Nausea roiled in Cassidy’s stomach. Bludgeoned to death? DH-7?
She flipped to another screen and stared at the woman’s picture. Sandra had been forty years old with blonde hair cut in a style that made her appear older. She had a round face but a great smile. She wasn’t married and had no kids, though she had been dating a man named Jim Levinson.
The first time Cassidy had seen her picture, there’d been no flash of recognition. But now she’d stared at it so much that the woman did seem familiar. Her thoughts and emotions tangled with each other until she didn’t know which to trust. Could she seem familiar because her subconscious knew they’d met before? Or was it simply the act of staring so often at the woman’s picture that had made her seem familiar?
On a whim, she dug out her burner phone—the one that only two people had the number for. She called Samuel Stephens, the task force leader and an FBI agent. He was the one who’d approached Cassidy about taking part—an undercover part—in the investigation. Apparently, they’d thought, out of all the officers they had to pick from, that she could best blend in with the DH-7. It was strange considering she’d grown up privileged, but she supposed her age and size and singleness had played a factor.
“Cassidy,” he answered. “Funny you called because I was going to call you. What’s going on?”
“I need a favor,” Cassidy started, leaning back in the stiff wooden desk chair. “Could you look into the murder of a woman named Sandra Connors? See if you can find out any details about her death?”
He paused for a minute. “Anything I should know?”
“No, not really.” Cassidy drew in a deep breath. “I just need information, but I prefer not to discuss specifics until I know more.”
“I’ll see what I can find out for you then.”
Cassidy released her breath. Good. That was done, and maybe he’d find out something that could help her. Maybe he could direct her. Because it was becoming harder and harder to live with her questions and to contend with the unknown.
“You said you had something to discuss.” Cassidy straightened, her gut telling her his news wasn’t good.
“I do.” His voice grew grim. “A woman was murdered down in San Diego.”
She knew there was more to this because a murder in California wasn’t all that uncommon. So she waited for him to continue.
“The woman was shot multiple times in a parking lot. Based on the streak of lightning left on her forearm, DH-7 is responsible.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I don’t think you understand, Cassidy.” Samuel’s voice crackled over the line. “We believe that gang members thought this woman was you.”
All the blood drained from Cassidy’s face so quickly that her head began to spin. “Say that again.”
“The woman looked like you,” Samuel said. “She had the same petite, thin frame. She had long, dark hair that she’d pulled back into a bun—just like you used to wear yours. The same facial structure. From a distance, we believe these gang members thought they’d found you.”
Cassidy lowered her head against the desk, afraid she might pass out. The woman sounded like the old Cassidy—before she’d colored her hair and let it go wavy. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing you can say, Cassidy,” Samuel said. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“But me being in hiding is putting innocent people at risk! I can’t let that happen.” Nausea roiled in her gut.
“If you don’t, then more people will die. We need your testimony to put these guys away permanently. That’s the bigger picture . . .”
“But—”
“There are no buts. I was hesitant to tell you, but knew you’d want to know. I thought you could handle this news as well. You’ve got mental stamina, which was one of the reasons we chose you to go undercover in the first place.”
Her throat clenched. Samuel was right. Cassidy knew he was. But it didn’t make her feel any better.
“Certainly they realized the woman wasn’t me,” she finally said, her tone dull with each word.
“We can only assume that, just like we can only assume they’re still out there looking for you.”
Time seemed to freeze around her at the thought.
“Does Ryan—Mr. Samson—know?” she asked. No one knew about her relationship with Ryan, and they wouldn’t know until after the upcoming election.
Ryan said Cassidy’s father was a polarizing figure, and he didn’t want anything to hinder his chances of being elected as the prosecuting attorney.
“Of course he knows,” Samuel said. “As the attorney on the case, he was one of the first people we spoke with.”
Ryan knew? And he hadn’t told her? Granted, he was only supposed to call in an emergency. But Cassidy would consider that news worthy of an emergency.
“You going to be okay?” Samuel asked.
Cassidy clamped her eyes shut. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Lie low. I know it’s hard for a type A gal like you, but the end result is going to be worth it.”
She ended the call and quickly hid the phone in a secret compartment at the bottom of her purse. Then she leaned back in her chair, her head spinning.
On a logical level, she knew what Samuel said was true. But just the thought of other people suffering because of her . . . she couldn’t stomach it.
It’s difficult to wait, but more difficult to regret.
She had to remember the big picture. But that was becoming harder and harder every day.
Chapter 10
Today’s Goals: Find more answers—about everything.
Skye was already up and sitting at the kitchen table the next morning when Cassidy emerged.
Cassidy had heard her guest clunking around the house. Being aware was what Cassidy was trained to do—to listen, to observe, to formulate. Besides, she hadn’t been able to sleep.
Cassidy had stayed in bed an extra hour, but not because she was sleeping. No, she just needed more time alone to wrestle with her thoughts. To contend with her guilt even more. To wonder why it felt like things were just getting worse and worse.
