The Cottages on Silver Beach

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Peggy picked up a cell phone from the table next to the water glass and gave a voice command to call her daughter. A moment later, she held the phone to her ear.

  “Hey, Peg. You’re never gonna believe what I got sitting in my living room right now. An honest-to-God FBI agent. That’s right.”

  She gave that whiskey laugh again. “Fox Mulder. Right here in my living room.”

  She paused. “Ha ha. Very funny. No, I’m not under arrest. He’s looking for you.”

  Elliot gave an inward wince. The last thing he needed was for Peggy Junior to go on the defensive from the outset. He’d never get anything out of her.

  Her mother quickly put her mind at ease. “I’m just kidding. Apparently he’s investigating a missing-person case and thinks you might know something about it. I guess you called in a tip or something back when you were driving long-haul.”

  She was silent for a moment, listening to whatever her daughter was saying, then shook her head. “You know what I know, honey. Here. I’ll put you on speaker and you can talk to him.”

  Peggy monkeyed with the phone for a minute. “There. I think that did it. Can you hear me?”

  “Hello?” He heard a woman’s voice that sounded remarkably similar to her mother’s, even down to the smoker’s rasp.

  He hated being put on the spot like this and hated speakerphones, too. “Hello, ma’am. My name is Elliot Bailey. I should tell you up front that, while it’s true I am an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation field office in Denver, this is a private matter, not official FBI business.”

  “You moonlighting as some kind of private dick?” she asked.

  He didn’t quite know what he was doing, nor why he had been so driven to track down leads in Elizabeth’s case.

  “Something like that. I’m looking into the disappearance seven years ago of a woman from Haven Point, Idaho. Elizabeth Sinclair Hamilton. Your name came up in the police files among the many tips, and I’m wondering if I could speak with you about it.”

  “Elliot Bailey. That’s a coincidence. Any relation to the Elliot Bailey who writes books?”

  He could feel his face heat again. He never quite knew how to respond when people recognized him from his books.

  Not for the first time, he wondered why he hadn’t used a pen name when he sold his first manuscript. His editor and his agent had pushed him to use his own name, against his own reservations. If he had gone with his gut, he could have completely avoided these awkward moments when people made the connection.

  “Yes. Quite a close relationship, actually. I am also that Elliot Bailey who writes true-crime books.”

  “You’re shitting me!”

  “No. I’m really not.”

  “I love your books!” she exclaimed. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m talking to Elliot Bailey. I’m reading one of your books right now. The Dark Lands. I’ve been sleeping with my lights on since I started it. And you want to talk to me about a case! This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me!”

  He didn’t want to disappoint the woman, but all he wanted was more information. He glanced at Peggy Senior, listening avidly to their conversation. He didn’t want to have this conversation on speakerphone, but he didn’t want to miss this chance to speak with a possible eyewitness.

  “Do you remember calling a tip line to the town of Haven Point about a hitchhiker you picked up sometime about seven years ago?”

  “Sure. I remember. How could I forget? I went into the same truck stop I always used on that route and first thing I saw was this woman’s face staring at me from a missing poster. She looked familiar right away, and when I looked closer, I knew why. She looked a lot like this woman who had asked me for a ride at a truck stop outside Boise a few weeks earlier.”

  She paused, and when she spoke again, she sounded reluctant. “I picked her up, even though it was against company policy. I felt sorry for her. She looked like she had been messed up good and I sure as hell knew scared when it was staring at me across the cab of my truck.”

  Elliot was aware of a weird tingling in his spine, the same feeling he always had when he was onto something.

  Across the room, Peggy Senior sat forward in her chair.

  He wanted to talk to the woman’s daughter in person. On the speaker of a cell phone wasn’t ideal for catching nuances in tone and expression—beyond that, he didn’t necessarily need her mother listening in to every word.

  He thought quickly. “Listen, I’ll be passing through Rock Springs later today on my way back to Idaho. Any chance you might have time to meet me for a quick interview late this afternoon or possibly early evening? It probably wouldn’t take more than half an hour, just long enough to go over what you remember in more detail and possibly show you a picture of the missing woman to try jogging your memory. I can come to your house or meet you somewhere, if that would make you more comfortable.”

  “Seriously? Will you autograph some of your books while you’re here?”

  He scratched his cheek, feeling awkward and weird again. “Uh, sure. I could do that.”

  “Well then, I’m happy to talk to you. My shift is done at four. I can meet you anytime after that. Does that work?”

  He did some quick mental calculations for distance and speed and figured the time frame would mesh perfectly.

  “Yes. It works. Where should I meet you?”

  “You can come to my house,” she said after a moment, then gave him an address in Rock Springs. “And just in case you had any ideas, I should tell you that while your books might scare me, you don’t. My husband will be here—and by the way, he’s six-six and can bend concrete with his bare hands.”

