Sea Struck (Lupine Bay Book 3)

by Maribel Fox

  Besides, telling her would have meant acknowledging it.

  I enjoy being able to dive without restrictions, but that’s about all this thing has got going for it. I just want to live a normal non-magical life. I don’t involve myself with the local court other than knowing of their existence and drinking at their bar. Besides Henri, my interactions with anything fantastical have been extremely limited.

  Now I don’t know.

  Seems my whole life’s been a lot more magical than I thought.

  Roanish is gleaming from stem to stern, nothing left here for me to do. The work boat could probably use some attention. Only problem there is if I climb aboard, I’m going to be tempted to head out of the bay and just keep going.

  Internally I roll my eyes at myself for being so dramatic. I’d never leave like that. I’ve got my family here. They’d have to live with the rumors of me being a murderer.

  Which I’m not. The truth will out one way or another, I’m sure.

  I hope.

  The sick feeling in my stomach isn’t from confidence.

  Working is better than sitting around whipping my anxiety into a froth, so I start to pack up to head to the bay, half hoping I’ll run into Callie there. The weather’s not great, so I can’t imagine she’s having a thoughtful stroll on the beach, but a guy can hope.

  My phone rings as I’m swinging one leg over the bike and I have to fish it out of the zipper pocket in my leather jacket. Normally I’d let it go, but my heart’s in my throat hoping it’s Callie, hoping she’ll give me a chance to tell my side of the story.

  There’s a number on the screen instead of a name, and then a second later the smart caller ID kicks in — Lupine Bay Polic…

  My stomach sinks. For a split second I consider letting it go to voicemail, but that’s only going to buy me a little time. It’s not a big town. If they’ve got their eye on me, I’m not getting away.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Halloran,” comes the patronizingly sweet voice of Detective Davis, “I told you I’d be in touch.”

  “I’ve been waiting by the phone.”

  “I need you to come down to the station for questioning,” she says, skipping over any niceties, jumping straight to business. I imagine that’s how she is in all aspects of her life. She seems the no-nonsense type.

  “Is this voluntary?”

  “Unless you’d like a written invite,” she says without missing a beat. I know this is a ploy they use, making it seem like a warrant is a formality to get you to give up your rights, but in this case… Well, I think it probably is a formality. If he wasn’t the one in the morgue, I’d think Callie’s ex was trying to screw me over to get me away from her.

  …Surely Brian wouldn’t go that far?

  Regardless, there’s enough circumstantial evidence around me to get whatever they need to aid their investigation, so I might as well try to be cooperative.

  “Guess I don’t have much of a choice then.”

  “Glad we agree. See you in twenty.”

  I snort.

  “You’re kidding, right. You want me to just drop everything to—”

  “Mr. Halloran,” she snaps, so sharp it shuts me up instantly, “I don’t know if you realize the severity of this situation. A man is dead. Someone has to answer for that, and I promise you, being flippant isn’t going to help your case.”

  Shit. She really is a ball-buster. Guess you’d have to be to have her level of authority and power in such a boys’ club. Especially in a little town like this. Can’t imagine it’s been easy for her to get where she’s at and she’s certainly not going to take shit from someone like me.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there,” I mutter, shoving the phone back in my pocket, hands shaking enough to make doing the zipper difficult.

  What am I going to do?

  I know I should get a lawyer, but I don’t exactly have one on retainer or someone I typically call because this isn’t typical. I don’t know where to begin with picking a good one, and I couldn’t even tell you if Lupine Bay has criminal defense attorneys.

  I’m well and truly fucked.

  Not yet. You’re not arrested yet, I remind myself, though that yet isn’t very comforting.

  The one thing that is comforting is the roar of Suzy’s engine under me. The wind rushing up to meet me. The feeling of freedom.

  How much longer will I have that?

  I take the long way to the police station, trying to get my heart rate under control before I head in. I don’t think it works, but the fresh air is worth the delay.

  Getting through the metal detector takes almost as long as the drive here, but finally I’m cleared to head in, greeted by Detective Davis and a uniformed officer; neither gives me a friendly expression.

  “This way,” she says with a jerk of her head. She leads the way and the officer with her falls in step beside, slightly behind me, always in my peripheral. It’s already putting me on edge and I’m sure that’s exactly what they’re after.

  They lead me into a sterile interrogation room, practically shoving me into a hard metal chair under a too-bright pendant light. The glare on the surface of the table makes me squint, and the angle of everything means I’m not able to comfortably make eye contact with the Detective. Another guilty tell.

  For fuck’s sake.

  “How long have you and Ms. Seaver been having an affair?” she asks, breaking through the ice with a damn sledgehammer.

  “We’re not… There’s no affair. She was single when she came back to town.”

  “So your relationship began… two, three months ago?” she asks casually.

  “No. There’s no relationship. I don’t see why any of this is relevant—”

  “Motive is very relevant, Mr. Halloran, and it seems like you had every motive to kill Mr. Bismouth since he was causing trouble for your girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my— I didn’t kill him.”

  “So you keep saying. There’s no relationship between you and Ms. Seaver?” she asks arching a brow.

