  “Sidekick?” A smile almost tipped his mouth. “I’m no one’s sidekick.” Just like that the caveman returned.

  “I think you meant to say no one’s except mine.”

  He growled and pounced. Before I was ready, Sebastian was everywhere. The difference in our sizes was never as evident. Every direction I looked: Sebastian. His legs covered mine and dropped off the bed. His shoulders blocked my view of the ceiling and every inch of me was alive with the pressure of him.

  His breath was hot against my chest. “I have leads I’m looking into. Promise me you’ll leave this case alone. Your parents are free.” Another line of kisses.

  I gripped the bed sheets.

  “I’ll keep you safe. You counsel these people. It’s your dream. Follow it.”

  I sucked air and arched my back against the final kiss. Have mercy!

  When I found my voice, I asked, “What’s your dream, Sebastian?”

  He murmured against my bare tummy and tossed my dress onto the floor. “For years, I dreamed of saving the world, protecting my country and honoring my family.”

  “And now?”

  He lifted his forehead until his chin rested on my abdomen. His expression worried and thrilled me. The mix of warning and truth on his face curled my toes. He inched upward, hovering over me completely, never breaking eye contact. “You.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Morning light filtered into my bedroom through the curtain, illuminating dust motes in the air. I stretched my super relaxed limbs and wiggled my fingertips over my head. Sebastian had moved my dresser back where it belonged. My hero. Peacefulness rushed over me. Serotonin seeped from my pores. I’d slept like a rock. It was amazing. I sighed and curled into the fetal position, tugging the comforter over my nose. My bed smelled like Sebastian. The smile on my face was shameless.

  Coffee scented the air.

  Aw. He’d made coffee. I sat up and pulled the sheet around my body. The big cheesy smile was all I had on. Surrounded by coffee smells and Sebastian’s cologne, I almost didn’t notice the residual stink of smoke damage downstairs. Life was good.

  I padded barefoot into the kitchen. My laptop sat open on the countertop, a scrolling message from Sebastian gliding across the screen. “Thanks for last night. I needed that.” No room for complaints here either, big boy. I snorted and poured a cup of coffee from the Mr. Coffee he’d set up beside my Keurig. I guess it’s hard to make a girl coffee without the traditional means. I smiled into my cup. Good thing I’d kept the old coffee maker when I moved home. The keys to his Range Rover lay beside my favorite mug. Aw.

  “Mew.”

  I opened the refrigerator and sighed. Freud needed me. I poured him a saucer of coffee creamer and opened the front door. The cat rubbed his sides against the door frame as I set the creamer on his stoop. “I’m going to take better care of you.” As soon as I get to the grocery store.

  A dead bird lay against the railing.

  I hiked up my sheet and kicked it for a field goal into the yard next door. Not going to ruin my day today. The sun sparkled on dew-tipped grass. A kite floated in the distance. Birds sang. The air was warm for September but cool for a toga. I grabbed the paper and turned for my kitchen, clutching the sheet over my girls with both forearms.

  Adrian perched at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. He stared at my screen saver. I lifted my chin and shut the lid. Not today. I would not be provoked today. Today was lovely.

  “I stopped by to say the same thing.” He waved his mug in the direction of my laptop. “I don’t suppose that message was from you to me.”

  “Nope.”

  He made a sour face and drank his coffee.

  A million versions of “It’s not what you think” or “I can explain” formed on my tongue and ticked me off. I didn’t owe Adrian Davis an explanation about my sex life. Never mind there wasn’t one to explain until last night, not in eons anyway.

  “It’s okay. I get it. He’s all mysterious and brooding. He’s a good guy. I’m happy for you. You should date him.” Adrian tipped his mug against smug lips.

  “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t need your approval.”

  He smirked.

  My toe tapped. I hugged the sheet to my body and huffed into my bedroom to change.

  “Nice sheet.” Emphasis on the second word.

  I shut my door and dressed in a hurry. He would not ruin my happy morning. I raked a brush through my hair and grabbed my lip gloss.

  Adrian looked me over when I reappeared in the kitchen. “I liked your last outfit better.”

  I ignored him and refilled my mug. We were a completely dysfunctional family. No, not a family. I settled mentally on “pair” and flipped open the paper. “How was your night?” I avoided eye contact, scanning the local headlines.

  “Not as good as yours,” he deadpanned.

  I stormed passed him to the front door and ripped it open. Below the front page fold stood crazy black newsprint letters announcing Visiting Birders Start Petition Against Local Resident. Me. I rolled the paper tight enough to brain the nearest birder but, for the first time in nearly two weeks, the sidewalk was clear of birders. I marched down the steps and stopped when Sebastian’s Range Rover came into view.