  If he had nefarious ideas in mind, her husband’s size wouldn’t matter a damn. Elliot would take him out in the first few seconds, maybe as soon as he answered the door. First neutralize the threat. Then he would have all the time he needed for anything else.

  Good thing he didn’t have nefarious ideas in mind.

  The series of thoughts crossed his mind in about three seconds, long enough for him to think again that maybe he needed to get out of the FBI. The minds of normal people didn’t go in those kinds of crazy directions, thinking about neutralizing threats and looking for defensive vulnerabilities.

  “I can’t guarantee exactly what time we’ll hit town but it should be early evening. I can get your phone contact info and reach out as soon as we get closer and have a more firm idea of our ETA.”

  “We?”

  “I’m traveling with a friend and her dog.” He wanted to think Megan was still a friend but he wasn’t quite sure.

  For some reason, Peg seemed to find his words amusing. She chuckled as she gave him her address and related her phone number so he didn’t have to obtain it from her mother’s phone.

  “Thank you,” he said after jotting it all down.

  “No problem. I’ll try to see what I can remember this afternoon about her,” Peg said. “I can’t wait to tell all my friends Elliot Bailey is coming over to my house!”

  * * *

  THE MOMENT HE returned the rental car to the desk at the lodge, his phone buzzed with a text from Megan.

  Ready when you are.

  He tamped down his instantaneous and highly inappropriate reaction to that. What was she ready for? Probably not the same thing that had popped into his overactive imagination.

  He texted back. Give me ten minutes. I’ll knock on your door.

  OK, she answered back.

  He hurried through the lodge and back to his room, where he packed his toiletries into his small duffel. Eight minutes later, he picked up his duffel and laptop case and headed next door. She opened at once, her few cases piled up neatly just inside the door.

  He knew instantly something was up. She had a weird, tightly wound energy, her eyes murky with emotions he couldn
’t read.

  “How did your day go?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer for a long moment. When she did, her voice sounded strained. “Long story. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

  Her answer didn’t satisfy his curiosity in the slightest. Something was wrong and he couldn’t stand not knowing what.

  “Is there some problem with the exhibit? We don’t have to rush away if Mary Ella still needs you. I don’t mind staying another night.”

  “No. Everything is fine at the gallery. We managed to hang almost everything and the rest will be easy enough for Mary Ella and her team.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It’s going to be beyond my wildest dreams, Elliot. She has done a magnificent job. The only thing left for me is to make sure we have the correct captions on the prints and show up on opening night.”

  It must be something else, then. What had caused her wild, jittery edges?

  He wanted to push her to tell him, until he remembered they had an eight-hour road trip ahead of them, with plenty of time to talk.

  Whether he wanted it or not.

  “Can I carry something for you?”

  She held Cyrus’s leash in one hand and gestured to her tote at her feet with the other. “This is it. I took Cy’s crate down earlier.”

  He already had two bags and it would be tough to manage a third. “Trade me. You take my laptop bag and I’ll get both duffels.”

  She looked as if she wanted to argue, but finally shrugged. “Thank you.”

  They had nearly reached her now-empty SUV in the parking lot when she seemed to remember his errand that morning.

  “Oh. I can’t believe I didn’t ask this yet. How did your interview go?”

  He wanted to tell her everything, about Peggy Senior and Peg the truck driver and the unexpected stop he now wanted to make in Rock Springs, Wyoming.

  He didn’t know where to start. He could only remember Peg’s words.

  She looked like she had been messed up good and I sure as hell knew scared when it was staring at me across the cab of my truck.

  The woman Peg had picked up had been afraid, bloodied. Ever since hearing that, one question had been chasing itself around and around his head.

  Was Luke Hamilton the architect of both those things?

  “The interview went fine. We can talk about that on our way.”

  But first, he would have to figure out how much he wanted to tell her—and how to keep from spilling more of his own secrets in the process.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SELL THE INN.

  As Elliot loaded their duffels and Cyrus’s crate into the now-empty cargo area of her SUV, Megan couldn’t seem to think about anything but Harry Lange’s incredibly shocking offer to purchase the Inn at Haven Point.

  The amount he had offered staggered her. She never dreamed the property could be worth that much. She supposed she should have guessed from the amount of taxes they paid each year, but she had never seriously considered selling it before.

  How could she do it? Split the profits with Luke and the kids and walk away?

  She had tried to call her brother earlier, with no success. Her call went straight to voice mail, and after a moment’s reflection, she had decided not to leave a message. How could she adequately convey over the phone the shocking offer from Harry Lange?

  She managed to put it away long enough to deal with the essentials of embarking on a road trip. He pumped gas while she went into the convenience store to pick up a few snacks for the road.

  “Are you ready to go, then?” he asked, when they were both back in the vehicle.

  “Yes. I think so. I’ll drive first.”

  She had so much pent-up energy, she was afraid she would go a little crazy if she were sitting in the passenger seat doing nothing. At least behind the wheel, she could focus on something outside herself.

