The Boathouse (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 14)

by Vickie McKeehan

  Novah bounced on her toes. “That’s great. Maybe I’ll be able to get my hair done. You don’t mind if I have purple hair, do you? I mean, Shiloh has purple hair, and it looks so cool. I won’t lose my job or anything if I color my hair purple, will I?”

  Tucker winced but forced a smile. “I’m all for self-expression. You go ahead and do what you gotta do. I ask one thing, though. We went over this a couple of months back. Just don’t let your boyfriend hang around here during your shift.”

  “I haven’t. I won’t. You can ask these guys. Besides, Axel and I broke up.”

  “Okay, then, we’re all good. Sorry about Axel, though.”

  “Don’t be. The guy was a jerk.”

  Tucker was grinning when he headed for the rental. He drove home with the realization that he liked having those kids working for him. He backed the truck into his driveway and discovered that the remote for the garage door was still in his pickup.

  Beside him on the front seat, Lago’s paws made it clear the dog itched to get outside. Tucker leaned across the bench seat and opened the passenger door allowing Lago his freedom. The dog took off, darting around the end of the house.

  “Go chase a rabbit, buddy,” Tucker hollered as he made his way onto the veranda to unlock the front door. It was good to be back, he decided, breathing in the familiar smells of home. He flipped on lights on the path through the utility room and out into the garage.

  He’d just pushed the button to lift the door when he heard a thud coming from his left side and then felt something crash down on his head.

  Sometime later, he woke up to see Logan and Nick bending over him, discussing whether to move him into the house or leave him there and call the paramedics.

  Tucker reached around to the back of his head and felt the lump. “What happened?”

  “We were gonna ask you that,” Nick said. “We got here to help you unload and found you sprawled on the concrete, out like a light.”

  “Somebody gave you a nice welcome home conk on the head,” Logan explained. “They were gone by the time we pulled up. Are you ready to try and stand?”

  Tucker nodded, testing the idea of getting to his feet. But he was shaky and wobbly on his feet. He leaned on Nick and Logan just to get back to the mudroom. “He must’ve been in the house, heard me come in, and followed me out to the garage.”

  “Nick already put in a call to Brent. He should be here any minute. We think he hit you with a hammer. We found one dropped a few feet from where we found you.”

  “We should probably take you to the ER,” Nick suggested.

  “No. I’ll be okay,” Tucker said as he dropped down into the nearest chair in the kitchen. “Why are you guys here again?”

  Nick traded looks with Logan. “We came by to say how sorry we are about your dad. God knows, I had my share of arguments and disagreements with Joe, but I never once wished him that kind of harm. I wanted to smack him a time or two, but…”

  “Believe me, I get it,” Tucker muttered, holding his throbbing head. “I often felt like that myself.

  Logan handed him a baggie filled with ice. “Hold this up to the back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Logan pulled out a chair across from Tucker. “I once had a discussion with Joe about the bulk price of nails. He wanted to charge double for what they cost in San Sebastian. I’m not making that up. When we started work on the school, my God, your dad made the project so much more difficult. It seemed like all he wanted to do was haggle.”

  “Worried about getting cheated out of a penny,” Nick tossed out.

  “Several times, Nick and I met with him to try to make him understand that the materials we needed would benefit the community. We’d have a school here, a place for the long term, but it didn’t seem to matter. No amount of reasoning would budge Joe off his price. That’s why Nick and I decided to start doing business with his competition. We never really sat down with you, Tucker, and explained why we did what we did.”

  “It’s okay, guys. Really. I might not have been here, but I knew him or thought I did better than most. He could try the patience of a saint.” He wasn’t sure why, but at that moment, Tucker decided to share what had happened in Florida. Maybe it was the knock on the head or the way these two had shown up to help him. Whatever it was, it made Tucker relaxed and talkative. He sat there, spilling out everything from the trip.

  Nick had a hard time believing what he heard. “A hooker? Joe? Now I’m baffled. That doesn’t sound like the guy I knew. Are you certain it was Joe?”

