Starlight Dunes (10 page)

Brent
stared at Mona then back at the kid. Troy had been wrongly arrested for Gina’s death. The guy had spent weeks locked up in county before the real perpetrator, Carl Knudsen, had crossed onto their radar. “You thought Troy was guilty all that time he spent in jail?” Brent asked.

Mona shrugged and admitted, “
The cops don’t usually arrest innocent people. I’ve had a tough time getting past it.”

Brent studied the young couple
. Even now it didn’t seem like the relationship had any kind of a chance. But that was none of his business. He used his cane to get to his feet.

“
Good thing we got all that straightened out and Troy was completely exonerated,” Brent said loud enough for Mona and all those within earshot who still wanted to give Troy a wide berth to take in the declaration.

Brent looked over at Troy.
“Your carpentry skills are excellent. When Logan finishes his lighthouse project, how about coming around to my grandmother’s house? The cabinets need upgrading. You can give me a quote and we’ll take it from there.”

“Really?
I’d love to do the work on them,” Troy said, beaming. “Thanks, Sheriff. Was River really rude to you?” 

“No, she wasn’t
. In fact, she put me in my place.” And he should have his head examined for ever listening to Ethan’s half-baked scheme in the first place.

“
Why don’t you two enjoy the shakes? While you’re at it, order a burger and fries to go with them.” Brent threw some bills on the table, adding it to River’s twenty on the table.

As he hobbled off, Mona pointed out,
“But this is way more than enough. I’ll get your change.”

“Keep it,” Brent
muttered. “Having to eat crow turns you off food for a while.”

T
here was something about the thrill of a bomb going off and sitting back to watch it happen that stirred the senses.

To see the debris fly through the air,
to witness the fire ignite and burst into flame, to watch the carnage firsthand had been pure joy.

It
had all gone down exactly as planned. The meticulous timing had worked. The device had been brilliant, even clever in its design and simplicity.

The only problem
was the sheriff had lived. He wasn’t supposed to live. He’d had all these years to thrive and flourish. He should have been dead by now. Instead of planning a funeral, his family was in the process of pushing to get his job back.

The
Codys obviously didn’t know their son very well. They didn’t know what he’d done, what he was capable of doing still. That’s why he had to be stopped, for the greater good.

Because no one d
eserved to die more than Brent Cody.

Thursday night football
found Brent settled in front of the flat-screen nursing a cold brew. It had been hours since the scene at the Hilltop with River and yet it still nagged at him. He’d already gone three rounds with Ethan over it for suggesting the harebrained idea in the first place.

Even now he rested his head on the back of the sofa and considered just how dumb he could be at this stage of his life.

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it. Everyone makes mistakes, especially in relationships, especially in the early stages.”

Brent
’s head popped up at the sound of the voice. He stared at the man standing in his living room wearing khaki shorts, a T-shirt that read
Nerds Do I.T. Better
, along with an opened Oxford shirt, the sleeves rolled up. Scott wore sandals on his feet and looked like a man comfortable in his own skin. Trouble was the guy he saw now had never made it back from Iraq.

“I’ve barely had half an Anchor Steam.
I know damn well I’m not drunk. And I’m not taking any drugs stronger than ibuprofen.”

Scott smiled. “It’s not the alcohol. Remember when we were teenagers stealing a glance
every chance we could get at Farrah Gosse in a bikini?”

Brent’s right hand automatically flew to his heart
about the same time he let go a loud sigh that filled the room. “Farrah Gosse, the foreign exchange student from France visiting the Crawford sisters for the summer. God, I couldn’t have been more than sixteen then, and you fourteen. I might point out though what Farrah had on could barely be considered a bikini around here—two skinny pieces of fabric, one held together by string that barely covered all the interesting stuff.”

“Farrah wasn’t skinny
, that’s for sure. She was the most well developed sixteen-year-old in town that summer, had to be what, a thirty-six bust?”

“At least.
That July and August I made up as many excuses as I could to head over to Pelican Pointe just to get a look at Farrah.”

Scott nodded. “
As I recall you used Autumn as the reason. You certainly were a remarkable good Samaritan that summer about helping out your grandmother whenever you could spare a minute.”

That brought a laugh out of Brent
as he uncurled his frame off the couch. “I was. It took some creativity on my part. Of course, it wasn’t the same as Farrah with her swimwear. She wore red one day, black the next, although my favorite might’ve been that pale turquoise one with the little white polka dots.”

