Lighthouse Reef (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 4)

by Vickie McKeehan

  Logan explained what the women had told Ethan about Derek.

  Troy listened and nodded. “Abby Pointer and Abby Anderson told me the same thing. They wanted me to talk to Derek, see if I could get him to stop coming around so much at the rescue center and the Diner whenever Abby worked her shift. I did try, but I don’t think he understands how creepy he comes across. Is he in trouble?”

  “I don’t know how it’ll end up. Did he ever come visit you while you were in county?”

  “Nah, I didn’t expect him to. He’s not very, you know, warm and fuzzy like that. When he hugged me yesterday, it kind of surprised me. Never has been like that. But he did step up when my mom died and kept me from going into a foster home. I gotta be grateful for that, Logan.”

  Logan slapped him on the back. “I know. Just don’t be surprised if one day a woman presses charges against Derek for sexual assault. His luck won’t hold forever, Troy. Now let’s take a look at those plans.”

  Logan wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he wasn’t prepared for how small or hot the inside of the trailer was. He had to duck his head to keep from bumping it on the low ceiling. It wasn’t just that the cops had ransacked the place, the odor inside was horrific. “Is something rotting in here?”

  “Oh God, look at this place?” Troy ran a hand through his curly hair. He flicked the light switch on and off only to discover he had no electricity. “Damn, they cut off my lights.” He sniffed the air, went over to open the refrigerator and waved a hand in front of his face. “Whew! All my food’s gone bad.”

  “You can’t stay here, Troy.”

  “I don’t have any place else to go, Logan.”

  “It’s hotter than hell in here. Let’s go back outside. We’ll spread the plans out on the tailgate of my truck.”

  When they reached the back of the pickup and began to go over the blueprints, Logan saw what he hadn’t remembered. The room had been there on the original 1936 floor plan. It had been used as a pantry with a door in the floor that led down to an old-fashioned root cellar.

  “So the killer dumped that body in the dirt cellar and walled up that room so no one would find it,” Troy reasoned with his arms folded across his chest. “He had to have some know-how to get that done, right? Or he paid to have it done?”

  Logan nodded. His mind whirled with possibilities, landing on his top two suspects who were both laborers, Derek and Sam Turley. But Derek had been right there beside him the day they’d discovered the structural damage to the house. If Derek had known what was waiting behind the walls, wouldn’t he have tried to do more to prevent anyone from getting inside that room? Instead he’d acted as surprised as Logan. “You’re right. It took a certain skillset to work with drywall and plaster.”

  “I guess whoever did it could’ve watched one of those do-it-yourself shows to find out what to do. Did they have those on TV twenty-five years ago? Once you bought that place did you ever bother to thoroughly inspect the lighthouse, check it out? I mean go over it from top to bottom? Is there a basement in the tower?”

  “Of course, I checked the place out. Sure there’s a basement there that they used for storing all kinds of supplies. But—” Logan suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I wasn’t looking for bodies—behind walls that had been bricked up—why didn’t I look for bodies? Could it be that simple?” Logan scratched his chin. There was something else he needed to bring up though. “Look Troy, I can’t just drop you here and leave you, not without electricity. You have to be straight with me. When you say you have nowhere else to go, what about staying at the main house with your uncle?”

  Troy shook his head. “I’d rather not have to do that.”

  “And you won’t say why?”

  Troy itched at a red welt on his neck as if stalling or weighing whether or not to trust Logan completely. After a few long seconds of strained silence he said, “I was fourteen when my mom died. After the funeral I was scared what would happen next. I don’t know maybe I should’ve taken my chances with one of those foster homes. Because Derek started hitting me shortly after I moved in with him especially when he drank or got real mad about something. So when this place became available, I jumped at getting out of his house. It might be within walking distance but at least I’m not living under his roof anymore. I’m not going back. I’ll rough it out here without the basics before I move back in with Derek.”