  “Yeah, positive. I had to ID the body. There was no mistake. The information about the woman came directly from Detective Rossi.”

  “Hmm. You don’t suppose the killer used the call girl to get inside?” Logan proffered.

  “Not according to the neighbors. They claim the same hooker had been coming and going from the condo ever since my mother died. That’s last March.”

  Nick’s face twisted in disbelief. “I’m just not sure I buy it. Joe was always so…”

  “So hard to get along with?” Tucker finished.

  Nick chuckled. “That, too. But I’d planned to say such a big church-goer. When I arrived here, Joe and Reverend Whitcomb were tight. Once your parents moved to Florida, do you think he did that sort of thing while your mother was still alive?”

  “I don’t know. My concern now is whether Dad did that sort of thing while he lived here with my mother.”

  Logan blew out a breath. “I never meant to say anything but come to think of it, I do remember seeing him over in Santa Cruz once having dinner with a woman that wasn’t your mom.”

  “When was that? Do you remember?”

  “Not exactly the date, but it was sometime after Kinsey had the twins. I’d taken her over there for a night out. First time we had dinner out of town. She’d know for certain. Is it that important, though? Because I’m fairly certain that Wally also saw him out and about with another woman. Wally said he was picking up parts for Hannah’s Suburban and spotted Joe with a much younger female.”

  Tucker put the ice bag down on the counter. “I was afraid of that. I brought a ton of boxes to sort through from the condo. My guess is there’s something in them that will confirm Joe Ferguson was even worse than we all thought.”

  He looked across the table at the two men. “Did I mention the connection my dad might’ve had to the bodies found at the boathouse?” He wasn’t sure which man looked at him the longest, but it was Nick who recovered first.

  “You’re saying Joe had something to do with stuffing those kids down in that piling?”

  Tucker rehashed his theory.

  Logan sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, a look of disgust written on his face. “You’re not responsible for the sins of the father. Never let anyone pin that on you. Whether it’s true or not, you’re a better man than he was, Tucker. You prove that every day you’ve been back. You’ve done nothing since getting here, but try to right the ship, a ship your dad crashed and burned through years of gouging people. There were so many times he could’ve just done the right thing. But he didn’t or wouldn’t. You aren’t like that.”

  “Thanks,” Tucker said. “I guess sometimes I need to hear that.”

  From the doorway to the laundry room, Brent had been listening. “Did I forget to remind you when you left my office last night that this is a murder investigation? What part of that did you not understand? You were supposed to keep what we talked about to yourself. Same with Bodie.”

  “Sorry,” Tucker muttered. “But what happened to Tessie has been hidden away too long for me to keep my mouth shut about it any longer.”

  Brent looked at the other two men and pulled out a chair, joining them at the table. “Good thing I can trust these guys. Right?”

  Nick nodded. “When have I ever let you down?”

  Logan bobbed his head. “What you tell us won’t leave this room.”

  Brent scooted his chair back farther so his le
gs would fit under the table. “Yeah, well, Colt got in touch with Sylvia King this morning. We think she might be the mother of one of our victims. Anyway, I sat in on a conference call. Colt and I had a long talk with the woman. She was a bundle of information. When her daughter called home, she asked for money and described the town where she intended to pick up the cash, a place on Main Street. Sylvia still remembers most of the conversation. After thirty-five years, she still had the Western Union information. And there it was, Britt King was in Pelican Pointe waiting for a money transfer so she could get back home. That’s a wealth of evidence we’re able to use. Add to that, and it seems there’s this organization back in Seattle that helps find missing people. About five years ago, Sylvia got a call from the head of the Artemis Foundation, a woman by the name of Skye Cree, who took Sylvia’s DNA, as well as DNA from Tate’s brother just in case the kids ever turned up or remains located. Lucky for us the Foundation uploaded the familial DNA to the national database. That puts us ahead of the curve. The ball’s in our court. Now we wait for lab results to see if that DNA matches up with what’s in the system. Hopefully, those remains found at the boathouse will turn out to be Britt King and Tate Burrows.”

