Lavender Beach

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Comes with the excellent Pelican Pointe gossip trough, otherwise known as Myrtle Pettibone.”

  “That name keeps popping up. I’ve seen her around town. She’s the one who brings her own shopping basket to the market. She has to be pushing eighty?”

  “That’s Myrtle.”

  “Then Myrtle needs to get a life.”

  “Since she’s a staple here, I doubt there’s much chance of her changing the way she obtains intel,” Isabella explained, her voice dripping with mischief and merriment.

  “How on earth did Myrtle know Cooper and I spent Saturday night and Sunday together?”

  Isabella lifted a brow. “I saw Myrtle Pettibone at Murphy’s Market buying cat food. But she didn’t say a word about you two spending Saturday night together.”

  “We had dinner. Nothing happened.” Except for the electrifying sexual heat between them, enough to melt the ice within the Arctic Circle.

  “Well, that’s a darn shame,” Isabella lamented. “I was hoping for some tidbit to throw into the gossip pot.”

  Eastlyn sent her a sidelong glance. “Oh brother. Since it’s pointless to stand here and try to battle the rumor mill, I’m going back to work.”

  An hour later, Eastlyn was still replaying that underlying current she’d felt as she drove the tractor over the section of land she’d dubbed the “back forty.” Located at the corner of the property where the edge of the cliff met up with the copse of trees at a ninety-degree angle, the back forty had so far been the roughest to plow. So when she felt an exceptionally large bump, it wasn’t that unusual.

  Once she looked down at the ground and to the side, a flash of something white caught her eye. The white stood out in the black dirt, enough that she thought she’d hit one of the newly installed sprinklers. Engaging the clutch, she shifted into Park and stomped on the brake. She shut off the engine and set the parking brake before hopping to the ground. She walked around the machinery, ducked her head underneath to inspect the area around the wheels. There beneath the rubber a white blob stood out in the black dirt. This was no sprinkler head she’d unearthed. The mass looked like bones.

  “Probably animal,” she muttered. But that was before she saw the unmistakable shape of a human skull a few feet away.

  She dug in her pocket for her cell to call Brent Cody. As she stared down at the ground, she replayed the grisly scene for the town cop.

  Less than eight minutes ticked by before she spotted Brent’s Chevy Tahoe screeching to a stop at the entrance to the lighthouse where she waited with the owners.

  Isabella and Thane were as shaken as she was. They were all visibly distraught. But it was Logan who pulled up behind Brent and seemed even more upset and angrier than the rest. Eastlyn wasn’t sure why.

  When Brent walked up, he nodded in their direction. “You guys stay put until I make sure the bones are human.”

  “They’re human,” Eastlyn stated. “Thane and Isabella tried to calm me down because I know those bones belong to a person. I’ve been in combat. I’ve seen all kinds of bodies in various stages of injury and death. They’re human bones.”

  Brent bobbed his head again and took off in toward the tractor. “Most likely they are, since we had us a serial killer working the area here for probably twenty years or more.” He went on to explain how the pharmacist, Carl Knudsen, had killed a string of young girls.

  Eastlyn’s mouth fell open. She decided that might explain Logan’s presence. “Holy crap. That means I’m definitely taking this town out of the running for Mayberry runner-up.”

  “Mayberry it’s not,” Logan murmured as he got back in his truck in a huff.

  Thane spoke up. “Don’t be so hard on us. That Knudsen fellow was always a creepy guy. I remember him as a kid. No one around here will admit to missing him. Not that Ross and Jill Campbell took over Knudsen’s business, the town’s never looked back.”

  Eastlyn decided to follow Brent as he began stepping off the distance to where the bones had been spread out over a ten-foot plot of ground. She listened as he went into detail about the eerie past. “Part of Knudsen’s burial ground was those woods over there. Logan Donnelly’s sister was one of his early victims.”

  “That explains his attitude. That’s why you don’t seem at all surprised I uncovered this set of bones.”

