On Shadow Beach (26 page)

He sat up, his dark gaze on her. “I needed to leave town. I needed to breathe different air, to be around people who didn’t know me, who didn’t have any expectations.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to marry me. I was seventeen.”

“It wasn’t just your expectations. I had other issues.”

“Other secrets,” she said with a nod. “They’re always between us—even now. How could I ever be with a man who won’t let me all the way in, who can’t trust me with his soul? I can’t, Shane. I deserve more than that.”

The color left his face, his jaw setting in that familiar forbidding line. She willed him to speak, but he remained silent.

There was nothing to do but leave.

Charlotte had seen Joe at the Water’s Edge Fitness Center a few times, a perk of her early morning workout. She usually hit the streets for a jog, but the weather had turned and the cold fog had sent her indoors. She’d finished off an hour on the elliptical machine and was headed for a shower when she saw Joe working a punching bag.

He wore black shorts and a gray tank top with LAPD on the front. His arms were muscled and tan, his legs just as strong, and he wasn’t carrying an extra ounce of weight. But he did appear to be carrying an unusual amount of pent-up energy; he was beating the crap out of the punching bag. She’d never seen him so physical before, and so very, very male.

Feeling hot from her workout and her thoughts, she grabbed a paper cup at the water cooler and filled it, then turned her back to drink it. She had no business ogling a married man, but she couldn’t help wondering what had gotten him worked up. He was
usually so calm and even tempered when she saw him, though that was usually when he was on the job. She’d always suspected he had a hot side.

While she sipped her water she took a look at the bulletin board, hoping for a distraction. Maybe she’d vary from her usual solitary exercise routine and take a kick-boxing class. Or maybe she could go a few rounds with Joe—boxing, of course! She bit back a smile at her thoughts and tossed her cup into the trash. As she turned around, she saw Joe heading toward her. He had a towel around his neck now and was wiping away the sweat from his forehead.

“Charlotte,” he said, an odd note in his voice.

“Joe.” She cleared her throat. “Did the punching bag survive? You were pounding the hell out of it.”

“I had a rough night.”

“Anything you can talk about?”

He hesitated. “I’m sure you’ll hear the news as soon as you leave here. Mark Devlin was hit by a car last night. He’s in the hospital in serious condition.”

She was shocked. She hadn’t spoken to anyone on her way to the gym, nor had she picked up the morning newspaper. “That’s terrible.”

“I doubt it was an accident. He’s pissed a lot of people off.”

“That’s true, but it’s difficult to believe someone would deliberately run him down.”

“Maybe someone who didn’t like his questions.”

“Like the person who killed Abby. That would mean he’s still here in town.” A shiver ran down her spine. “Do you think you can find him?”

“I’m going to do my best.”

“I’d love to help.”

He gave her that slow smile that always made her heart beat a little faster. “You already have.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re a good listener.”

She studied his weary face and wondered if Mark Devlin’s accident was all that was bothering him. “You must not have gotten much sleep last night.”

“About an hour. And it’s going to be a long day.”

“Why don’t you let me buy you a cup of coffee? They make a great vanilla latte at the snack bar.”

“I don’t go for whipped cream drinks.”

“Not macho enough, huh?” she teased. “I think they have straight black coffee, too.”

“Can I have a rain check? I need to get to work.”

“Any time.” She paused. “Your wife must be really upset about Mr. Devlin. They’re good friends, aren’t they?”

“She hasn’t left his side,” he said heavily.

And as he walked away, Charlotte had a feeling he’d just given her the real reason he hadn’t slept all night.

Lauren slept for a few hours, showered and dressed, then headed down to Dina’s Café to find her father and, she hoped, some lunch. She felt restless and unsettled, her mood amplified by the dark storm clouds blowing in from the ocean. The photographs she’d
looked at hadn’t provided the definitive evidence she’d been hoping for. She needed to go through the rest of them, but she’d left the envelope on Shane’s boat. She’d go by later, maybe take her father as a buffer.

