by Various
“You thought you did?”
“At first I didn’t see anyone. I saw what I thought was a flashlight. And I heard footsteps. I did see someone’s shadow, but I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, or how old, or anything...” She trailed off.
“Did the person say anything?”
She tried to recall. “A threat maybe, like ‘I know this beach.’” She couldn't remember exactly.
He scribbled something down on his notepad. “Anything else?”
She bit her thumbnail and tried to think. “You know what, yes.” She hadn’t mentioned it to Lucas. In fact, she hadn’t even remembered it until this minute. “I did see a car. Parked near that other access road.” She pointed down the beach.
“What kind of car? Did you notice a color? Get a license plate number?”
“It was white. Older, I think. Four doors, maybe?” She couldn’t swear to it.
“No one inside?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t close enough to see.”
“Connecticut license plate?”
She had to think for a few moments. She hadn’t looked. Had she? She squeezed her eyes shut. Light blue. No picture. “I think so.”
He flipped the notebook closed and tucked it into his breast pocket. “Tell you what, we haven’t had this much action down on the beach since I can remember.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? Not your fault.”
But Sophie thought it kind of was. Without her crew in town filming the lighthouse story, whoever was snooping around would have stayed undiscovered. Or maybe no one would have gone snooping around at all. Wandering ghosts would have kept their patterns. Lucas would have worked his way toward getting serious with Amanda, and she’d be sans a sprained ankle and the knowledge her father had grown up here.
Yup, staying away would have suited everyone fine. She blew out a long breath and rested her cheek on her arms.
“You feeling okay?” Officer O’Brien eyed the sky. “Still a little damp out here. You might want to go inside. Rest up.”
“I will.”
He nodded and stuck his hands into his pockets. “I’ll tell you, same as I told your producer, we gotta keep this section of beach closed off for the next forty-eight hours, at least. I’m ordering a patrol to be down here twenty-four-seven.” He looked over his shoulder. The two other cops stretched out yellow tape as he spoke. They blocked the pathways to both the lighthouse and the keeper’s quarters. Both access roads were already taped off.
“Won’t keep everyone out,” he added, “’specially the nosy ones, but it’ll let people know we’re conducting an investigation.”
She nodded. They’d have to call it a wrap. Lon wouldn’t be happy, but they were finished here in Lindsey Point.
“Do you know where they took Lucas?” she asked. After she’d called the cops, she’d gone looking for him herself. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the memory of what she’d found: him lying motionless on the beach, a few yards from the lighthouse. Blood at the back of his head. Stone cold unconscious, no matter how many times she’d said his name. When the cops finally showed up, they’d backed her away and made her stand in Francine’s driveway until the medics arrived and loaded him into their emergency van.
Seeing him finally, open his eyes and look at her, dazed and barely speaking, had nearly broken her heart in two. I’m falling for him. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes as guilt swept through her. The reason he’d gone down there in the first place was because of her.
Officer O’Brien’s words broke into her thoughts. “He was conscious when they put him into the ambulance, and I don’t think he had any serious injuries, maybe a concussion but more likely a good lump on the back of his head. They took him to the Lindsey Point Med Center. It’s right outside of town, couple-a miles down the coast, toward Littlefield.” He gestured down Main Street. “If they were concerned about a head injury or anything more serious, they’d run him up to Bluffet Edge, but I haven’t heard any reports.”
Sophie blinked back tears. “Thank you.”
Lon came storming up the driveway as Officer O’Brien left. Terrence followed.
“He tell you?” Lon panted. “Shoot’s done. Finished.” He shoved two pieces of gum into his mouth and started chewing. “Done. Now what the hell are we supposed to do?” He rested both hands on his hips and shook his head.
“I think we have enough footage to do the original piece,” Terrence said quietly. “We can always work in a voice-over about the treasure. Soph can do that back in the city.”
