Pelican Pointe Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 (A Pelican Pointe Novel)

by Vickie McKeehan

  When the wind picked up right off the ocean, lifting loose hair off his forehead and sent the grasses bending and swaying in the breeze, he squatted down at what he estimated might be a three-year-old’s perspective. The tall grass looked a bit daunting. He didn’t think she’d be tempted to venture that way. Looking right, off to the east, he noted the rows and rows of neatly planted vegetable gardens laden green with their produce. He ruled that area out as well.

  He took off north toward the hillside dotted with an array of wild-growing white brodiaea and golden mariposa lily in the distance. The blossoms would surely attract a small girl who wanted nothing more than to pick a fistful of flowers for her mother.

  He headed that way at a healthy pace.

  With his long legs in a matter of minutes he soon passed the fields of flowers and reached the gentle slope of the foothills. Here the area was less bursting in bloom and covered more with thick underbrush lining the trails. Coyote bush, thimbleberry, wild blackberry vines, California buckthorn, and poison hemlock grew prevalent here. The scent of eucalyptus was also strong. The smell might soothe a small child in distress who knew she’d wandered off too far and didn’t know how to find her way back.

  He stopped and cocked his head to listen.

  And heard the faint sounds of a whimpering child. Heading in the direction of what he thought was a drainage basin, he tried to remember what the parents had called their daughter. Allison? Yeah, it had been Allison.

  He decided to try that and called out, “Allison? Allison, are you out here?”

  The whimpering became a wail. As Ethan drew closer to a pile of dirt, he saw a flash of pink and white and a bobbing head. He looked down into a simple drainage ditch, what must have been a cavernous deep hole to a small child of three but in reality was surrounded by little more than a four-foot pile of loose soil that would be impossibly difficult for a child of her size to climb out of without a great deal of effort. She’d somehow managed to fall into the ditch but couldn’t figure how to get out.

  Even standing up she was hidden to anyone who had been within a few feet. Wearing a pink top with a little princess graphic on it and a pair of dirty white pants, she sat in a puddle with her arms already outstretched in the air ready to be picked up. It looked as though she had wet herself. There was a huge stain around the front and bottom of her pants where the dirt was at its worst. Her brown hair, once tied neatly back in matching dog ears, had burrs sticking to several strands that had come loose and hung off to the side of her head.

  She stuck an incredibly dirty finger in her mouth and demanded, “Ma-ma. Ma-ma, I want my ma-ma.”

  Ethan scaled the four-foot drop off, by mostly sliding down on his rear end to scoop her up. “Come on baby, come up to me and I’ll get you to your mama. Your mama and daddy are waiting for you to have a picnic. They’ve been real worried about you. Are you ready to get yourself some lemonade?”

  When she bobbed her head up and down in response, Ethan did his best to calm her down and get those big eyes to stop their flow of tears.

  Brent was just about to organize the volunteer search and rescue when he spotted his brother walking through the grassy meadow toward the picnic tables. Relief swelled up inside as he saw what Ethan carried in his arms.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt, would that be your little girl there?” When the couple looked up and spotted Ethan carrying their baby, they broke off in a run. “That’s her! Oh my God you found her! Oh Allison, baby, mama’s so glad to see you. Where’ve you been? You had us all worried sick.”

  Ethan relinquished the little girl to her mother. “She might have some poison oak, maybe a tick or two, but I think she’ll be fine. If she were mine, I’d have the doc take a look at her just to be on the safe side though.”

  Ethan walked up to where his father and brother stood in the middle of the picnic grounds to applause from the other bystanders. His brother slapped him on the back. “Little brother, I don’t know how you manage to do that, but I’m damned glad you do it. Where was she?”

  “Drainage ditch about forty yards off one of the secondary trails. And I just tried to think like a three-year-old,” Ethan replied, grinning broadly.

