"What about the wife? Wasn't Jack Wellbourne married at some point?"
"He was married twice, once to the mother of his sons. She died a long time ago. He divorced his second wife, Roberta about six years ago. Drew spoke to Roberta as well, and she doesn't seem to have a problem with anything."
"So everyone is happy."
"That's what they say."
She thought about the castle-like house on the bluff. "I loved the Wellbourne's house on the beach. Remember all the stories we made up? Remember Ariel -- the beautiful woman with the long red hair? I thought she looked like a mermaid or some ghostly bride. We used to see her standing on the balcony wearing that floaty white dress." Alexa could see her so clearly. "Was she a Wellbourne?"
"No, but it's interesting you brought her up," he said slowly, a thoughtful expression entering his eyes.
"Why is it interesting?"
"I haven't thought about her in a very long time, but she died at the end of that summer. Her body washed up on the beach near the pier."
"She drowned?" Alexa echoed in surprise. "That's so sad. She was young. What happened?"
"No one seemed to know. The press descended on the town. It was news, because she was an actress. Rumors were flying for weeks, but it was ruled an accidental death." He sat back in his seat, a contemplative expression on his face.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"I'm not sure."
"She was such a mysterious figure," Alexa continued. "She was always on the widow's walk or the deck, looking out to sea, as if she were searching for something or waiting for someone. I used to imagine she was waiting for her lover to come to her." Goosebumps ran down her arms, and she shivered. "But she died a long time ago. Her death couldn't have anything to do with what's happening now."
"She was connected to that house," Braden said. "And she was fighting with someone that last night we were on the beach."
"You're right." The argument they'd overheard had seemed very much like the constant battles being fought by her parents, and it had made her feel a little sick to her stomach. "I wonder who she was fighting with."
"I have no idea. I didn't see anyone. Did you?"
"No. I just remember her yelling something about secrets, and there wasn't just anger in her voice, but pain. She seemed like she had been betrayed."
"I think you're starting to embellish," Braden said with a small smile.
"Maybe. Did you tell anyone about that fight after she died?"
"No. I didn't think about it. I was back in school, and I wasn't paying attention to the news. I'm sure my mom didn't let me go near the beach when the investigation was going on."
"We need to find out more about Ariel."
"I don't think that will be difficult, but as you said, it's doubtful her death is connected to the robbery at your aunt's store."
"But you're as curious as I am," she said, seeing a new light in his eyes.
"I'm a little interested," he conceded. "But I've also been bored out of my mind the last few weeks so that's not saying much."
"The transition from soldier to citizen hasn't been easy for you, I take it."
"Not in any way."
"Do you have any idea what you're going to do next?"
"Well, the next thing I'm going to do is pay the check."
She made a face at him. "You know that's not what I meant."
"It's as far ahead as I'm looking right now." He pulled out his wallet as the waiter set down their bill. "This is on me."
"We can split it," she offered.
"It's fine. I've got it." He set two twenties down and closed the folder. "You're not going back to the shop tonight, are you?"
She'd thought about it, but she would feel too vulnerable being there alone at night. "I'll leave it for tomorrow. I'm exhausted," she said as she got to her feet.
"That's a good idea. I don't think you should be alone there at night anyway."
"You think the thief might come back?" A chill ran down her spine at the thought. Had someone been watching her all day? Waiting for her to leave?
"It's possible. Why don't you go back to the Inn and get some rest? Drew will have patrols going past the shop all night. There's nothing more for you to do at the moment."
"That's a good idea. I think it would feel a little too creepy at night."
They walked out to the front of the restaurant, pausing on the sidewalk.
"I'll see you to your hotel," he said.
"It's practically next door," she said. "I can make it."
"All right."
"Braden," she said as he started to leave. "I really wish you'd said something when you came to see me in Virginia."
"There was no point," he said.
"You don't know that. Maybe if we'd reconnected then…" She couldn't finish the thought because she didn't know what would have happened.
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. We're different people. I'm not the same kid you once knew."
"I think he's still in there somewhere."
His expression only turned grim. "No, he's long gone, Alexa. Don't go looking for him. You'll only be disappointed."
Chapter Four
Alexa was still thinking about Braden's words when she returned to the Cheshire Inn. There had been anger and pain in his voice when he'd talked about how he'd changed, as if he'd disappointed himself. That was surprising. Evie had made it sound like Braden had come out of the service as a hero, but he certainly wasn't acting that way. She wished she knew what he'd gone through, but he obviously wasn't interested in telling her. He wanted her to leave it alone, and that would certainly be the smart thing to do, but she'd never been very good at shutting down her curiosity. And when it came to Braden she was intensely curious.
Braden had been important to her from the first minute she'd met him. He'd filled up all the lonely spaces in her soul. He'd become her whole world, the one person she could really talk to, the only person who would really listen. There had been a depth to their friendship that had gone far beyond a sweet, little love between two budding teenagers. Their home lives had been fraught with uncertainty. Alone, they'd felt vulnerable; together they'd been invincible.
