The Boathouse (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 14)

by Vickie McKeehan

  What a pretty place for children to have as their very own, she decided, as the sound of leaves fluttered in the night breeze. She took hold of Tucker’s arm, the one holding the flashlight, and adjusted the beam so she could brighten the area even more. Inching closer to get a better look, a better angle, she stood there studying and measuring in her head how far the tree was from the gully. It didn’t add up. “There’s no way your sister could’ve accidentally taken a tumble out of the treehouse and ended up knocked out in the water. The distance must be a good twelve feet.”

  “At least. More like fifteen, though. Not only that, Tessie mostly played on the ground floor. That was her domain. My fort was on top. Besides, I don’t remember anyone mentioning the treehouse was a factor. The entire area was simply off-limits afterward. No explanation. No argument.”

  Bodie’s eyes darted around the base of the tree and upward. She could still make out the remnants of what she could only assume was the lumber used for the floor. “Tucker, was there ever an official inquest into Tessie’s death?”

  He blew out a breath and scratched his chin. “No idea. But that’s a good question. Brent Cody would be the guy to ask. Even if he wasn’t the top cop that far back, he could get access to the pertinent files.”

  “But wouldn’t the death certificate be a matter of public record anyway? Or better still, any chance there might be a copy in the house somewhere?”

  Tucker stared at her for several seconds before swooping her off her feet. He whirled her around in his arms. “You know what? You’re brilliant. That’s a great place to start.”

  Lago thought it was a game and wanted to play, too. The eager pooch nipped at Bodie’s heels until she cackled with laughter.

  “Put me down, you nut. You’re scaring the dog.”

  “No way. Lago just wants to join in.” But he plopped her feet on the ground anyway and covered her mouth in one smooth move.

  Her head was already spinning. The kiss ramped up. Warmth spread through her body like the sunshine melting ice cream.

  “We could take this back to the house,” Tucker offered. When she didn’t say anything, her silence prompted him to add, “It’s probably too soon.”

  “I have a feeling we’d know if it was,” Bodie countered. “Just give me a minute to think straight.” Cocooned by the cozy wooded thicket, she took a step back and ran a hand through her hair. “I like you, Tucker, enough to sleep with you. But I’d like to take this slow, one step at a time and make sure I don’t blow it. I need…” What did she need? “I need time to get used to having this again, having a man’s hands on me again, a man that I trust, a good man that thinks about me for a change instead of himself.”

  Tucker nodded. “I thought as much.”

  Bodie bristled at that. “Don’t analyze me. Okay? I just need to adjust to a relationship again. If you think about it for five seconds, it’s not too difficult to understand.”

  “I said I get it,” Tucker snapped. “There’s no pressure to jump into bed.”

  “Then why do I feel like there is?”

  “I don’t know. But that’s on you. I’m not pushing you into anything you aren’t ready for. I know what it means not to trust someone. Believe me, I know. It rips out the gut at the core. It’s hard to get it back, hard to believe in anyone again.”

  She took his hand. “Sorry. I’m just snappy and tired. I need a good night’s sleep before starting the week. Tomorrow’s my day off, and I’d planned to catch up on a lot of things. Maybe we could have lunch. I’ll make something simple and bring it to the store. You break for lunch, right?”

  A slow grin spread. “Sure. I could do that.” He whistled for the dog. “Come on, let’s get out of this place. On nights like tonight, sometimes it gives me the creeps for no reason at all.”

  Five

  Tucker couldn’t sleep.

  His brain kept churning, trying to find answers to Bodie’s questions. He tried to make sense of what he’d been told all those years ago about Tessie’s death. But as Bodie had pointed out, nothing added up. The shallow creek was a problem for him. It had seemed so much larger as a kid, deeper. Had it rained that August Sunday, the morning Tessie died? Had the rain made the gully slippery and more dangerous? How had she fallen into the water in the first place? Had she slipped down into the ravine, maybe walking too close to the edge?