  His father shook his head. “The little girl’s soul guided Ethan to her. He had more of a connection with her than I had. If only the both of you would embrace your heritage without worrying about what others think, you’d be better off.” With that, Markus Cody turned on his heels and headed to his car. Suddenly he stopped and turned, aimed a finger at his sons. “And your mother expects both of you for supper this evening. You better not disappoint her.”

  While Ethan played local hero, Hayden busied herself doing laundry in Jordan’s enormous laundry room the same size as her kitchen back in Chicago. When her prepaid cell phone rang a little after eleven o’clock, the digital readout told her the number belonged to her sister, Sydney.

  “Hey sis, the realtor called. She thinks she has an interested buyer for your condo. They’ve gone so far as to make an offer.”

  “That’s great. How long does she think it will be before closing? I could really use the money. I’ve got my eye on a little house here.”

  “You’re kidding. I talked to Mom this morning. She told me all about you settling down in Bird Pointe USA, wherever that is. You’re really doing this then?”

  “Pelican Pointe,” Hayden corrected. “And I don’t have much of a choice, Syd. I’ve traveled over three thousand miles, changed my name, got a new ID, all so I can fly under the radar. I’m in too deep now to go back.”

  “I know. But I wish you’d slow down a bit. You might not even like living in such a tiny little town. A move from Chicago to Podunk USA is a drastic change. You’re as urban as anyone I know. All I ask is be careful. Small towns aren’t quite what they’re cracked up to be.”

  Sydney paused before adding the bad news, “And there was a man asking one of my neighbors about you this morning. She says he’s been lurking around for several days.”

  Hayden’s stomach dropped. “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. Sheila Somers, my neighbor, said he looked foreign, whatever that means, spoke with some kind of an accent. She said he’d been stalking around my apartment the past few days. I’ve been picking up extra shifts at the hospital, so I haven’t been home much. Then when I’m here, I sleep. But this guy apparently caught up with Sheila coming out of the building and pointblank asked if I had anyone staying with me. It gives me the creeps to know someone is watching me to get to you. I’d call the police but what good would it do? They aren’t interested in potential crimes, only ones that have already happened. If I make a report do you think they’d even take it seriously?”

  “I doubt it. I’m sorry, Sydney. I never meant for any of this to affect you and Mom like it has. If I could rewrite history, you know I would.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. None of this is your fault. That slime bag Jeremy is the one to blame.”

  Hayden knew men weren’t exactly high on Sydney’s favorite people on the planet list right now, especially since she’d fallen for a doctor, a surgeon, who had no desire to stop his philandering ways in order to settle down with her sister.

  Knowing that prompted Hayden to ask, “How are things with Stephen?”

  “Stephen is a jackass. I’m not wasting any more time on a man who can’t keep his pants zipped. I caught him nuzzling the new resident in the medicine supply room last week. The man hasn’t a faithful bone in his body. Well, except for the bone he likes to use on new conquests.”

  Hayden snorted at that. “That’s my girl. Don’t give the jerk the time of day. He doesn’t deserve you, Syd. He never did. I know your job’s difficult being around him all the time, but you hang in there.”

  They talked a few more minutes before Hayden reluctantly hung up. She sadly checked the few minutes she had remaining on her phone. She’d have to boost it up before making or taking any more phone calls even though she more than likely need
ed to call her mother and warn her that someone might be nosing around, yet again.

  She also needed to open a checking account. And get a California driver’s license. And she wanted to show Jordan the little yellow bungalow and get her take on it. Why couldn’t Jeremy leave her and her family the hell alone? Why did life have to be so messed up?

  For Edmund Taggert life wasn’t just messed up it was about to come to an end. He had just plopped down with a beer in front of the television set he and his wife, Ruby, had bought at Sears Roebuck in 1975, seven years before she had died. He’d lived alone ever since and never remarried, never even looked around after Ruby. Once you found the woman, the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, you didn’t settle for a substitute even if the life you’d planned together had been all too brief. At least, Edmund didn’t.

