Lighthouse Reef (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 4)

by Vickie McKeehan

  Three days later, both crews went back to work on the keeper’s cottage and the lighthouse. The site wasn’t exactly back to normal yet, but it was slowly getting there. The men mentioned the remains at least ten times a day in passing while pulling down beams or carting out debris.

  Repairing the earthquake damage would take time and meant they would work in close proximity every day to the little pantry where a life had mostly likely been taken. Derek Stovall didn’t seem affected by the location any more than he did the banter about it. Logan wasn’t sure what to do about the man. The guy seemed cool as a cucumber sandwich. The same could be said for Sam Turley. But Troy seemed a little distracted. On the other hand, he’d picked up his hammer and tool belt without a hitch in his friendly demeanor and seemed to be making the best of things as if he hadn’t just spent weeks locked up at county expense.

  Given their history, it amazed Logan that Troy could work side by side with his uncle without rancor or spite. It showed him, once again, the kid’s resilience along with a tough shell.

  At the sound of a car Logan spotted Ethan’s approach. At first, he didn’t think too much about it until he saw the man’s set jaw. This wasn’t a friendly social call.

  “You’ve made some progress here, Logan.”

  “I know. The place is really taking shape. Once we get back on track, it’ll be even better.”

  “I thought I’d stop in, give you an update. Wally and Lilly are poring through boxes of his dad’s old records. Wally feels sure he’ll eventually find invoices documenting work on the cars we’re interested in.”

  He couldn’t say how he knew, he just did. “But that isn’t why you’re here.”

  “No, it’s not. Because this town has ten missing women, Brent contacted most of their families for dental records to send to the lab. Even Rebecca Linseed’s mother came through. This morning the lab got a match. What you found in that root cellar were the remains of Carly Radigan, seventeen years old.”

  “The first girl, the hitchhiker who went missing?” Logan stomped off, turned back. “Brent’s notified Ian Radigan?”

  “The brother? Yeah, he has. I thought you’d want to know.”

  Logan would have to give Ian a call later when he could form a thought. “I appreciate it. At least Ian knows where his sister ended up. Would be nice to give him the how and the why and come up with the son of a bitch who did this to his sister. Please tell me you got something on Stovall? He’s starting to bug me.”

  “In what way?”

  “In every way,” Logan hissed. “I’m starting to mistrust him. And he’s given me no reason to do that other than beating the shit out of Troy when he was younger.” Logan narrowed his eyes when he saw the expression form on Ethan’s face. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “School nurse reported bruises on the boy when he was about fourteen. I arrested Derek for it, even got him to plead guilty. He spent six months in jail. That’s what got his DNA entered into CODIS and his prints in IAFIS. But the lab couldn’t match him to Gina’s Mazda, her body, or those prints on the root cellar door.”

  “Not Derek then. It doesn’t take that long to check fingerprints. You already got a match, didn’t you?”

  Ethan looked away. When he glanced back over at Logan, he told him, “Brent got three hits this morning. But don’t ask me anymore than that because I can’t tell you. They’re working on an arrest warrant even as we speak.”

  “Three hits but only one warrant? That’s odd.”

  Ethan shook his head, stuck his hands in his pockets. “That’s all I can tell you until LE is ready with the warrant.” To change the topic, Ethan asked, “How’s Kinsey doing? I saw her yesterday and she looked flat worn out. Those three jobs are catching up with her.”

  Logan frowned. Hadn’t he been nagging her about that same exact thing? “She’s had the stomach flu since the Fourth, been throwing up off and on for almost a week now.”

  Ethan squinted into the sun. He tried to overlook the little nugget that he should keep his mouth shut. But he decided to help out another male. Ethan slapped him on the back. “Last time Hayden stayed sick for that long, she was pregnant. But I’m sure what Kinsey has is the flu.”

  Logan started to laugh, but instead swallowed down the mirth. It caught in his throat about the same time he went over the last week in his head. He finally found his voice. “How did you know it wasn’t a bug?”