But she didn’t care about the footage. Or doing a fucking voice-over. She rubbed her elbows and nodded instead of answering out loud. The show was about third or fourth or last on her list of priorities right about now.
“I know. I guess.”
Sophie took the hand Terrence offered and creaked to a stand. Physically, she was still in one piece. She tested her ankle. It was sore, with the skin still a little tight and swollen, but manageable. But something hollow thudded inside her chest. She wondered if it was possible to miss someone you’d met only days before. Possible to feel connected enough that your heart wanted to scoop out a piece of itself and save it until you saw him again. God, she wanted to see him. Be with him. Let herself cave inside his arms while he held her and make her feel safer than she’d ever felt anywhere.
“...so I guess we should pull out of here as soon as we get our things packed,” Lon was saying. “That’ll give us a chance to get back to the office this afternoon, maybe do some preliminary editing before the weekend. Sound good?”
Actually, the more Sophie thought about it, that didn’t sound good at all. Her gaze moved past them, to the beach, the sky, the black pickup truck still sitting in Francine’s driveway. “I think I’m gonna stay another day or two.”
“What? Why?” Lon rubbed a hand across his unshaven chin. “No reason. Get back to the city. To a real bed, eh? And you should get your ankle looked at.”
Sophie didn’t answer. There was a certified package coming her way. A guy lying in a bed somewhere she hadn’t said goodbye to who’d gotten conked over the head that morning because of her. There were more questions about her life than she ever thought she’d run up against when they pulled into this town. She couldn’t leave Lindsey Point yet. Didn’t feel right.
“It’s the guy, isn’t it?” Lon leaned close and studied her face. “Lucas? You like ’im.”
Sophie didn’t answer.
“Ah, it’s about damn time. You haven’t gone out with anyone in ages.” He turned to Terrence. “How long has it been? Since that piece out in Sioux City last year?”
Sioux City. Aaron Whitekiller. Sophie didn’t need that memory. Two weeks of love-making by an open fire, and she’d almost convinced herself she was falling in love with the dark-eyed, long-haired Native American with the sexy-ass voice and hands that could work magic. Until his estranged wife discovered them together and cut a chunk of Sophie’s hair out at the roots one night when she was sleeping.
I curse you and your children for eternity! she’d hissed, dark eyes flashing in the firelight.
Nope, not love, Sophie had decided. Not even close.
She hadn’t lied when she’d told Lucas she never slept with local guys. Well, not never–but rarely. She’d always been cautious, but she’d definitely learned her lesson with Aaron. Flirting was allowed, a casual dinner date was fine, a kiss was pushing it. That philosophy had served her for over a year. She pushed her hair behind her ears. But this thing with Lucas had come almost out of nowhere and surprised the hell out of her. It could definitely work its way in that direction. Want spiraled down her spine.
“Good for you.” Lon hugged her with one arm. “You’re a big girl. You gettin’ back a day or two later isn’t gonna hurt anything.”
“Why would it?”
But he was looking at strangely.
“What?”
“You ever do any more looking into what
Tom Allen said? About you bein’ related to the Smiths?” He cleared his throat.
“No,” she lied.
“Because it would make a great addition to the piece. Really killer.”
She hated when he tried to use terms that had gone out of vogue. “I don’t think anything’s killer anymore. Just saying.”
“Quit busting my balls. You know what I’m sayin’.”
“And the answer’s still no.”
“I told the office you’d do it.”
“What?” She stared at him. “Why would you tell them that? You have no– I’m not–“
“Sophie, it’s not a rumor.” Pause. Long pause. Long-ass, awkward pause that left shivers crawling up Sophie’s spine. Oh, no. Hell no.
“Petey Smith’s your grandfather. And Peterson’s your father.” He wouldn’t meet her horrified gaze. He wouldn’t look at her at all. He stared at the sky and chewed until she wanted to rip the gum from his mouth and shove up his ass. “Your mother told me a while back. Made me promise I wouldn’t say anything.”
