by Lena Gregory
“I’m sorry, Stephanie.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Stephanie hugged her. “Thank you for trying so hard. And who knows? Maybe that’ll be enough to save Tank’s life at some point.”
Cass nodded.
Bee stormed through the door with Beast on his heels.
A dry Beast. Oh, well. Probably for the best.
He skidded to a stop. “What happened to you?”
“I’m okay, just a bloody nose.” Which came out more like dust a buddy dose with her nostrils pinched together.
Bee sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I hab no idea.”
Stephanie dialed Tank’s number and waited, chewing on her bottom lip hard enough to draw a spot of blood. Relief rushed out on a sigh when he answered. “Tank. Do you have a minute?”
He said something too muffled for Cass to hear, and Stephanie walked out the front door.
“Were you able to help her?” Bee asked.
Beast lay his head in her lap, and she absently petted his fur with her free hand.
Cass shrugged and checked if her nose had stopped bleeding. Not completely, but at least it had slowed to a trickle. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
Stephanie stuck her head back in the door. “Tank’s waiting out front to take us to the lighthouse, if you still want to go.”
“Yes, just give me a minute to clean up.” She stood and tossed the paper towels in the garbage, then tied up the bag and replaced it with a new one.
“Here, I’ll get that.” Bee took the full bag and started toward the back door. “Wait for me to get back before you leave.”
“I thought you were going to stay here with Beast?”
He opened the door and paused. “Do you mind him coming with us?”
“No, not at all. He’ll have to sit in the car when we go inside, but I’m sure there’s enough police officers up there to make sure he’s safe for a few minutes.”
“All right.” He nodded and started to turn.
“You’re coming?”
He held her gaze. “Did you really think I’d let you go out there alone?”
“Bee, seriously, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that, but if you aren’t comfortable, it’s okay. Tank and probably Luke will be there, plus an assortment of officers and crime scene techs. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“Let me put it this way, while I’m not entirely comfortable going back out to the scene of one murder and one attempted murder, I’m less comfortable letting you go without me. So, it’s decided. I’ll be right back.” He hurried outside to throw the garbage in the Dumpster.
Cass turned to Beast. “Did you have fun with Bee? I bet you were a good boy for him, right? Know how I can tell that? Because he’s not soaking wet.”
Beast barked.
“Uh-huh. Don’t make excuses.” While she waited for Bee to return, she put the leftover pizza in the fridge in the back room, then clipped Beast’s leash to his collar. “Right after this, we’re going to go home and hit the sack. I promise.”
Beast yawned and shook out his mane.
Bee rushed back in and locked the back door. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. No sense keeping poor old Fred waiting.”
Cass climbed into the backseat with Beast and Stephanie.
Bee jumped into the passenger seat.
She tried to shake off the disappointment that Luke hadn’t accompanied Tank. Not like there’d have been enough room in the car for all of them, anyway. Which he’d probably realized.
“Luke is already out there.” Tank checked the sideview mirror and pulled out, even though at that time of night the boardwalk was utterly deserted. “He’ll meet us at the house.”
She tried not to look like it mattered as much as it did. “Have you heard anything about Piper?”
“Still unconscious.”
So no answers about who’d tried to kill her.
“What about Quince and Francesca? Did you ever find them?”
“Not yet.” Tank came to a full stop at the stop sign, despite the fact there wasn’t a car around for miles, red with gray blotches or otherwise, and no one was going to give him a ticket if he didn’t. “They both seem to have disappeared.”
Cass only hoped they were off somewhere together with Quince desperately trying to make amends. After finding Piper as they had, her concern for Francesca shot through the roof.
Chapter Twenty-one
Cass shifted from one foot to the other as Tank unlocked the front door of the keeper’s house.
Luke wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, the woodsy scent of his aftershave enveloping her in a peaceful haze. “You all right?”
She leaned into him for just a moment, letting go of everything that had been haunting her of late, then she straightened and pulled up her big-girl pants. Though she’d much rather be cuddled together on the couch with him, maybe watching the newest tearjerker that had just released on DVD, she had a responsibility. A responsibility, as Chief Rawlins had so kindly pointed out, that she didn’t seem to be taking seriously enough. “Thanks, Luke, I’m fine.”
Tank stepped back and gestured for her to enter first.
Luke, Bee, Stephanie, and Tank all followed her in single file.
Chief Rawlins lingered on the porch.
Cass wasn’t sure how she felt about that. On the one hand, the chief actually believed in her abilities and had a way of helping her to focus and use them to her full advantage. On the other hand, she didn’t want to feel like she had to prove herself to the chief while she was trying to reach out and contact Fred. Either way would leave her feeling self-conscious. Probably best Chief Rawlins just stayed on the porch.
Which she seemed to realize, since she made no attempt to follow them in.
Tank closed the door behind them.
Dim light shone from sconces along the walls in the small foyer. To their right, the door to the museum stood open, the displays also dimly lit. Cass kept the doorway in her mind firmly closed. She didn’t know how to separate Fred’s from the other voices, so for now, she’d simply block them all and take a look around. See what came to her.