  “That’s because I’ve been expecting something like this ever since Isabella announced her plans to farm this land.”

  “So I guess the fact that I discovered this disturbing piece of history on my own is my fault. You might’ve mentioned it in passing. Someone could have warned me, you know, anyone at all, that I might unearth bones.”

  “You’re right. Sorry. We should’ve told you as soon as you turned the first bit of dirt,” Brent admitted as he walked around the tractor.

  She watched as the police chief slapped on latex gloves and studied the path of bones.

  Eastlyn tried patience as long as she could. It didn’t work for long. “I hate to point this out, but as you can see, there’s not a shred of clothing near the bones, which might mean the unfortunate victim was buried without them.”

  Brent squatted on his haunches, stared at the remains. “You’re perceptive. I have a list of girls who disappeared, three probable victims whose bodies were never found. They went missing, last sighting was less than twenty miles from here near the freeway.”

  “That’s…probably not a coincidence.”

  “I’ll call the county medical examiner and the crime scene techs, give them a heads up. It won’t be their first trip out here. If I were you I’d plan to take the next couple days off.”

  “They should plan to fan out from this spot and see if there are any others.”

  Brent gave her a knowing look. “That’s the plan. If we’re lucky we can give another family a measure of closure.”

  When she looked up, she saw Cooper running up to the lighthouse at a jog. She chewed her lip. “Pretty soon the entire town will come up here for a look-see.”

  Brent sighed. “Then I guess we’d better start heading them back down the hill.”

  Eight

  Inside Layne’s Trains, Cooper was eating a tuna fish sandwich he’d brought from home when Eastlyn walked through the door carrying her own brown paper bag.

  She jiggled it in the air and said, “Hey, want some company? I’ve got an hour before I have to clock in at your uncle’s.”

  “Sure. What’s on the menu?” Coop asked, eyeing the sack. “If it’s better than what I have, how about we trade?”

  “Pimento cheese I made from scratch and potato chips. What’s your offering?”

  Cooper eyed his paper plate. “Tuna fish salad with walnuts and apples.”

  “Hmm, sounds better than mine. Half and half?”

  “Deal. Have a seat. Want something to drink?”

  “Whatcha got?”

  “The fresh coffee I made ten minutes ago, a bottle of Orangina or cream soda.”

  Eastlyn pulled up a stool to sit at the counter. “Cream soda. I’ve had enough coffee to keep me floating down a river, especially after the surreal portion of the morning at the lighthouse.”

  “That was like a scene from a horror movie. I’d heard about the Knudsen thing but…seeing it from thirty yards away was a different matter entirely. It stirred memories inside me I don’t like to think about.” Cooper went to a small fridge in the rear of the store and brought back two sodas. “I never expected to see that in such a picturesque setting.”

  “Me either. Especially since I made out the set of eye sockets and teeth. I’d even say by getting a good look at the rest of the remains, Brent Cody’s dealing with a female buried there for quite some time.”

  “You okay?”

  “I will be. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen human remains.”

  “Are you really happy working at all these jobs? I mean, come on, be honest, you have to miss flying.”

  “Sure I miss it. But there isn’t much I can do until I
’m able to get recertified. It may take me another six months, especially with the missing limb / disability / handicap thing the FAA has a tendency to focus on. I’ll need to be medically evaluated again, from head to toe, literally, orthopedically and neurologically and—”

  “Are there any modifications you need because of your…leg?”

  “You mean because of my polymer-coated foot?” she quipped. “I’m not without a sense of humor about it. There’s this guy in Britain, a former Royal Air Force pilot, who came up with a device called the HeliLeg to use to fly rotorcraft.”

  “You made that up?”