  After a full day tending to his personal little patch of garden twenty feet from his back porch, he was flat tuckered out. It was one thing to produce enough organic fruits and vegetables and milk for half the county. That’s why he had Will Foley to manage the farm. But he still took great pride in growing his very own plot of lettuce and tomatoes, even though doing so these days seemed to take everything out of him.

  He ignored the tingling in his arm until the pain increased. When it moved to his chest and felt as if a vise gripped him there, he had difficulty taking the next breath. But when the pain tightened around his entire upper body, had a hold on him and wouldn’t let go, he did his best to stand to get to the phone. He managed to take a few steps toward the end table not four feet away.

  And collapsed in a heap on the floor, clutching his shirt.

  How is it, Ethan wondered, that his mother, Lindeen Cody, could be such an angelic petite woman, so loving and kind one minute and so downright sneaky the next? He glanced across the room at the devious little sprite known as his mom, all five-feet-two inches of her and watched her busily whip up mashed potatoes for dinner.

  He had little doubt the woman was up to her matchmaking tricks again. The minute his dad had opened the front door of the Craftsman-style house he’d grown up in, the second he’d spotted the effervescent Julianne Dickinson standing in Lindeen’s kitchen helping her chop vegetables for dinner, he knew.

  What he couldn’t figure out was who Julianne was there for. With any luck, his sly, scheming mother had aimed her in Brent’s direction.

  Even though Brent had a failed marriage in his past, the one time in his life the guy had used poor judgment about anything; Brent was in fact just as single as Ethan―and was older. The way Ethan saw it since Brent was pushing forty and was the more desperate of the two in the woman department and as far as he knew wasn’t getting any luckier on that score, he’d let Brent have good ol’ Julianne.

  In fact, he’d wager that Brent hadn’t gone near a female in probably two years. Mainly, because the woman he’d been married to and divorced had done such a number on him, cheating on him while he had served in Iraq, getting pregnant with someone else’s baby, and then lying about it. Throw in the fact that she hadn’t even bothered telling him until he’d walked in the front door to surprise her, unannounced, excited about being stateside and home, laden down with flowers and caught her in the act, belly out to there, at least seven months gone, with another man in her bed.

  Brent had understandably been devastated. And had refused to talk about the scene ever since.

  Last Ethan knew Brent was still into abstinence, which made him all the more suspicious that Julianne was meant for him. If so, he’d just have to tell his mom that he’d met someone, someone he couldn’t stop thinking about, and that when he kissed that someone, she had left him on fire for the next kiss. He hadn’t felt like this before, not exactly like this anyway.

  In fact, the only reason he’d come to dinner tonight was not out of heeding his dad’s loose warning not to disappoint his mother, but because his someone had had to work tonight. So, it only seemed right that Ethan could rack up a few extra points with his mom for showing up for supper.

  “Ethan, why don’t you go in the living room and put on some music for Julianne? That group you like so much that Pearl Group. Better still, why don’t you go get your guitar and play that song you love so much, the romantic one.”

  Okay, any time his mother requested that he drag out his guitar and play Black by Pearl Jam told Ethan he needed to take matters into his own hands―and fast.

  The minute he saw Julianne point her dazzling smile his way, Ethan decided it was time to thwart the setup. He had nothing against the cute little brown-haired, doe-eyed Julianne. No, he liked her just fine. But the idea of his mother fixing him up with anyone at this point in his life put a ding in his pride. So when he spotted Brent heading into the kitchen, Ethan went to work.

  Draping his arm around his brother’s shoulders, Ethan stated, “Julianne, did you know this big guy here devotes his time off to helping underprivileged kids down at the Boys and Girls Clubs.” Since Julianne had been teaching first graders for more than five years now, Ethan knew she had a soft spot for kids. The kid angle would definitely be the right button to headline Brent’s stellar qualities.

  “Yep, whether winter or spring, Brent’s there making sure they have shoes for school, or a Christmas tree complete with a few toys he collects at the sheriff’s department every year. Personally collects. Think of that, the sheriff here takes the time to make sure the kids have a great Christmas. And that’s not all, nope not for this big guy, he sees to it each kid is safely tucked into an after school program, so they don’t run wild and get into trouble.”

