Lavender Beach

by Vickie McKeehan

  “I don’t know. I have no excuse other than I’ve felt desperate for definitive answers after going to see her.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  Cooper blew out a breath. “Because she refused to leave me alone. She told me about Flynn McCready. She also said he was the one who shot Dad and Miss Caldwell.”

  “You know she’s lying, right?”

  Cooper sent Landon a sly smile. “I brought that up. But someone left a note on my doorstep. Eleanor couldn’t have done that. I thought if I discovered her liaisons they might shed some light on who did.”

  “What did the note say?”

  “Brief, and to the point, listen to your mother. I figure if she implicates Flynn, he certainly wouldn’t be the one who wants me to listen to her. He might end up in prison if she should ever get anyone to believe her story. So it can’t be Flynn helping her now.”

  Landon bobbed his head. “Well, it can’t be Kent. He’s been dead for quite some time now.”

  “Another dead end.”

  “Maybe not.” Landon let out a loud sigh and turned to stare at his nephew. “I never wanted you to know about this. But I’ve always suspected that you may have a brother.” With that statement, Landon went on to explain how.

  After his talk with Landon, Cooper had spent a busy forty-eight hours. When he did finally get a chance to unwind, it was in Eastlyn’s bed. Durke had left to go back to Bakersfield and they had the little bungalow to themselves.

  As they stretched out on the bed, Cooper went into what he’d discovered. “It seems teenage Kent Springer got Eleanor pregnant when she was fifteen. Typical reaction back then was to ship the unwed mother out of town as fast as possible under cover of darkness so no one knew the mother-to-be had sinned in such a major way. So my grandfather sends her away to a home in Santa Barbara for unwed mothers. She gives birth to a boy, gives the baby up for adoption. That makes the mysterious brother almost seven years older than I am.”

  Eastlyn adjusted her pillow. “At some point this brother had to find out the truth about his parentage and must’ve gotten in touch with Eleanor. We should track him down.”

  “Way ahead of you. Already done.”

  Eastlyn’s eyes bugged. “You’ve already gone to see him. So what’s his story?”

  “His name’s Jonathan Matthews, adopted by an Air Force doctor and his wife, who ended up settling down in the Denver area after his military stint. According to Jonathan’s blog, which he posts to frequently, he’s been trying to find his birth parents since he turned eighteen. He’s known their names for almost two years. But by that time Kent was dead and he had no idea where Eleanor was. But when Eleanor’s trial made headlines, Jonathan saw the news articles, wrote her a letter, started visiting her in jail and began a very emotional association with her. Of course, Eleanor did what she always does. She took charge of the relationship. She’s been manipulating him from jail in the hopes that he would become what amounts to, my stalker. That note was just the beginning of what he had planned.

  “Or what Eleanor had planned.”

  “No, I think Jonathan discovered he liked all the covert activities and planned a few on his own. When he discovered Eleanor didn’t have a good relationship with her children, he decided she didn’t need Drea, Caleb, or me. I think he was jealous because she kept bugging us to come visit her in prison. I don’t think he really wanted that to happen. He didn’t like the fact all Eleanor talked about were the kids who wouldn’t have anything to do with her.”

  “That had to hurt. So why deliver the note?”

  “A halfhearted attempt at best to fulfill Eleanor’s wishes.”

  “Want me to go arrest this guy?”

  This time it was Cooper who grinned. “Last time I checked it isn’t against the law to leave a note. I told him as long as it stops, I wouldn’t pursue legal recourse.”

  “Do you think it’ll work? The threat through legal channels?”

  “Let’s hope so. I did ask him to move. Ever since Christmas, at the behest of Eleanor, Jonathan’s rented a house from Logan and lives two streets over from mine.”

  “Oh my God, that’s creepy.”

  “That’s because Jonathan’s a creepy kind of guy. I asked him to move. I suggested he find someplace near Chowchilla to be closer to Eleanor.”