  “No, I didn’t. His name’s McQuillan and his HeliLeg device is designed to let pilots with disabilities fly helicopters and operate the leg controls using a portable device, approved by the FAA. There’s a flight school that teaches how to use it in Colorado. I’ve already checked it out and contacted them.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Hey, I want back in the air. And when you consider that the FAA finally cleared Tammy Duckworth to fly after years of her trying, there’s hope for all disabled vets who want to get back in the cockpit again. And Tammy’s a double amputee. Of course, they only cleared her to fly fixed wing and not rotorcraft, but that’s beside the point. If a pilot can operate her aircraft safely and perform the duties of flight, then why shouldn’t a disabled person be able to get back in the air? The fact is I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get airborne again. I’ve already been through the FAA’s rigorous medical process once before to prove I’m fly-worthy after I came back stateside and again when I got back to Bakersfield. Believe me, by now I know the drill backwards and forwards. I understand exactly what I’m up against to get it back. I was an idiot for losing my license in the first place.”

  “How’d that happen anyway?”

  “I failed a drug test.”

  “Oh.”

  She tipped her head back, met his eyes with her jaw jutted out in defiance. “Just so you know, I offer no excuses. I had a rough couple years adjusting and was in a bad place when my dad died. I should’ve held it together better. But I didn’t. Simple as that. The good news is my flying record is clean and clear other than that one incident.”

  “So no drug convictions?”

  “Nope, which goes a long way with the FAA.”

  He laid his hand over hers. “So after veering off course that one time, you’re back on the right path now. If you’re interested, I think I can swing you a sweet deal on that Sioux chopper.”

  “Really? How sweet?” She let out a loud sigh. “Who am I kidding? It would take massive hours of restoration. And where would I put it? I don’t have a place to work on it at my current address.”

  “What if you worked on it out at Cleef’s place? In addition to all those other buildings he had a nice little workshop next to his garage. It’d be a perfect place for the renovation.”

  “I could do that? Keep it there on the premises? That’d work.” Again, she shook her head. “Let’s say I get it up and running. What would I do with the chopper if I don’t get my license back? It is a distinct possibility. And if I do get it back, it may only be for fixed wing aircraft.”

  “Ah. Which would rule out the chopper. That is a problem. Or…you could think of it this way. It’d be a good investment. In the event the FAA turns you down, then sell it for a profit. There has to be a collector out there somewhere who would pay dearly to have it.”

  “Let’s not get carried away. We need to find out the price before I start making big plans.” Or get her hopes up, she decided. Without overthinking it, she blurted out, “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner Friday night? I can’t promise steaks on the grill but it’ll be home-cooked.”

  “It’s a date.”

  That afternoon Cooper wandered over to the bank to have a talk with Nick. The man wore many hats around town—the loan officer, innkeeper, town councilman, husband, and father. But at the end of the day, the guy was primarily known for being a fair man when dealing with his neighbors.

  Cooper found himself envying certain portions of Nick’s life. Even though, he’d never seen himself in the role of father, he’d often wondered about it. His own had been a good man. Layne Richmond had been cheated out of all that life offered. Cooper didn’t realize until now how much bitterness and resentment he’d built up toward Eleanor for taking away the only father he’d ever have.

  As he stood outside Nick’s office waiting to get a free minute, a feeling of déjà vu hit him. He remembered another day when Eleanor had dragged him into the bank to confront one of the tellers because her checks had been bouncing all over town. Eleanor had yelled at the teller for fifteen minutes before Milton Carr, the then bank president, had emerged from his office to put a stop to the commotion. But Mr. Carr’s presence had given Eleanor another person at whom to direct her venom. As the embarrassing scene played out, Cooper remembered as a kid how he’d wished to have a sane person for a mother. Just that one thing seemed so simple, yet would’ve been such a gift at the time.

  If only TV mom, Carol Brady, had heard his pleas. If only Carol had decided to abandon her Brady Bunch family to come rescue him in Pelican Pointe and take him away to the coveted fantasy world of television where all disputes ended in a hug. If only…

  Cooper was still daydreaming when Nick’s admin showed him into the office.

