Sea Struck (Lupine Bay Book 3)

by Maribel Fox

“Corpse? I don’t know anything about… Shit, he’s dead?”

  “Who’s dead?” Callie asks, voice verging on hysterical.

  Detective Davis looks at something on her phone, frowning.

  “Calypso Seaver?” she asks, looking back up.

  I don’t have to look back at Callie to feel her face burning, and I want to protect her from all that’s going on, but I’m not even sure she wants to look at me right now.

  “Who’s dead?” Callie asks again, voice cracking.

  “Mr. Halloran is there anyone who can account for your whereabouts last night?” the Detective asks.

  I swallow thickly, putting this all together the same way I know she will, and it does not look good. I fight with the guy over his ex, the guy winds up dead, and me and the ex are in bed together the next morning?

  Fuck.

  I don’t know for sure that someone’s trying to frame me — I can’t imagine who would be pissed enough at me to go through all the effort — but they couldn’t have done a better job of it.

  “After the fight, I went to The Shamrock, had a few drinks. The bartender there will remember me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “And when you left the bar?”

  “I was alone,” I answer reluctantly. “I was home for a couple of hours before Callie showed up.”

  The Detective nods, but her expression gives nothing away.

  “Ms. Seaver, could I talk to you in private?”

  Callie nods in a stupor, mutely following the Detective to the shore where they can talk without being overheard.

  “The hell have you done now?” Brian asks, hobbling down the gangway, his knees destroyed from decades of working the lighthouse.

  “You should go,” I tell him, jaw clenched. The last thing I need is to get into a fight with Callie’s dad with the investigator for her ex’s murder present.

  Talk about digging your own grave.

  “Remember what I said,” Brian warns, turning to go. “You stay away from her.”

  I huff, but don’t come up with an argument. After all this, I highly doubt Callie’s going to want a damn thing to do with me. There was already enough history and bullshit between us, but this is going to seal the deal, I’m sure of it.

  Callie nods at the Detective and takes her bike from its place at the end of the dock, leaving without a look back my way, fighting with the too-long pants getting tangled in the pedals. Guess whatever Detective Davis said made Callie want to leave without even getting her stuff.

  My heart’s in my throat watching her, wishing I knew what was going through her head right now, but I’ve got more important things to focus on.

  Like Detective Davis making her way back up the dock, her steely gaze so sharp I feel like she’s looking right through me.

  “You wanna make this easier on both of us and tell me what happened last night?”

  I remember hearing that I shouldn’t say anything without a lawyer present, but I know asking for one or refusing to answer is only going to make me look guiltier.

  “There’s not a lot to tell. Trenton came out of the bar drunk, looking for a fight, and came at me. Seamus pulled him off, and that was the end of it. I never saw him again.”

  “I’m going to find out what happened,” she says.

  “I hope you do. He was an asshole and didn’t treat Callie right, but that doesn’t mean he deserved to die.”

  Detective Davis looks at me for a long, uncomfortable stretch of time, probably using her training to read me, to see if I’m lying or trying to cover something up.

  Joke’s on her; I’ve got a dozen things I’m covering up and none of them are murder.

  “I’ll be in touch,” she says with a final stern look. “Don’t leave town.”

  “Why start now?”

  She’s not amused, but I’m not in handcuffs by the time she leaves, so it seems like a win.

  I am entirely alone, and I have no clue where I stand with Callie or even if we’re moving forward with the expedition.

  Complete upheaval and it’s not even seven.

  20

  Callie

  My legs burn from frantic pedaling. I have to get away. Far, far away.

  Away from everything that’s happened, from everything I just learned. Away from my own thoughts.

  But I can’t get away from my thoughts. They follow me wherever I go, needling at me, reminding me of all the uncertainties swirling through my head.

  Trenton is dead.

  I feel like a monster for not having more of a reaction. Hearing the news just makes me feel… numb. This was a man I spent years with, was engaged to, and I feel nothing over his death? What does that say about me?

  Well, I don’t feel nothing.

  I’m scared. For me, for Miles. There’s no telling what the motive was. Could it have something to do with my research? And how does Miles come into all this?

  I don’t believe he could possibly do something so terrible. He’s Miles, for crying out loud. He’s more likely to avoid a fight than start one.

  But it doesn’t look good for him. Not at all. The Detective told me to be careful. She gave me her card and told me she’d be around to talk in a little while.

  Great.

  I don’t want to talk about this. There’s a whole other pile of problems stacking up that I want to tackle, but this is the only thing I can think about.

  Back at the B&B, I head upstairs without running into anyone and go straight for the shower. I need it. I need to wash off last night. I need to put on my own clothes so I’m not surrounded by the scent of Miles.

  Did I sleep with him while there was still metaphorical blood on his hands?

  No. It’s not possible.

  Is it?

  I didn’t mention the theft to the Detective, but if Trenton was the one who robbed me, it leaves a pretty narrow window for Miles to be able to kill him and be back at the houseboat.

  At least I think it does. I didn’t pay close attention to the times last night. I never thought I’d have to be looking back and scrutinizing every moment so closely.

