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

by Vickie McKeehan

  As soon as Nick was out of the room, Jordan leaned over to Murphy. “I’ll talk to him. He’d make an excellent candidate for the city council.”

  “Not only that, but the board of directors has finally forced old man Carr out at the bank. All those bad loans finally took their toll on his rep.”

  “Not to mention his daughter’s sneaking off to be with Kent. People might not have been surprised at her actions but they were upset she stole money. Now that Ethan has positively ID’d her remains and knows she didn’t drown, it’s looking more and more like Kent might’ve killed her.”

  Murphy nodded. “Ethan thinks the two of them might’ve gotten into an argument shortly after they boarded Easy Money. Kent maybe snapped and hit her on the head with something, dumped her body into the ocean.”

  “I know what Ethan thinks happened. But it took a long time for the body to wash up on shore.”

  Murphy made a face. “According to Ethan, it was in terrible shape what with the elements taking their toll for so many months.”

  Jordan picked up her tea, sipped. “Just what the town needs—a murder mystery.”

  “Well, wherever Kent is, I hope they catch him and he pays for the attempted arson out here and for—whatever else he’s done.”

  “We’ve always known Kent was a sleaze.”

  Murphy changed the subject back to the topic foremost on his mind. “I’m thinking Nick would make a fantastic replacement as president of the bank. He has the experience and since he’s been here in town more than a year now, a sense of what Pelican Pointe’s citizens need from its lending institution.”

  Jordan frowned. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of Nick going back to wearing his banker hat. But then, he should have the opportunity to decide that for himself. “Okay. I’ll talk to him about that, too.”

  In the entrance hall, the moment Nick opened the front door his first impression of the “guest” standing on the porch was that of the joker. Instead of garish, over-the-top makeup though, the man’s smile was too wide and didn’t reflect the coldness Nick saw in his green eyes.

  The man had done a poor-ass job of bleaching his hair.

  “Did you need something?” Nick asked a little wary of the stranger.

  “I know. I know. I don’t have a reservation. But the guy in town sent me here, said there were no motel rooms to be had within fifty miles. Your place is it.”

  Nick noted the man’s nervous ticks and recognized a drug addict when he saw one. He weighed the pros and cons of letting this guy into their home. Finally, practicality wore out. Who was he to judge what a lodger looked like?

  But there were more ways than one to get rid of the unsavory type. “This is our peak season. The rates are two-ninety-five a night.”

  The guy whistled through his teeth. “You’re kidding? That’s a little pricey for my tastes.” Even though he had the credit card he’d stolen from some guy named Jerry Mason, it was only a matter of time before the issuer caught on and cancelled the card. Now that he was this close to Cord Bennett, Robby didn’t dare take the risk.

  Nick eyed the man’s nervous demeanor. He decided there was no way he would come off the room rate for this guy.

  “But you have a vacancy, right?”

  “I have one room left and it’s booked through the weekend. That means it would be available for one night only, which is tonight.”

  “I’d sure like to take a hot shower but two-ninety-five is highway robbery. What do you guys have in there, gold plates or something?”

  This guy’s credibility dropped to a negative. Nick wanted to get rid of him now even more than he had when he’d first opened the door. “The price is pretty much in line with all the other B & Bs up and down the coast with a view of the ocean. This is a tourist town, which means tourists are our bread and butter. What did you say your name was?”

  “Gold. John. I guess I’ll drive on down the road then until I find me a Motel 6.”

  Nick nodded, never bothering to mention he’d be driving for another two hours on the interstate before he found a motel of any kind.

  Instead Nick merely said, “You do that.” And shut the front door in the man’s face.

  After leaving Promise Cove, Robby followed the route he’d already mapped out. Thanks to the info Terri Lynn had discovered some weeks back over the Internet, he knew Cord Bennett worked as manager for Taggert Organic Farms.

  Lucky for him, when Robby drove past the fruit stand, there stood Cord Bennett behind the counter arranging baskets of vegetables. Robby itched to take him out, once and for all. The idea of Bennett writing letters to every judge, every prosecutor, every shrink, involved in his case, didn’t set well with Robby. Now that he had him in his sights, Robby lifted his foot off the gas, slowed his progress.

  Just as he was about to reach under the seat to grab the .25 he’d hidden there, a truck pulled up near the gate to the farm. Robby watched as two men got out and started unloading large containers of produce.

  What a bumpkin? Robby thought as he floored the accelerator and took off down the coastal road heading back into Pelican Pointe, making sure to keep his speed under the radar.

  As soon as Robby got to town, looking for a place to spend the night became his top priority. After making several trips up and down Main Street, he tried the side streets. Circling the residential neighborhood like a vulture, all he needed was to locate one abandoned house. But when he couldn’t find what he wanted, he headed toward the ocean. If he had to sleep in the car, he wanted a beautiful spot where he could hear the sound of the surf.

  On this side of town though, he got lucky. There were several rundown storefronts along the docks. If he could get into one of those he’d have himself a place to stay, maybe even for a couple of days until he figured out the best way to get to Bennett.

