Last Chance Harbor (45 page)

“Stop. You’re making me think of Bethany.”

“Really? And you put up with that? Why, Ryder? Why would you let someone have that kind of power over you? You didn’t have children with Bethany? What power did she wield?”

“The truth? I guess as a soldier I wanted to know there was someone back home waiting for me. It never occurred to me she was lying when she said she loved me.”

“I’m really sorry she hurt you. Drop me at Wally’s, will you? I need to pick up my van.”

“Sure. You should know I overheard what you said to Troy the other day, about Danny, about me. After Bethany I wasn’t sure I could ever let anyone in again. But I feel the same way about you.”

Because she knew that was probably the closest she was ever going to hear Ryder utter a declaration of love, she said the only thing that came to mind. “I guess for people like us it takes a third party to convey our feelings.”

After she hopped out of the car, Ryder stewed on her comment the rest of the day.

Damn it, hadn’t he taken the initiative? Hadn’t he been the one to tell her how he felt first? Even though he hadn’t used the word
love
, she had to know what he’d meant. Was it up to him to point out that she hadn’t used that word either with the third party? She’d never mentioned it to Troy specifically. So what was wrong with the third party catalyst angle?

He was pretty damn sure he didn’t need any input from an outsider about how and when to tell the woman he loved how he felt about her.

The day was a short one and didn’t do anything to offset his temper.

By the time he walked through the front door of her house, he’d built up a good head of steam. He found her in the laundry room folding clothes.  

She glanced over from a stack of towels. “Ryder. Hi. Could you give me a hand with this?”

“What the hell did you mean when you said ‘people like us’ this morning? Who are people like us?”

Amused at his slow reaction, his obvious foul mood, she abandoned the pile, waded through the laundry scattered on the floor, to take his face in her hands. “I really wasn’t looking for love but I found you. If I tell you how I feel, it will, no doubt, scare the bejeezus out of you and you’ll take off so fast I won’t be able to catch up.”

Insulted, he protested. “I don’t want to be anywhere else but right here with you. That is, unless you want me to leave.”

“See, it’s like you’re waiting for what we have to expire. Plus, you don’t seem at all comfortable telling me. Am I pushing you to? Nope. But it’s obvious you don’t want to love me. However, I think you do. You just find it difficult to say to me.”

Hearing it so aptly nailed took the wrath right out of him. “I do love you. I…I’ve just never loved a woman as much as I do you.”

She grinned and it showed off dimples. “I’m standing here ankle deep in dirty clothes and you choose
now
to tell me how you feel? Your timing may suck but—”

“What?”

“I love you, too.”

Later after supper
, she was on her laptop when she decided to check her email and found a message from a teacher she’d reached out to for help in searching the 1984 graduating class at UC Santa Barbara. Sure enough, Carol told her what she’d been doing wrong. There was a site specifically for classmates who were willing to sign up so they could keep in touch with one another. Julianne followed Carol’s link and soon she’d reached a list of alumni.

Perusing the names, looking for one in particular, she went line by line. After all this time, it took no more than five minutes for her eyes to land on what she’d been searching for.

“Ryder, Ryder, get in here! I found Layne Richmond.”

The browser still highlighted the web site and the information was still on the screen when Ryder walked into the living room.

“See, this shows Layne received his degree in education in 1984. The ring has to belong to him. That proves the boxes or rather the first box at least, has a connection to the Jennings family. So logically, why wouldn’t the other boxes be linked too?”

“You’ve hit gold here. What do we do with this? Do you think Brent already knows?”

“Of course, he does. But if we ask Caleb or Drea or both about what the hell is going on it might be misconstrued as confrontational and look like fools while we do it. So we could sit on the info until we’re able to ask Cooper Jennings what he knows about that night.”

“I don’t think I want to ask Caleb face to face why he lied about the boxes. Or Drea either. Do you? It’s not our place.”

“No, it isn’t our place. So that only means we bide our time and wait to get to Cooper.”

T
he rare July storm tossed around the boats in the harbor as if the sloops were nothing more than small bobbers at the end of a fishing line.

Ryder watched the torrent from his perch, the workshop he’d set up that was one-third his now that he’d signed the loan papers. The documents referred to the space as Tradewinds Boatyard. But it was still a mess of cobwebs and rat droppings. Not surprising since its primary inhabitants had been spiders and rodents for the past two decades.

Because most everyone with an interest in the school had high expectations for keeping on schedule he’d decided to spend this rainy Saturday morning in the dusty space where the old salvaged materials had landed. He looked around at all the stacked desks, lockers, at least twenty chalkboards, and several old water fountains.