  Logan’s mind raced with options. “You don’t have to rough it, Troy. I know a place you can stay. And a place where you can earn some money while you’re there until the cops let us back on the work site. Now go pack up your stuff.” Logan eyed the astonished look on Troy’s face before adding, “And don’t argue. I’m still your boss.”

  While Troy went inside to get his things, Logan placed a call to Nick. Logan briefly explained Troy’s living conditions and then asked, “You mentioned there’s a vacant little house at the farm where the former manager used to live. I’ll pay you to let Troy stay there for a couple of weeks. He’s willing to work. In fact, I think he needs something to do to get his mind off of everything that’s happened. The farm would do that.”

  “The little Foley house? Sure. It’s been vacant since Will and Fran moved to Tulare. And I’m sure Cord can put him to work, even if it’s harvesting the vegetables. There’s always something that needs doing. I won’t take your money. The house is empty. Troy needs a place. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Thanks, Nick. Troy isn’t picky about what the job is. And this way he doesn’t need a car to earn a little spending money. Kinsey got the runaround when she tried to get Troy’s truck out of impound.”

  “The cops are holding onto it. That doesn’t sound like Troy’s completely out of hot water.”

  “That’s why the farm will get him away from this place and a change of scenery, for now anyway. It’s a temporary fix until things smooth out.”

  Once Logan got Troy settled, he was tempted to breach the police tape that now stretched across his land to reach the lighthouse so that he could go through the tower foot by foot. Technically the body hadn’t been discovered in the tower anyway so he was breaking no laws. And the place did belong to him.

  Briefly, he considered heading out to Eternal Gardens to put flowers on the graves of his grandparents but then remembered the florist shop was closed up tight for the Fourth. That pretty much made his decision for him.

  Logan circled back toward the lighthouse. When he got close, he parked his pickup on a narrow dirt road near the tree line. He walked through the copse of trees along the side until he reached the sandy dunes covered in knee-high beach grass.

  “Don’t you think this might be a bad idea?” The now familiar voice of Scott asked.

  Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m too impatient to wait for the police to tidy up here. I want to inspect that tower, look around in the basement.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather be spending time with Kinsey on her day off?”

  Logan sighed. “Is that your way of hinting I’m on the wrong track?”

  “If you’re determined there isn’t a lot I can do to discourage you. But if I were you I’d be with Kinsey right about now.”

  “I see why Wade considers you a pain in the ass.”

  “Wade said that? Old coot,” Scott mumbled. “Thinks he’s an expert in paranormal. I ought to go pay him a visit.”

  “You do that,” Logan said as he took out his key to unlock the door to the lighthouse. “You coming inside?”

  But Logan didn’t wait for Scott’s answer. Instead the door closed in Scott’s face. He shook his head, muttering, “You are one stubborn ass, you know that? Look in the woods, Logan. You’re ice cold here and wasting your time. Follow your instincts, Logan. Go back home to Kinsey.”

  Kinsey had celebrated better Fourth of Julys. She still didn’t feel any better. In fact, she was feeling zapped, even a little sorry for herself. Maybe Logan was right about the three jobs starting to take their toll. Not only tha
t but the least he could do was spend time with her today. Tomorrow they’d go right back to their busy schedules.

  When the door finally opened around five o’clock, Logan stepped back in carrying a plastic container in one hand and a bunch of long-stemmed wildflowers in the other.

  “Jordan says her chicken soup will fix you right up.”

  But Kinsey zeroed in on the brightly colored buds. “You picked me Indian Paintbrush? They’re beautiful,” she exclaimed with a sigh.

  “The florist was closed. I had to improvise. Troy isn’t the only one who can pick flowers.”

  “Did you get him settled?”

  “That trailer is a disaster—no electricity, no food, no running water—I couldn’t leave him there, Kinsey.”

  “Of course not. Where is he?”

  Logan told her how he’d dropped Troy at the farm and the plan.

  “So he’ll get to earn a little money. He needs to get his mind off all of this for a few days anyway. Maybe you could take him fishing. Isn’t that what guys do to bond?”

  “No. We watch Raider games on satellite and drink beer and eat pizza.”

