“You mean the building where the side is painted with all the faces of the women, the mural? Sure. Thanks, that’d be great, I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
“What’s that about anyway, the mural?”
“I’m not sure a newcomer is ready to hear about the town’s sordid past but since you’re here… Last month we caught a serial killer.”
“No kidding. In Pelican Pointe? Wait. If you’re trying to scare me off, you’ll have to do better than that. I’m not the type who responds to campfire stories about axe murderers and then goes running back to where I came from screaming like a girl.”
Brent raised one brow. No, she didn’t seem the type who frightened easily. “What’s scarier than a serial killer who preyed on young women for two decades before he got caught? Those women you see depicted on the side of the building are his victims. The artist, Logan Donnelly, isn’t finished with it yet though. His sister was one of Knudsen’s earliest victims.”
“Okay, so you aren’t just saying that to put me off the area. Do you mean the Logan Donnelly? The sculptor is here in Pelican Pointe painting a mural on the side of an old building?”
“The case was all over the Internet. And Logan makes his home here now. He’s married to Kinsey Wyatt, our resident attorney. He has workers remodeling the lighthouse, refurbishing the keeper’s house.” Brent nodded toward the bluff. “Have you seen it at night? Logan even replaced the old drum lens and installed a state-of-the-art aero beacon that beams out a white light every ten seconds. After so many years, we have ourselves a lighthouse that actually works now.”
“I’ll be damned. I did notice it, hard not to. I thought it was so cool in this day and time. Saw the busy workmen too as I drove by. I thought it might be a state project though, grant-funded, like the dig. Besides, I’ve been a little busy over the summer burrowing around through marshland and up to my ass in mosquitoes to keep up with serial killers and what’s happening three thousand miles away.”
She didn’t intend to mention that most times back in Alabama getting on the Internet was a luxury she used for one specific purpose only. Instead she merely said, “Where we were we didn’t always have cell service let alone access to the Internet.”
“That must get annoying when you’re trying to keep in touch with family. Most people these days can’t go five hours without tapping into social media or texting.”
“That’s true but most locations where we dig are way out in the boonies, miles away from everything else. Pelican Pointe is unique that way. The dig’s right here in town and Nick Harris sees to it that the B & B has high-speed Internet. I love it.”
“Nick and Jordan aim to please. Look, there will obviously have to be security here at night. Have you thought of that? Otherwise you’ll get looters willing to sell whatever they take away on the open market. Some bold ones even resort to using eBay.”
“Sad but true. I wouldn’t be offended if you put the word out that I’ll press charges on anyone who dares remove relics or anything they find here—been on too many digs not to think about security—Marcus promised me he had it covered though.”
Brent scratched the scruffy growth on his chin. “Huh. Wonder who the old man intends to rope into doing that?” But he had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer to that.
Chapter Four
River headed her Wagoneer along the driveway leading up to Promise Cove, all the while yearning for a hot shower. She’d been on the go since six that morning. Tired muscles were beginning to ache and need attention. Not only that, the moist ocean air tended to act like glue when you were out in it all day. The sand sticking to her skin was beginning to make her itch all over. She couldn’t wait to scrub off several layers of grit and grime before sitting down to some of Jordan Harris’s food.
She cruised past majestic cypress and tall feathery willows that stood like sentries guarding the stately old house from the road. The Victorian itself was impressive. A gabled roof with deep angles formed the massive eaves and triangles that rose up to meet the cloudless sky. The long pinewood porch caught her eye—she realized now the setting reminded her of Santa Fe. Not so much in style and design nor grand in size but the B & B was obviously a lively hub for family and social gatherings, just as her own had once been.
She longed to have what Malinda and Orlando Amandez had provided their daughter growing up—a warm, loving home environment. Maybe that was why the entire place gave off the same basic vibe as what she remembered from her childhood—that of hearth and home, of security, a place that symbolized the heart of a thriving family.
Regret speared through her. She should have provided that same type of atmosphere for her own. She wondered now why she hadn’t. She’d tried but failed at it. While guilt wanted to pour through her, she stubbornly blocked it from taking hold. If she let it crawl in after a long, brutal day like today, she’d be done.
But blame would get her nowhere.
As she pulled the SUV to a stop next to a Ford Explorer, the archaeologist in her focused on how long the Victorian had stood on this very spot. She already knew that William Howard Taft had sat in the Oval Office when the builder had first poured the foundation. That fact alone was a tribute to its enduring beauty, its solid construction, holding up over generations.
Strong roots were meant to carry on. Origins were meant to be unearthed. Like the Chumash settlement in town, there was history here. And this place seemed to matter to the people living inside. It mattered to the town.
Outside the car, River drew in deep breaths of ocean air. The sound of children’s laughter hit her coming from the end of the long, concrete drive. She spotted two toddlers playing with their daddy.
River’s heart clutched and wanted to plummet. Before she could take a step, she had to steady her wobbly knees.