She picked up her pace, taking side streets to avoid the marina and to drop some bills off at the post office. At least she could keep her father’s lights and electricity on while she figured out how to handle his living situation. As she turned down the next street, she came face-to-face with yet another of her past dreams.

Martha’s Cakes and Cookies.
The bakery was now just an empty storefront. Its name was still etched on the glass, but the counters were empty, the wallpaper peeling, and the floor was covered in dust. She’d worked at Martha’s all through high school, helping sixty-five-year-old Martha and her daughter, Rosemary, make cakes and pastries. She’d told Martha that when she grew up, she was going to open her own bakery and they’d have cookie wars.

But Martha had died two years ago and Rosemary had moved, and no one had wanted to keep the bakery alive. It was a shame. It had a great location, not far from the marina. The local fishermen always picked up hot breads before their early morning trips. And the elementary school was only a few blocks in the other direction. Her mother had often taken her and Abby to Martha’s after school for a treat.

As Lauren looked through the dirty windows, she imagined fresh paint on the walls, shiny counters, and sparkling glass shelves stocked with cookies, pastries, cakes, and pies. She could see small tables set up and a coffee bar in one corner. In nice weather there would be more tables outside, with bright red umbrellas over them.

She gave herself a mental kick at her wayward thoughts. She was
not
going to refurbish Martha’s. Just because she could see the possibilities didn’t mean she should do it. She had a job she liked in San Francisco, a job that she would need to get back to next week. She had her own bills to keep up with.

Dina’s Café was just around the corner, and as she stepped inside she saw her father and his friends at their corner table by the window, where they could see all the comings and goings. The warm, inviting restaurant had both character and good food. The dining room was decorated with assorted knickknacks that Dina picked up whenever she went antiquing, and they were displayed on every available counter and wall space. There were a dozen or so tables, and a long counter with bar stools fronted the kitchen. Almost every seat was taken, and the smell of pancakes and bacon was in the air.

Her father waved her over with a cheerful smile. “Lauren. You remember Mort,” he said as she joined them.

“Yes, hello.”

“And this is Will Pachowsky and Don Lowenstein,”
he added. “Fishing buddies of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” she said with a smile.

Her father grabbed a chair from a nearby table. “Have a seat. Don just made an incredible discovery,” he added, excitement in his voice. “Show her, Don.”

As Lauren sat down at the table, the white-haired man held up what appeared to be a gold coin. “I found a half dozen of them on the beach,” he said. “They’re from the
Gabriella
.”

“Really?” Her heart leaped with anticipation. As a teenager she’d gone diving with her friends in search of missing treasure, and they’d routinely scoured the beaches and the rocks at low tide. They’d never found anything of interest, but they’d always had high hopes.

“Check out the date,” her father told her.

Don handed her a coin. The numbers jumped out at her, 1849; the ship had gone down in 1850. Of course, many other Gold Rush ships had made their way down the coast, too.

“Can’t you feel the pull of the past, Lauren?” her father asked. “When I held the coin in my hand, I felt like it was taking me back in time.”

As the men began talking among themselves, the coin actually grew warm in her hand. As she stared down at it the symbols and words started to blur, and she felt shaky, almost off balance.

The boat pitched beneath her feet. It was all she could do to stay upright. Tommy was desperately trying to steer them through the storm, but the waves
were too big, the ocean too angry. He looked over at her, and in his dark eyes she could see the world ending. Her big, strong man, the love of her life, was afraid—and he was never, ever scared.

“We’ll be okay, Tommy. We’ll make it,” she said.

One of the other sailors grabbed the wheel as Tommy came toward her. He pulled a velvet pouch out of his pocket and handed it to her. “You’ll need this,” he said.

“No.” She knew what he was trying to do. “We’re going to make it through this storm.”

“We’re filling the lifeboats now. You and Jeremy will be on the next one.”

“Not without you.”

“Leonora, I’m the captain. I go last.”

Which meant he wouldn’t go at all. They both knew the boat had taken on too many passengers.

“We have to stay together,” she pleaded.

He closed her fingers around the sack of coins. “There’s enough money for you to start over, to raise your son, to have a life.”