  “Why would you watch the Raiders when you could root for a real team like the 49ers?”

  Logan frowned. “Because the 49ers are for elitists, the champagne and caviar crowd, while the Raiders have the infamous Black Hole. Don’t tell me you’re a 49er fan.”

  “Okay I won’t tell you. But I thought you lived in San Francisco. How could anyone cheer for a team with so many losing seasons like the Raiders? I mean they’re basically the Cubs of the NFL who wear all that silver and black like they’re mean and tough, but can’t back it up.”

  “Just because I lived there doesn’t mean I went over to the other side. And the Raider Nation is all about good times and bad times, staying together through thick and thin.”

  “Wow, that’s all you’ve got? I don’t know, that’s pretty weak. Who knew you were a Raider fan. I just assumed—”

  “You know what they say about assuming. You must be feeling better?”

  She smiled at the way the man could warm her heart. “Better now. All I needed was for you to get back to torment me.”

  It wasn’t until later that night while brushing her teeth before bed—she stared at her pale image in the bathroom mirror—that it hit her. Kinsey did a quick calculation in her head. She counted on her fingers. If she thought it would’ve changed the outcome, she might’ve dug out her calculator. But there wasn’t much doubt the numbers didn’t add up.

  Oh God. That couldn’t be why she felt so sick, could it?

  In a daze, she flicked off the bathroom light and headed to bed. As she crawled under the covers Logan was already stretched out. Her head hadn’t hit the pillow when he brought her into him. They snuggled, her hand resting on his heart. When he turned his head to place a kiss on her hair, a sigh escaped from her lips. How tenuous was their relationship? she wondered. Could it withstand more stress? They were just getting started.

  “Okay, what’s wrong?” He asked, sensing a mood.

  She decided to table the glum outlook until she was sure. “Nothing, I’m just sorry we didn’t get to see Treasure Island today. I was looking forward to spending some time on the water.”

  “It’ll still be there. Besides I don’t think you were in any condition to deal with choppy surf.”

  “Hmm, you’re probably right.” With that, she slid onto him, lowered her mouth to his. “And all this time I’ve been sleeping with a Raider fan, who knew?” She shook her hair back as anticipation warmed and thrilled her. Or was it the way his fingers caressed and touched her body? Or maybe the way his tongue slicked along the curve of her breasts?

  “And all this time I’ve been seduced by a woman who doesn’t fully value my silver and black.” Arousal bloomed. Trailing kisses, he used his fingers to cleverly tweak and tantalize. When she took him inside her, they instantly found their easy pulse and flow. The rapture speared up and up. Together they soared over craggy cliffs and stormy sea until finally they plunged over the crest as one.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next day just as Logan had predicted, Kinsey dragged herself out of bed to go to work. It didn’t take long for Aaron to notice her pale, tired look as soon as she sat down at her desk.

  Aaron tilted his head to study his employee. “What’s with you? Too much partying yesterday, young lady?”

  “Oh please. I picked up some kind of stomach flu at the party and it’s still hanging on today. That’s all,” Kinsey insisted. No one could accuse her of not being able to propagate a lie.

  “If you’re contagious you should go home. I don’t want to catch whatever it is you’ve got.”

  “There’s no chance of that,” Kinsey muttered as she started working on Myrtle Pettibone’s will and the list of the woman’s dispensations to relatives.

  Aaron took Kinsey through Myrtle’s estate, line by line. “Myrtle’s appointing her middle son, Edgar as executor which will likely piss off the eldest one, Cyrus. Can’t say I blame Cyrus much. So when you deliver the will for Myrtle’s signature try to persuade her to reconsider going with Cyrus.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “You have a way with people, Kinsey. I noticed it right off when you walked in that door. Sometimes being a good lawyer in a small town like this means guiding the client through a minefield. They may think they know what they want but it’s up to a good attorney to make the right choices.”

  “And the right choice for executor of their mother’s estate is Cyrus Pettibone?”