  Why were they fighting again? Could he have slipped out when I was sleeping?

  I hate doubting him like this, but he’s really left me with no choice. Keeping so much from me, hiding these huge things — and he’s crazy to boot?

  I mean, what was he even on about with all this selkie stuff? I’ve heard the term, but it’s not something I know much about. They’re shapeshifters, I think. And sirens? Aren’t those basically mermaids?

  I can’t understand what he and my dad were talking about. How they could keep that kind of secret from me and then be surprised that I’m not happy to learn about it.

  Not that I believe it. I don’t know what I believe.

  Especially once Ava informs me I have a visitor and I start talking to Detective Davis again.

  “Tell me about your relationship with Mr. Bismouth,” she asks, friendly enough though I know better than to fall for it.

  “It started out as professional, turned personal, then we grew apart. I ended it when I realized he didn’t support my academic pursuits. He laughed when I told him my sabbatical plans. Laughed,” I add to her raised brow.

  “That must have upset you.”

  I nod, then shrug, remembering who I’m talking to. “Yeah, enough to dump his ass. That’s it.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Last night, at the Drowning Duck. He came in raving drunk, accusing me of getting him kicked out of The Shamrock. He was promptly banned from the Duck too.”

  “Anyone that can corroborate that story?”

  I nod, chest tightening before I give her the names of the guys. I hate involving others in this, but I’m not going to stand in the way of a police investigation out of politeness.

  “Miles didn’t do this,” I say suddenly. The moment the words are out of my mouth I want to take them back and stuff them back in, all too aware of how guilty the
y make him sound.

  Damn it, Callie.

  “I know everything’s pointing at that answer, but he couldn’t. He’s a good guy. Not a violent bone in his body.”

  “Two fights in a matter of weeks suggests otherwise, Ms. Seaver,” she says, like she’s explaining something simple to someone very stupid. I don’t appreciate it, but I can’t exactly be annoyed with the cop if I don’t want to make everything worse.

  “Regardless, he was with me.”

  Detective Davis gives me a thin-lipped smile and nods as she stands. “I’m aware of Mr. Halloran’s alibi, yes. I’m sure you’ll understand the word of the pissed-off ex doesn’t have much weight here. For all I know, you two planned his murder then had a little fun together to celebrate. Sounds to me like Mr. Bismouth was a real pain in the ass, getting in the way of you moving on with your life. Maybe you just wanted to scare him a little, get the message through once and for all and it went too far?”

  “You’re out of your mind,” I argue, hysteria in my voice not helping my case one bit. “I’m done talking.”

  Her smile never falters, giving me cold chills. I don’t know how, but I feel like I just played directly into her hand.

  “I’m sure we’ll be talking again real soon,” she says, heading toward the door, leaving me feeling broken and lost.

  Did I just make things worse for Miles?

  I know I need to talk to him, about this, about last night, about all the stuff my dad said, but it seems like a lot. Too much right now. The past twenty-four hours have been an absolute roller coaster and I need to find my center before I go for another loop.

  That means going to the beach.

  Of course the thought alone is enough to have me thinking about what Dad said. A siren? Not just me, but Mom too?

  I really don’t know what to make of it. It’s magical nonsense.

  …But I do feel drawn to the ocean. Especially on days like today when my emotions are a wreck and I just want some comfort. The ocean’s always there for me in times like these. There with its soothing rhythm, the comforting sounds and smells. Even when it’s dark and stormy like today, it’s not enough to keep me away.

  I’m thankful I don’t run into anyone on my way down the beach path — I’m not sure how I’d handle Nora and her weirdness in this state of mind — and I take a deep, fortifying breath just before I turn the corner, lungs already full of salty sea air.

  Then I stop.

  I have to. I can’t go any further because the beach is all roped off.

  My first thought goes to Trenton. Is this where they found him?

  But no, it’s not crime tape. Just fluorescent flagging tape marking off a huge section of the beach, the whole area crawling with people who look out of place.

  “Don’t forget the west side over there, I want everything combed thoroughly,” comes a voice I know all too well.

  Vanessa.

  What the hell?

  “Hey, you can’t—” someone calls after me as I march through the perimeter toward my boss.

  Is she still my boss at this point?

  “What’s going on here?” I demand, having to nearly shout to be heard over the wind and waves. The sea is angry today, more so than usual. I appreciate it. I feel like there’s some commiseration there.

  “Callie,” Vanessa says in a sickly-sweet tone that I’m not buying for a second. She gives me a fake, strained smile, but doesn’t look at all surprised to see me here. “Nothing to worry about. We’re going to be taking over your investigation here—”

  “Like hell you are!” I feel eyes turn toward me from all sides, but I don’t care. Let them stare. Let them learn that this is how they’re going to be treated when Vanessa decides she’s done with them.

  She’s always been self-serving and short-sighted, but she’s delusional if she thinks she can just waltz in here and claim my find.

  Not that there’s a find to claim yet.

  “Boss, the weather’s getting pretty nasty. Maybe we should pack it—”

  “We’ll pack it in when I say so,” Vanessa snaps at one of the researchers, ignoring the lightning crackling over the bay, the gale-force winds whipping sand around like tiny needles.

