The Boathouse (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 14)

by Vickie McKeehan

“I’ve tried to talk to Oliver about not letting the other kids get to him. But by the time we opened the school here, most of this behavior had been an ongoing problem for years. I’m not a miracle worker. These kids had been together since Oliver lost his parents, long before I took over as principal. The emotional toll, damage if you will, had already been set in motion by the time I entered the picture. It’s very difficult to break a cycle once it starts.”

  “I think you should try harder to break this stupid cycle,” Bodie suggested, picking up her mug of coffee. “Somehow, try a lot harder. Oliver shouldn’t be a throw-away kid.”

  Julianne’s lips curved. “It seems he already has a couple of people in his corner.”

  Bodie leaned across the table, lowered her voice. “You don’t understand. His uncle is about ready to give up on him. That can’t happen. I don’t find this kid’s predicament all that amusing just because Tucker and I got involved.”

  “Okay. But it sounds to me like Oliver has already taken a few positive steps. Getting a job to pay for the door is one. The other is getting a dog. A dog is a lot of responsibility.”

  “But neither of those things change how the other kids treat him.”

  “You’re falling into the same trap as Oliver. No one can change the other kids. No one will change their minds. It’s up to Oliver to show them he’s not who they think he is.”

  “Jeez, I’m glad I don’t have kids. This all sounds way too complicated, a bit over my head. It’s making me think twice about getting involved.”

  “I’ll talk with Kris. How’s that? I’ll remind him that this is no time to toss in the towel. But Oliver doesn’t exactly make things easy. Kicking in a door is hardly the way to begin summer vacation. It’s not exactly a step in the right direction. A testament to change would be to not do things like that.”

  “I get it. I do. Doesn’t he have any friends at all he could hang with, friends who would be a positive influence?”

  “Not really. He gave up Boy Scouts about two years ago when he decided he didn’t want to do the badge requirements. Since then, he’s been pretty much a loner.”

  The idea of Oliver sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch by himself tugged at Bodie’s heartstrings. “How alone is he at school?”

  Julianne shook her head. “Let’s put it this way. He arrives with an attitude and leaves the same way.”

  “That’s a shame. I pegged him as a good kid. How are his grades?”

  “Below average. Oliver doesn’t shine in any subject. He’ll usually settle for a C and be happy with that. I may not be the bearer of hope that you wanted. But I figure I’ve at least eased your mind about the dog situation.”

  “I don’t think the dog is the problem now. Oliver could use a goal, a friend, something positive in his life, or all of the above.”

  “Keep me in the loop. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. I’m happy to help.”

  Bodie left it like that but was downhearted and dismayed to know Oliver had let other kids get to him.

  That afternoon while she cleaned Mrs. Waydell’s house on Cape May from top to bottom, she tried to figure out how to combat Oliver’s years of self-doubt. In her experience, no matter what age, there was always someone around trying to beat you down, lower your self-confidence. Look at what Alex had done to her. And she’d been a grown woman. Hadn’t she fought back, though, through the court system? Bodie needed to figure out a way for Oliver to fight back without physically hurting anyone and come out on the other side, feeling good about himself. Not an easy task.

  No matter how much time she spent trying to come up with a solution, the answer evaded her for the rest of the day.

  By the time she put away the vacuum cleaner and gathered up her supplies, Tucker had sent her a text message about picking up Lago from the vet’s. They made plans to meet up at his house so Lago would be in more familiar surroundings.

  When she arrived at her house, she threw together a meatless lasagna to take to Tucker’s, using sauce out of a jar and put it in the oven to bake. While that cooked, she took a shower and kept dwelling on Oliver’s predicament and lack of friends.

  After deciding it was time to take drastic steps to do something about that, Bodie got dressed. She took the hot dish out of the oven, slid it into one of the thermal bags she kept on hand to keep food warm.

  With Oliver at the front of her mind, she went out to the car and secured the bag in the passenger seat. She had a stop to make before getting to Tucker’s.