For more than two years now, she’d known despair. Being around kids was the toughest part. Little ones, like the Harris children, tended to make her yearn for what she no longer had. She was tempted to dart up the front steps to the porch to avoid the scene altogether. She could slip inside and be in her room without anyone seeing her. But she’d always met her troubles head on. Now was no different.
She forced back tears that wanted to trickle down her cheeks. She made certain to plaster a smile on her face. It wasn’t that difficult to maintain a grin any time she got around the Harris kids because the two were adorable.
Why did fifteen-month-old baby Scott have to remind her so much, so often, of what she’d missed out on though?
As she approached Nick Harris, the owner of the inn, sitting across from his daughter at a play table painted bright pink, she forced out a laugh. The chairs were tiny compared to the grown man. She caught sight of the dainty tea cup Nick held in his huge hands and the multicolored dog of undetermined origin stretched out underneath his feet. The dog wore some type of pink frilly frock around his middle. Quake as he was called, seemed humiliated at the outfit but despite that waited for whatever attention he could get.
“Looks like I’m just in time for tea and cakes.”
The little tow-headed Hutton shook her head as she reached out to take River’s hand. “River! Hi! No cakes but um…we had cookies a long time ago. Mama says it’s too close to supper to eat more now though. Um, did you dig up anything yet? Did you bring me anything?”
“Hutton!” Nick said. “You don’t ask our guests that. We talked about this before, remember?”
River laughed. “It’s okay. I didn’t dig anything up yet. But I did find a pretty abalone shell and put it in my bag for you.”
Hutton clapped her hands. “Yay! I love shells. I find them washed up down at the cove and keep them in my room.”
About that time Scott toddled up to River. Despite her mood, she bent down to swing the little boy onto her hip. “And what exciting things did you two guys do today that I missed out on. I hope you didn’t go pick flowers without me.”
“Um, um, we helped Daddy cat
ch a bunny,” Hutton finally said, brushing her hair off her face.
“Bunny,” Scott repeated, slapping his hands together like he’d seen his sister do.
“Well, let’s see this bunny.”
“Daddy said, um, he said we had to let him go back to his family ’cause he prolly missed all his brovers and sisters.”
River shot a smile over at Nick who finally got to his feet with an amused look on his face. “Noting how much lettuce the entire bunny family devoured, they certainly had a lot of brothers and sisters.”
River snickered. “Did they now? Good idea to let the bunny go back home though. Smart daddy.”
Hutton bobbed her head at that. “We gots to catch the bunny ’cause he eats Mama’s veggies all the time. That’s why Daddy builded another fence.”
“Rabbits, lettuce, the two go together,” River pointed out.
“Yep. Can you show us how to dig and find stuff in the dirt?” Hutton persisted.
About that time, Jordan crossed the courtyard, a flower-lover’s dream. Hardy golden chrysanthemums vied for space among delicate purple asters and blue daisies. But it was the white turtleheads snapping in the ocean breeze that had River realizing this was such a contrast to her native New Mexico.
“Hutton, you let our guest get settled before bombarding her with chatter. Let River take a breath and get inside first, she’s worked hard all day,” Jordan said.
“It’s okay. Hutton’s no bother at all.”
“Are you sure? She can be a chatterbox sometimes, although a delightful one,” Jordan said smiling down at her daughter before running her hand over Hutton’s hair.
“She was telling me about the rabbit and how she let it go,” River explained as they started making their way up to the back door.
“Yes, well, Nick had some persuading to do there I’m afraid. She wanted to keep it.”
From behind them, Nick chimed in, “Let’s be honest, Hutton wanted to put a dress on it just like the one she has on Quake now. There were a few tears after we had to let the furry thing hop away into the woods. Let’s hope it stays there and not in Jordan’s herb garden.”
“I bet,” River said beginning to realize her black mood had lifted just a bit as it had other times over the past week whenever she spent any time around the Harris tribe.
“Dinner will be in about an hour. That should give you time to shower and unwind.”
Still carrying Scott, who nibbled on his finger, River walked through the back door and into a large, spotless kitchen. But a few toys were scattered here and there on the floor telling anyone who happened inside that children lived and played here.
It made her want for a life she might never have.
By the time River reached the living room, Scott wanted down so he could toddle off to follow his sister.
“Your home is amazing. I’m not sure how you two do it. But this might be the most unique, most comfortable place I’ve ever stayed for any length of time.”
“Really? We certainly put a lot of work into it.”
“I’m sure you did. The house reflects its owners, no doubt about that. But I wasn’t really talking about the house itself, although it’s a gorgeous, peaceful setting. I’ve never stayed anywhere that seems so…alive with energy. It’s so different I’ve started documenting certain aspects of it for when I’m no longer here.”
“Really?” Jordan said, sending River a quizzical look. “What kind of energy?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a feeling I get each time I walk through the door. I’ve been here almost a week now and I think it’s a house of old souls.” When she noticed Jordan’s continued stare, she added, “I know something about old souls. I’ve been on enough excavations where people settled in, raised families, put down roots. I recognize this place has a past, another life so to speak.” She watched Jordan’s face for a reaction, lifted a brow in understanding. “You’ve no doubt heard this before?”