Getting a jump on the repairing project, he’d left Julianne at the computer combing the Internet for info. She’d already printed out a list of military bases for their trip to San Francisco. As of yet, they hadn’t settled on a definitive date, mainly because they were still putting together what they’d need to hunt down Bethany aka Crystal Dawn Lazzario.

Two days ago he’d heard from his investigator. Bethany had finally made a mistake. She’d tried to fence his grandfather’s cartoons to a comic book collector in San Francisco. Good thing he’d had the sense to have the gumshoe put out feelers to all the private art reps in the area who might be tempted to bite, just in case. No one had until now. The art dealer had delayed the transaction and called the private eye.

The rain drumming outside matched his mood. He weighed his options and decided they’d have to act soon. He didn’t dare tell Brent what he’d found out otherwise the man would try to talk him out of confronting her.

As he worked, even during daylight hours the new place seemed a little spooky. Add in the overcast sky and he realized they’d have to do something about the poor lighting.

Maybe that was one reason when he spotted Scott hopping up onto the dock, it didn’t freak him out. “I see you’re working on my old desk there. See these initials carved into the wood? SDP & SD. Those letters stand for Scott David Phillips, and my first crush, pretty Selina Domingo. It was third grade. I was eight and madly in love.”

“Holding onto your memories I see.”

“No one can take those away.”

“It’s a plus if they’re good ones.”

“Try not to stay bitter about getting burned. There are never any guarantees when you begin a relationship. I’ve always thought marriage or cohabitation was difficult under the best of circumstances. Throw in a selfish, scheming individual into the mix, whether that person is male or female, and you have a recipe for disaster. Add in mental illness to conniving and narcissistic and you’re looking at a deadly situation.”

Ryder realized they’d moved on from talking about Bethany. “Layne and Eleanor.”

“Julianne wants answers. Why don’t you help her get them? I understand you’re planning a road trip to confront Bethany. She’s using a new name, Amelia Eggerton.”

“The PI didn’t mention that.”

“That’s the benefit of having me around. I also have an address.” He started spouting out numbers and a street name.

Ryder looked around for a pen to jot down the info while Scott waited, impatient. “You want to know where she is, that’s where you’ll find her.”

For the first time Ryder realized Scott was agitated. “Why now?”

“Because it’s time. Right now, you might want to take a look inside that locker.” Scott went over, stood by one in particular.

Ryder stared at him. “Don’t tell me a rubber snake will pop out of that thing as soon as I open it up?”

“Just look inside.”

Ryder did as he was told, bent down, stuck his hand into the twelve-by-fifteen-inch slot and noticed a container of some kind in the back—another wooden chest, this one small and plain.

“What is it with all these boxes? I’m almost afraid to open it.” Despite what he’d said, he flipped up the top. “More baseball cards, more toys, more rocks. Wait. Here’s a patch of shirt at the bottom. How many of these are there? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“A child’s way of handling a dark secret. You should get Julianne over here. Text her. Let her take a look.”

“I should call Brent.”

“Brent already has a DNA profile from the blood in the first box. The lab also picked up skin cells, or what’s known as touch DNA. All he needs now is someone to compare it to.”

Ryder was no idiot. “You’re saying the answer is in San Francisco.”

Scott nodded. “Do me a favor when you talk to Cooper, try to keep an open mind.”

“Why so mysterious?”

“Because Cooper isn’t doing well, hasn’t really been doing well for years. He’s in distress and he could use a friend. Two if you take Julianne. Go find Bethany first though. Deal with her. Leave now. This afternoon.”

“You’re kidding? But… Right this second?”

“You’ve been bugging me for months to help you find this woman. It’s today or not at all. If you wait she’ll get cold feet about selling the sketches and she’ll be gone. It’s a two hour trip into the Bay. What’s the problem?”

“When you hold down two jobs, it’s a little difficult to take off on a whim. That’s why we haven’t gone before now. I’ve been working my butt off.”

“What about Gavin Kendall? How’s he working out?”

“Fine. Great. He and his wife are hard workers.”

“Then talk him into taking over for you at the farm. Tomorrow’s Sunday so there’s no work at the job site. Barter with Troy to cover for you if the trip stretches into Monday by offering him a night at Promise Cove. He’s been batting his head against a stone wall trying to figure out something special to do for Bree’s birthday in a couple months.”

“I never noticed it before, but you’re a romantic
and
a fixer.”

Scott grinned. “If only I’d known I had a knack for it when I was alive.”