  He could remember watching her time and again slide into that creek like an athletic gymnast doing a handspring. But maybe it just took one misstep for her to hit her head on a rock and end up in the water. Perhaps that’s what had happened. Surely there was a simple explanation. Hadn’t his parents asked these same questions? After all, unfortunate accidents occurred around the home to kids all the time.

  Sometimes those accidents were fatal.

  But tonight, Tucker had a hard time believing. In anything. How had she drowned? That was the question that nagged at him the most. Two feet of water? Tessie had been a good swimmer. Athletic. Lithe and notoriously nimble. She could out-trampoline him any day of the week, jumping for hours on end without taking a break—that fact was hard to ignore. He couldn’t ignore it tonight, not when he couldn’t wrap his head around the gut feeling they’d lied to him. If she’d hit her head and then fallen into the water, why was she that close to the creek? The drowning aspect was only part of it. The entire story no longer added up, the explanation harder to swallow, harder to accept than before.

  He got up twice because he thought he heard someone outside in the backyard. But it was just the wind. Or maybe Lago trudging through the house to get to his water dish. The third time, though, he got up and went into his father’s old study, plopping down in the captain’s chair. It squeaked as it swiveled beneath his weight.

  Tapping his fingers on the antique wood, he decided to rummage through the drawers, opening each one and emptying the contents onto the top of the desk. It wasn’t the first time, but this time he rifled through the stuff with a different purpose in mind.

  After going through each drawer, he dumped out the contents on top of the desk. Looking at the haul, it didn’t add up to much. He stared at some old gas receipts, a few bank statements from the last century, an assortment of pens that no longer worked, a stapler that didn’t staple, and an abundant supply of paperclips, some so old they looked rusted.

  “What exactly are you looking for?” Scott asked from the other side of the room.

  Tucker jumped at the voice. “Please stop doing that.”

  “I like to see that look on your face,” Scott deadpanned. “Why don’t you use his office as your own? How come you always set up your laptop in the dining room or the kitchen counter instead of here? When are you ever going to move into this house for real?”

  “You’re Mr. Answer Man, you tell me.”

  “You don’t like this room. Why?”

  “Because I can still see him sitting here behind his precious antique artifact with his smug face making everyone around him miserable.”

  “The answer you’re looking for isn’t on the desk.”

  Tucker’s eyes flashed with curiosity. “Then where?”

  “It’s in this house. The answers have always been right here.”

  “I’m too tired for riddles. Just spit it out. Tell me what really happened to Tessie. Tell me what’s on that death certificate.”

  “Why don’t you look it up online?”

  Tucker rose from the old Chesterfield and headed out to the dining room where he’d left his laptop plugged in to charge. After waiting several minutes for it to boot it up, he logged in and went straight to the County website. He plugged in the information, name, date of death, and then leaned back in the chair while the software brought up a match. A popup window indicated there wasn’t one.

  He tried again, making sure he provided Tessie’s legal birth name, date of birth, and date of death. Still, the popup window signaled there was no match.

  “What gives?” Tucker asked Scott.

  Sco
tt stuck his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts and moved closer to the laptop, peering over Tucker’s shoulder. “You’re in the wrong place. Try California State Vital Records.”

  Tucker switched browsers to another official site. Again, he keyed in the information, waited. Still no match.

  “Any other suggestions?”

  “Deep down, you’ve always known something wasn’t right. Go with your gut. Find out what it is.”

  Tucker pounded a fist on the dining table. “Knock it off. How come you can tell me who tried to break into the store, but not what happened to Tessie?”

  “Because I don’t know what happened to her. I wasn’t around to see what went on in the woods that day.”

  “But you suspect something is wrong in the details, right?”