  “No… I mean, I wouldn’t say no relationship, but nothing… We haven’t talked about… I mean, we’ve been friends since we were kids—”

  “So last night… You had a pajama party for old time’s sake?”

  I sigh. I’m not helping things and I know it. I just don’t know how to make it right.

  “She came over to my place late, upset.” I already know the next question, so I opt to answer it preemptively. “She woke up and her research was missing.”

  “She was robbed?” the Detective asks, and I’m not sure if she’s skeptical or not.

  I nod.

  “And did she have any idea who robbed her?”

  “She assumed it was Trenton. He’s the only person that knows about the work she’s doing here.”

  “So after comforting her a little bit, you decided to go find the guy and teach him a lesson for hurting your girl, that it?”

  I groan, fighting not to lose my temper, but it’s getting harder by the minute.

  “I’ve spent the last twenty years fantasizing about having Callie in my bed. Nothing could have motivated me to leave her.”

  That seems to catch the Detective off-guard, her eyes widening, a slow blink following.

  Good. Let her be the one unbalanced for a change.

  “Did he have it? The research, I mean. Losing that stuff set us back weeks.”

  “Anything we found will be in evidence until the case is solved. You really care about your little girlfriend, you’ll sign the confession now and get the ball rolling.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and the Detective glares at me before huffing and going to answer it. I’m still under the watchful eye of the uniformed officer, so there’s no trying to pull a fast one — not that I know what fast one I’d attempt to pull in this situation.

  “Yeah? What is it? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

  I can’t make out the murmur on the other side of t
he door, but it sounds a little nervous, not comfortable speaking up to Detective Davis. Can’t say I blame the poor guy. Ten minutes in the interrogation room with her and I’m already getting an idea of how difficult it could be to work around her all the time.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” she says, before closing the door behind her, leaving just me and the officer alone.

  He watches me closely, his expression unreadable. The silence is uncomfortable because of his obsessive gaze, but I do my best not to squirm or show too many overt signs of discomfort. I assume some discomfort is normal, even for an innocent person.

  I’m over-thinking it all, and I just know that’s going to land me in jail.

  My stomach twists in on itself as the door handle turns. Detective Davis strolls back in looking pissed off, and internally I wince. That can’t be good for me. Whatever’s frustrating her, she’s just going to take it out on me and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  “Looks like today’s your lucky day, Mr. Halloran.”

  “I sure as hell hope not.” If this is lucky, I don’t want to know what unlucky looks like.

  Detective Davis ignores that, her lips thinning, unamused. “Seems the deceased was seen at Fry’s drinking too much with an older gentleman. Any idea who that might be?”

  My mind instantly goes to Brian. Could he? Would he?

  Get rid of the guy who’s causing trouble for his daughter and the guy that’s going to lure her to the sea — could he pass up the two-for-one?

  “Afraid not. Got anything more than ‘old guy’?”

  Detective Davis purses her lips at me, narrowing her eyes like she’s trying to determine if I’m being a smart ass.

  Finally, she shakes her head and waves her hand at me dismissively. “You’re free to go. I’d still advise not leaving town,” she adds, jaw tight.

  There’s a small bright spot of relief knowing there’s at least some evidence that doesn’t point at me, but I’m not off the suspect list yet, and this is really only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my problems.

  I don’t have any fucking clue what to do about the others.

  22

  Callie

  “Ruuuuue,” I call, voice singsong as I shake my glass at her.

  I’ve lost count how many there have been, but the number’s high enough that I’m laughing at myself when ice sloshes over the rim of the glass and slips out of my hand, shooting off down the bar.

  Rue doesn’t argue with me, but she arches a brow at me.

  I already told her I don’t want to talk about it.

  Any of it.

  There are a lot of ‘it’s right now, but none of them are things I want to discuss. Not even a little.

  Rum, though? That’s something I can get behind. Who needs conversation when there’s Three Rocks and fruit juices?

  She’s normally a very speedy bartender, but she’s taking her time making my drink, getting distracted with helping someone else, then going to the stock room for something. She comes back and another person wants to pay their tab, my drink’s still half-made in the shaker and if I was just a little bolder, I’d reach over and take it now.

  I don’t want to get Rue in trouble though, and her boss is here.

  At least I think Ava is her boss. She owns the B&B, so… same thing?

  I’m pretty intently focused on the drink that hasn’t made it across the bar to me yet, so I don’t notice Ava sidling up next to me until the stool neighboring mine squeals over the hardwood floor. I’ve seen her around, we’ve talked a couple of times, just friendly conversation, but it’s Rue I’ve really grown close with in my time here. I know she and Ava are good friends, so I don’t have anything against Ava, I just don’t know what she’s doing here.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  I snort, the laugh bitter. “Tough to say. Be better if my drink was here,” I grumble, trying to make eye contact with Rue, but she’s leaning over the bar, laughing with another customer.

  “That all that’s got you down?”

  I make a face.

  “Who says I’m down?”

  Ava makes a face right back at me. “I’m happy to lend an ear. Venting can help more than you’d think.”

  I snort again.

  “You’d think I’m crazy.” Where to even start?