  Eastlyn started laughing and snuggled into Cooper’s chest. “At least she’ll have one son nearby. What if this Jonathan doesn’t move?”

  “Then I plan to ask Logan to have a serious talk with his renter.”

  Eastlyn had a list of her own problems.

  For two weeks Titus Driscoll had become her hobby. If she wasn’t handling a drill or a sander working on the chopper on weekends or tending to the crops at the lighthouse, she spent her time trailing Driscoll around town.

  She’d learned quite a bit about his activities. Even though he routinely knocked back a few at McCready’s, he could be found most of the time out on the bay in his boat, a rusted seventeen-footer he used to fish.

  Or at least that’s what it looked like at a glance. Looking deeper, she discovered that fishing usually required some type of bait, even a tackle box. But Titus rarely carried one back and forth to the boat. Nor did he ever go inside the bait shop. Which meant if he wasn’t fishing, what was he doing taking the boat out every day, rain or shine?

  One thing she knew for certain, Titus didn’t seem to have a regular job, at least one that encompassed a nine to five schedule.

  A time or two she’d followed him out of town. He’d taken the San Sebastian cutoff, and from there had headed straight down the road to Thorwald’s compound where she’d watched him from a distance.

  Driscoll seemed to have his routine down. He did the same things at the same time almost daily.

  There was no question in her mind that Titus was the key to bringing down Thorwald.

  Thirty-year-old Judd Thorwald sat down to a breakfast of eggs and bacon, toast and jam in the house he shared with his mother. Judd had never married. Instead of marriage, he kept two girlfriends on the side, young ones barely out of high school. Between the two women, Judd could proudly boast that he was a father to four kids, two boys, two girls, all under the age of five.

  The girlfriends knew about each other because Judd had long ago laid down the law. He wouldn’t put up with animosity between females, no scratching each other’s eyes out, no arguing, no disgruntled feuding. They would either learn to get along with one another or hit the road. Whatever the women decided to do, it didn’t matter much to Judd. As long as they knew if they left, they’d be leaving the compound without their kids.

  Judd pretty much ruled his domestic domain the same way he ruled the compound. Nothing went on that he didn’t know about. When Judd had taken over it was right after Harley had been arrested. The man had been like a father to Judd during his teen years. So following in the man’s footsteps seemed like a natural progression when they’d lost their leader.

  Because Judd had grown up best friends with Harley’s youngest, Bruno, it seemed someone needed to step up and fill the void. After Brent Cody had arrested the people he considered his family, Judd vowed to keep the enterprise going no matter what.

  That’s why he wasn’t one bit happy about the turn the operation had taken in recent weeks. For years he’d run a successful meth trafficking enterprise without any intervention from law enforcement, or breaches in his security. Now he’d been told a couple of shmucks out for a stroll with a camera had put everything at risk.

  “The woman actually denied she was working undercover for the Feds?” Judd asked his two henchmen. Judd stared at his stooges waiting for an answer from Mr. Wiry and Mr. Stocky. Both men refused to admit they hadn’t gotten that far in the interrogation at the barn. But they were both determined to let the boss think otherwise.

  “That’s what she said.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe her? Based on what? Her word? Do I look that stupid to you? If she isn’t working fo
r the Feds, what does that leave? Now that Wild Brent Cody is out of office as the sheriff, we have an arrangement with the county, a nice one, one that is mutually beneficial. Because of that little agreement we know the snooping isn’t coming from anyone there. Surely that piss ant Cody wouldn’t have the nerve to send some stupid woman and inept toy store owner out here to spy on me?”

  “Maybe her story is legit,” Mr. Wiry added.

  Judd eyed his henchmen. “Maybe. Just make sure you tighten up security around here by putting more men around that lab. And make sure that ridge stays clear from now on. Patrol night and day with the dogs if you have to.”

