Cassidy Kincaid Mysteries Box Set

by Amy Waeschle

  They waded into the icy water. “I might not last long,” Pete said, “but you stay out as long as you want, okay?”

  “Okay,” Cassidy said, raising her voice above the sound of the booming surf. She leaned over to kiss him, his beard coated with near-frozen droplets of sea spray. Even though Pete’s surfing experience was limited, his skiing ability and comfort with risk-taking meant that he progressed quickly, and each time they surfed together he seemed to improve by leaps and bounds. But he still wasn’t comfortable in big surf and had no trouble admitting so.

  They hopped onto their boards and paddled out, Pete choosing to wait on the shoulder and far from the dozen or so surfers dominating the peak. Cassidy waited there with him, and they traded waves for a while. The ocean felt so pure and clean, the winter sun illuminating the depths to a sparkling azure. Exchange the ancient cedars lining the shore for palm trees and raise the water temperature, and it could easily pass as a tropical paradise.

  “Go on,” Pete said, catching her gazing at the peak. “I’m fine,” he added with a smile.

  Cassidy watched a surfer stroke into a curtain of slate-blue water. “Okay,” she replied, a zip of adrenaline electrifying her skin.

  She leaned over to give Pete’s cheek a peck, and then paddled out to the pack of bobbing surfers waiting stoically for the next set. A few of them gave her a nod, but otherwise, the pack ignored her. The surfers each picked off a wave until finally her turn arrived. She scored a nice set wave and dropped in, gliding down, down, her body acting on instinct. The wall of water rose up ahead of her, and she soared onward, an icy wind brushing her cheeks. As she carved over the lip at its end, she looked for Pete and saw him watching. After giving him a wave, she returned to the lineup, eager for her next ride. Soon Cassidy lost herself in the act of waiting for and catching waves. The cold water on her face and the speed of dropping into waves seemed to awaken something in her, and by the time she remembered again to look for Pete, he was gone.

  Her gaze swept over the waves, then the beach, watching for movement. Joggers and walkers dotted the shoreline. She saw a figure heading up the path into the woods, but was it Pete? With her unreliable eyesight, she couldn’t be sure.

  The many near-death stories in Pete’s book started looping through her brain: the big wave surfer held down in giant surf, the mountain climber pinned by a shifting serac, the sailor washed overboard.

  Cassidy took a wave in and headed for the cabin. The pale sun shone like an orb through the gauzy winter clouds, but it gave no warmth, and by the time she arrived at the doorstep she was shivering.

  Steam rose from inside the outdoor shower, and she heard the water cascading into the cedar enclosure.

  “Hey,” she called out.

  “Hi!” he said. “Saw you take off on some bombs. How’d that feel?”

  She sighed. There had not been any “bombs,” she was simply surfing the way she knew how. She sat down on the nearby bench to remove her gloves and booties, and then stepped into the shower. The hot water shocked her skin. Her feet turned bright red, and a painful pinpricking sensation spread through them as her reheated blood circulated. Pete had peeled the top of his wetsuit down to his waist, his skin pale after the long winter.

  “Why didn’t you wait for me?” she said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

  Pete’s eyes flashed in confusion. “I told you I wouldn’t last long,” he said with a good-natured grin. “Plus, it’s a little sore,” he said, massaging his wrist. “I figured we’d meet back here.”

  “Do you want to ice it?” she asked, distressed that he might be in pain. Cassidy peeled off her wetsuit and stood under the shower in her bikini, rinsing the salt and neoprene from her arms and legs.

  Pete stripped to his trunks. “Maybe later. I’ll see how it feels.”

  She stepped aside so he could rinse. “Would you have rather gone skiing?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, then sighed when he saw her look. “We’ve always talked about coming up here.” He scrubbed his face one last time then gave her the water. “Would you rather I had gone skiing with Mark? Cuz Ginny is free,” he added, the light in his eyes telling her that he was making a joke, but her hackles bristled.