  Traffic was light as she drove through Hope’s Crossing and headed northwest toward Idaho and home.

  “How did things go at the gallery today?” Elliot asked after they were on the highway. “Are you feeling good about the preparations for the exhibit?”

  So much for not thinking about the tumultuous morning. She sipped at her water bottle, trying to decide whether to discuss it with Elliot. Why not? He was a relatively impartial party who might have some insight into what she should do.

  “I met Mary Ella’s husband today. Harry Lange.”

  “Ah. The guy who owns the ski resort and paid for our dinner. The one his stepdaughter said is hard to say no to.”

  “That’s the one.” She didn’t know how to go on. It still seemed too incredible to believe.

  “What’s the problem? Was he an arrogant jackass? Some of these billionaires can be.”

  How many billionaires had he met? She had to wonder. “He was actually very helpful. He worked with us to hang many of the prints for the showing and seems knowledgeable about art and design.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes.” She drove another mile before she told him the rest. “He wants to buy the inn.”

  He stared. “Your inn?”

  “Of course my inn. What other inn would I be talking about?”

  He gave a rueful laugh. “Good point, I guess. Do you think he was serious?”

  “He seemed to be. I couldn’t say for certain, since I only met him this morning. Anyway, it’s a little hard to judge a man’s sincerity when he has just given you news that knocks you to the ground.”

  “Did he talk specifics or was this one of those maybe-someday kind of things?”

  “He listed a number. I’m still reeling from it.”

  He digested that as the road stripes passed under her tires.

  “Are you going to do it?” he finally asked. “It would give you a chance to pursue photography seriously. You could travel, as you’ve dreamed.”

  “I don’t know. There’s so much to consider. It’s a bit of a landmark in Haven Point. New ownership could come in and change everything.”

  “Which wouldn’t be your concern anymore if you sold it.”

  That was true enough, except Haven Point was still her home, a place filled with her friends and neighbors.

  “I can’t think about this right now—and I could never make a decision anyway until Luke has the chance to weigh in.”

  “Luke? Does he have a share in the inn?”

  “Twenty-five percent.”

  “I thought the inn is from your mother’s side of the family. His stepmother.”

  “My mother’s family ran it, and my grandfather’s father before him. It’s been in the family for generations. I am the last surviving one of my mother’s side.”

  “But Luke still has a share of the inn, though he was from your father’s first marriage?”

  “He was six when our father married my mom. My grandfather was already gone but my grandmother loved Luke instantly and always treated him as if he were her own grandson. She tried to leave him a larger share of the inn but he refused. He didn’t want any of it, but I insisted.”

  They had engaged in epic fights about it after her grandmother died. Finally she had simply had the paperwork drawn up, giving him a quarter share and his children shares that almost equaled another quarter. She was still the majority owner, as her grandmother wanted, but she couldn’t really make a decision without them.

  It was the very least she could do for Luke, who had protected her and watched out for her from the moment she was born.

  “So where did you leave things with Lange?” Elliot asked now.

  “I told him I needed time to think. I told him he could come up with the formal offer and I would take it under consideration after speaking with my partners.”

  “Partners?”

  “Luke, Bridger and C
assie.”

  She didn’t want to talk about this now. Her mind felt as if it were spinning in a hundred different directions. The exhibit, the offer from Harry and Elliot’s shocking words the night before, that he had feelings for her—and they weren’t new.

  She couldn’t deal with any of it right now. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

  “How about your day?” she asked, mostly to distract herself. “How did your interview go?”

  “Interesting and frustrating.” He didn’t answer for a long moment, though she felt his steady gaze on her as she drove. “How do you feel about a stop in Rock Springs on our way home?” he finally asked.

  She pictured the little hardscrabble Western town, with its working man’s vibe. “I know a place that serves up a good steak.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “That might be the place for dinner, but I need to make another stop first.”

  By the time he finished telling her about Peggy Burnett Senior and his phone call with her daughter, Megan was able to tuck away her stress over Harry Lange’s offer.

  She didn’t know what she would do about that, but for now she could focus on this, a possible break in the case of her missing sister-in-law and the mystery that had haunted her family for far too long.

  * * *

  MEGAN WAS ASLEEP as they drove into Rock Springs.

  They had switched drivers two hours earlier when they stopped for gas. The moment they were on the road again, she had turned away from him, tucked her hands under her chin and, judging by her even, steady breathing, drifted off almost instantly.

  She hadn’t stirred since. Poor thing. Had her night been as sleepless as his?

  Now, as he rolled into Rock Springs, she sat up and looked around. “We’re here already?”

  He couldn’t help his smile, charmed by the sleepy note in her voice. “You were out.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You needed it.”

  He pulled into a gas station in order to punch Peg McGeary’s street address into the navigation system, but figured he might as well fill up the tank while he was there. “Do you want to let Cyrus out for a moment? We made good time and we’re still a little ahead of the time I told her we would be here.”