  “Try me,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips when Rue brings us each a drink. “I’ve heard some wild stuff.”

  “Not like this you haven’t,” I scoff.

  She lifts a brow. “Wanna bet?”

  I’m just drunk enough to go for it. I do want to vent, and it’s all so crazy. No way she’s going to believe me anyway, but I want to see the shocked look she gives me while she tries to pretend I’m not nuts for even entertaining these ideas.

  If it came from anyone other than Dad and Miles, I wouldn’t. And if they got along at all, I might think they’re trying to play some trick on me. But I can’t imagine them cooperating, which makes me think all this hokum might be something.

  The other alternative is that they’re both certifiable. Those odds aren’t great unless there’s some undiscovered lead poisoning happening in this town. I take a long drink before starting.

  “Well, has anyone ever told you that you’re not human, that you’re some mythological creature subject to the whims and rules of a magical world you don’t actually believe in?”

  “Yeah… ‘Bout a year ago. It sucked.”

  I choke, rum burning my chest while I cough and sputter. I expected her to laugh in my face, maybe recommend a CT scan. Not this. This calm acceptance and sympathy.

  “Uh… What?”

  Clearly, I’ve had way too much to drink and I’m not hearing properly anymore. Or I said something entirely different than I thought I did? I don’t think my slurring is that bad.

  “Mhm,” Ava says, nodding patiently. “Turns out this town is kind of a magical hotspot.”

  Ohhhhh. I get it.

  She’s fucking with me.

  I snort, laughing at the absurdity of it all. It’s easier to laugh at it than confront what my dad and Miles said.

  Ava gives me a patient smile the whole time I’m laughing, but she never laughs with me, simply sipping on her drink, sending amused glances Rue’s way.

  They’re in on it together. This joke at my expense. It’s the last thing I need right now. I’ve got enough going on without being the butt of a prank, but I’m not going to let them drag me down any further.

  I’m not terribly sure there’s anywhere left to go.

  “A magical hotspot?” I ask, laughing even as I say it. “In case someone’s home network doesn’t have service here?”

  “That’s closer to how it works than you think,” Rue says.

  Just like earlier with my dad and Miles, having two of them saying the same nonsense makes me question myself. I hate questioning myself. Especially when it comes to the nature of our very existence.

  “If you’re some mythical creature, what are you?” I ask, figuring I can trip her up here.

  …I don’t know why I think I can trip her up, because I know next to nothing about mythical creatures if they’re not important to a culture or site I’m studying.

  “A Faerie Queen,” Ava says, her timing perfect to make me choke and sputter again. I don’t know what I was expecting her claim to be, but queen wasn’t it.

  “A queen? Like of the town?”

  “Uh, no… Not exactly, it’s—”

  “Yeah, basically,” Rue says, smirking, arms folded over her chest. She’s enjoying this way too much, but I don’t get the feeling that it’s because they’re making it up…

  I think she’s glad to loop me in.

  That makes it worse. My stomach clenches, and the half-dozen rum drinks I’ve had start to run into a traffic jam in my liver.

  I swear I’ve drank more in my time back in Lupine Bay than all the years away combined. And I’m not accustomed to it.

  “You’re a faerie
?” I ask, slowly coming around. Not in believing, but at least listening. Maybe I can poke holes. Maybe I can’t. I’m sloshed enough now to listen to just about anything considering the unknowns still pinging around in my head.

  “Faerie Queen,” Ava corrects casually.

  “Like a queen bee,” Rue says, grinning at Ava’s semi-mortified look. “She’s a special type. The hotspot’s kind of like her hive.”

  My head’s spinning, and I don’t know if it’s the rum or the information. They’re not crazies, and they’re not spouting fanciful nonsense. This is real to them… and maybe to me.

  “What are you?” Ava asks gently, probably eager to shift the focus.

  I don’t even know what to say. I feel like the world’s fallen out from under me. Everything I thought I knew… How much of it’s wrong?

  “Siren,” I mutter, draining the rest of my drink like it’ll rinse the taste of that word out of my mouth.

  “Oooh, we don’t have any of those yet, do we?” Rue asks, positively gleeful.

  I don’t know how I feel about being fawned over like a new zoo exhibit, but this is better than sitting here wallowing alone.

  “No, we don’t, but I’m sure Alistair could help us learn,” Ava says. She’s sweet. Young and naive. I don’t have the heart to tell her that her friend left me feeling cold and unwelcome. Alistair’s shop is kind of the last place in town I want to be.

  “Don’t you worry,” she says, patting my hand reassuringly. “There’s no better place for you to find out this kind of thing.”

  I arch a brow. “Because of the hotspot?”

  “That can’t hurt,” she says.

  “I’m confused. What does this tiny town have that’s going to help me figure out what’s going on with me?”

  Maybe it’s the booze, but none of what Ava’s saying is making a lot of sense right now. If anything, it seems like going through magical puberty while in a place with a lot of magic could lead to bad things.

  “Ava’s not the only one in town with magic,” Rue says with a smirk.

  “You have subjects?”

  “I’m not that kind of queen—”

  “You kind of are… You hold court,” Rue argues.