  “I offered to help pay for this,” she snapped.

  He looked shocked at her outburst. “That’s not how I meant it, Cass,” he said. “I wanted to bring you here.”

  Cassidy felt her stomach twist into little knots. “I just . . . if you had wanted to go ski with Aaron, I would have understood.”

  Pete shut off the water. “Cass, I wanted to go with you. Not Aaron or anyone else. You’re the one I want to spend time with.” The sharpness in his tone set her on edge.

  Pete reached for the towels and they wrapped themselves in them. Pete gently took hold of her shoulders. “I thought we could use some time away. I know the last few months have been crazy.” He kissed her, and she tried to drink in his strength and confidence. To her dismay, she started to cry.

  “Hey, what’s this?” Pete said, his concerned look unsettling her.

  She swatted away the tears. “I feel like I’m bringing you down.”

  “Cassidy, no,” he said, his grey-blue eyes sharp—like a hawk’s. “That’s not true.”

  Cassidy shivered—the towel wrapped around her chest was no match for the cold, damp air. She was so confused. She should be riding high on her accomplishments, racing to her laptop every morning to tap out her final chapters, her brain buzzing with new ideas for research and papers to publish. Five years of hard work was almost complete! The future she had been dreaming of was within reach!

  Suddenly, the shower house felt too cramped, and Cassidy hurried along the rocky path to the cabin. A blast of warm air hit her as she stepped inside. Pete must have stoked the fire before getting in the shower.

  “Talk to me, Cassidy,” Pete said, rushing in after her.

  Cassidy spun, surprised at the edge in his voice.

  “Since the avalanche you’ve been distant.” He sighed a tight breath. “You’re drinking. You’re not writing your thesis.”

  Cassidy’s face burned with shame.

  “Is it me? Have I done something?”

  Cassidy shook her head, unable to put her thoughts into words.

  “It’s like . . . like you’re keeping something from me,” he said, his face so distressed she started crying again.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

  “No!” Cassidy said forcefully. “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know what to think!” he cried. He ran his hand through his wet hair and sighed. Their eyes locked.

  Cassidy opened her mouth but no words came out.

  “This isn’t right, Cass.” He crossed his arms. “We have something good. Something special,” he said. “I feel like you’re throwing it away.”

  “I’m not the one who almost died, okay?” she shot back.

  “Oh, this is my fault? You think I enjoyed getting buried alive?”

  “You’re sure having fun writing about it.”

  Pete’s eyes widened. “Writing is my job, Cass.”

  “I know,” she cried, tasting the salt from her tears. “Mark broke up with Tara,” she said, rushing to get it out. “When are you going to break up with me?”

  “What?” His eyes popped open in shock. “Whoa, where did this come from?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her head throbbing.

  Pete took a deep breath. “Cassidy, I’ve told you a hundred times that I love you. If anything, the avalanche made me realize just how much.”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “I know you’ve been through a lot,” he said. “I also know that the avalanche really tore you up, probably opened old wounds.” He let that hang.

  A sob escaped her lips. “What if you had died that day, and I couldn’t bring you back?” she managed.

  “But I didn’t die that day,” Pe
te said quietly. He covered the distance between them and took her face in his hands. “Cassidy, why can’t we get past this?”

  Cassidy felt like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. “I don’t know.”

  He sighed. “It’s like no matter what I tell you, you want to argue about it or push me away,” he said, his gaze soft and pleading.

  “It’s not like I’m trying to,” she said, her voice wobbly.

  He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Cassidy, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and I love you—all of you.” He gave her a long, intense look. “Let’s walk this road together, support each other through thick and thin. Love isn’t just for sunny days, you know,” he added. “It’s for the stormy ones too.”

  “It’s just so hard,” she said as the fear of falling gripped her like a vice.

  “It’s okay to be scared,” he said.

  Another tear escaped her lids and she closed her eyes.