  Aaron nodded his bald head. “You charm her into naming Cyrus instead of Edgar and you’ll avoid a huge can of worms down the road. You mark my word and see.”

  “Okay, got it. You think of everything, Aaron. Plus, you know this town like no one else does and the people in it.”

  “If only that were true,” Aaron decided. “I’m not sure you ever really know people, Kinsey. You remember that, too.”

  An hour later, Marabelle Crawford and her sister, Ina stopped by to see Aaron. Kinsey didn’t think either woman was there for legal help. But the visit kept Kinsey from stewing over her predicament. While Aaron’s housekeeper, Alice, served tea and cookies, Kinsey picked up on a definite vibe. After the women left, Kinsey turned to Aaron and said, “How come you didn’t marry Ina? She obviously has a thing for you.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes. “We were sweet on each other back in high school, took her to the dance three years running.”

  Kinsey noted his eyes glistened at the memory.

  “Thought she was my girl. But after I headed off to college, Ina ran off with a Fuller Brush salesman. Must have been 1962. I went on to law school and she had three kids by the guy. Man never did marry her either. They lived together common-law for years before he died in 1990.”

  “You’re kidding? Why not?”

  “Said he didn’t believe in marriage. But he sure did believe in having kids.”

  “It’s not too late, Aaron.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m afraid it is. I don’t have the energy or the inclination for anything more than being friends with anyone these days.”

  When noon finally got there, Kinsey took her lunch break to drive forty miles into San Sebastian to pick up three different home pregnancy tests at the first drugstore she located. From there she drove down each of the streets until she spotted a Burger Barn. Taking the box inside the ladies’ room, she ripped it open and prepared to face the music. Five anxious minutes went by as she stood waiting in the smelly stall only to see the indicator turn pink.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Stunned, she wiped off her face, splashed cold water on her cheeks, and somehow managed to make her way back to the Nissan. For God’s sake, what now? she wondered as she rested her head on the steering wheel. She had to think, to clear her head.

  Glancing at her watch, she knew she’d be running late. But all of a sudden it really didn’t matter much. With some resignation, she tur
ned the key in the ignition and headed back to Pelican Pointe.

  At the office, her afternoon didn’t get any better. Carl Knudsen came in without an appointment in a snit wanting to know his best recourse for dealing with a teenage shoplifter he suspected of pilfering an eight-pack of batteries. Knudsen felt the best method was to point a gun at the boy’s head to put the fear of God into him.

  After forty-five minutes of trying to explain to the pharmacist why that wasn’t a good idea, Kinsey had to play hostess to Dottie Whitcomb who had stopped by to chat with Aaron. Kinsey could tell the man was visibly tiring. She hoped Dottie noticed it, too. Any other time, Kinsey would have been grateful for Dottie’s visit but circumstance had her mind floating elsewhere.

  Later she tried to put the finishing touches on Ricky and Donna Oden’s will—after giving up she smuggled the second box into the hall bathroom—and waited. Once again, she watched as a great big fat plus sign formed in the little round window. Two for two made her stomach queasy. She promptly threw up.

  For the third test, she waited until she got home. Good thing, too. This time the stick clearly spelled it out for her as if mocking her attempts to change the result. The word PREGNANT showed up in the oval window clear as day. Fighting nausea again, she took down a box of crackers from the cabinet and began to munch, hoping the feeling would pass. After a few minutes, she put on the kettle for some chamomile tea. After downing the tea, she crawled into bed and for the first time all day, indulged in a good pity party. She cried her eyes out.

  Over the next few days, she managed to dodge Logan’s questions about her health using an age-old summertime excuse. The heat of July was getting to everyone. It was a fairly ridiculous notion to think that she could continue to keep her secret. But how did you tell a man he was going to become a father when he had vowed to never make a long-term commitment to anyone ever again? Did that include a child? she wondered. It seemed history had played another cruel joke on one of the Wyatt women. First, Ellie Wyatt had fallen for a guy who couldn’t or wouldn’t pledge his undying love no matter the reason—and now it seemed—so had Ellie’s daughter.