But how to get rid of Luke and Tank so she could have the space she needed to do her thing without worrying about what anyone else thought or expected? A feeling like electricity sizzled across her skin, raising the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. She looked around the small foyer. Unlike earlier in the day, Cass took the time to notice small details.
Not a large space. Just enough room to have an entryway, with doors leading to a couple of rooms, a hallway that led to the back of the house, and a stairway to the left. A faded, patterned settee, typical for the time period when Kitty Garrison would have lived there, stood sentinel against one wall. An original? Or had someone tried to recreate the feel of the original era.
She sauntered through the doorway to the museum, taking her time, trying to get a feel for the house. Not easy without opening up, but she wasn’t ready to deal with anything else just yet.
Shadows crouched in every corner. Yet, each time she tried to focus on one, it skittered away to hide in the deeper pools of darkness.
The display case holding the journal was dark, and Cass moved closer. The dim lighting illuminating all of the other displays was noticeably absent from Kitty’s. Maybe because the display was new and the lighting hadn’t been installed yet? Or maybe the lighting had been turned off or disabled for whatever reason. Cass moved closer, squinting into the shadows to bring the case into focus.
The overhead lights blazed on, and all of the shadows fled. She glanced over her shoulder to see who’d turned them on.
Tank stood against the wall, hands clasped behind his back. “Oh, uh. Was I not supposed to do that?”
Cass turned away, frustrated, though it wasn’t Tank’s fault. He didn’t know what she needed. Heck, she wasn’t even sure what she needed at this point, but she was beginning to think Bee’s ide
a of a little nighttime B and E would have been better than following procedure in this case.
Her second-guessing her choice to do things “the right way” skidded to an abrupt halt when she refocused her attention on the case holding Kitty’s display. “It’s gone.”
“What?” Tank jerked away from the wall.
Luke appeared over her shoulder to stare at the empty case. “What’s gone?”
“Kitty’s journal. It was in this case when I last came to the museum, but it’s gone now.”
Tank examined the surrounding area then radioed for a crime scene tech. “What does it have to do with Fred’s death?”
“I’m not sure. But something, I think.” The image of a red vehicle flashed into her mind, along with a piercing pain in her temple. “Ow.”
“You okay?” Tank glanced at Luke then back at her.
She rubbed her temple for a moment, and the pain eased. “I’m okay, thank you. Just tired.”
Not a lie.
“Could you do me a favor and hold off on the crime scene techs until I’m done, though?”
“I could do that.”
“And something else too.” She looked Tank in the eye so she could gage if he was taking her warning seriously. “Did Stephanie talk to you about a red vehicle?”
He frowned, looking more concerned than skeptical.
Good.
“With gray patches. She told me.”
Cass laid a hand on his arm. “Please, Tank. I don’t know why, but it’s important. A matter of life and death. At first, I thought it was Stephanie’s, but it may be yours.”
A million scenarios flashed through her mind in an instant, someone emerging from the vehicle shooting, the vehicle hitting Tank, an explosion . . . And on and on they went, battering her with the possibilities.
Tank wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, cradling the back of her head in one hand. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m taking your warning seriously. Stop worrying about me, and see if you can figure out what’s going on here. We have a young girl in the hospital who’s counting on your help.”
She nodded against him, then stepped back, sniffed, and wiped a few tears from her cheeks. “Okay. Thank you, Tank.”
He nodded.
Stephanie reached over and squeezed her hand.
“And now, I need to ask all of you a huge favor.” And hopefully they’d all understand without being insulted.
Tank, Stephanie, Luke, and Bee all stood staring at her.
Bee might be a problem. But a problem she could live with.
“I need to go upstairs alone.” She held up her hands to ward off the automatic protests they all launched.
“Please. I appreciate you all worrying about me, but I really need quiet to be able to do this.” If I can do it at all.
Bee stepped forward. “You don’t really think that’s happening, do you?”
“You can all wait right at the bottom of the stairs. No one should be in here this time of night, anyway. It’ll be perfectly safe, Bee. And if anything happens, I’ll scream, and you can come running.”
“Yeah, and if you get another bloody nose like the one I walked in on earlier? Or black out or something?” Bee paced back and forth in the small space, the clunk, clunk, clunk of his shoes echoing into the high ceiling.
Cass grinned, trying to make light of it so he’d relax. “If you hear a thud, you have my permission to come running.”
Bee snorted.
“Would it interfere with anything if I clear the upstairs first?” Luke asked.
Though she really wanted to walk into everything as it stood, the upstairs rooms had already been thoroughly searched by police and crime scene techs, so it probably wouldn’t matter. “Fair enough, just leave everything, lights and all, exactly like they were when you’re done.”
Tank and Luke jogged up the stairs together, and Cass turned to Bee. “I’ll really be okay, Bee.”