  As soon as she made the turn onto Dune Point, her heart warmed when she spotted Oliver out walking Chewy on the leash, strutting down the sidewalk like he wanted to show off his dog.

  She pulled up in the driveway and watched as Oliver came up next to the car. “How’s it going with Chewy?”

  “We’re fine.”

  “Do you have plans for supper?”

  “Sure. I nuke frozen pizza in the microwave. It’s not bad.”

  “Do you like lasagna?” Before he could answer, she got out, went around to the other side of the car, opened the door. She hauled the bag out, lifted the flap where he could see what was inside. “Homemade. Sort of. I used jar sauce as a shortcut.”

  Catching a whiff of the aroma, the dog went wild as Oliver sniffed the air. “Wow. That smells fantastic. I haven’t had homemade lasagna in…forever. Is it all for me?”

  “You and Kris. But you should have plenty of leftovers.”

  “Don’t count on it. I don’t know what to say, except thanks. Here, I’ll take the dish, and you can have your bag.”

  “It’s a deal. Don’t feed that to Chewy, though, no matter how much he begs for table food.”

  Oliver grinned. “I won’t. Jessica warned me about that. Apparently, Dr. Cord has this thing about giving puppies people food.”

  “That’s what I heard. Dr. Cord is kind of a fanatic about it. Look, I need to get moving. Lago’s home, and I’m anxious to see how he’s doing. You need anything else, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  “You mean that?”

  “I do. Catch you later. I want my dish back, though,” she tossed out with a grin as she got back behind the wheel.

  After waving her off, Oliver turned to the little terrier. “It’s been a long time since anyone brought me anything. Us. Let’s go sample some of this before it gets cold. Not you, me. I get to sample as much as I want. You have to stick with dog food.”

  Chewy barked and trotted after Oliver into the house. Boy and dog content to keep each other company for the remainder of the night.

  “Let me get this straight, you gave away our dinner to Oliver?” Tucker asked, amused at the idea.

  “Yep.” Sitting on the sofa in Tucker’s den that faced the kitchen, Bodie adjusted her legs and swung them around so that Lago could put his head in her lap. “You should’ve seen him. He was delighted to get supper delivered. And before you ask, he and Chewy seemed like they’d known each other forever. It’s a good sign that he was out walking the dog. I consider that a win-win, especially…”

  “Since you didn’t sleep a wink last night worrying about them,” Tucker finished. “Tell you what, how about I throw some burgers on the grill?” He held up a hand. “I stopped at the store and got you one of those veggie burgers. I could have it ready in ten minutes or less.”

  “Sounds good. Want some help?”

  “Nope. You sit there and baby my dog.”

  “I like babying your dog. Lago doesn’t seem to mind either. How’s your head?”

  “Everybody keeps asking me that. It’s fine. A few stitches is no big deal.” In the kitchen, Tucker got to work on the meal. “I had some time today to do some digging about that list I found with the names of crew members.”

  “The list you thought was phony for tax purposes,” Bodie pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, I could only find one real person who actually had a social security number that came back genuine, add to that, only one guy worked on the Stella Greer, a m
an by the name of Gordon Carnaby. And get this, Carnaby seems to have disappeared, too.”

  “What do you mean, disappeared?”

  “I mean he hasn’t been seen or heard from since August 1985. I had a lengthy conversation with his daughter, who still lives down in San Diego. She filed a missing person report when he didn’t turn up for Thanksgiving that same year. Turns out, she told me the story of her dad. Carnaby had been a fisherman, a real one, who had plenty of experience on the water manning a boat. When he was in his early fifties, he fell on hard times with his own fishing business and had to look for work elsewhere, wherever he could find it. In those work records that I found in the trunk show that beginning May 1981, Carnaby went to work for my dad. His daughter told me that he had this habit every year of working February through October then heading home to San Diego to spend three months with his family. Every November through January during the holidays, he’d stay in port. Like clockwork, she said. But in 1985, Carnaby never made it home, and she hasn’t seen or spoken to him since. Her mother died seven years ago without ever knowing what happened to her husband.”