“
I remember the day like it was yesterday when Farrah took her top off right there on the beach like it was the Mediterranean or something.”

“
That day thank God I’d agreed to mow Autumn’s grass and decided to go surfing in the bay afterward. I’m in the water, sitting on my board waiting for a wave. Next thing I know, off comes her top. Best day of summer vacation up to that point. I worked up the nerve to ask her out that afternoon. If only we’d had camera phones back then we could’ve captured the moment for posterity to use for…ah…later.”

“I didn’t know you ever asked
Farrah out.”

“After
her topless day, are you kidding? I had to stand in line. Turns out, Farrah wasn’t as…sociable…as her outgoing personality led her randy fans to believe.”

“Ah.
You tried to get past first base?”

“
I tried but I didn’t get very far. Good kisser though. I’d offer you a cold beer but…” His voice trailed off as he made his way into the kitchen and the fridge.

It was Scott’s turn to put his hand over his heart.
“Beer, one of man’s true pleasures. I do miss it. Jordan’s cooking, too. She’s gotten better at it over the years. Whatever happened to that Ford Mustang you used to drive?”

This time
Brent swore. “Drove it until I joined the army and met Cindy. She never liked that car and made me sell the damn thing to get a new foreign job. That should’ve been the first red flag right there.”

“You never talked about Iraq
when you came back. I guess there’s a reason for that.”

Brent looked away.
“There’s always a reason you never revisit war.”

“Or a lousy marriage.”

“Or a lousy marriage,” Brent repeated before taking a swig of his beer, studied the man with the military-style haircut. “How about you? You want to talk about war, Scott?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. What’s with hanging out with Megan Donnelly?”

“
You never forget your first love. Megan was mine. And Jordan has Nick now. Hutton even thinks of him as her daddy, calls him that. Why shouldn’t she? I never even got to touch my daughter in life, run my hand down her cheek, or hold her. If life seems unfair, try death. So what’s the harm in revisiting how I once felt about Megan at seventeen?”

“Not a thing. It’s the afterlife,
your
afterlife to boot. You spend it doing whatever you want.”

“
It may seem that way to you but…it doesn’t work quite like that, not exactly. What’s bothering you the most? The fact that you’re alone at this phase of life or that someone wants you dead?”

“You get right to it, don’t you?
Do you plan to be the one to straighten me out with these late-night visits, Scott? I caught your vanishing act the other day at the pier. Plus, I saw you my first night here in this house. You were standing in the backyard like some vampire who needed an invitation to come inside.”

“
I don’t need an invite.”

“That’s what I thought. What do you want from me?”

“How about you work on keeping yourself alive? How’s that for starters?”

“Any ideas on that score?
Because I could use some starting points.”

“Sure. I’ll help out where I can. After all, I have plans for you. You’re needed around here more than you think.”

“
Who said I wasn’t? What plans?”

But Scott had already vanished into thin air.

“Damn. I hate it when you do that.” Brent raised his voice so that it echoed against the walls. “You’re just like a woman, stir things up and then take off in the middle of an argument.”

B
ut the insult didn’t get Scott to stick around to finish the discussion. He’d left Brent alone to think. And to talk to himself like an idiot.

A
t four o’clock Saturday afternoon River found herself sitting at the side of the Pacific Coast Highway, south of Pelican Pointe’s city limits waiting for the first sign of the RV to round the bend. Because Julian was doing the driving and was known to have a lead foot, River figured her crew would get here in record time. She’d been texting Laura back and forth for two hours since they’d left Santa Barbara right after lunch. As they grew closer, Laura had kept her posted on their progress.

As soon as the
motor home came into view towing a faded blue Jeep Wrangler, River laid down on the horn. She waved and watched as the RV pulled to the shoulder.

Getting out
of her boxy SUV, River jogged over to the huge home-on-wheels with the foundation’s logo on the side. She studied the driver, Julian Gustave, the bespectacled, studious man she’d known for more than fourteen years. A crop of curly chestnut hair fell across his forehead and it made him look more disheveled than usual.

As soon as
Julian lowered the driver’s window, River chided her friends, “Hey you guys, took you long enough to get here. Where are the interns?” she asked, peering beyond the front seat.

“
What? No hello? No, how the heck are you? You ever try driving a gas-guzzling motor home from Alabama to California twenty-four-hundred miles and make good time?” Julian retorted in a teasing tone, adjusting his wire-rims. “And the interns are about a day behind us pulling all the equipment, making even worse time than we did. They should pull in here sometime tomorrow.”

