“A dead body has washed ashore.”
Cassidy stiffened and glanced at Ty. “A dead body? When? Where?”
“Someone called it in about fifteen minutes ago near Croatan Lane. Officer Leggott went to check it out and confirm the story. It’s true.”
“We haven’t had any reports of any vacationers missing, have we?”
“No, Chief.”
“Tell Officer Leggott I’ll be right there.”
So much for Cassidy’s day off. She glanced up at Ty. “We’ll talk more later.”
Maybe it was better that way. Because she needed more time to think.
Cassidy knelt on the sand and observed the corpse.
The man was probably in his mid-thirties. He was tall with thick shoulders and an even thicker midsection. His hair was brown and coarse. At one time, his skin had probably been white, but it was now a greenish-black color, wrinkled, and bloated.
If Cassidy had to guess, she’d say the man had been in the water for a couple days. His body was mostly intact, and sea creatures had only begun to eat his soft extremities. If he’d been in the water too long, he would have what was called grave wax.
Cassidy had seen the condition in one other case. When she’d worked back in Seattle, they’d pulled a body from an abandoned swimming pool. The sight had been forever burned into her memory.
The water here on the North Carolina coast was still cold at this time of year—around sixty degrees—which would cause the body to break down more slowly. The cold water also assured that sharks hadn’t shredded the body and bacteria hadn’t sped up the decomposition process.
Still, this wasn’t a scene for the faint of the heart.
Yet the faint of heart were already gathering—innocent beachgoers coming over to see what the commotion was. Crime-scene barricades had been placed around the body so no one could get close—but they could still see plenty.
“Officer Leggott, keep them back,” Cassidy said. “We need to put up some screens so people can’t see this.”
Mostly, Cassidy said that out of respect for the dead. But she had just read about a lawsuit against a small police department where someone had sued for PTSD after seeing a crime scene. It could be beneficial to take precautions.
“Yes, Chief.”
Her gaze went to the man’s jaw. It was hard to tell with his skin discoloration, but there appeared to be bruising around his neck. Had the man been strangled? Had he died from asphyxiation?
Her initial thought that the man had drowned began to fade. His death might not have been an accident at all.
But …
She got on her knees and peered closer.
The pattern of bruising seemed to swing upward at the back of the victim’s neck. Almost like a noose.
Cassidy might assume that the man had hung himself. But, if that was the case, how had he ended up in the ocean? That didn’t make sense.
She pulled on a glove and reached into the man’s pockets. They were empty. If no one could ID the man, they’d take his prints and dental records. That way, they’d have them to compare with any missing persons.
Had this been a vacationer whose trip had gone terribly wrong?
It was a possibility.
Though it wasn’t a season for going to the beach, many fishermen loved using the island year-round. Some people just came to get away from their everyday lives. Others had second homes here, and they came in the winter to work on renovation projects.
Officer Leggott handed her a blanket. Cassidy draped it over the man. It would offer some privacy until the medical examiner arrived and they could remove the body from the scene.
As she looked across the beach and scanned the spectators there, one man caught her eye. He stood near the sand dune, and he was on his phone as he stared at the scene.
She’d never seen the man before. But that wasn’t the reason why he’d caught her eye.
He wore jeans that were stained—dirty with mud, not the normal kind of beach dirty. His flannel shirt was also dirty, as if he’d been doing manual labor or working outside.
Strange.
Something about him just seemed out of place here.
With Leggott guarding the scene, Cassidy took a step toward the man near the dune.
But, in the blink of an eye, he’d disappeared.
Cassidy stared, wondering if she was missing something. But the dune was empty, like he’d never been standing there.
Strange. Very strange.
She should have known better than to think things would stay peaceful here on Lantern Beach for long.
Chapter Two
“So how are things going at Hope House?” Wes O’Neill asked.
Ty gripped the steering wheel of his restored antique Chevy truck, affectionately named Big Blue, and glanced over at his friend. They were headed to the store to get some plumbing supplies for one of the small cabana-like cottages they were building on the back of Ty’s property.
“We had our first six-week session, and it couldn’t have gone better.” The place was an answer to prayer. Ty felt called to help other SEALs who’d returned from battle with wounds—both invisible and visible.