  “That’s awful. You’re not suggesting that something bad happened to Carnaby the same night the teenagers were murdered, are you?”

  “What other explanation is there?”

  Bodie gently moved Lago to the side and got to her feet. Walking to the refrigerator, she took out the makings for a salad. “I hate to say this, but the whole thing is starting to sound like something out of The X-Files. It almost seems like anyone who had anything to do with that August night disappeared. The kids were missing for how long? Any way you try to explain it away, it doesn’t make sense. You come back around to the same weird conclusion. It circles back to your father. That’s more than a little creepy.”

  “How do you think I feel? This is my dad we’re talking about, my own blood. Not only is that creepy and unsettling, but how would you feel if you discovered your own father linked to murders. Add in Tessie’s unsolved death, a drug-running operation, and I didn’t even know the man. It’s beginning to make me question everything I ever knew or felt.”

  “If only your mother was around to…”

  “No, for the first time since she died, that’s the only saving grace. At least she’s not around to discover all this tuff.”

  Bodie touched his arm. “Tucker, maybe she already knew. Did you consider that possibility?”

  The look on his face said he’d dreaded owning up to that prospect.

  Bodie went on, “Maybe that’s why they didn’t sleep together after Tessie died. Maybe she blamed him for it, blamed him for getting involved in something that brought this full circle right back to her front door, brought about the worst thing a parent could face—the loss of a child.”

  While he stood at the counter, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “You need to stop beating yourself up. You were a child. You had no idea what was going on. I realize learning the truth is the most important thing. But deep down, you’ve probably already considered the possibility that your mom knew about everything all along.”

  He kissed the top of her golden-red hair. For a long time, he didn’t speak, couldn’t force out the words. But when he did offer up what he felt, his voice came out hoarse, laden with emotion. “I know she did. I even suspect she knew he was seeing other women over in Santa Cruz.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I found her journal when I went rummaging through her stuff.”

  “Without me?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. Without you. I’ll let you read it, though. She doesn’t come right out and talk about Tessie’s death or anything my dad did. But she does mention she’d been unhappy for a long time with the way her life had turned out. She admitted she married a man she’d come to despise. Her words, not mine.”

  “Then I don’t understand why she went with him to Florida. It seems that would’ve been the perfect opportunity to split up, to stay here and start things over for herself, surrounded by what was familiar.”

  “I don’t get it either. Maybe deep down, she felt obligated. I don’t know. I may never know about any of it.”

  Knowing this would likely be a mystery he couldn’t put down until he figured it out, she patted his chest. “We won’t give up.”

  “It’ll get old before it gets solved.”

  “That’s okay. I’m stubborn…like you.”

  After grilling two patties and throwing together a salad, they sat down at the table. But both moved the food around on their plates.

  “What’s your next step?” Bodie wanted to know.

  “Keep the business going, and in my spare time, try to uncover all Dad’s secrets.”

  “Could there be anything hidden at the store?”

  “Not likely. Dad would be less inclined to leave anything incriminating there. We’re not exactly talking Fort Knox. And by now, I would’ve surely stumbled on a secret vault or cubbyhole in the wall. No, I think if he hid something, he probably did it right here in this house.”

  The doorbell interrupted their meal.

  “What now?” Tucker mumbled as he tossed down his napkin and made his way out to the entry hall.

  He came back with Brent trailing behind.

  “I didn’t mean to interfere with dinner.”

  “That’s okay. We were almost done,” Bodie said, noting the Chief of Police looked like he’d swallowed a cup of bad-tasting medicine. “What’s up?”

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this except to rip off the Band-Aid, fast and quick. You know I told you I would get Tessie’s case file and go over it, right?”

  Tucker leaned on the counter, beginning to get a bad feeling. “That’s what you said.”