  Ethan grinned. “Hayden took one of those home pregnancy tests. They’re pretty reliable. What we had was knocked up in spades and I guess that test was right. Eight months later Nate showed up.”

  It was after six when Logan reached the studio. It was warm inside the four walls, even with the windows open and the stingy ocean breeze blowing in. He found Kinsey curled up on the comforter sound asleep.

  He laid his hand on her forehead, checked for a fever. Her skin felt cool to the touch. When he sat down on the bed, she rolled over. Her eyes full of sleep and exhaustion, he stroked a finger down her cheek. “Kinsey?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m just tired that’s all.” Her stomach jittered and fluttered, and felt like it wanted to toss what she’d had for lunch. She sat up, head spinning and said, “What time is it?”

  “A little after six.”

  “I didn’t make anything for dinner.”

  “That’s okay. Can you keep food down, maybe some soup?”

  Soup sounded like the last thing she wanted to eat or smell. She shook her head.

  “Okay, that’s it. I think you need to see a doctor. If you don’t want to see the guy here, fine. Tomorrow I’ll take you into Santa Cruz. There’s a group of doctors who office in the same building as Dr. Jax. We’ll go there.”

  Her stomach lurched. “Logan, I’d have to make an appointment probably weeks in advance for that. I can’t just show up and expect a doctor to work me into his busy schedule. Besides…” She took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

  Logan blinked. A part of him had already known that was true the minute Ethan had mentioned it. Logan had to remember to inhale air. His green eyes flashed accusingly. “How long have you known?”

  “Four days.”

  “And in all that time you never said a word to me!”

  “I was trying to figure out how to tell you without you exploding at me just like you’re doing now. I knew you would.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, which he’d taken out of its rubber band and let hang loose. “You’ve already taken that home pregnancy thing?”

  “Yes. Three times.”

  “Three? I guess there’s no room for error then?”

  “There’s always a chance, I suppose, it could be wrong, but I did the math. I wouldn’t bet money on it going the other way.”

  He was going to be a father. How in the hell could he ever be a father? And did he want it to go the other way? Logan reached out, took her chin, tilted her face up to meet his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me, Kinsey? Am I that unreasonable?”

  She placed a shaky hand on her stomach. “Of course. Eventually. Sometimes.”

  He noticed her hand shaking and felt like the biggest jerk. He picked it up, kissed the palm. “There’s no need for that.”

  Kinsey frowned. “You don’t seem furious.”

  God, did she think that little of him? “I’m stunned. I’m in shock. But I’m not angry. Why would I be? You didn’t get pregnant by yourself.” He touched his lips to hers briefly, then narrowed his eyes. “You thought I’d be furious?”

  She nodded. “I know how you feel about relationships. You’ve made that clear enough times. And we’ve known each other for what amounts to the speed of light. I don’t expect long-term here, Logan.”

  She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t playing any trump cards or making demands. She wasn’t having a drama-queen moment. No, Kinsey Wyatt was too grounded for that. She remained perfectly calm while he could admi
t to being more than a little rattled. But then she’d had five days to get used to the idea while he’d known for ten minutes or less. He finally realized what she’d said. “Why? Why don’t you expect long-term, Kinsey. Are you telling me you don’t want it?”

  “I want the baby, Logan. I’m not getting rid of it.”

  Relief circled through his heart. He brought her into him to spread kisses along her jaw until he got to her mouth. Fire and heat ramped up. His hand moved to her flat belly. “This is exactly how you got knocked up,” he mused as he thought of Scott’s identical words that day they’d confronted each other at the cemetery. He ran his hands through her hair. “We’ll figure this out together, Kinsey. Do me a favor though.”

  “What?

  “I want you to consider giving up one of your extra jobs. I don’t care which one it is, your choice.”

  “I’ll think about it. How’s that? There’s something I should probably mention though. Logan, Aaron’s in the final stages of leukemia. He’s deteriorating little by little. I don’t think he has much longer.”