Finally, she’d gotten dressed and joined Skye, trying to forget about her own problems in order to listen to her friend’s. Because one look at Skye’s face, and Cassidy knew the woman was having a rough time.
“Did you get any sleep?” Cassidy slipped her hands around a cheerful yellow coffee mug as she lowered herself across from Skye.
“Not much. I kept halfway expecting the police to show up in the middle of the night to arrest me.” Skye absently flicked her hair out of her face, revealing red-rimmed eyes that shifted, not making contact.
“The good news is that the police don’t know you’re here,” Cassidy offered. “At least, they shouldn’t know. I certainly didn’t tell them.”
“That’s true.”
Cassidy rubbed the side of her ceramic mug, contemplating her next question. She hoped she could ask it with compassion. “Skye, Chief Bozeman said there was blood on you when he arrived at the house yesterday. You . . . you didn’t mention that.”
Skye’s head dipped down, and she squeezed the skin between her eyes. “I know. I’m so sorry. I knew how it would sound, though.”
Why did suspects—even innocent ones—always leave out suspicious details? Didn’t they realize it made them seem guiltier? “What happened?”
Skye raised her head, but her eyes were rimmed with tears and her face looked pale—to a worrisome extent. “When I got to Buddy’s house, the door was unlocked. That was the truth. I shoved it opened, but it was a little stuck. So instead of stepping inside, I fell inside. And I fell right into that pool of blood.” Her voice broke as a cry escaped. “It was horrible.”
“I can imagine. Did the police seem to buy that story?”
“Buy it? You think someone has to buy it?” Her eyes widened with fear.
Cassidy quickly back trac
ked. “I understand what you’re saying, Skye. But it’s the police’s job to dig deep and to not accept people’s word without proof. I’m just wondering how they reacted.”
That seemed to calm Skye. Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, her tension visibly dissolving a touch. “I mean, they let me go but told me to stay in town.”
“As you were sleeping last night, did you think of anything else that might be pertinent to the investigation?” It was amazing what sleep could do sometimes. Cassidy had had many realizations after getting some shut-eye.
Skye twisted her lips, half-nibbling on one. “I was thinking about Buddy’s produce stand. He was getting a higher class of clientele than me for some reason.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there were a lot of nice cars pulling up to his place when compared with mine.”
“Could that be because his looked newer and—” How did Cassidy say it?
“Nicer?” Skye finished.
Cassidy shrugged, hoping she hadn’t hurt her friend’s feelings. “Yours just looks more whimsical. Besides, you said vacationers and out-of-towners frequented his place. People coming here have a tendency to have more money than locals, so price isn’t really a sticking point for them.”
She nodded, seeming happy with Cassidy’s assessment. “Yes, that’s what I figured also. But something about the whole setup just seems fishy to me.”
“I agree.”
“Are you going to keep investigating today?”
Cassidy glanced out the window at the torrents of rain falling from the sky. “Yes. I don’t think I’ll be selling any ice cream again today.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“It’s no problem, Skye. I’d want someone to do it for me.”
Samuel was doing it for Cassidy. He just didn’t know it yet.
Cassidy should probably handle the rest of this investigation alone. It was better if she continued to put distance between herself and Ty. This week she’d have to compromise on that some—after all, they were “dating” temporarily. But she didn’t have to go overboard.
As soon as she reached her driveway, Ty appeared from his downstairs shed, Kujo on his heels.
Her throat clenched as she soaked in Ty’s freshly showered appearance. His hair was still damp and spiky. She itched to reach up and feel his unshaven cheek.
Why did this man have this effect on her? She didn’t even like him. He was kind of cocky, he didn’t care what people thought of him, and he liked to aggravate her. What was there to like about that?
Thunder rumbled overhead, and Cassidy was thankful her driveway was beneath her house because a shower of rain poured from the sky at that moment. She leaned down and greeted Kujo with a nice long rub on his head. The dog showed his appreciation by leaning into her.
“I was hoping I’d catch you,” he said. “I didn’t want to call because I thought you might be sleeping. How’s Skye?”
She shifted her keys from one hand to the other. “She’s hanging in. About as well as can be expected, I guess.”
“Is she upstairs alone?”
“Lisa is coming over for a while. Skye insisted I get out and look for answers. At this point, I think she’d take anyone digging for answers and being on her side.”
“So what’s our plan?” he asked.
Cassidy bit back a frown. While part of her was delighted at the prospect of working with Ty, the other part reminded her that it was best not to get too close. But if she feigned an excuse right now, he’d probably only get suspicious.
“I thought it would be a good idea to check out the produce stand,” she said, remaining noncommittal about working with Ty.
“Why’s that?”
Cassidy shrugged, trying to downplay her thoughts for the sake of not looking professional. She was becoming pretty good at it. “Skye said Buddy always got a higher class of clientele. There’s probably going to be nothing there, but I just want to check it out for myself.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go.” He nodded toward his truck.