  “Yeah, well, the County evidence clerk went to retrieve Tessie’s case files for me only to discover the box was empty.”

  “What do you mean empty?”

  “I mean someone at some point in time over the last twenty years, accessed the room where it’s all kept, went inside, and cleared out the box with the bags of evidence in there. All that remained was a small paper trail, stuff like the autopsy report, which is public record anyway, and the initial police call sheet.”

  “That’s it? No case notes?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Unbelievable. What about contacting the detective who worked the case? Maybe he took the files home.”

  “That’s just it, Tucker. The guy died in a car accident six months after Tessie’s murder. And no one has picked up the baton since on Tessie’s case.”

  Tucker rubbed his forehead and glanced over at Bodie. “Okay, I’m thinking conspiracy here, X-Files all the way. This is starting to sound a lot like a coverup from the inside.” He leveled a finger at Brent. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not paranoid. Who else could’ve accessed police records locked away in the evidence room except for another cop?”

  “I never said you were paranoid.”

  “No, but you were thinking it.”

  “Maybe at one time but not anymore. I won’t lie. This one has me stumped. I’ve lost sleep trying to figure out what I’m missing.”

  “That’s fair enough. If that’s the case, though, why not go back to the beginning? Go back to square one. 1985.” Tucker told him about the missing Gordon Carnaby.

  Brent pulled out a chair and finally took a seat across from Bodie. “I’m impressed with his detective skills. Not too shabby for a hardware store owner.”

  “That’s what I thought. Although joking aside, he’s uncovered another missing person. Why didn’t you guys know about Carnaby already and tie it to the August 1985 murders of the kids?”

  “Information in the database doesn’t work that way. For one thing, you need to enter the exact name in the search criteria. Otherwise, it won’t grab it. On top of that, it’s a thirty-five-year-old case with dated information. Unless my team knows about it firsthand, say the family makes a recent inquiry and asks about it, the case doesn’t surface. It
doesn’t appear on a recent County log sheet. In other words, how would my team ever know about Carnaby disappearing if we aren’t familiar with his name? How would we know to look for Carnaby if we’re not made aware of the case? See what I mean? It’s a vicious cycle.”

  “The daughter did tell Tucker that she didn’t realize he’d gone missing until he failed to show up for Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s my point. Even if we had come across the name, the reported date wouldn’t have sent up a red flag or coincided with the August missing kids incident.”

  Tucker got up to pace the length of the den. “Locals certainly weren’t wondering what happened to a fisherman from San Diego. Just like they never talked about what happened to the college kids. But consider this. If my dad was involved with trafficking drugs into the area, there must be records somewhere inside the County that indicates who law enforcement suspected at the time. I mean, even in 1985, trafficking drugs into Santa Cruz County was a big deal. They had to have a list of suspects. If it was happening via Pelican Pointe’s harbor, someone in law enforcement had to suspect somebody. If we could somehow track down the people who were suspects at the time, it might lead us to the person Dad got mixed up with in the first place.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. I still have a few sources I trust at the Sheriff’s Department. But I need to meet with them in person, away from prying eyes and ears.”

  “That’s not paranoid or anything,” Tucker cracked. “Cops who don’t trust each other. Wow, what a novel concept.”

  “You have no idea the backstabbing that goes on when no one wants to take responsibility for dropping the ball. Investigators cover their tracks, so blame doesn’t land on them.”

  Tucker handed Brent a piece of paper. “That’s Carnaby’s social security number from tax records. You could see if he’s used it since 1985.”

  “That would help. Thanks. I’ll keep you in the loop if I manage to track him down. The same goes for Tessie’s case files. I’ll keep you posted if I get lucky there.”

  Tucker didn’t like the sound of that. But since there wasn’t much he could do about it, he kept his opinions to himself. When Brent got up to leave, he showed him to the door and then turned back to Bodie. “Can you keep an eye on Lago for me?”