  “Are you people kidding me right now?” I yelled into the sky. “This isn’t even my car.” Sebastian’s Range Rover was covered in egg slime and broken shells. The Pony cart had gotten the same treatment a few months back. This time it sat un
touched only feet from the Range Rover. Of course, the Purple Pony cart was pristine. Birders loved my parents’ store. They bought their stupid shirts there. Multicolored feathers stuck to the Range Rover’s egg goo and someone had written Bird Killer in who-knew-what across his windshield. It was white. I didn’t want to think about it too hard.

  I shook the fisted newspaper over my head. This was my good morning. The snicker behind me sent fire up my spine. Adrian leaned on the stoop, petting Freud and drinking my coffee.

  The sight of him deflated me. I was far too comfortable in his presence, even in a sheet and nothing more. He tugged my heartstrings, caring for Freud and my parents. I squashed thoughts of what might have been and kicked myself mentally. I’d had an amazing night with Sebastian. My cheeks burned at the flood of enticing memories.

  “I need a donut.” I crossed the street in a hurry and yanked open the Tasty Cream’s door. A mix of two dozen birders and locals stared at me. For a moment I considered going table to table and bopping them with my paper.

  “Morning, Patience. Wow. You look like you could use a drink.” Mrs. Tucker poured a cup of coffee and dripped creamer into it. A pearly white rose pattern drifted to the top. “I learned that on YouTube.”

  “Nice. Have you seen the paper?” I unrolled it on the counter, but it curled again. I counted to ten and inhaled the comfort foods drifting in the air around me. Scents of spun sugar and fresh baked pastries mingled with coffee.

  “I don’t pay any attention to the paper. What do you think of an ice cream cake?”

  “Do you have any donuts?”

  “Bear claws, apple fritters and a cruller.” She hoisted a tray for my viewing.

  “Yes.” I pulled the tray to the counter and lifted the fritter first. “Stupid paper. The birders started a petition against me.” I spoke around a mouthful of sugar-laced dough. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Everyone’s staring. Who knows what they think.”

  “They think your shirt is on backward and Sebastian’s Range Rover stayed at your place last night.”

  I stretched the collar of my T-shirt for a peek. Shoot. The little white tag winked at me.

  Mrs. Tucker suppressed a smile and changed the subject. “Regular cake is delicious and it doesn’t melt. You’re right about that. Do you like the fancy ones with filling like chocolate with a layer of raspberry in the center?”

  “Huh?” Fritter flakes drifted off my lips. When did I say anything about cake? Stupid Adrian let me march over here with my clothes on backward.

  “I always liked strawberry filling, myself. How’s the fritter?” She wiped the counter around me with a rag.

  “I like fillings.” Especially apple. Yum. I licked my thumb where a glob fell from my fritter.

  “Strawberry?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Coconut?”

  I nodded, wiped my mouth and lifted the cruller next.

  “Well, fancy seeing you here so early.” I turned on my little red stool. Maple Shuster and a group of ladies smiled coyly. “After Sebastian Clark’s vehicle sat outside your place all night, we didn’t expect to see you out of your apartment until afternoon.”

  “Or Tuesday,” one hen clucked. They all giggled.

  “I’m borrowing his car. Mine had an accident.” I really meant, “Please don’t tell my mom or notice my shirt is on backward.” I shoved the rest of the cruller into my mouth and hoped they’d go away. Our night had been special, meaningful and amazing. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. It was mine. M-i-n-e.

  Oh, I should call Claire. She’ll die.

  “What were you doing out all night?” I wiped cruller bits off my chin. How’d they know the Range Rover was there all night? Bunch of gossips. This town was Big Brother.

  “Not what you were doing, I suspect,” said Mrs. Shuster.

  “Stop.” I wiped my hands on a sticky napkin and climbed off the stool. Mrs. Tucker handed me a mug with her pretty creamer rose inside.

  “Bring it back later. If I pour it into a to-go cup, the flower will disappear.” She dropped a bear claw into a white bag and passed it to me. “On the house.”

  I was blessed Mrs. Tucker didn’t keep a tab for me. I left with twice as much food as I paid for most days.

  “Thanks.”

  I passed the crowd of gossips, but Maple caught me at the door. “Care if I come by later to talk?” She stage-winked twice.

  “Of course. Anytime.” Wait. My mind threw a red flag. “As long as it’s not about me.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she turned back toward her friends. I escaped with coffee and a third donut but suspected I left my dignity on that pastry tray.