“I know how you work, Cass, and when you wanted to do Stephanie’s reading earlier, I made myself scarce, but this is different. Since we walked in here, even when we found the journal missing, I haven’t said a word. I understand you need quiet. I even told Loretta as much when she wanted you to locate Stanley’s wallet, which you owe me for, by the way, and I’m calling in the favor right now. And I promise my lips will be sealed, but please let me go up with you.”
She started to protest, then thought better of it. She’d already hurt Bee’s feelings once by letting Emma spread rumors for her—and look at how that had turned out—and she was going to slip his presence again when she spoke to Simone. She didn’t have the heart to blow him off now. As long as he stayed quiet, having Bee there probably wouldn’t matter. He was with her so often, his presence would probably not even be noticeable. Besides, he was right; she did owe him for getting Loretta to stop talking, no matter how brief the reprieve.
“Okay, Bee.”
“And you know I—wait. What? I can come?”
“Yes, just remember your promise to stay quiet.”
He nodded and looked up the stairway just as the upstairs lights flipped off and Tank and Luke started down, then swallowed hard. Bee was not a huge fan of the paranormal, nor of the dark.
Cass bit back the grin tugging at her. She had a sneaking suspicion Bee wouldn’t see the humor in the situation just yet.
“All clear.” Luke gestured toward the stairway, then leaned on the railing and watched her start to climb.
Tank leaned on the railing opposite him. Apparently, that was all the leeway they were going to give. “Just yell if there’s a problem.”
Cass ascended the stairs slowly, giving her eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness. Two sconces gave off small pools of light along the narrow upstairs hallway.
The clomping of Bee’s thick-soled shoes and his heavy breathing against the back of her neck had her second-guessing her decision to bring him with her.
She stopped for a second to orient herself, took a quick peek into the room that had held the box of lighthouse figures. Still no box. Someone had obviously removed them. Dismissing what she couldn’t do anything about, Cass climbed the next flight of stairs and headed in the direction of the room Fred had to have fallen from.
She pushed the door open and paused in the doorway. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains adorning the window. Dust motes, probably kicked up from all the recent activity, bounced and swirled in the rays.
Cass lifted the corner of a sheet covering a chair and peeked underneath. Nothing. She walked around the perimeter of the room, altering her course only to walk around the brick fireplace on one wall and the bed on another.
She stopped beside the doorway, took a deep breath, and opened herself up.
Voices pummeled her. Louder than ever. Demanding. Insistent. Unrelenting.
She slapped her hands over her ears. No help, since the voices seemed to be coming from inside her head. If anything, having her ears covered made them louder.
She tried to block them out again.
They forced themselves through whatever shield she might have managed, driving her to her knees.
Bee was at her side in an instant. To his credit, he remained quiet, placing a gentle hand beneath her arm but making no move to help her up until she started to stand.
Once she recovered her equilibrium, he stepped back.
She lowered her face into her hands and took a moment to collect herself. Then she ignored all of the voices and stood in the center of the room. Eventually, they faded to background noise, like a large crowd surrounding her but, thankfully, no longer trying to interact.
She studied the window, approached slowly. She looked out over the lighthouse and the jetty. No ghosts appeared—pirate or otherwise. Had Fred stood in this exact spot in the moments before his death? Had he been looking out over the bay? The lighthouse? Or facing his assailant?
She turned to face the room, ran her gaze over her surroundings, mostly silhouetted in the da
rkness. One wall was taken up with the fireplace and bookshelves on either side. The wall opposite held a queen-sized canopy bed. A thought occurred. “Did Kitty mention in the journal which room was hers?”
“Um.” Bee went to the window and looked out at the lighthouse. “She mentions watching for Thomas to return from her bedroom window, so it would have to have been either this room or the one next to it. At least, they would provide the best view out toward the ocean.”
Cass walked into the hallway and entered the room beside it. This room was much smaller, though she couldn’t understand why. “Bee, flip the light on, please.”
He did as she asked then lingered in the doorway, glancing occasionally over his shoulder and up and down the hallway.
“Something’s wrong.” The feeling had assailed Cass the instant she’d crossed the threshold.
Bee stiffened. “Do you need Luke and Tank?”
“No. No, it’s not like that.” At least, she didn’t think it was.
She studied the wall where two twin beds stood with a dresser between them. “The other side of this wall is the fireplace in the room Fred fell from.”
“So?” Apparently, intrigued by whatever had caught her attention, and happy to be included, Bee entered the room and stood next to her, hands on his hips.
“There’s too much space between the rooms.” She ran her hand over the wall’s smooth flat surface. “Bee, when was drywall invented.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Could you look it up, please?” Cass slid one of the beds farther from the wall, then the other. She ran her hands over the wall behind the beds. Nothing. She reached as far as she could behind the dresser. Still nothing.
“It says here it was invented in nineteen sixteen.”
“Come on.” Cass returned to the other room and went straight to the fireplace. All brick, blackened in spots. With a wood mantel. It appeared to be original from the time the house was built. The bookshelves, on the other hand, did not. Drywall took up the space between where the fireplace ended and the bookshelves began. Drywall that wouldn’t have existed at the time the house was built.