But their time had passed. They couldn't go back to what they were. They couldn't recreate what they'd had as kids. Once loved died, it was dead. There was no resurrecting it. And who even wanted to try to bring love back? When it ended, it usually turned to hate. She'd seen that happen with her parents. Two people who had vowed to love each other until death turned into people who actually wanted to kill each other. She couldn't live with that kind of extreme emotion. It was too much. So she did everything she could to avoid any relationship that would take her into that tense, unsettling space. It hadn't been that difficult to find guys who just wanted to have a good time. In fact, she was probably the ideal date for most men.
But a relationship with Braden would be different. They'd already been too close. They could never pull off emotional distance now. Maybe if he had said something to her when he'd come to see her in high school. Perhaps then it wouldn't have been too late. Still, she couldn't quite imagine how that scenario would have played out. She'd been on the other side of the country. They would have had to do long distance, and they'd already proved they weren't good at that – at least she wasn't.
It was futile to think of what might have been. They were different people now. Braden was right about that. They'd both changed. Who knew if they would even like each other if they spent a few days together? Maybe they would drive each other crazy. It could be a good test.
No, she shook off that tempting thought. It would be too risky to get involved with him. She'd already loved him and lost him. She didn't want to go through that hurt again. It would be far better for her to get out of town as soon as possible and go back to her real life.
With a sigh, she told herself to stop thinking about Braden and focus on the task at hand. She'd come to Sand Harbor to help her aunt, and while s
he couldn't do anything to help Phoebe recover physically, she could try to find out who had broken into the store. The only link she had was the Wellbournes, and the police had already started looking into that family. But what about Ariel -- the woman who had spent time at the Wellbourne's beach house and had died so tragically? Who was she? Did she have a connection to the family? Or was she just a random renter?
Sitting down on her bed, Alexa opened her laptop computer and started a search for a female drowning in Sand Harbor fifteen years ago. It didn't take long to get an answer or a picture. The first photo appeared to be a professional headshot. The stunning redhead with light green eyes, full, sexy lips and flawless skin was Shayla Cummings, a twenty-five-year-old model turned actress.
According to the accompanying article, two local surfers had discovered Shayla's lifeless body on the beach in the early morning hours. The coroner's report stated she'd been in the water for more than thirty-six hours. The cause of death was drowning. There was no evidence of foul play.
Alexa frowned at the bare details. She needed more information. She flipped through the search results again and found more details about Shayla's life. She'd been born Sharon Cummings but had changed her name to Shayla when she started modeling. She was the child of a broken home. Her father took off when she was a kid, and her mother got her into commercials as a baby, using Shayla to make money to support the family.
As a teenager, Shayla made a name for herself as a swimsuit model for Sports Illustrated. In her late teens, early twenties, she had a string of relationships with sports stars and celebrities, including a few married men. Her relationship with director, Craig Bellamy, had landed her the lead role in a big blockbuster film. Unfortunately, the movie was a blockbuster failure and Shayla's performance was harshly reviewed in the press. Most Hollywood insiders doubted she'd ever work as an actress again.
Shayla's sister, Dana, said that Shayla had gone to Sand Harbor to get away from the paparazzi and to find some peace in her life. It had been a whirlwind two years, and she needed to regroup. She'd chosen Sand Harbor because the town held special memories. Their father used to take them there for summers before he divorced their mother.
A chill ran down Alexa's spine. There were eerie parallels between Shayla's childhood and her own, at least the part about the broken home, and the summers in Sand Harbor.
Alexa skimmed the rest of the article, pausing on the final paragraph, which suggested that some of Shayla's friends thought that her death might not have been an accident but a suicide. One friend even speculated that it could have been murder based on the fact that Shayla was wearing a long, white dress when she was found. Who goes swimming all dressed up?
Alexa caught her breath, thinking about that beautiful dress that she'd so admired. Shayla had always seemed like a romantic and tragic figure on the deck of that big, mysterious house. Had she killed herself? Or had someone killed her?
Alexa felt cold at the thought and told herself to get a grip. Obviously, the police had looked into the incident at the time.
She continued searching but soon discovered that there wasn't much more to be learned about Shayla's death. While there were numerous photos pairing Shayla with handsome, rich men, there was nothing that tied her to any of the Wellbournes. There was also a distinct lack of information in the local papers. Why was that? There wasn't much in the way of hard news in Sand Harbor, so why hadn't someone dug into Shayla's death in greater detail?
Alexa couldn't find an interview with anyone in town, with the exception of the one brief, quoted statement from the police department regarding the coroner's report. The local paper would give three long columns to the annual pumpkin festival but not cover an unexplained death on the shore? That didn't make sense.
Flopping back against the pillows, Alexa stared up at the ceiling. The fact that she'd seen Shayla arguing with someone just a few days before her death seemed important. Was that person tied up in Shayla's death? Had she and Braden witnessed something important but just hadn't known it at the time?