  For good measure, Ethan decided to go for broke. “Brent even makes sure Meals-On-Wheels never misses any of the elderly.”

  In the way of brothers, Brent eyed Ethan with enough disdain to show he was on to him and that he’d pay him back in spades, when he wasn’t looking, even if the payback occurred in his sleep when he least expected it.

  But then, Ethan’s pager went off.

  Brent, as dark and tall as his brother, gave him a wide grin full of smug satisfaction.

  “Damn it, I’m off duty.”

  “Were,” Brent reminded him quietly. “Technically, you’re on call, little brother, there’s a difference.” He leaned over to whisper in Ethan’s ear. “But if you’ve taken a shine to the lovely Julianne, I’ll gladly sacrifice my Saturday night in the name of true love and take the call, make sure you and Julianne get to spend some quality time together.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes in a screw-you fashion. Some decision, Ethan thought, as he reached for the kitchen phone and dialed dispatch.

  “Bite me,” he muttered to his brother before the dispatcher could answer. He made a few notes and after a few minutes, hung up, his good mood gone. “I’ve got a DB at the Taggert farm. Looks like Edmund Taggert died this evening. His farm manager, Will Foley found him. Sorry, Mom, I’ll need a rain check on dinner. I’ve got to head back to Pelican Pointe.”

  And with that, for the second time that day, Ethan Cody went to work.

  It took over an hour for Pierce Hamlin, the forty-five-year-old coroner out of Santa Cruz to make the trip to Taggert Organic Farms to tell Ethan what he pretty much already knew. It looked like Edmund Taggert had died of a heart attack. There was no sign of foul play, no sign of external trauma. The TV was still on. An open bottle of beer was left on the coffee table as if he’d just sat down for a relaxing evening in front of the tube.

  “We’ll do an autopsy if you want. But it’s a safe bet he died of a heart attack. You’ll notify the next of kin, or you want me to?”

  “I don’t think the old man had any family, at least none that I ever heard about. He and his wife never had any kids. But I’ll get in touch with his lawyer, make certain. Edmund once told me that he and my grandmother went out once back in high school.” The idea of Autumn Lassiter and Edmund Taggert dating had Ethan chuckling, remembering the conversation.

  “Well, I guess that means you could’ve been his gran
dson. The lawyer would likely be old Aaron Hartley then. He’s what, seventy-five if he’s a day, older than the deceased that’s for sure.”

  “And the only lawyer in Pelican Pointe.” That brought him full circle. He just realized Nick and Jordan were right. This town was sorely in need of some new blood, since seventy percent of the residents were well over the age of fifty.

  How long had the town been dying? he wondered, as he went outside in search of Will, who had been badly shaken up over finding Taggert dead. But as he explained to Will what would happen next, things like the autopsy, how he would take care of getting in touch with Edmund’s lawyer, something about the old man’s death sent him a reality check.

  Maybe that was what Jordan had meant the other day. How much old blood had to die off before Pelican Pointe simply dried up and there was no town left at all?

  His mother had a fondness for Pelican Pointe. She’d grown up here as Lindeen Lassiter. He’d visited her mother, his grandmother, Autumn Lassiter, countless times over the years. The town had been at death’s door even then. He remembered how several of those storefronts along Ocean Street across from the house where he now lived hadn’t seen an occupant in his lifetime.

  One had been the old fish hatchery. It had sat empty for two decades. That is, until Perry Altman, a chef, swung through the area on his way to Napa Valley one weekend and decided he could turn the space into his own five-star restaurant. The Pointe had been open for three years now.

  Ethan suddenly realized there were no hordes of people lining up to repopulate a little town that hadn’t truly thrived since the sixties. It took people like Perry and Murphy, who had turned an old shell of a mercantile, into Murphy’s Market so the town didn’t have to go traipsing off to Santa Cruz or San Sebastian every time they needed butter or eggs.