  “Not at first. No one did. But there were rumors about how she drowned in a creek that barely had any water in it. Most people went along with your father’s explanation. Back then, Joe Ferguson was a respected member of the community. No one questioned anything about Tessie’s death. They should have, but they didn’t. Any time a child dies is sad. It was a different era back then when you left people alone with their grief. A tragic accident like that, people eventually move on.”

  “Not in this house, we didn’t.”

  “No, Joe never wanted to talk about it again to anyone after that day.”

  “But, nothing makes any sense. Was there an official inquest?”

  “Not that I remember. Sometimes things don’t make any sense. How do you explain me, standing here talking to you when I’ve been dead for years?”

  Tucker stared at what looked like a flesh and blood man. “You don’t look like a phantom ghost. You look real.”

  “There you go.”

  “Why can’t I locate the death certificate?”

  “Brent will get to the bottom of it. Ask him to intervene.”

  “But I shouldn’t have to.”

  “True. But remember, sometimes small towns hold onto their secrets like a boa constrictor clutches its prey. It’s like pulling on a loose thread. The more you tug, the more the string becomes visible until all the thread is exposed. Don’t give up, Tucker. You’ve only just begun to tap the surface. Keep digging. They are answers here.”

  Tucker watched the phantom Scott fade away. Frustrated, and with a head beginning to throb into a steady pain, he went out to the kitchen in search of aspirin.

  Had he been through every single part of the house? Had he torn the place apart when he moved in? No, no, he hadn’t. He’d left things alone, untouched, almost exactly the way his parents had left them. They’d run from this house to Sarasota Springs. Why?

  As he filled a glass with water, he tried to make sense of it. They hadn’t moved to get better weather. The weather here was beautiful year-round. They’d traded California earthquakes for Florida hurricanes. What was the point in that? Why had they abandoned everything they’d known for a small condo in Florida? Their security was here, a house paid for, a home his mother had loved. Why retire three thousand miles from what had been most familiar? What were they running from? What had they been hiding?

  Tucker made his way back to bed and decided Scott was right. A lot of questions needed answers. The truth had to be here somewhere—and he refused to give up until he found it.

  A few blocks away, Bodie had been yanked from a deep sleep by a banging on the front door. Throwing on a robe, she stumbled out into the front room and switched on the light. She stuck her eye up to the peephole. Recognizing the twenty-something brunette standing on the stoop, she turned the lock, threw wide the door.

  “What are you doing here, Ellie? It’s almost midnight.”

  “Eleven-thirty. I’m sorry, but I wanted to give you this.” She stepped inside and held up a mason jar half-filled with water and several cuttings from the mini monstera plant. “I know you wanted one, too. This is my way of saying thanks.”

  Bodie stared into Ellie’s wide brown eyes, glistening with warmth and generosity. She didn’t have the heart to shove her back out the door or to tell her Tucker had already gifted her one she’d set on her nightstand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But while the plant’s healthy and before I kill it, I wanted you to have some cuttings from it.”

  “You won’t kill it. You’ve got a green thumb the size of Phoenix.”

  Ellie ate up the praise and handed off the jar. “You really think so?”

  Bodie inspected the cuttings and beamed at such a generous gesture. “Come on. You didn’t come here this late to drop off a plant, although it’s appreciated. Thank you for this. How about me making us a cup of tea, and you tell me why you’re really here.”

  “Am I that transparent?”

  Bodie flipped on the kitchen light and placed the cuttings on the table. She turned on the faucet to fill the kettle. “No. But I know you. Something’s on your mind. You’ve got that look that says I need to talk. Take a seat.”

  Ellie plopped into a kitchen chair. “Well, I do. And you’re always so good at advice.”

  “Me? You are desperate. Okay. Spill it.”

  “Hollis asked me to marry him tonight in the sweetest possible way. He took me to Perry’s fancy restaurant and blew a hundred bucks on a proposal over chocolate cake.”

  “And that’s a problem? I thought you and Hollis were, you know, on the same page?”

  “We were. We are. But…I still have this fear that Hollis will somehow morph into Damon one day.”