  “Let go, baby,” Pete said, caressing her cheek. “Nothing is going to keep us apart now.”

  “How can you be sure?” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  He kissed her forehead. “Because we’ve been through hell and back.” He wrapped her into his arms. “We’re stronger than we’ve ever been.”

  Fifteen

  Seattle, Washington

  June 2, 2016

  Cassidy took a moment to gaze around the table, feeling buzzed from all the attention. After grilling her for over two hours, her defense committee had taken all of about ten minutes to confer, and she was now Dr. Cassidy Kincaid. With her tribe in tow, they migrated to a local pub to celebrate. Next to her, Pete chatted with her advisor; across the table, her old advisor from Berkeley, Dr. Jon Morrow was going head-to-head with Dr. Angela Preston, a professor on her committee; to her right, Quinn flirted with Emily and Miles; and his girlfriend Shelby listened to her financial advisor, Rodney, lecture them on the importance of investing early.

  At the nearby pool table, her stepsister, Rebecca, played a game with her younger brother, Reeve. “I thought he was still in jail,” Cassidy had replied when Rebecca asked to bring him along. “He got out early for good behavior. He’s really trying, Cass,” Rebecca explained, a pleading tone in her voice.

  The waiter brought another pitcher of beer, which quickly disappeared into pint glasses. Dr. Ken Thompson clinked his glass with his fork and stood, looking at Cassidy expectantly.

  “Congratulations are in order,” Ken said, looking around the table. Conversations died down as all eyes turned to him. “It hasn’t been easy,” he said, his eyes connecting with Cassidy’s. “The long hours in the field. The drudgery of data analysis. Collaborating. Grant writing. Proposals that get denied. Papers that get rejected.” He paused. “But Cassidy has proven herself over and over again to be both brilliant and determined.”

  Next to her, Pete squeezed her hand. Opening up to him in Tofino had caused some kind of shift. His pledge to stick by her despite her fears played over and over in her mind as they explored the little town, played Frisbee on the beach, and surfed. They kissed over their morning coffee and reached for each other throughout the day for a caress or to hold hands. Let go, he’d said, as if speaking to her soul.

  Inspired by her surfing experience, she had taken to late-night swims at the University’s pool. Something about the chilly water and the work soothed her busy mind. Her writing began flowing again and she met her extended deadline, though just barely. Another publication opportunity—as first author—arrived and she had pounced.

  “To your bright future,” Ken continued, raising his glass. “Congratulations, Dr. Kincaid.”

  “Cheers!” the crowd said together.

  “Speech!” someone called out, and a few others joined in.

  Feeling slightly wobbly—whether from her two beers or the high of her accomplishment she didn’t know—Cassidy stood. She thanked her advisor and her committee, her friends for their support, and finally, Pete. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, their eyes connecting. “There was a time when . . . when I wasn’t sure I could do it. But you . . . ” Her voice cracked and she paused a moment to collect herself. She wasn’t going to cry in front of all these people. “You believed in me,” she finished. “Thank you.” She felt her eyes get blurry, and wiped them with the back of her hand. If only her father were here. She imagined him wearing his usual ironed khaki pants, loafers, and red-checked button-down shirt and matching bow tie, his smile lighting up the room. Cassidy’s eyes met Reeve’s. He held his pool cue and gazed back at her with his characteristic smirk. Rebecca stood stock-still, her hands placed on the edge of the table. Then her eyes found Quinn’s, so calm yet edged with the pain he couldn’t hide from her. “Thank you all for being here. It means so much,” she said as her emotions tumbled and swirled inside her.

  At some point later she realized that Pete and Quinn were both missing. She wondered if they were hashing out the details of Pete’s upcoming visit to San Francisco to meet with his editor. Quinn would surely show him his favorite haunts, and Cassidy wondered what kind of trouble the two fast friends would get into. Pete wanted to research a story idea while there, as well. Lately, he had been up late at night, reading about immigration laws and conducting phone interviews. Cassidy had been too consumed with the final phase of her dissertation to pay much attention to the details.