  “But what’s the tie-in to Joe other than the kids went missing around the same time his boat caught fire?” Nick asked.

  “Blew up,” Tucker corrected. “An eight-year-old boat went boom out in the harbor on what I believe was the same night. I think those kids saw it happen. They were witnesses to the event. Witnesses who needed eliminating.”

  Brent saw the skepticism on Nick’s face. “Look, I agree it’s just a theory. But it’s a good one. There’s no denying the facts. Here’s what we do know. First, Joe’s boat did explode in late August. He filed an insurance claim. Second, two college kids were reported missing around that same time, either that night or shortly after the boat incident. After talking to Mrs. King, now we know that the kids were here in town to camp on our stretch of beach. The bodies we have in the morgue show a frenzied attack with a knife before being shot in the head. Third, whoever the killer is, he disposed of the remains in concrete in such a way that he hoped would obliterate the chance for discovery. And the fourth thing might be the icing on the cake. The day after the bodies surface, somebody silences Joe Ferguson for good in his Florida condo.” He glanced over at Tucker. “Have I left anything out?”

  “Only that in 1985 we know the Stella Greer was used to take weekly trips down to Mexico. According to what Colt found out from County files, the sheriff’s department suspected drugs were coming into the area from somewhere. They never could pinpoint who was responsible for bringing in the dope, though. Whether you believe the boat was for shrimping or drugs, the fact is, it’s gone, destroyed. I think it’s destruction served a dual purpose. One, it got rid of the drug evidence. And two, the big payout from the insurance company saved the hardware store.”

  “Unbelievable,” Nick muttered. “When I think how many times Joe held himself above reproach.”

  “Yeah. Then you fast forward eight years. It’s 1993, and someone murders Tessie on a Sunday morning while she’s outside playing. My father, and my mother, pass her death off to me as an accidental drowning for whatever reason. Now I know the story was a ruse. Tessie was strangled. Her murder went unsolved. If you start adding everything up, you begin to see a set of circumstances that begs an investigation. Add in the pattern of lies and deceit from my parents, and it prompts me to question everything I knew about my childhood.”

  Logan shifted in his chair, leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m buying into the theory. It works for me. The only question I have is Joe getting shot. Was he the killer of the college kids, or was it his partner in crime? Who exactly did the double murder back thirty-five years ago?”

  “Could’ve been both of them,” Tucker conceded. “Don’t expect me to sit here and make excuses for my dad any longer. Someone clearly beat me to Florida. That somebody was willing to kill to keep the secret, whatever it is, from coming to light. I’m under no illusions that Dad is the innocent party in all this. I’m certain someone killed him to keep him from talking about what happened in 1985. Do you kill to cover up arson? Insurance fraud? What’s the statute of limitations on either one of those offenses versus murder? You kill to cover up something serious. Double murder is serious.”

  Brent grinned. “I like that argument. The statute for arson is six years, but that’s if no one dies during the offense. Insurance fraud is four from the date of discovery. Our killer’s not gonna bother flying three thousand miles to silence Joe about anything but murder.”

  “Okay, you’ve sold me, too,” Nick amended. “You got the bump on the head because the killer was waiting for you to come back.”

  “No. The way I see it if he’d wanted to finish me off, he had the opportunity. A hammer isn’t the same thing as a gun. No, this guy is waiting until I find that piece of evidence that links him to the crime, probably something Dad was holding over him as leverage, something that tells the whole story, the story he doesn’t want out there. He took a chance killing Dad, hoping that whatever incriminated him would never see the light of day. It was a gamble he was willing to take, hoping I’d stumble across it, and he could easily take it from me because I obviously wouldn’t know its significance.”

  Brent stared at Tucker. “You put all this together on the drive back here? Okay, but you still don’t even know what it is that’s incriminating.”

  “No, but I might have an idea.”

  The guys all exchanged looks, waiting for Tucker to announce what it was.