  “What are you even doing here?” I ask, arms folded. No one back at the office has any idea what I’ve been up to here.

  With the exception of one person, of course.

  “That sample you sent in to Christopher was interesting enough for me to encourage Trenton to check up on you. He told me he thought you’d found something worth looking into and I’m inclined to agree. I’ll be needing any research you’ve collected.”

  “Kiss my ass,” I growl, cementing my unemployment with three little words. I never thought when I sent that rock off to Chris for analysis that it would get back to Vanessa. We’d always been tight before I left. I thought I could trust him.

  Trenton I shouldn’t be surprised about, though. I knew he was fishing when he first showed up in Lupine Bay, but I thought he was doing it for his own fame and glory. Doing it for Vanessa’s is somehow worse.

  Vanessa rolls her eyes. “Those convictions of yours are what make you so unattractive. It’s no wonder Trenton came to me when his needs weren’t being met,” she says innocently, with enough venom to down a hippo.

  Past Callie might have let that bother her. She might let it get under her skin and twist her up in knots. But not anymore. Trenton’s no loss to me; I’d say she could have him, but, well…

  Does she even know?

  Does she care?

  “But you will be handing over your research unless you’d like to be sued for breach of contract.”

  I snort. “Bring it on. I don’t have anything to hand over. My research was stolen last night. Curious how that happens just as your team shows up demanding access to it.”

  It’s raining now. A steady spray mixing in with the mist of the churning waves. Waves that are pushing higher up the beach, encroaching on the flagged perimeter. I take way too much joy in watching the other researchers scurry from the water out of the corner of my eye.

  I’m so over being the nice girl. Taking shit from people who never have to face any consequences for their actions. I’m sick of it.

  I’m done.

  I’m not playing their game anymore. To hell with the consequences.

  “You might want to listen to your team and get off the beach before you’ve got another death on your watch.”

  The way she pales tells me she knows. Her face falters for a moment, but no, there’s no great mourning for the loss of Trenton. She’s as ambivalent about it as I am. If anything, she’s worried about how it makes her look.

  “You’re going to regret this,” she says, voice shaking. Worried. Whatever she’s hiding, she thinks I might know about it. Better to let her sweat. I’ve got other shit to deal with.

  “No, I don’t think I am. Good luck Vanessa. You’re going to need it.”

  My whole life I’ve heard proverbs and adages about the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final nail in the coffin, all those folksy sayings that you repeat your whole life without really thinking about. But now I get it. This camel’s back is broken. I’ve given my last fuck when it comes to this job, and Vanessa has no idea what she’s unleashed in me.

  There are a lot of injustices I can tolerate, but no one steals my research.

  21

  Miles

  Manual labor is the only answer to the day I’ve had.

  The sun’s hardly risen, and already I’ve been reamed out by Callie’s dad, not to mention learning he knows about me — and that stuff about Callie being a siren — and on top of all that, it seems I’m suspect number one in her ex’s murder.

  So yeah, I’m scrubbing the ever-loving shit out of my deck, because it’s the only thing I know to do right now.

  A siren…

  It’s almost too crazy to believe.

  Almost.

  But I’ve always been weirdly, crazily
drawn to Callie. I don’t know a lot about sirens, but I know they’ve got some kind of enchanting powers, luring sailors to their watery graves and whatnot.

  It’s insane to think about that being Callie.

  Would that kind of thing even work on me considering my own selkie heritage?

  I wish I knew.

  For the first time in my life, I wish I knew more about all this magic stuff. I don’t know anything about what I am, let alone what Callie is. My special abilities have always seemed harmless, so even though it’s probably a little shameful that I don’t know anything about my own heritage, it’s not exactly negligent.

  Unlike Brian, who’s let Callie go around without knowing what she is, with who knows what kind of abilities.

  I wish I had someone to talk to about this shit. I’m not sure I would, but it’d be nice to have the option. The whole rest of my family are just ordinary humans, though. My biological dad fucked off ages ago, before I can even remember.

  When I was old enough to need to know, Mom finally broke the news to me. Not exactly what a weird teenager wants to hear when he’s still trying to figure things out. At the time, I decided I’d just do my best to ignore it all and live my life normally. Learn about it later.

  One thing I knew for sure was that it would ruin any chance I had at a love life. Tragic love stories are kind of the selkies’ thing.

  No thanks.

  At sixteen, learning I’m a creature of the sea when the girl I was crazy about was terrified of it seemed plenty tragic already.

  Now I realize that was just the appetizer.

  A god damn siren.

  I should find out what that means. Not that I’m sure Callie’s ever going to want to talk to me again. Everyone involved really had terrible timing, but I can’t blame it all on Brian and Detective Davis. I’m the one that never told Callie about that part of me. I kept that secret, and that’s what she’s so upset about.

  Instead of telling her about it, I shut her out. I figured it would be easier. Logical, reasonable Callie believing in magic? Yeah right. She’d have laughed in my face. Then she’d stop talking to me because I was crazy or weird or something.