  “Oh, Ellie. Hollis wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s nothing like Pettigrew. For one thing, Hollis is no meth dealer with anger issues. He’d go out of his way to help an old lady cross the street. Get real.”

  “I know it’s silly not to trust Hollis completely, but…so, you think it’s okay to relax and think about the future, a stable relationship without worrying about getting beaten up again or lied to?”

  Bodie took a seat at the kitchen table. “Wow. Were you by any chance walking in the woods a few hours ago and eavesdropped on my conversation with Tucker? Because this is weird. I had this same…well, not a marriage proposal, but never mind. I just had a similar discussion with Tucker about trust issues. And here you are having second thoughts about Hollis, a man who’s never tried to hurt you in any way, certainly not the way Damon did. And here I am worrying that I should be cautious with Tucker. Tucker’s nothing like that bastard Alex.”

  “Are we still talking about me now?”

  Bodie chucked out a laugh. “Sorry. Yeah. I don’t see the problem with Hollis. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Does Hollis know you’re having second thoughts like this? What was your answer when he proposed?”

  “I said yes, a great big yes.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Sometimes it’s best to hear advice, woman to woman. A little reassurance that I’m headed in the right direction. My mom hasn’t been around for a long time. And my dad…Dad is…I don’t want to burden Dad with this kind of talk. He likes Hollis. But marriage would change things. In his condition, Dad might be worried about getting dumped in a nursing home.”

  Bodie already knew that Mr. Woodside had a progressive neurological disorder called corticobasal degeneration. She knew Ellie struggled every day to take care of him, but take care of him she did. Through workarounds and tight schedules, she managed it all with humor and a great attitude. “And you think Hollis would get fed up and shuffle him off to an assisted living facility right after the wedding vows are done? Does that really sound like something Hollis would do, Ellie?”

  Ellie shook her head.

  The kettle whistled, and Bodie got up to make the tea. “Great guys like Hollis don’t come around very often. When they do, you should give him the benefit of the doubt. I think I’ll follow my own advice and…”

  “Give Tucker that same sort of benefit, huh? You know, plenty of people around here like to grumble about old Joe, but almost no one ever has a bad thing to say ab
out Tucker. Ask yourself why that is. Tucker is kind. He’d help out anybody. He donates stuff to the co-op and the church all the time, never wants credit for it. That’s the big difference right there between Tucker and his father, considering what a nasty piece of work Joe was.”

  Bodie brought over a tray with two steaming cups of tea. She pushed the sugar bowl and creamer across the table so Ellie could personalize the taste. “You knew Joe?”

  “Sure. I grew up here. My dad couldn’t stand him, though. Dreaded going in that store even if it was just to buy a new doorknob.”

  “Could you do me a favor? Could you ask your dad when exactly he started feeling that way about Joe?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “Did you know that Joe and his wife lost a daughter?”

  “No way. They had a daughter? You’re telling me Tucker had a sister. I didn’t know that. What happened to her?”

  “Drowned in that creek bed that runs behind the house.”

  “You mean that small gorge that separates one side of the woods from the other? I had no idea there was ever that amount of water in there.”

  “Apparently, after a hard rain, it could fill up. Ask your dad. See if he remembers the incident. It’d be interesting to get his take on it.”

  “I could try but don’t count on a coherent answer.”

  “Feel better about your decision now?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s nice to sit down and talk it over.”

  “It is. I feel better about Tucker just getting all my fears out there on the table and reasoning it through with someone else.” She raised her cup in salute. “Thanks, Ellie. If you hadn’t stopped by tonight, I might have stewed on this for another week or so.”

  Ellie sputtered out laughter. “No problem. Glad I could help with your decision to sleep with him.”

  “You didn’t really. I’d already figured that part out. But now I can do it with a lot more peace of mind without beating myself up. Realizing he’s a good guy helps.”

  “You know what you need besides sex?” Ellie proffered.