  “So what’s going to happen to Casa de Rocas now that you’re going to Eugene?” Emily asked over the bar’s steady din.

  Across the room, Reeve and Miles had moved on to a game of darts. Wary of his behavior, Cassidy had kept an eye on Reeve’s drinking. To her surprise, after two beers, he quit. Cassidy wondered if Rebecca’s coaching was behind this.

  Cassidy was tempted to tell Emily about owning the house, but it seemed weird to admit it now. “Well, if we put up flyers in the geology lounge I’m sure you’ll pick up some more rock geeks. Plus, you and Juno will still be there to carry the torch.” Miles and Shelby had graduated from medical school and were renting a place together.

  “When are you moving out?” Emily asked.

  “At the end of June. I found a house today,” she said. Rodney had already analyzed the situation and decided that purchasing a house she would only live in for two years didn’t make sense. But she planned to hold onto Casa de Rocas. Seattle real estate prices would only increase.

  “Nice,” Emily said. “Did Pete help pick it out?” She said this casually, but Cassidy knew she was digging.

  “Sort of.”

  “So he is coming,” Emily said, her eyes lighting up.

  Cassidy blushed. “Yes.”

  Emily’s eyes flashed. “How’s his book coming along?”

  “He finished the first draft. He’ll get edits back next month.”

  “Have you read it?” she asked, nibbling on a pretzel.

  “He reads parts aloud to me. But I haven’t read the whole thing.” She readjusted her coaster, not wanting to confess that listening to the near-death experiences in Pete’s book brought up the same feelings she’d faced after the avalanche. She again remembered the trip to Tofino and how Pete had stood by her even though she was falling apart. Telling him how his stories made her feel would break his heart—he loved sharing with her. And she loved him too much to hurt him like that. “I haven’t been able to do much except get ready for this,” she admitted instead. “I’m so glad it’s all over.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to Costa Rica so soon though. Don’t you get a break?”

  Cassidy laughed. “No way. This is an amazing opportunity.” Her first post-doctorate project at University of Oregon would be studying Arenal, Costa Rica’s most seismically active volcano. It hadn’t erupted in almost a decade, but past eruptions had been violent and deadly. She was excited to apply her harmonic tremor work to help map the volcano’s plumbing system. Maybe she could help identify the movement of magma in such a way as to help predict the size and volume
of the next eruption.

  “But wouldn’t it be nice to, oh, I don’t know, go on a real vacation?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Quinn and Pete return from outside. Quinn’s eyes found hers, and a grounded, peaceful energy moved between them. They had always been able to read each other. “Pete and I are going on a road trip tomorrow.”

  “That’s not a vacation,” Emily said as Pete and Quinn joined them.

  “What’s not a vacation?” Quinn said, standing close to Emily, who looked ready to purr.

  “A road trip,” Emily replied.

  Cassidy shared the details of the following day’s adventure—camping in the back of her truck so they could get a predawn start at a spring ski of St. Helens’ south face.

  “See? Camping also doesn’t qualify as a vacation,” Emily said. “You two should get on a plane together. Go somewhere with palm trees.”

  “Palm trees are overrated,” Cassidy said as Pete slid his arm around her shoulders. “Give me mountains any day.”

  After a cold night in the back of her truck, they woke before dawn and brewed a quick thermos of coffee on the tailgate, then dressed and packed up their gear. They set off from the parking lot, ski poles tapping the soft dirt of the trail and their skis attached to their backpacks like A-frames. The morning passed quickly, and after an hour they were able to step into their skis. Taking turns leading, their skis sliding steadily along, the two made their way up the open terrain.

  They had decided to ski the mountain together for two reasons: Cassidy wanted to put the avalanche behind her, and skiing Mt. St. Helens seemed like the best way to celebrate the completion of her research.