“You want to drive?” He always wanted to drive. And she hadn’t even asked him to help her.
“Why not? I guess I’m old-fashioned like that.”
Old-fashioned? Cassidy had to admit that an old-fashioned type of guy had never had much appeal to her. No, she liked modern guys who respected women as equals. Who liked to vacuum and do dishes.
But something about hearing Ty say it was appealing. Probably because Ty was the type who would be chivalrous while still helping around the house. He was balanced, and Cassidy found that fascinating.
Ryan let her have her independence, so much so that it almost felt like he didn’t care at times.
No, that was a crazy thought. Of course Ryan cared.
But maybe the thought wasn’t so crazy. Not if Cassidy listened to the nagging doubts plaguing her lately.
Ty paused at the edge of the shelter, right on the dry side of the driving rain. “If you really want to, you’re welcome to drive.”
He stared at her—almost leaned toward her—as he waited for her response.
Cassidy opened her mouth, about to agree. Before she could say anything, Elsa—the ice cream truck—began singing “Who Built the Ark?” How appropriate, considering if this rain kept coming, they might need an ark.
She wandered toward Elsa and played with the knobs there. Some kind of short circuit made the music play at random times. The anomaly kept life . . . interesting.
She turned back to Ty, torn between working with him or going solo. “If you go with me, I suppose you can drive. But only because your truck is awesome.”
“I’ll address the ‘if you go with me’ part later. Right now, I just want to document that you said my truck is awesome.”
She crossed her arms. “I’ve always liked your truck. I didn’t like your cousin’s truck with all of his naughty bumper stickers.”
“Naughty?”
“You have to admit . . .”
“Yeah, they were pretty bad.”
“And I have to admit that a truck like your real one can even make someone like you look good.” Her eyes glimmered with teasing.
There she went again. She’d never been a teaser. But something about Ty brought it out in her.
Was she . . . flirting?
No, that couldn’t be it.
He stepped closer, a smile tugging at his lips and his own sparkling eyes reflecting hers. “Is that right?”
She kept her chin high. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“You’re . . .” He shook his head and stepped back.
What? What was he going to say? “I’m what?”
He paused and turned back toward her. “You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
She didn’t bother to ask if that was a good or bad thing. Instead, she’d take it for a compliment. “You know, on second thought, I should go alone.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“But you need to spend time with your family.”
He froze then released a breath and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means this.” He scooped down and threw Cassidy over his shoulder, despite her protests.
She pounded on his back. She could totally take him out if she wanted—but it would blow her cover.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked.
“I can’t let you go out there alone.”
“Of course you can. I’m a professional—” She stopped cold.
“A professional ice cream lady? Interior designer?”
Detective, she wanted to scream. But she couldn’t.
“I’d feel horrible if something happened to you.” Ty darted through the rain toward his place. “I can’t put you in danger.”
She bit her tongue. “I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you will—because I’m going with you.” He opened his truck door and plopped he
r in the passenger seat. Then he leaned in, as if she might try to escape.
Cassidy sucked in a deep breath at his closeness, at his presence, at his broad form.
“Oh, look at you two!” someone exclaimed. “You finally look like you’re dating. I just had to catch you at the right moment.”
Del stood there, grinning from ear to ear.
Cassidy leaned back, knowing she wouldn’t be able to do this solo, no matter what she tried.
Ty couldn’t help but grin as they headed down the road. Cassidy was truly unlike anyone he’d met before. She was confident and funny, and she knew how to handle herself in tense situations.
He liked that.
Don’t like it too much, he reminded himself.
As tempting as the idea was, the last thing he needed was another woman in his life. Things were so much simpler when he was single. He could do his own thing. Work on the retreat center he wanted to start. Wrestle with his own demons without getting anyone else involved.
No, women just made life more complicated, especially when they broke your heart.
The rain came down in buckets. A report came on his radio as they sloshed down the road, advising of a possible flood warning on the island.
He’d been around here enough to know that flood warnings weren’t to be taken lightly. He’d witnessed entire houses wiped out by rising waters. He’d seen streets destroyed and vehicles swept away.
It was one of the dangers of living on an island that some geologists believed was sinking as sea levels rose. Eroding shorelines only added to the dangers. Yet he wouldn’t trade this place for the world. Lantern Beach was a slice of paradise.
He stole a glance at Cassidy. She stared out the window, her mind seeming to be in another place.
She got like that a lot.
What was she thinking? Exactly what did she leave behind to come here?
She was never quick to talk about her past, though Ty knew a few details. There was still a lot of mystery surrounding the woman—and it was a mystery he itched to crack.
But if Cassidy knew that, no doubt she would freak out. Most women wouldn’t approve of him using his Navy SEAL training to track down information about them.
Lantern Beach Mysteries Box Set Page 26