She glanced at her cell phone on the bedside table, wishing she could call Braden, but he hadn't given her his number. She needed to talk to someone, if only to get out of her own head awhile and take a break from her imagination. She thought about contacting one of her friends at home, but San Francisco felt very far away.
After a small hesitation, she picked up the phone and called Evie. She might as well check in with the family.
"You must have ESP," Evie said. "I was just picking up the phone to call you when I saw your name flash on my screen."
"Is there any news on Aunt Phoebe?"
"Yes, good news," Evie said, excitement in her voice. "Aunt Phoebe woke up this evening. She was dazed and disoriented and drifted back to sleep fairly quickly, but the doctor said it's a good sign, and he's optimistic about her making a full recovery."
"Thank God," she said, feeling an enormous wave of relief. "That is the best news."
"I feel like a weight just fell off my shoulders," Evie said. "I sent her friends home, but I suspect they'll be back first thing in the morning. They're very dedicated."
"She's lucky to have so many people who care about her. I'll go see her in the morning."
"She would love that. I told her that you were taking care of the store, and she was very pleased."
"Did she say anything about what happened last night? Do you think she can identify the thief or thieves?"
"I didn't ask her about the assault. The doctor said not to stress her out, to take things slow. I did speak to Drew Lassen at the police department and told him that he should be able to interview her tomorrow."
"Well, that's good. Maybe she'll be able to give us enough information to find whoever put her in the hospital."
"I hope so. The hospital placed a security guard outside her room for tonight."
Alexa's heart jumped with alarm. "Is she in danger?"
"They don't want to take any chances, and I feel better knowing that someone is watching over her."
"Me, too."
"How did things go at the store today?" Evie asked.
"I wish I could say I made a lot of progress, but I still have more boxes to go through. I'll tackle those tomorrow."
"Aunt Phoebe will appreciate whatever you do. I wish I could help, but I have my hands full with the kids tomorrow. We have a field trip, and I'm a chaperone, so I'll be gone all day. I might be able to get in some time on Saturday. And Aunt Phoebe's assistant should be back next week."
"It's not a problem. I like having something productive to do."
"You loved working there as a kid. I always thought it was a little boring, all that old stuff," Evie confessed.
"But there's so much history attached to each piece. It's fun to think about all the people who used the furniture. It's like a window into time."
"You sound like Aunt Phoebe now."
Alexa smiled to herself. It was nice to feel connected to her aunt. She'd really missed this side of the family.
"Aunt Phoebe said you could stay at her house," Evie added. "The spare key is still on the shelf in the garden shed if you feel like making a move."
"I'm very comfortable here. But if you need me to take care of anything at the house, I can do that, too."
"I already went by and fed her cat, so we're good for tonight. I feel badly that I've left you on your own though. Did you get some dinner?"
"I did. I went to La Cantina."
"They have great food. I hope you didn't feel uncomfortable eating on your own."
Alexa hesitated, knowing that whatever she said was going to generate some questions, but it wasn't a secret, and not talking about it would make it more important than it was. "I wasn't on my own," she said. "Braden stopped by the shop, and we talked for a bit, and then we went to dinner."
Evie let out a squeal of surprise. "Are you serious? You already ran into Braden? I thought you weren't going to see him."
"It wasn't my idea.
Drew Lassen asked him to help with the investigation. I guess they're shorthanded with some politician in town and others out with the flu or on vacation. Braden isn't a cop, but apparently he has some experience in military intelligence, although he didn't want to talk about it."
"Did he tell you about his divorce?"
"He didn't want to talk about that either. He was very closed off."
"That's not surprising. I'm actually shocked he went out with you at all. He's been holed up in a dumpy apartment on South Street for weeks. I play Bunco with his sister, Carey, and she said she's really worried about him, that he's not the same, that he's in some dark place now."
"Well, it's been a long time since I saw him, so it's difficult for me to judge whether he's changed since he went to war or if he's different because it has been fifteen years since we hung out together. I would agree, however, that he seems a little dark. I'm sure he needs time to work things through."
"Maybe it's good for him to reconnect with you. Perhaps you'll remind him of who he used to be. Hold on a sec," Evie added.
Alexa could hear her cousin yelling to her kid to brush his teeth. Then Evie came back on the line.
"I have to run. It's story time here. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Sure. Good-night," Alexa said.
She ended the call, set her phone on the bed, then glanced back at the computer. Instead of searching for Shayla again, she typed in Braden's name. She wondered if there was any information about what he'd gone through on the other side of the world. Ten minutes later, she shut off the computer with a frustrated sigh. If she was going to find out what had happened to Braden, he would have to tell her. She doubted that would happen any time soon, and with her aunt on the way to recovery, how long would she even be in town? The police were investigating. She could leave them to it.
But she knew if she walked away now, she'd regret it.
For fifteen years she'd been haunted by Braden and her very first kiss. She'd always felt like their relationship had been ripped away, that they had unfinished business. It was time to finish it. She needed closure, and she wasn't going to get that if she left now.
Just a Wish Away Page 5