The ground dropped from under her, and the whole world tilted. Sophie stumbled and fell back onto the steps. “What? She did not. You’re lying.” She glanced at Terrence, who stood there, expressionless. He knew too. They both did. Probably everyone back at the office.
“You son of a bitch.” She scrabbled backward, up one step and then the next. Anything to get away from him.
“I was going to tell you.”
“Famous last words.” She managed to get her feet underneath her.
“You’re better when you find things out for yourself. I figured it would be more real, more of an impact, if you found out when you got here.”
“More of an impact?” she spluttered. “Let me guess. You were thinking about my job. This is actually some back-asswards way of jacking up the ratings or maybe helping me, giving me a father since I don’t have a mother to speak of anymore. Is that it?” She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe. And she was beginning to wonder what else the universe had in store for her. How much was she supposed to deal with in the span of seventy-two hours?
“Sophie, come on. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I guess I should have.”
“Yeah, you should have, asshole. Like as soon as you found out.” Her chest burned with the effort of breathing and of keeping the tears from falling. Although, in truth, she was more angry than sad right now. Why would her mother have kept that secret? Worse, why would she have shared it with Lon?
“Your mother–”
“I don’t care what she told you, if she swore you to secrecy or made some kind of stupid agreement or paid you a million dollars to keep quiet.”
“Let’s talk about this when you’re calmed down. Back at the office.”
“Go to hell.” She pulled open Francine’s front door and slammed it shut behind her as hard as she could. Her breath hitched. She slid to a seat and bumped her tailbone in the process. Pain shot up her spine, and tears covered her face. She dropped her head in her hands and sobbed. Her mother had told Lon? A whole lifetime of living with together, and she’d never told Sophie? And now her producer, the one man she’d trusted for years, had stabbed her in the back. Completely.
How do you measure grief?
Apparently, Sophie was beginning to realize, it came in all different shapes and sizes.
Chapter 29
Sophie handed the cab driver her credit card and asked him to wait while she went inside. Five days ago, she would have balked at the idea, figuring he’d take off and charge ten grand in the blink of an eye. Now she saw things a little differently. She recalled what Marcia had said about the Tompkins family cab service serving Lindsey Point for the last forty years. In all that time, how often had they ripped off visitors? Sophie was willing to bet exactly zero. She shook her head as she climbed out. Funny how a few days could change your life, in little ways all the way up to big, fat terrifying ways.
“No problem, miss. Be right here.” He turned up the Christian rock station on his radio and parked at the curb of the Lindsey Point Med Center, a small brick building stuck on a long stretch of empty highway.
“Hello?” No one sat behind the desk in the waiting room. No one sat in any of the chairs, either. She drummed her fingers on the desk and looked for a bell, a buzzer, something to summon a person who would know what was going on.
Finally a petite, dark-skinned woman walked through a door to her right. “Yes? May I help you?”
“I was wondering if Lucas Oakes is still here? He came in by ambulance a little while ago.”
The woman slipped into the rolling chair and shook her head. “I can’t give out any patient information. HIPPA laws.”
“Oh.” She squinted at the woman’s name badge. “Marie?”
The woman’s eyes flicked up.
“I know you can’t. But I’m in town with a cable station. We’ve been filming a special on the lighthouse.”
“I know who you are.”
Sophie couldn’t read the tone behind the words. It didn’t seem entirely friendly, but it didn’t sound entirely cold either. She decided to fib the tiniest bit. “Lucas has been filling in as one of the cameramen. And my producer wanted me to give Lucas a message about tomorrow’s schedule.”
Marie’s stoic expression faltered. “He has? I hadn’t heard. Doesn’t surprise me, though. That boy went to school with my youngest. He was good at everything he ever did. Still is, from what I hear.”
She didn’t know the half of it. Sophie’s fingers curled into her palms at the memory of last night.
“So do you think you could maybe help me out?”