  “Leukemia? Not his heart?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure exactly how this town feels about having a new lawyer here. So I need to keep my other jobs just in case, my options open.”

  “You’re a good lawyer, Kinsey. If the people in this town don’t accept that, then screw ’em. You’ll open up your own practice.”

  “Logan…that isn’t practical. I have my mother’s hospital bills—”

  “Shhh. Don’t worry about that. We’ll deal with that together, too.”

  “No, we won’t.” Steel formed along her spine and she dug in. “My mother’s bills are my responsibility and mine alone. I have no intention of letting you take that on.”

  Logan sighed. “And I won’t stand around watching you work yourself into exhaustion. Not while you’re carrying my baby.”

  She rested her head on his chest. “Like you said, I guess we’ll work it out.”

  “Good. Because I’m pretty sure we’re going to need a lot more than five-hundred-square feet of space.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A couple of hours later, Logan’s cell phone chimed just before they crawled back into bed. “It’s Nick,” he informed Kinsey as he held it up to this ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Sorry, it’s so late, but you might want to head over to the main house. Wally and Lilly have just gotten here. There’s something Wally wants to share and it can’t wait until tomorrow.”

  “Okay, we’ll be right over.” He turned to Kinsey. “Wally’s found something. Do you feel like hearing what it is?”

  “Are you kidding? I couldn’t fall asleep now if I wanted to. I’ll throw my jeans back on.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jordan let them into the kitchen where Wally and Lilly already sat at the table, mugs of coffee already steaming in front of them.

  “It took Lilly and me two days but we eventually got through more than six boxes of my dad’s old stuff. Because Kinsey told us the names to look for, we found Belinda Truitt’s Nissan Altima, Penny Hargrove’s Honda, and Charlotte Donnelly’s Chrysler. All three cars were brought into the shop with identical problems. Sand had somehow gotten into the oil system. All three had severe engine damage because of it. My dad even made notes on the repair jobs. I brought them with me.” Wally unfolded several old, dated invoices and several pieces of paper where Jimmy Pierce had written out the diagnosis for each car. “It’s almost like someone had taken a funnel and added enough sand to clog up the oil filters, thereby basically, burning up the engines. All three engines had to be completely overhauled. I might point out that in a town this size it’s uncommon to see sand poured into the oil tube with a funnel once let alone have it happen three times.”

  Logan turned to stare at Wally. “I remember my grandmother’s Chrysler. She’d just bought that thing the previous spring. That car had less than twenty thousand miles on it. When did your dad do the repairs?”

  “The repair date on the invoice for Charlotte’s was September twelfth, twenty years ago.”

  Logan shook his head. “My God, by that time, I was back in Chastain, starting my sophomore year of high school, wearing a backpack, sitting in geometry class going about my stupid life. I never even knew my grandmother allowed Megan to take the car out that night.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have permission,” Kinsey pointed out.

  “You’re right. Scott mentioned that Megan often snuck out of the house to meet him.”

  At that declaration, Nick cocked a brow, stared at Jordan. The stunned look on her face told him this was the first she’d heard of Megan and Scott as an item.

  “This happened what, when they were both seventeen?” Jordan wanted to know.

  Logan nodded. There was no way he intended to tell Jordan about Megan getting pregnant. In his mind, there was no need to travel anywhere near that path. “It seems Scott and Megan dated that summer.” And he left it at that.

  Kinsey couldn’t have been more proud of him for that. To get everyone off that tantalizing tidbit, she brought them back to the topic at hand. “So Wally, your father, Jimmy Pierce, had to put a new engine in all three cars? Tell me, did you find anything in your dad’s stuff that might tell us who owned a maroon pickup twenty-five years ago? Could your dad have owned a truck like that?”