“
We’d’ve been here sooner but this thing won’t go over sixty miles an hour,” Laura tossed in.

River smiled over at Laura. If she had to pick a perfect mate for
Julian she couldn’t have come up with a better one than the petite dishwater blonde who knew pre-Columbian facts and figures about indigenous people almost as well as River did. Not only that, Laura had a great sense of humor and was a kick to be around on a site.

“Laura’s been itching to get out of this rig and spend one night in a rea
l bed before the dig starts.”

River grinned. “Good thing I snagged you guys an available room at Promise Cove
for the weekend.”

Laura grabbed
Julian’s arm. “Think about it, an actual bed and breakfast. I’m so there.”

“Trust me, y
ou’ll love it. Beds so comfortable you won’t want to crawl out of them in the morning and food to die for. Beats the greasy spoon we had at our disposal in Brasher Hills all to pieces.”

“
I might miss southern-fried everything,” Julian noted.

“
We’ll get enough junk food over the next few weeks anyway. I’m looking forward to a real meal with real eating utensils,” Laura said.

“
Prepare yourself for eighteen-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets so soft they feel like silk.”

Laura sighed.

“You won’t be disappointed in the food either. It’s the best I’ve had in a long time,” River assured them both. “Why don’t you follow me to where you can park this monster and unhook the Jeep.”

“Got us a spot
all picked out?” Julian wanted to know.

“You bet, thanks to the
county sheriff. It’s within walking distance of the site. It’s actually perfect.”

“A sheriff?
Please tell us you aren’t already in trouble with the law in these parts,” Julian teased.

“I’ll tell you about him over supper,” River promise
d as she headed back to her Wagoneer.

From the passenger seat of the RV
, Laura watched River go and turned to Julian. “Hmm, interesting.”

“What is?”

“O
ur fearless leader looks like she’s intrigued by this cop.” 

“How the hell can you tell that by one comment
, one look? For all you know this guy could be in his sixties with four kids and seven grandchildren.”

“I don’t think so.
After five years, I know River. That look on her face suggests she’s more than a little captivated by this sheriff.”

“I didn’t see anything but a jazzed woman who’s ready to get
crackin’ on the dig. That’s the woman I saw just now.”

“Well, yeah
, that, too. But how long has it been since River’s had anyone in her life? Too long to even count. Since her divorce from that no-good bastard Wes, she dates less and less each year.”

“She works
practically all the time out in the boonies. Her job isn’t conducive to meeting men. Besides, you know she’s obsessed with her search, so much that she’s closed herself off to men in general.”

“True and the ones she does meet are interns, students, or have some type of connection to the
foundation. And you know how she feels about dating any member of her team. She won’t do it. I can’t remember the last time she had a day off unless it was to go see her mother.”

“Last Christmas.
She went back to Santa Fe and refused to talk about it afterward. She did tell me she spoke to the private investigator. How much money do you think she spends on that detective each month?”

“
Quite a lot I’d imagine. But she won’t give up, Julian. She’ll never give up. I wish we could do something to help.”

“
What would we do that we haven’t already done? I’ve offered her money to help pay for the PI. She won’t take it.”

“I think
that gets to her more than she’s willing to admit. She’s also lonely.”

Julian sent her a desperate look.
“I’m begging you, please, stay out of it, Laura. Your meddling will only spell trouble.”

“You and I both know a dig site is like a
movie set filled with gossip.”

“
Women,” Julian muttered under his breath as he pulled the RV back out onto the road to follow the boss into town.

Once the two
interns, Sandra McFarland and Walker Pruitt, showed up and got settled into the B & B, River held a strategy session that ended up turning into a wine-tasting event.

The heart of Promise Cove seemed to be the dining room. So that’s
where the team gathered around the table so that River could answer questions and go over the plan.

“Why don’t we have more help?” Walker asked
almost at once. “I expected the same size staff as we had in Alabama. Five people won’t even be close to that. We’re obviously short-handed here.”

River smiled.
“Wait until you see the narrow strip of beach we have to work with and you’ll appreciate the skeleton crew. If we had any more people here we’d be tripping over ourselves. As it is, the Pelican Pointe Project will be very different from the one we just left, for that matter any other dig you’ve worked on before. I guarantee that.”

“How so?”

