Moby let out a long sigh and stared off in the distance a moment. Cassidy glanced back and saw an oversized truck pulling up in the parking lot of the tackle shop, the front and back loaded down with fishing gear and coolers.
Moby was losing some money right now, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to return to his business.
“I met someone about six months ago.” His jaw clenched, as if he was bothered by the memory. “I’m not saying she has any connection. But maybe she does.”
“Tell us more,” Cassidy said.
“I met a girl. A woman, I suppose is more accurate.” He made a face, reminding Cassidy of a second grader who poked girls in the ribcage to flirt with them. “She was about six years younger than me.”
“How old are you?” Dane asked.
“Thirty-two.”
Dane nodded. “Keep going.”
Moby raked a hand through his mullet and frowned. “So, I met this girl. She came into my shop. She’d just come to the island, and she said she wanted to experience island life to the fullest.”
“And this ties in with your gun somehow?” Cassidy was having trouble figuring out how this was connected, and she really hated it when people wasted her time.
“Let me finish.” He squinted again before glancing back at his shop and watching the truck with his potential customer pull away.
“You have a name?” Dane stood in front of him, blocking his view of the store.
“It was . . . Reagan.”
Cassidy sucked in a breath at the familiar name. “Reagan what?”
“I don’t remember, but it reminded me of food and being hungry.”
“Craven?” Cassidy asked.
“Yes! That’s it. Reagan Craven.”
Cassidy tried not to show her excitement at the connection. “What did she look like?”
“She had red hair. Kind of pretty. Then again, I’m not too picky.”
“Tell me more about your interaction with her,” Cassidy said.
“She’d never fished before, and she wanted to learn. She asked if I ever did any charter fishing trips. I told her I did—in the evenings, after the shop closed.”
Cassidy soaked in all the information, ready to start connecting the dots. “Did you take her out?”
“I did. That very evening, as a matter of fact.” He rocked his head up in a nod and left his chin raised with something resembling pride.
“Was she here alone on the island?” Dane asked. “Or did she come with someone?”
“As far as I knew, she was by herself. I didn’t really ask her.”
That was too bad, Cassidy mused. “And was that your only interaction with her?”
Moby frowned as if guilty and rolled his shoulders. “No, it wasn’t. We had dinner together the next two nights.”
And the plot thickens . . . “And then?”
Moby shrugged. “And then nothing. She didn’t answer my calls. I figured she either left or met someone else. It was just as well, honestly.”
“Why is that?” Dane asked.
“She wasn’t really my type. And I could tell she had a lot of . . . what do people call it? Baggage, I guess. But it was fun while it lasted.”
“How about the sinkers?” Cassidy asked. “And the gun? How do those things fit with what you’re telling us?”
“Reagan liked the anchor sinkers. Liked them a lot. Said she needed an anchor in her life, and that they reminded her of the fact. She bought a few.”
Cassidy scowled this time. “That would have been helpful to know when I asked you earlier, Moby.”
“I just didn’t want to get in trouble.”
“Reagan buying sinkers doesn’t equate with you getting in trouble,” Dane reminded him.
“Then my gun disappeared. I think she might have taken it.” Moby’s cheeks reddened, like the whole incident embarrassed him. “Actually, I think her friend might have taken it.”
“So she did have a friend.” More irritation rose in Cassidy. Why couldn’t this guy give a straight answer? “You know, maybe we should take you in to the station.”
“No! I’m talking. I promise, I am. It just takes me a while to get to my point.” Moby cleared his throat. “I think she might have stolen it because she distracted me at the back of the store, acting all sweet and all. When I came out, this guy who was all tatted up was near the register. He was a scary-looking dude.”
“How so?” Dane asked. “Just the tattoos?”
“He was big. Kind of like Jimmy James, only meaner. They didn’t think I noticed, but Reagan and this guy . . . their eyes connected. I saw something there. He left, and then a few minutes later, so did Reagan. That’s when I noticed my gun was gone.”
“And you didn’t try to find her to ask her about it?” Dane said.
“I didn’t know where she lived. She never told me. And no, she didn’t give me her phone number. Whenever we spoke, it was because she came into the shop.”
“Did she ever mention anything about Gilead’s Cove?”
Moby remained silent in thought for a minute. “Not really. But she did say something about discovering a new way of living.”
“Did she call it ‘the Cause,’ by chance?” Cassidy asked.
“Maybe. I can’t say for sure. Now, did I tell you enough?”
Cassidy nodded, feeling like they were making some progress, at least. She’d take that over nothing. And she’d be keeping a very close eye on Lantern Beach’s local tackle shop owner.
Chapter Twenty-One
After Cassidy wrote up her report on Moby, she headed over to Lisa’s for Mac’s impromptu political rally.
Her friend had fixed many of her signature dishes, even her grilled cheese with peaches, and the place smelled heavenly—like bacon and freshly baked bread and warm chocolate.