  He moved through the doorway and said, “If the price is right I think I have a buyer for that old helicopter out at Cleef’s place.”

  Nick eyed Cooper with open interest. “Are you suggesting Eastlyn wants to try and fix that thing up and actually fly it? Uh, did she mention she doesn’t have her pilot’s license?”

  “It came up in conversation. But hey, that woman has the skills to do just about anything she sets her mind to do.”

  “No argument from me.”

  “I’m blown away that Eastlyn’s able to go through everything she’s seen and still keeps at it. I doubt most people could deal with losing part of a leg the way she has. In my book, she’s a true hero.”

  Nick sent him a curious look and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure you mean that as a compliment, but…the Eastlyn I know I doubt would view that statement as a positive.”

  “Why not? It was meant as a compliment.”

  “Because she’s like most veterans who’ve seen war. While the mention of their military service is both laudable and noteworthy, it’s also something they don’t like to dwell on very often, especially if they’re suffering from self-doubt, or self-consciousness due to some type of loss. In Eastlyn’s case, a limb.”

  Cooper dropped his chin. “I’ve noticed that. She has this amazing personality, the ability to laugh even at herself. She has so much history to offer, but then just when you think it’s all coming together, she puts up this wall and shuts you down. What do you suggest I do about it? You know, if I want to get to know her better.”

  Nick chewed the inside of his jaw. “I’ll be blunt. It has very little to do with you. Eastlyn has to come to terms with it herself. Until she does, she’ll be prickly whenever you push her toward any kind of intimacy. For me, it was inside my head. Not to mention I have these ugly scars across my chest. Not a very attractive look if you want to take the right woman to bed.”

  “It sounds like you know what she’s going through.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t even suggest that I know what goes on in the mind of a woman. But as far as the veteran side of her, I understand exactly how her self-consciousness affects the way she deals with social settings. She’ll likely try your patience until you want to wring her neck. And she’ll continue to do it until she feels she’s able to trust you. Right now, she’s convinced herself she’s not that attractive. You’ll have to find a way to get her to believe that her disability is insubstantial to how you feel. Either that, or you’ll get fed up with her touchiness and walk away.”

  “I’m not sure I could do that. Walk away, that is.”

  �
�I hope you mean that. I do. I hope you have the fortitude to stick it out. Because Eastlyn is one of the few people I think would be worth fighting for.”

  Later Coop stood at the counter in his kitchen whipping together scrambled eggs and frying hash browns for supper—his mind on Nick’s words—when Caleb came sauntering in.

  Caleb had the same looks as his older brother. They were almost the same height and build, same coloring. Although Caleb wore his hair shorter and his eyes were flaked with more green than blue, anyone could tell they were related.

  “You always did love eating breakfast for dinner. Why is that?” Caleb noted.

  “Maybe because our mother never bothered feeding her kids a regular supper and I got stuck with meal prep for two little hungry mouths that usually had to eat what I put in front of them,” Cooper returned easily.

  “Yeah, there was that. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing the hot new arrival in town? Why do I have to hear everything secondhand from Drea? I mean, you’re my older brother. You’re supposed to share the important stuff like that with a bro’. When you get a woman in your life, you share the deets.”

  Cooper shot him a grin. “Sorry about that, I must be out of practice about the rules between bros.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll cut you some slack this time. Just don’t let it happen again. Have you asked her out yet? And no, I’m not talking about taking her out to some junkyard to clomp around a bunch of rusted metal.”

  “Why? She enjoyed clomping around all that rusted metal, especially what she found in the barn.” Cooper told him about the Sioux helicopter with the bubble canopy and how Eastlyn’s eyes had bugged out at the find.

  “What kind of woman wants to fix up an old bird like that?”

  “The kind that knows how to fly it.”

  “Cool. But I thought she was having…you know, problems on that score. I thought her flying days were ancient history, what with her foot gone and all. Which makes me wonder, have you seen it? Her stump?”