“I’ll go over that tomorrow at the site. It’s easier for show and tell there than here. Besides, tonight is for making sure everyone knows their role and what I expect over the next few months.”

“As long as we get to drink this divine chardonnay while we’re in town I don’t care what my role is,” Laura admitted,
emptying her second glass. “I’ve always heard great things about the California wine country. This,” she said, holding up her glass, “does not disappoint. How far are we from Napa Valley anyway? I’d love to take a run through it while I’m this close.”

River
snickered and shook her head. “I knew it was a mistake to give Laura vino during a meeting. Try to concentrate on dirt instead of the white grape,” River cracked.

“Come on, River.
You have to admit this is an exciting time for us. A celebration of sorts is in order. And staying at this bed and breakfast, even for one night, is sheer heaven and a luxury we don’t often get.” Laura turned to Julian. “Maybe we could stay another night? What would be the harm in that? I’m even thinking of paying for it myself.”

Julian smiled. “I’m not averse to spending another night
here in a nice room with my woman,” he said as he put his arm around Laura’s shoulders.

River couldn’t very well throw water on such enthusiasm.
“Why don’t we get through tonight and reevaluate the lodging situation tomorrow? Not one of us is itching to live out of that tin can for the next couple of months.” 

“Try bedding down in th
e travel trailer. It’s in worse shape than the RV,” Walker groused.

“Maybe they could cut us a deal here,” Sandra suggested. “You know, share rooms, the guys stay in one, the girls in another. That’s only two. I’d certainly be willing to bunk with one of you.”

“I’m not sharing a room with Walker,” Julian stated emphatically. “Laura and I have been together now for over three years. I’m not going back to bunking with a guy during a dig. I’ll crack open my own wallet before that happens.”

River suspected they’d be reluctant to leave the inn
but she needed to nip this in the bud before it became an issue. “I told you guys, we’ll reassess the RV and camper situation. I don’t want us getting on each other’s last nerve though like happened in Alabama.”

“Digs are notorious
for becoming little three-act dramas,” Laura pointed out. “That’s how Julian and I hooked up to begin with, a blowup between two stubborn anthropologists led to one of them walking off the dig, I replaced the boneheaded rival.”

River
grinned. “I remember that. Look, the owners have already offered a generous discount to anyone who wants to take them up on it. I’ll leave it up to each individual. If you can work it into your budget, go for it. If not, it’s the camper. So unless you’re willing to toss in some cash to add to your per diem, you’re still looking at an outlay to stay here.”

“I can’t afford
to do that. I’m barely getting by as it is,” Walker said as he turned to Sandra. “How about you?”

“’
Fraid not. It’s gotta be out of my price range. I’m a lowly student who still mooches off friends whenever I can. Looks like it’s a comfy bed for tonight and back in the dingy travel trailer tomorrow,” Sandra groaned.

An hour later
River left her crew like that in grumble-state and closed herself off in her room. She opened her laptop to email Gil Conroy for an update. She hadn’t bugged the private detective for two whole days. Even if it was Sunday night, Gil was used to her badgering him at all hours either by phone or email. In her message, she kept it short and to the point.

Anything come from the lead I gave you on Tuesday? If not, what about increasing the surveillance on Wes’s mother’s place? I know Hilda. She has to be keeping in contact with her son. Follow her, Gil. Please. I know Hilda has to be the key to finding Luke. 

After hitting send, she tried to shift gears and get some work done on a progress report that the foundation expected by midweek. But after two hours of staring at the screen, she couldn’t think of anything except Luke and the years she’d missed.

Whether it was the
torment she felt catching up with her, as it so often did during any downtime she had or the excitement of starting the dig the next day, she didn’t feel the least bit sleepy.

She also had
a bad case of the munchies despite eating her fill of Jordan’s roasted chicken at dinner. With a habit of craving chocolate late at night, she’d had the forethought to squirrel away a bag of fun-size Snickers. But she needed milk to go with one or maybe two.

Because of that
, she got out of bed to pull on a T-shirt, stretch on a pair of yoga pants. She grabbed a couple of candy bars in her hand and made her way down the back staircase to the kitchen.

The old house creaked as old houses do, but
as soon as she reached the last step something made her turn to her right. She caught movement over her shoulder and went into defensive mode, drawing back a fist, prepared to go for the nose.

“
What the hell? Damn it! You scared the crap outta me. What are you doing down here this time of night anyway?” River grumbled.