Cassidy paused at the door and glanced around. The place had been decorated with red, white, and blue streamers. Local musician Carter Denver played his guitar and sang patriotic tunes in the corner. Meanwhile, Mac stood in the middle of the crowd, impressing everyone with his ability to quote the alphabet in various different ways—forward, backward, skipping letters, etc. It was his parlor trick, so to speak, and people loved it.
A grin spread across her face. A lot of people were already here to support Mac, and that realization thrilled her. Mac deserved the win this election. No one cared about Lantern Beach as much as he did.
“Hey, you.” Ty appeared beside her and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Hey, hon. How’s it going?”
Ty looked out across the crowd. “This is small town goodness at its finest.”
“I agree. Honestly, I can’t imagine Mac losing this election. He’s just what the town needs.” Cassidy winced and touched her side.
Ty studied her expression, his full attention suddenly on her. “Did you hurt your ribs again?”
“I’m fine. Just a little run-in with Moby Rick.”
“Moby? The man seems harmless. I can’t see him doing anything malicious just for the sake of being malicious.”
“I agree. My gut tells me he’s innocent. But he did have a few interesting things to share.” Cassidy told him about their conversation.
“Sounds like you’re getting closer to answers, Cassidy.”
“I can only hope so.”
Several people stopped Cassidy and chatted with her. Right before she was about to leave, a middle-aged woman who looked vaguely familiar sidled up beside Cassidy and whispered, “Can I talk to you?”
“Of course. What about?”
The woman glanced around, as if making sure no one else was listening. “It’s about that girl here on the island who stole the gun.”
Cassidy tensed at her words. “How did you hear about that?”
“Moby is my nephew—my sister’s boy. He told me that you came in today. He . . . well, he’s always liked to talk to me about things, and he was very upset.”
This conversation had just taken a very interes
ting turn. “Okay. What’s your name again?”
The blonde, who still sported eighties-style big hair, frowned. “It’s Barbara. I own the toy store down on the boardwalk, All for Fun and Fun for All.”
That’s where Cassidy had seen her before. “And what is it that you need to tell me?”
Barbara frowned, her skin sagging with the expression. “I think I spoke with that woman once.”
Cassidy guided Barbara into the back of the restaurant, where they could talk privately. In the distance, they could hear people murmuring and Carter Denver playing.
“Please, tell me what you know,” Cassidy started. “Anything will help.”
Barbara rubbed her hands on her arms. “I think this woman came into my shop. I only remember because she had red hair, and I knew Moby had gone out with someone with red hair. If you’ve never lived in a small town, you don’t realize that people are connected and related. I don’t think she had any clue I was Moby’s aunt.”
“I’m sure there are a lot of redheads who vacation here. Why do you think this woman is the same one we found at the scene?”
“I know it sounds strange, but I just can’t stop thinking about her.” Barbara’s face scrunched together as if distressed. “I think she’s the one.”
“Keep going. Tell me why.”
“I don’t know. There was just something about her. She looked scared, I suppose.”
“Why did she come in?”
“She was looking at stuffed animals.”
“Did she buy any?”
“She actually bought ten. She said it was for her little sister in Kentucky.”
Reagan’s father had said she was the only child. So either Reagan had lied to Barbara or it wasn’t Reagan who’d come into the toy store. However, Reagan had been from Kentucky.
Cassidy would still hear the woman out, just in case.
“Anything special about these stuffed animals?” And, if Reagan had bought them, where were they now? They still hadn’t determined where Reagan had been staying on the island—not unless Abbott knew something that Cassidy didn’t.
“They were all on the large size, I suppose. Mostly teddy bears and stuffed horses. I think one was a zebra.”
“What exactly was so memorable about this woman other than the purchase and her red hair?” There was something else here. Cassidy felt sure of it.
“She was with a man,” Barbara said. “He had ruddy skin and a weird name. I didn’t want to tell Moby because I thought it might break his heart. That boy’s had zero luck in love.”
Cassidy’s pulse spiked. A weird name? Was there anyone from Gilead’s Cove with weird names? Gilead himself maybe? But he didn’t have ruddy skin.
“A weird name like Gilead?”
Barbara shook her head, her forehead cinched. “No, it was longer. It reminded me of a character from the Andy Griffith show.”
It had been forever since Cassidy had thought about that show. What were the characters’ names? “Opie?”
The lines on Barbara’s forehead grew deeper. “No, it was longer. And it started with a B.”
“Barney maybe?” As the name left her lips, Cassidy sucked in a breath. No, it wasn’t Barney. It was . . . “Barnabas. Was it Barnabas?”
Barbara snapped her fingers and nodded. “Yes, I think that was it. She was with a man named Barnabas.”
Cassidy felt a rush of excitement at the new lead. “Anything else?”
“There was another man outside. He was big and kind of scary looking.”
Was that the man who’d stolen Moby’s gun? It sure sounded like it.
“As the three of them left, I heard them say something about going down to the docks.” Barbara frowned. “The whole thing was strange, Chief. Very strange. I’ve had a bad feeling ever since then.”