  After leaving Thorwald’s place Eastlyn followed Driscoll back to Pelican Pointe where he promptly got back into his boat. This time Eastlyn was ready for his trip out to sea. She boarded the sleek twenty-two foot boat she’d borrowed from Isabella and cranked up the engine. Guiding the craft out of the bay, she took a slow cruise behind Driscoll.

  She took out the camera Cooper had shown her how to use, adjusted its zoom lens and started snapping pictures. Despite the rocky waves and sway of the boat, she did her best to take the clearest shots she could get.

  It took Driscoll just under three hours to finish his transactions before he decided to turn the boat toward the pier.

  Keeping a safe distance back, Eastlyn guided Isabella’s boat back into its slot, watched as Driscoll got out of his own and headed down the boardwalk.

  She grabbed the camera bag and followed him until he disappeared inside the back door at McCready’s. The time was just after two p.m. It was a little early to quench a thirst, but Eastlyn decided boating must’ve left Driscoll yearning for a refreshing beverage.

  She pushed open the back door and slid into the little storage room immediately to the left where she had a view of the main room and the two men. Driscoll handed Flynn a brown envelope, which Flynn opened, and then counted the bills inside.

  When Flynn had finished with his tally, he stuffed the cash under the counter at the bar and picked up a mug. He pulled the tap to fill it up with Guinness and slid it across the bar to Driscoll.

  While Driscoll and Flynn were deep in conversation, as quietly as she could, Eastlyn left the confines of the little nook, slipped out the door and back outside into the alleyway.

  Eastlyn made her way the four blocks to Layne’s Trains, faster than a tailwind could blow her through the front door.

  She took the Nikon out of the bag and placed it on the counter, sent a pleading look toward Cooper. “I need you to download what’s on the disk and print out the pictures using your fancy printer. Then email me the pictures ASAP.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Can’t talk now. Just work your tech magic and I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. This isn’t Fotomat.”

  “I know. But it’s an emergency.”

  Cooper tilted his head to study her demeanor. “How can anyone have a photo emergency?”

  “Just do your thing with the pictures and you’ll see what I mean.”

  Before he could argue with that, he watched her rush out the door, hurry down the sidewalk and dash across the street. It occurred to him that for a woman with a prosthetic, she could really move that cute ass when she needed to.

  Eastlyn arrived in Brent’s office winded but pumped up on adrenaline. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but I’m pretty certain that our first work as a team needs to include staking out McCready’s.”

  “If this has anything to do with Eleanor’s claim—”

  “It doesn’t. Give Cooper an hour and we’ll have all the evidence you’ll need to make an arrest. How do you get a warrant in these parts?”

  Brent went over the procedure while she took notes for future reference. After he’d finished, she encouraged him to start the process. She told him what she’d witnessed between Driscoll and Flynn, explained what they were waiting for from Cooper.

  Brent lifted a brow. “For a rookie, you’re on a roll.”

  “I could carry this off because, let’s face it, you would stick out like a sore thumb following people around town, not to mention following a boat out on the water.”

  Every so often she checked her email via cell phone until finally the notification popped up. She double-clicked the attachments, brought the images up on screen.

  “What do you think now?”

  Brent flipped through the camera roll. “I think when it comes time, you’re due a stellar ninety-day review, maybe even a raise.”

  Thirty-One

  The next morning it was as official as it would get. No more sneaking around working undercover for Eastlyn Parker.

  Dressed in her uniform—khaki shirt, a badge displayed over the left pocket, a pair of dark brown, crisp trouser pants, a two-way radio, a Pelican Pointe police force patch on both sleeves, and a gun strapped to her waist—she looked like she meant business.

  Cooper thought so, too. “You look…hot, really hot.”

  She grinned at him. “Is it the weapon? It’s the Beretta, isn’t it?”

  Cooper shook his head. “Honestly, I think it’s the badge. Or maybe it’s all that khaki. Who knew, I’d love a woman in uniform. Although I think what I love the most is your dark green eyes.”