Marie sighed and glanced over her shoulder. “He isn’t here, honey. They released him about fifteen minutes ago.”
“To his parents?” His truck remained at Francine’s, so she knew he hadn’t driven himself anywhere. And she’d already tried to call him, twice, with no answer. Cell turned off? Or ignoring her calls? She wouldn’t blame him.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see who picked him up.”
Sophie backed away, purse clutched in her hands. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sophie climbed back into the cab. “Can you take me to–” She stopped. She had no idea where Lucas lived, not the name of the street or the number or anything. She wasn’t sure he’d welcome her with open arms, anyway. She couldn’t remember his parents’ street, either, not like she’d show up on their doorstep like a lonely schoolgirl. She had no idea where to go.
“Miss?” He pointed at the dashboard. “Meter’s running.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” She slammed her door. “Take me down to Main Street. Please.” She’d find a place to get some breakfast and figure out what to do. Her thumb hovered over her cell phone, wanting to dial Lucas’s number again. But if he didn’t pick up a third time, then what?
“You got it.” He did a U-turn and headed back toward town.
Ten minutes later, Sophie stood outside Del’s Diner. Four days ago she’d walked in there and asked Lucas to be her substitute cameraman. Only four days? It felt as though she’d lived two lifetimes since she’d pulled into town on that stormy night, had her skin turned inside out and her whole history scrubbed clean and rewritten for her. Most of the tables were full, and more than a few customers glanced out as she stood there. Same red-haired waitress as the other day, she noticed. Also the same hostess. She wondered if she peeked in back she’d see the same cook as well.
Sophie blinked. Why hadn’t it occurred to her? This was Lindsey Point, population two thousand or so. Of course all the regulars sat inside the diner, with all the regular employees waiting on them. And she was betting at least one of those regulars could tell her where to find Lucas Oakes. The hell with calling him. She needed to see him. To say things to him, and not over a phone line.
“Hi, honey,” said the waitress when she walked in. A wad of pink chewing gum moved from one side of her mouth to the other as So
phie asked her question. “Oh, sure.” She set down her coffee pot and leaned over the counter. “Helen, Lucas moved over to Hudson Street, right?” she called into the kitchen. Into the duplex the Marshalls fixed up last year?”
The other waitress zipped from the kitchen to behind the bar. She filled two glasses with orange juice and slid them onto her tray. “I think so. Hudson’s only like, a few blocks from here,” she said over her shoulder as she hustled back into the dining room. “You could walk.”
If she didn’t have a bum ankle, that is. She wished she hadn’t sent the cab away. She felt like an idiot calling him back. She memorized the directions the waitress rattled off and turned to go. “No coffee, hon? Corn muffin? Something to take with you?”
Sophie started to refuse but thought better of it. “You know what, thanks. I will take one of those muffins.”
“Here you go, doll.” The waitress slid the over-sized pastry into a paper bag and shook her head when Sophie pulled out her wallet. “It’s on the house.”
“Thank you.” She stood for a moment longer in the foyer, soaking in the hum of low conversation and the smell of coffee and eggs and the smile the waitress gave her as she rushed back into the dining room. With a few notable exceptions, like Shannon O’Brien and whoever was making a habit of stalking the lighthouse, Sophie felt more welcome in Lindsey Point than any other small town she’d landed in. Something inside her chest squeezed.
She slipped on her sunglasses and started walking down Main Street. Since five o’clock that morning, the weather had changed at least three times. Now the sun beat down, all traces of fog and rain gone. Here and there a shrinking puddle was the only reminder the day had dawned so bleakly.
One block. She glanced both ways and crossed the side street. Three to go, then a right onto Blackstone Drive. According to the bubbly Helen, Madge’s Collectibles sat on the corner, with a red rooster doorstop the sign to turn. She slowed. Ankle was holding up, but she didn’t know for how long. She reached into the paper bag and broke the muffin in half. Delicious. Were these Charles’s creations too? She was willing to bet they were.