“Not without you.” She shook her head, tears sliding down her face. “We fought so hard to find each other again. I can’t lose you now.” She had left her life behind to run away with him, to be with her one true love. God couldn’t be so cruel as to take him now, before they’d had a chance to really live,
to really love.

“If I could stay with you, I would.” His dark gaze bored into hers. “But you have a son, and he needs you to live. Go now, Leonora. Before it’s too late.”

She didn’t have a choice. She was a mother first. “We’ll find each other again,” she promised. “Someday, we’ll be together the way we were meant to be.”

“Lauren? Lauren?”

She jolted, suddenly aware that her father and the other men were staring at her.

“Are you all right?” her father asked with concern.

She set the coin on the table with a shaky hand. What the hell had just happened? She’d felt as if she were Leonora. The coins—were they the same ones that had come with Leonora to the shore?

“You felt the draw, didn’t you?” her father asked.

She’d felt something—something very strange.

“Who needs coffee?” Dina asked as she stopped by their table with a pot in hand. Dina’s hair had grayed and she’d put on some weight over the years, but her generous smile was just the same. “Lauren, I didn’t see you come in. My goodness, honey, you look white as a sheet. Are you feeling all right?”

“Coffee, please.” Lauren’s voice was hoarse, as if she’d been screaming into the wind like Leonora, begging her lover to come with her. After Dina filled her cup, she took a gulp to clear her head.

“Can I get you something to eat, hon?” Dina asked. “Cheeseburger and fries, maybe?”

“You read my mind.”

“They were always your favorite.”

“How could you possibly remember that?” Lauren asked in amazement.

“I remember all my customers. I’ll tell Sam to put extra pickles on your burger.”

“Sold,” Lauren said.

Joe Silveira entered the café. He wore a suit and tie today, and there was grim determination on his face. She tensed, wondering if Jason had told him about catching her and Shane at the high school last night.

“Hello,” he said as he stopped by their table. “Ms. Jamison, may I speak to you for a moment—outside?”

“Of course,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Is something wrong, Chief ?” her father asked. “Is this about that Devlin fellow?”

“Your daughter will fill you in.” Joe waved her toward the door.

“What did my father mean?” Lauren asked as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “What’s up with Mr. Devlin?”

“You didn’t hear?”

“I just got to the café five minutes ago.”

“Mr. Devlin was hit by a car last night. He’s in the hospital in Montgomery. His condition is serious.”

“My God!”

“I don’t believe it was an accident,” the chief
continued, his gaze sober.

“You think someone tried to
kill
him?” she asked slowly.

“Or scare him off. Either way, he’s going to be out of commission for a while.”

“Why did you want to talk to me?” He didn’t think she was responsible for the accident, did he?

“To tell you to be careful. Someone is getting nervous.”

“Do you have any idea who that is?”

“I have a few thoughts.” He paused. “By the way, where were you last night around one o’clock in the morning?”

“I was on Shane Murray’s boat. We were together.”

“Did you drive to the marina?”

“No, I walked.”

“So your car was parked in front of your father’s house all night?”

“It still is,” she said.

He nodded. “I stopped by your house before I came here. If you see Mr. Murray, let him know I’d like to talk to him. I left him a message, but apparently he’s out at sea.”

“Shane doesn’t even have a car.”

“I’d still like to speak to him.”

She watched him walk away. It was a good thing Jason Marlow had followed them from the high school to the marina; he could attest to their whereabouts. If Jason was on patrol all night, he was probably the officer who had responded to the scene of
the accident. How ironic that a man who had every reason to be unhappy with Mark Devlin’s movie was the one called to save his life.

She shivered as a gust of wind rocketed down the street. There was definitely a storm coming . . . or maybe it was already here.

Colin’s room felt cold, and Kara tucked the blanket around his body. She glanced toward the window, noting the spatter of raindrops across the window. She’d never liked storms. She preferred bright sunny days filled with promise. It was only a little after two o’clock in the afternoon, but it felt like ten o’clock at night. She turned on the bedside lamp, trying to warm up the room and erase the sense of foreboding that had been weighing her down the last few days.