  At the question it finally dawned on Wally why she wanted to know, why she’d asked Troy the same question. “You think my father did this to these women? That’s nuts. He had a heart attack several years back. I’d suggest paying him a visit and asking him directly but it might push him to the brink and he’d likely have another one. I won’t risk that.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Logan quickly answered. “I don’t believe your father is our guy. But I won’t lie to you we added him to our suspect list two weeks back.”

  Wally bristled at that until Kinsey explained, “Wally, try to understand. The police reports indicated three of the missing girls had their own cars. They were on the road, just passing through Pelican Pointe when they stopped here to gas up. The only service station here is owned by your dad.”

  “So add to that list, Belinda Truitt, Penny Hargrove and the fact Megan probably drove Charlotte Donnelly’s Chrysler the night she went missing, and that’s six that leads right back to my dad’s service station. Jesus. Was someone trying to set him up for this?”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “Geez, I’m beginning to know how Troy felt. But he didn’t do it. I know my father.”

  “So did you turn anything up about a maroon truck?”

  Wally pulled out another piece of paper. “As a matter of fact, I did. Here are the people in town who brought in that color pickup for repairs.”

  “Five names,” Logan said just as Ethan came through the back door.

  “By any chance is Carl Knudsen’s name on that list?”

  “Yeah. He’s number five.”

  “You’d better move him up to number one. When Carl turned sixteen his father threw him the keys to a brand new maroon Chevy Silverado. Tonight I can confirm the fingerprints forensics found on that cellar door.” Ethan ticked off the numbers on his hand. “One thumb print matched Kent Springer’s. His prints are on file from the time he was arrested right here at Promise Cove for felony arson. Four fingers from Carl Knudsen’s right hand were a match to the ones the state has on file from Carl’s pharmacist license. And the third match was from Carl’s little brother, Mark, who as a sixteen year old, left behind numerous prints all over that door. They all matched the prints from Mark’s pharmacy license.”

  “Thank God for that,” Wally said. “I was starting to worry for my dad.”

  “So three of Pelican Pointe’s most upstanding citizens were involved in killing Carly Radigan?” Logan assessed.

  “They weren’t so upstanding when they committed the murder. Twenty-five years ago Carl would’ve been about eighteen, Mark sixteen, and Kent twenty-one. They were a
ll just punks.”

  “They weren’t punks when they kept up the killing. Now were they? You lost out on putting Kent Springer away two years ago.” Logan spared Ethan a glower. “I kept hearing the name come up so often that I surfed the Internet for anything I could find on the guy. Springer was a nasty man.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Nick stated. “He tried to set fire to this house one morning. The bastard cracked his skull open on his own Cadillac Seville. If I’d known I had a serial killer sitting in my kitchen that morning, I might’ve been tempted to take care of him myself.”

  “If it hadn’t been for Nick catching him in the act, Hutton and I might not be sitting here tonight,” Jordan tossed in as she reached for Nick’s hand.

  “But for a while there, Kent’s name kept coming up every time other women went missing. Until now, no one connected the dots.”

  “Until now Brent never had anything concrete. Now he does,” Ethan snapped.

  “But Kent’s dead,” Lilly reminded them all.

  “We don’t know that for certain,” Ethan corrected.

  “But we know for certain Mark Knudsen is. I went to the man’s funeral five years ago. He had some kind of heart ailment.”

  “You’re sure Derek and Sam aren’t part of this little killing club?” Logan asked.

  “The only thing I’m sure of is that the fingerprints on that root cellar door link three men to the death of Carly Radigan. Carl and Mark Knudsen and Springer.”

  “How did Carly Radigan die exactly? Do they know yet?” Kinsey managed to ask.

  “The coroner says likely strangulation. Her hyoid bone was broken.”

  “Just like Gina’s,” Kinsey said, feeling bile start to inch up her throat.

  “Have they picked up Carl?” Logan wanted to know.

  “He left. His wife Elaine says he threw some things into a bag, headed for his Cadillac Escalade, and took off. Brent put out an APB.”