  He turned the car into the first narrow opening at the end of the block that led to the back lot of a derelict building. Looking around, it was obvious the only action the brick structure had seen in decades was an active tagger bent on leaving a string of graffiti that didn’t make a bit of sense. There were broken windows on all three floors but someone had stopped at the first after deciding it was a waste of plywood.

  Uneasy, Robby looked around for the best spot to hide the car. When he decided parking it behind a Dumpster was his best bet, he edged the vehicle farther down the dead end, as close to the garbage container as he could get without putting scratches on the paint.

  The pavement was ragged with bumps and broken asphalt, so much so he had trouble maneuvering the Mustang into position.

  Still pissed off about not being able to spend the night at the comfy B & B, he exited the car with a considerable chip on his shoulder. He decided to lock his bag in the trunk until he discovered what the place offered in the way of lodging.

  He stepped around the potholes, walked down the alleyway and realized he’d have to pilfer a flashlight for later when it got dark.

  Right now though, he made good use of the light he had. When he pushed open a door in the back he wondered what kind of people didn’t even have the good sense to lock up a building. But glancing around what looked like a former newspaper office, the emptiness answered his question.

  There was nothing of value anywhere. Checking out each room, all he found were bare walls, an abundance of trash littering the concrete floors, peeling paint, and rotting wood.

  A back staircase offered the only way up, but he had to make his way around discarded condoms, Styrofoam food containers, and other disgusting debris to get there.

  Finally when he reached the top, he picked out a corner where the windows faced west with a perfect view of the ocean.

  When hunger got the better of him, he went looking for a place to eat and discovered there were no fast-food joints. What kind of stupid-ass town didn’t have a golden arches? he wondered before spotting The Hilltop Diner. If he ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, he could stretch the three-hundred dollars he had in his
wallet until he could steal what he needed.

  The Diner looked like a malt shop right out of the sitcom Happy Days. In fact, the entire town looked like it hadn’t seen a new idea since Nixon held office.

  Robby took a seat at the counter and noticed a few stares from the other patrons. It seemed he had overestimated his “California” look. It didn’t exactly make him blend in with these stuffed shirts.

  It wasn’t until he picked up a menu that he spotted his mug shot hanging behind the counter taped to the mirror. Automatically, he dropped his head. Out of the corner of his eye though, he studied his reflection and then the photo they’d taken the night they’d booked him into the Leesburg jail.

  The two images of the same man looked totally different.

  He relaxed and ordered the dinner special, two fish tacos with rice and beans. His ears pricked up when he noticed the table to his left, a circle of old men, seemed content to discuss the town’s hottest couple, Cord and someone they called Keegan.

  What were the chances another Cord lived in a town this size? Had Bennett found himself a honey?

  All he needed to learn now was where he could find this Keegan.

  After he chowed down on the food, it didn’t take him long to coax people on the street into telling him little tidbits about Keegan Fanning.

  How lucky could he get? Not only did he learn she ran a marine rescue center, but it sat right across the street from his new digs.

  As he walked back to his “accommodations” for the night, he wondered why anyone in their right mind would want to save a bunch of smelly animals.

  Whatever the reason, he began to formulate a plan.

  That night Robby set up house in his empty shell of a building across the street from FMRC. Having the penthouse suite on the third floor was a side benefit where he could keep an eye on the man he wanted dead. Because at the moment, Cord Bennett was across the street making out with the very hot, Keegan Fanning.

  Robby dug out the pair of binoculars he’d lifted earlier using his five-finger discount at Ferguson’s Hardware. Even in the darkness, he scanned the vast compound of noisy, dirty animals. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the ugly-ass, big, brown birds or the slimy-looking things with flappers that slithered along the ground.

  To him, every one of the ugly creatures deserved a bullet to the brain.

  But the woman they called Keegan seemed to dote on them. And Cord was no better. He followed her around like an underling as she fed the little bastards a fishy concoction that almost made him lose the supper he’d just eaten.

  He barely recognized Bennett. He’d forgotten how tall the asshole was. And his hair was so long he looked like a damned hippie.

  Robby watched as the couple made their way across the property wrapped up in each other. For the first time in two days, he missed having the hooker next to him.

  When the pair disappeared inside a house, Robby got busy stacking several dirty but flat cardboard boxes for his bed.

  Despite the broken panes of glass from the various busted windows that let in the chilly night air right off the ocean, his “bedroom” for the next couple of days, wasn’t all that cold. Of course, that could have been due to the whiskey he’d stolen courtesy of the only grocery store in town and consumed over the last hour.

  Draining the bottle of its last swig, Robby settled down to sleep.

  After a long day at the farm, Cord couldn’t think of a better way to spend his evening than curled up with Keegan. Because the chilly spring evening demanded a roaring fire, he set the wood he’d stacked to flame.

  When he turned and saw her sitting at her little desk working on another grant application, his heart seemed to stutter in his chest. He took in her long, lean body in the flickering glow. Yearning slammed into him.

  After dimming the lights, he crossed over to the docking station, slid his iPod into the slot, hit the Play button. The tenor voice of Teddy Thompson filled the room singing In My Arms.

  He knew he had her attention when her head popped up. “Who is that? Oh, his voice is incredible. I love this song. That isn’t on my playlist.”