  She punched his arm before she realized what he’d said. “Love? Are you just kidding around?”

  “How could I kid around when I’m looking at the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole life?”

  She took his head in both hands. “I feel exactly the same way about you.”

  “Then do me a favor. Try not to get shot up on your first day in uniform.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I have something for you.” Cooper handed her a box, gift-wrapped in soft shades of purple paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “You won’t know until you open it.”

  Gingerly she worked the pretty ribbon off, began to thumb past the Scotch tape. After peeling back the paper, she removed the lid.

  The box held a frame with a montage of pictures he’d taken beginning with the photo that day at the cliff, the one of the lavender in its infant stages with tiny buds just beginning to sprout. With each mosaic he’d captured its progress from seedling to a flowering bush laden with huge purple blossoms.

  She clutched the picture to her chest. “Oh, Cooper, you couldn’t have given me anything that I cherish more. This is amazing. I can’t wait to see how it looks hanging on my living room wall. I know just where it should go. Which reminds me, I wonder if Cord and Keegan would consider selling me this little house?”

  “I have a better idea, how about you move in with me?”

  She grinned. “I like the idea of living in a hacienda.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  She placed a tender kiss on his lips. “I love the practical side to you, Mr. Richmond. By the way, are you sure you have that nutcase stalker of yours under control? Are you sure he’ll pack up and leave like he promised? Because that kind rarely keeps his word about anything.”

  Cooper nodded. “I think Matthews will eventually move to be closer to Eleanor.”

  “You’ll let me know if that isn’t the case. I gotta get to work now. We’ll discuss the move-in plans in greater detail later.”

  He grabbed her in a hug. “Be careful out there, Officer Parker.”

  “You bet I will. See you tonight.”

  She met Brent before eight a.m. at the station, eager and ready to go to work.

  “Who do we bust first? Driscoll or Flynn?”

  “Because we know he keeps to his schedule we nail Driscoll after he gets into the city limits with the supply of meth. We take down Titus after he’s done the heavy lifting as quietly as possible. We don’t want to tip our hand to Flynn since our upstanding businessman gets to bat clean-up.”

  “Okay, then where do we take Flynn down, home or at the bar?”

  “Definitely when he’s at work.”


  “Good thinking. So do we make a statement at a busy time when the place is packed or first thing right after he opens up?”

  Brent turned to look at his enthusiastic recruit. “For what I have in mind we get Flynn alone. That means as soon as he unlocks the door at two p.m. this afternoon we’re in his face.” He studied her demeanor. “Who says you need special training for this job? You’re pretty savvy when it comes to tactics.”

  “Thank the army.”

  “Let’s hope that includes at least a marksman’s badge.”

  She made a tsk sound to show her disapproval. “I think I can do a little better than that. Sharpshooter, thirty-one out of thirty-five, but I’m better with a handgun than a rifle.”

  Brent grinned for the first time that morning. “I knew I liked you for some reason. Are you nervous?”

  “A little. I guess that’s why I’m so chatty. Let’s say we take down Driscoll and Flynn without incident. Does that insure Thorwald goes to jail as well?”

  “I still have friends inside the sheriff’s department. We pick up Driscoll and Flynn and I bet one of them starts talking. That should be enough to get a warrant for Thorwald’s compound and bring down the operation.”

  “So when do we roll?”

  He checked his watch. “Now’s go time.”

  Driscoll drove a silver Toyota Tundra that was less than a year old. The truck had a Tonneau cover so no one could see the load of crystal meth he carried in its bed.

  As soon as the pickup came into view, Brent let it pass at a steady clip doing forty-five even though at that speed it was going ten miles over the limit.

  Brent sat back, watched Driscoll make the turn into the pier and put the Toyota in Park. He let the man get out and go to the back of his pickup.

  From inside Brent’s SUV, he and Eastlyn watched from the corner as Titus began to go through the bed of the truck, eventually unloading six smallish white trash bags.