“Have you seen any indication of that energy?” Nick wanted to know.
River sent him a sly grin. “Why don’t you just ask me if I’ve seen him? I might be new in town but I have ears, eyes, and enough sense about such things to know the locals go on about seeing Scott Phillips around town. His name’s on the sign out front. Throw in the fact that I come from a long line of people who believe in spiritwalkers—which contrary to popular belief are different than shamans—and you have the perfect venue for a terrific—” River stopped in mid-sentence, looked around for the kids to make sure they weren’t listening. As soon as she noticed they weren’t even in the room, she added, “Ghost story. You know as well as I do that Scott is becoming a local legend.”
“Did he upset you in some way? He’s good at that,” Jordan added. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
River laughed. “Not since the second night here. He did give me a good jolt the first time though.” She wasn’t ready to mention that Scott had known things about her he had no way of knowing.
Nick rubbed at the tension forming at the base of his neck. “I wish I could tell you that he’ll leave you alone if you tell him to go away.”
“But he won’t,” River finished for him, rocking back on her heels. “Especially if he feels strongly about something. Look, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this conversation between the three of us for now.”
“No worries there,” Jordan returned. “We’re used to this.”
River grinned again. “I bet you are. Look, I need to wash off some of this dirt before dinner. You don’t have a full house this weekend do you?”
“We have rooms,” Nick stated. “But why? I thought your friends were bringing an RV?”
“They are but after such a long cross-country trip, they want a night out of that tin can before the grind starts. They should roll in sometime this weekend,” River explained, spreading her arms wide. “They’ll love this place, not to mention a real bed and the fantastic spread you guys fix. I probably won’t be able to pry them out of here without using a crowbar.”
“We’ll take care of them,” Jordan assured her. “Any particular type of food they don’t like?”
“Trust me. This crew will eat anything,” River said before dashing up the stairs.
After she’d gone, Nick turned to his wife. “I know you told her we were used to this sort of thing with Scott but sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever be entirely comfortable with it, especially how he targets certain guests. He obviously has River in his sights now and won’t let up.”
“I said that for her benefit. I’m right there with you. So you noticed he’d already zeroed in on River? You know what I don’t get.”
“What’s that?”
“Think about it. We get people coming and going here all the time. River’s just one guest out of dozens over the summer. Why her? Why not the attractive blonde from Montana last month?”
Nick’s eyes twinkled and his lips curved up. “You mean Piper Drake? Piper was hot.”
Jordan playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “She was but that’s beside the point. See, you remember Piper though. She stayed two weeks to complete her travel guide about Central California and while she was here Scott never once bothered with her. And then there was that attractive brunette from Seattle in July, Bonnie Butler.”
“Bonnie came here to photograph the area for some online magazine article, stayed ten days. Scott left her alone, too.”
“Exactly. Both women were here in town to do a job just like River. There’s about as much chance of her sticking around this place after her work here is finished as there was for Piper or Bonnie—so why River Amandez and not Bonnie Butler or Piper Drake?”
“That’s a good question.” Nick scratched his head. “I don’t know the answer. I stopped trying to figure out how this thing with Scott works a long time ago.”
“I don’t have the answers either but Scott has to know something about River that we don’t, some trouble she’s in like Hayden. Or the fact that she needs help in s
ome way like Cord and Logan did.”
“No argument there. But what?”
“I guess it’ll come to light like it always does—in due time. Go see what the kids are up to, will you? I need to go check on dinner.” But before she left she studied Nick’s face and tossed out, “Are you okay?”
“I worry sometimes that one day Scott will cross the line with one of the guests. Give them a heart attack or something. I’m hoping he knows better.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Jordan muttered as she headed off in the direction of the kitchen.
River found herself strolling through dense woodland laden with a carpet of fall foliage in colors of rust and orange. Fragrant starry clematis swayed in the breeze and peppered the landscape. She stepped around trees with big fat trunks wrapped in lush green vines. Ripe berries were there for the picking. But just as she leaned down to touch the fruit, she heard a baby cry. Her heart thudded faster at the sound, precious to a mother’s ear so long denied. She recognized his cry. Because her son needed her, she quickened her pace.
The wind changed from the north. It hit her face sending chills straight through to her bones. The cold made her feel old in years. And if she was shivering, her child had to be doing the same. And probably hungry, her baby had to be starving. Her brown-eyed boy needed her. She had to get to her baby, her Luke.
Her feet moved through damp leaves that stuck to her legs. As she moved under the branches of the trees, they cracked and bent in the shadows at her back. But then she saw the fog take shape in front of her as it hugged the earth and began to surround her.
All the while the baby kept crying. Her stomach churned and knotted as she trekked on while the thick vapor turned to heavy clouds hovering overhead. Rain began to fall, fat drops splattered until it became a steady downpour.
With one purpose she kept her pace brisk, all the while the baby kept wailing even louder.
Starlight Dunes Page 4