  He grinned. “No it isn’t. I downloaded a couple of new songs I thought might be good for times like this.”

  She tilted her head. “Times like this?”

  “When I ask you to dance.” He held out a hand. “Come on. Teddy Thompson used to tour with Rosanne Cash’s band. I got hooked on his music when I worked security detail at one of his concerts.” He tugged her up and into his arms. “Dance with me.”

  She rose and went into his arms. Nothing in her life had ever felt more right than him holding her like this.

  They swayed, comfortable in each other’s embrace as the shadows around them mirrored their movements on the wall.

  He kissed her hair. His mouth nibbled an ear, an easy skim of lips along soft flesh. An intake of breath, a whisper of warm words, he glided his hands along her back. A lick of her neck, a faint bite to sensitive shoulder, he brought her up against his hardness.

  They were hip to hip.

  It didn’t take much seduction or ambiance on his part for her blood to heat. But then it never did. She touched his cheek, brought his mouth down to cover hers.

  She ran her hands through his mass of hair, enjoyed the thrill of knowing he wanted her.

  They eased down to the rug.

  Hands unbuttoned and tore at clothing. They groped, touched, stroked. Gentle became fierce. Need lapped and took over reason.

  Bodies slicked to rhythm and song until the concerto exploded into a brilliant flash fire of dreamy soft blues.

  When he picked her up and carried her to bed, when he pulled her against him in the dark, she knew the tides had brought them all the way home.

  The next day Robby Mack managed to evade the curious townspeople by escaping to the country. He decided to go back and check out Taggert Farms for himself. He didn’t, however, count on a fully staffed operation. There were workers everywhere, in the fields picking produce, in the orchards picking apples, guys loading trucks. They manned the vegetable stand, which meant he had to forego the front gate.

  He parked a half mile down the road pulling off into a scenic overhang, a spectacular spot to sit and take in the ocean and the horizon. Grabbing his gun from the glove box, he got out of his car, went over to the cliffs just for the hell of it and took in the rocky beach below.

  It had to be a thirty-foot drop to the seascape. It didn’t take long for him to get bored though and for him to lose interest in the scenery.

  He had to remember the reason he’d made the trip here in the first place.

  Jogging back to where the white fence marked the end of the property, he vaulted over the railing and took off through a clearing until he got to the cover of woods.

  Robby walked the surrounding area, spying on the workers, hiding behind trees or stumps or whatever he could. Only when he made his way closer to the barn, did he catch sight of his target.

  Bennett was shirtless. The scars on his chest visible, the scars he’d put there. A feeling of satisfaction moved through him knowing he’d tried to take the man down once before. He might’ve failed at it, but at least he’d tried. That had to count for something. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes he’d made that day in the church when he’d waited too late to turn the gun on Bennett.

  He might not be able to get inside the rescue center without a big production, but he would lure Bennett out into his trap with something he seemed to care about now. The redhead told him what he’d already figured out about Cord’s loyalty to his beloved Cassie. The man obviously didn’t have a clue two years ago and still didn’t today.

  Good thing he intended to fix that little nugget as well.

  On the walk back to the Mustang, Robby heard one of those nasty beasts that crawled along the ground on flippers causing a ruckus on the beach below. He was sure of it. He followed the din, craned his neck over the side of the railing to see what was so noisy. Sure enough
the thing sat on the rocks, barking for all it was worth. Even from this height, he could smell the stench.

  He took out the .25 from his coat pocket, leaned over a bit farther, took aim and fired.

  Amid the kale and the rows of lettuce, Sammy’s head lifted at the sound of two shots. “Was that gunfire?” he shouted to Silas who stood at the opposite end of the vegetable patch.

  “Sounded like that to me,” Silas returned.

  “We should go get Cord.”

  But Cord had already heard and came out of the milking station on the run. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yeah, it sounded like it came from out on the road,” Silas noted.

  All three men hustled toward Cord’s truck. Cord took off down the driveway sending gravel flying every which way.

  When they reached the end of the lane, Cord looked left then right. “This is nuts. We don’t even know where the shots originated.”

  “Take a right,” Silas directed. “We should at least check out the immediate area.”

  “Good call,” Cord agreed as he turned the pickup southward. One pass, then two, slowly along the highway and they found nothing. But then Cord snapped his fingers.

  “We need to check out the scenic overlook. I’ve seen tourists stop there to take photos from the panoramic view.”

  “And what? Today they bring a gun?” Sammy remarked.

  “Maybe they were hunting something,” Silas pointed out.

  “Nothing down on that section of rocks except the occasional seal,” Sammy revealed.

  “What did you say?” Cord asked.

  “Seals get stranded there after bad storms sometimes, like the kind we’ve been having.”

  “Jesus. Why didn’t I think to check the cliffs first?” With that, Cord braked, shot a U, and headed for the overhang.

  They pulled into the deserted lot and jumped out of the vehicle at the same time. But it was Cord who made his way to the railing first and leaned over to scan the rocks. “Shit,” he uttered. “Some son of a bitch shot a seal. Look, there. It’s a mess. I need to let Ethan know.”