  Chapter Twenty

  A group of birders stood at the bottom of my steps. I’d left my newspaper on Mrs. Tucker’s counter and had both hands full. They were lucky. I elbowed my way through the thick of them. Adrian was nowhere to be seen.

  “Excuse me.” I angled between two women in the front row, hooking the pastry bag in fingertips curled around my coffee cup. I reached for the railing to steady myself and the crowd gasped.

  “You can’t go up there.”

  “What?” What did they see? I scanned the area. Terror seized my heart.

  “The Godwit is building a nest. You can’t disturb it. What if it wants to lay eggs?”

  They pointed at a mess of dry grass and string anchored to a post on my steps. I yanked it loose and they squeaked.

  “It is fall, not spring. Birds aren’t building nests. Also, this is not a nest. It’s a hunk of yuck stuck to my railing.”

  They whispered to one another, ugly looks on their faces.

  “This is not okay.” I motioned to the crowd. “The birding movie was only a movie, and not a great one. Plus, you’re all cheating anyway, aren’t you?” I lifted a brow. They turned their faces to one another. Ha! “Oh, and that,” I pointed to Sebastian’s Range Rover. “That isn’t my car. That car belongs to Sebastian Clark, a special agent with the FBI. You’re all in big trouble when he sees what you did.”

  The birders dispersed. Quickly.

  I locked the door and sat on my couch with the pretty golden pillow Claire bought me in my lap. My mind worked over the latest island crime spree. In the course of less than two weeks, how many bodies, whole or otherwise, had washed up on shore? Where could they have come from?

  I toiled with my thoughts until Mrs. Tucker’s coffee was gone, the pastry bag empty and my eyelids heavy. I didn’t have any more answers than when I started. I pulled my arms inside my shirt to turn it around and caught sight of Sebastian’s lying on the floor against the wall. I slipped out of my shorts and traded my shirt for his before sliding between my sheets for a nap. One more benefit of my new title “Counselor at Large.” I never knew when a counseling session might pop up. Might as well get some rest while a sliver of my Sebastian-induced euphoria remained.

  I snuggled into my pillow, inhaling Sebastian’s cologne and drifted off, thinking about what we did on those sheets not so long ago.

  * * *

  I woke with a smile. Sebastian and I were official and I wanted my parents to know. They were right. I was too hard on him. He’d been protecting me the best way he knew how. I pulled on a pair of capri jeans and left Sebastian’s shirt on my bed for later. I chose a long sleeve aqua button-down over a white tank top and stuffed my bare feet into sneakers.

  Opening the door to leave, I found a deliveryman on the steps.

  “Miss Price?”

  Maple Shuster and her group a girlfriends stood across the street watching the exchange.

  “She’s getting a delivery,” they whispered.

  I nodded at the man, half afraid of what was in the box.

  “Nice to see you Mrs. Shuster,” I called.

  Maple
waved good-bye and stuck her fist to the side of her head signaling me to call her later. Her little posse moved along, heads turning as they passed.

  I signed for the delivery and hauled it inside. So far the dead birds hadn’t required my signature. The box weighed a ton. I pried the cardboard flaps open. Twelve bottles of wine. I examined the outside of the box for a card. Nothing. I removed the bottles one at a time and found a note written on the bottom of the box. “Thanks for listening.”

  Sasha. Jeez. The gift was wrong and inappropriate in so many ways.

  I texted Claire. I had wine to contribute for Adrian’s celebration dinner.

  I took the Pony cart through town to aggravate the birders and reinforce the idea that they’d trashed a federal agent’s ride, not mine. Dad was pressing shirts by the dozens at the Purple Pony and Mom was dusting like a maniac.

  “Peepee!” Dad cheered when I arrived.

  “Hey.” I moseyed through the racks, feeling Mom’s gaze on me. A few shoppers looked at dry herb packets and healing stones.

  “Something on your mind, honey?” Mom dropped her feather wand on the counter and met me at the shirt press beside Dad.

  “You guys were right about Sebastian. I was too hard on him. He’s guarded. I’m not always open to sharing either. We need to work on our communication, but I like him. He’s good and he’s important to me.” I looked to Dad.

  Deciding to tell them had felt powerful. Telling them felt silly.

  Dad nodded in approval and pulled the lever on the shirt machine. The familiar hiss and stink of decal transfer lifted into the air. “He’s a good guy. Beefy too.” He made a muscle with one arm.

  “Yep.” I laughed.

  Mom stroked Dad’s bicep and smiled. “We only want you to be happy, honey.”

  “Thanks.” Was I happy? I felt happy until she mentioned it. Were Sebastian and I official now? Is that what it takes to seal the deal? Nudity? I chewed my lip, suddenly unsure I’d made a good decision.