  Tucker met each man’s eyes. “Think about it. It’s gotta be one of the murder weapons, the knife or the gun, right?”

  “Not so fast,” Brent cautioned. “I happened to have the inside information from Rossi that the gun used to kill Joe was a nine-millimeter. The gun used to shoot the kids, probably a .38.”

  “Which means they don’t match,” Tucker stated, making an obvious point. “If the killer had the .38 in his possession from 1985, he’d use that, right? So where did this .38 go? Where’s the knife he used to stab the kids?”

  Brent got to his feet, reached in his pocket for his phone. “You’re saying it might be in this house?”

  “In here or in one of those boxes out in the van. And if it isn’t, if we find nothing, then there has to be a clue in there to the exact location where my dad hid it away for safekeeping.”

  “I’ll get Colt and Eastlyn over here to go through the house.” When Tucker started to respond, Brent raised a hand. “Don’t worry. They won’t tear up the place. But they will take fingerprints to maybe ID the guy who hit you.”

  Logan stood up. “Nick and I will unload the van. We’ll stage the boxes in the garage until Brent can go through them one at a time.”

  Nick slapped Tucker on the back. “I hope this isn’t a clever way to get us to do all the work.”

  Tucker grinned. “If it is, it’s working like a charm, lump on the head and all. I should’ve known Brent would take over the search. I wanted to do it myself.”

  “If there are as many boxes as you say, you’d need help anyway, especially if we intend to catch this guy any time soon. We don’t have six months to wait for you to stumble on a clue. Plus, you’ve just made Brent’s day. He loves this kind of shit. You should’ve seen him on career day at school, lecturing the kids about cop stuff. He had them eating out of his hand. There is one thing I don’t get. Why kill Tessie? If Joe had the leverage, why aggravate the situation by murdering his daughter?”

  “I’ve thought about that. Maybe Dad was vacillating, maybe for once in his life, he had decided to do the right thing and go to the police. If the guy murdered Tessie, it would send a message, the strongest possible one to keep his mouth shut.”

  “You’re right. You have given this a great deal of thought. Stop beating yourself up about not searching yourself.”

  But those words didn’t help Tucker handle people trooping
through his house. To keep from sitting and watching everyone else do something, he got up and went out to the garage. The first thing Nick and Logan brought inside the house was the trunk, which Tucker directed them to haul to the study.

  Taking in the next box himself, Tucker almost tripped over Lago and realized the dog had managed to get red paint all over his coat. Each time Lago took a step, the red drops landed on the garage floor.

  Tucker dropped the box and followed the stains until he realized the red wasn’t paint at all but blood. Lago stumbled, then slumped to the concrete floor. Feeling sick at the sight of his dog in distress and bleeding, Tucker bent down to lift Lago’s head. Running his hands over the matted fur, he saw a large slit along the dog’s shoulder.

  “Brent, get over here. Someone’s tried to kill my dog.”

  Before her shift ended, Bodie heard the news and headed straight to the animal clinic, stopping only to change out of her pink uniform and into a pair of jeans and a pullover top. She found Tucker pacing back and forth in the reception area, waiting for an update from Cord.

  “He’s still in surgery,” Tucker said before Bodie could ask. “He’s been in there now for almost forty minutes.”

  “Cord’s good at what he does,” Bodie reminded him, tugging on his arm to get him to take a seat.

  “How’d you hear?”

  “Eastlyn called me. She also said someone hit you over the head. Are you okay? Do you feel concussed? Did you go to the ER?”

  “I’m fine, a little headache, but otherwise I’m fine.

  Bodie huffed out a sigh. “Who does this jerk think he is anyway, going around hitting people and stabbing animals?”

  “And shooting people,” Tucker tossed back, his voice hoarse with worry. Leaning closer, he whispered, “I might’ve been confused back in Florida about what happened to Dad, but I’m not in a fugue state or numb with grief anymore. It’s clear as a bell. Someone here, in town, is afraid. He fears exposure for what he is and what he’s done. He’ll do just about anything to keep his secret from getting out.”