Maybe Cassidy finally had enough to get that search warrant for Gilead’s Cove. That’s where Barnabas had lived, and maybe the dead man would somehow provide some answers.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“So Gilead’s mom actually called back?” Ty repeated as he headed down the road with Cassidy toward Gilead’s Cove with her search warrant in hand.
His wife looked downright determined as her hands gripped the wheel and her gaze focused straight ahead. She was definitely on a mission.
“It’s disturbing, to put it lightly, to hear a mother so afraid of her own son,” Cassidy told him. “It’s left me with an uneasy feeling since I talked to her.”
“And she did confirm Gilead was in the Middle East?” Ty’s breath hitched as he waited for Cassidy’s response. He felt desperate to put together pieces—pieces that he couldn’t quite see, yet he knew they were there. That Gilead had some connection to his past.
“She did. At least, that’s the story Gilead told her. That would put him there the same time as you. I wish I’d had time to ask more questions.”
Ty stared out the window and let her words sink in. Anthony Gilead was in the Middle East at the same time Ty had served as a SEAL on several missions in the area. How had their paths crossed?
“I don’t like this,” Ty muttered.
“Believe me, no one does. At least, I have this warrant now. Maybe we’ll discover something.”
“We can hope.”
She pulled up to the gate and pushed a button there. Several minutes later, a man sauntered up to the guard station and poked his head out the window.
“Can I help you?” the tunic-wearing man asked.
“I’m Chief Chambers with the Lantern Beach PD. I have a warrant to search a trailer here on your property.”
The man took the paper from her and read the words there, nodding slowly. “I see. I’m going to need to run this past someone in charge.”
“This is a legal document. I don’t need anyone’s approval.”
“I understand. Could you just give me a minute?”
Cassidy looked as if she considered telling him no, but instead she nodded. “You have four minutes to get back here before I use other means. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hurried off in the direction he’d come from.
Cassidy glanced over at Ty and released a long, pent-up breath. “I really hope we find something.”
“I really hope we do also. I know it would put a lot of people here on the island at ease.”
True to his word, the man returned a few minutes later, handed back the search warrant, and opened the gate. “Come on in. Kaleb said he would meet you at the end of the lane.”
“Not Gilead?” Cassidy asked.
“No, he’s not available right now.”
“I see. Thank you for your cooperation.” Cassidy pulled into the compound.
Ty had been inside Gilead’s Cove a few times already, but every time the place gave him the creeps. There was just something about it that felt off, that reminded him of a terrorist compound where innocents had been tricked into a life of extremism. Ty would know—one of his missions had been at one of those very locations.
Kaleb Walker stood in the distance, waiting for them. Cassidy parked in front of him, and they climbed out. Kaleb was in his thirties, with a square face and eyes that always appeared unsettled. The man seemed out of place here at the compound. He was too educated and smart to be here.
Then again, even educated and smart people could be lost and looking for purpose. The reality remained that most of the people here at Gilead’s Cove were from low socioeconomic backgrounds and had histories that included substance abuse and other problems. They fit a certain profile.
“Chief,” Kaleb said before nodding at Ty. “Ty.”
Cassidy held up the warrant. “I need to see the space where Barnabas was staying.”
“Of course,” Kaleb said. “Right this way. However, I thought you already searched it after his untimely death.”
“I did,” Cassidy said. “And now I need to see it again.”
They followed him down a sandy path until they reached a particularly rundown RV locat
ed on the edge of the property near the water.
“This is where Barnabas kept his things. We haven’t cleaned it out yet, though we were preparing to do so to make room for new guests we have coming,” Kaleb said. “You came at just the right time.”
“Thank you,” Cassidy told him.
Ty followed her inside the dingy space. How anyone could live here amazed him—or maybe disturbed was a better word. Mold splotched the walls, and the whole place smelled musty. Trash littered the floor—old food wrappers and even a banana peel.
Somehow, that surprised him. Ty didn’t know the ins and outs of this compound, but he guessed the residents were on a strict regime. Barnabas had either broken the rules or had been given special privileges. In fact, during a previous case a gas station attendant had told them that Barnabas often came in for a Mountain Dew and Snickers bar.
“Why are you investigating Barnabas? He’s dead.” Kaleb stepped in behind them and closed the door.
“He may be connected with another crime on the island,” Cassidy said as she pulled on some gloves.
“Like I said, he’s dead,” Kaleb repeated.
“Maybe this crime happened before he died.”
Kaleb nodded slowly and uncertainly. “I see.”
“How much do you monitor what goes on here in the trailers?” Cassidy asked.
“For newbies?” Kaleb asked. “Quite a bit. For someone like Barnabas? Not so much. He was one of Gilead’s trusted few.”
“As are you,” Ty pointed out.
Kaleb nodded again. “That’s correct. I am also considered a part of the inner circle.”
Cassidy moved cushions and anything else that wasn’t stationary, trying to get a look beneath.
“What are you searching for?” Kaleb asked. “Maybe I can help.”
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Really, none of us come here with much.”
“So I hear.” Cassidy moved a mattress.
“I am curious, however, about why you may think Barnabas is connected with some other crime.” Kaleb crossed his arms and waited for her response.
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