That was why he’d started Hope House. He’d transformed his grandfather’s old cottage into a retreat center where wounded military veterans could come to heal.
However, a huge nor’easter had come through in February and ripped the roof off a couple of their new buildings. Even though they had funding for the initial build, their expenses were racking up again. Ty worried the financial strain could affect his marriage—and that was the last thing he wanted.
“When’s your next session?” Wes glanced over at Ty.
His friend was a part-time plumber and a part-time kayak guide. Most people around here had to work more than one job to make ends meet, and Wes was no different.
With his nearly shaved head and lean frame, Wes seemed to be living his dream life. The man had intelligent eyes and, though he could be on the quiet side, he was always observing life around him. When you got to know him, his wicked sense of humor emerged.
“I’m hoping to start it in about six weeks,” Ty said. “I have to get those roofs fixed—and secure the funding for it—and I also want to pace myself. Plus, it will be nice when it’s a little warmer out so we can do more outside without freezing.”
“I get that.” Wes leaned back, always easygoing. “Just make sure you don’t plan it around the time of Braden and Lisa’s wedding. It’s only another month away.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that.” Ty glanced over at his friend. “It seems like everyone is getting paired off here on the island—everyone but you.”
Wes sliced his hand through the air, still maintaining his laid-back vibe. “No, not me. Not anytime soon.”
“You sound pretty happy being single.”
“I am.”
“So was I—until I met Cassidy.”
“And now you two are the poster couple for how to be happy and in love.”
Ty chuckled. “I do feel blessed. I’m not going to lie.”
“Women just make life complicated. Personally, I like making my own choices about what I’m going to do, how I’m going to spend my money, and what I’m going to eat.”
“As long as you’re happy.” When the right one came along, his friend would change his mind.
Ty slowed his truck as they passed one of the large properties on the island. For years, the place had practically been a graveyard, but recently it had been brought back to the land of the living. He’d heard someone from out of town had bought it, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what was happening with the property now. A new campground? A mobile home community?
“You hear what’s going on there?” Ty asked.
Wes followed Ty’s gaze and frowned. “I heard some church bought it. They’re doing revivals and retreats there or something. Not an especially friendly bunch.”
“You’ve actually run into some of the
m?”
“I was on the ferry coming back this way from picking up some supplies a couple days ago. A woman had to get out of her car because she got seasick. I walked over to make sure she was okay. Anyway, I tried to make small talk. The only thing she told me was that she was coming here for a new start.”
“The idea of starting over is very enticing for a lot of people,” Ty said. Ty himself had come here because he’d taken vacations to the area as a child. His grandfather had left him the beach house, and he knew it would be the perfect place to start his nonprofit.
“Yeah, everyone who comes here seems to have secrets, don’t they? Anyway, I left the conversation alone. I didn’t want her to think I was hitting on her or something. She was in front of me as we exited the ferry, and I saw her pull up to the gate here.”
“Interesting.” Ty’s foot hit the brakes softly as movement on the other side of the fence caught his eye.
A little girl ran to the iron slats and grabbed them, peering out at the road. A second later, a woman chased after her. Both wore khaki pants and some kind of beige tunic. The woman scolded the girl before grabbing her hand and pulling her away.
But, before the woman left, she glanced at Ty and Wes in the truck. She stared at them a moment, something deep yet hollow in her gaze. Finally, she scowled before turning her back and walking away.
“That was weird,” Wes muttered.
His friend was right. Ty couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was weird about the encounter, but the interaction just seemed off.
Live and let live, Ty. Live and let live.
But he was more curious now than ever about the new owners of that property.
That said, he had bigger things to be concerned about. Starting with that phone call about Cassidy’s dad. There was more to the conversation than Cassidy had shared. In fact, he could see that the call had clearly shaken her.
And then there was the man he’d seen watching him and Cassidy earlier.
They’d been jogging, but Ty had spotted him in the distance, standing on the sand dune with his face turned toward them and sunglasses hiding his gaze.
Could he have been a fisherman? Someone on vacation?
Of course.
But another part of Ty feared the man had been sent here to find Cassidy. That he was affiliated with the deadly—yet supposedly disbanded—gang known as DH-7. Those in the gang wanted to make Cassidy pay after she’d killed their leader in self-defense while acting as an undercover cop.
Ty feared that Cassidy would never truly be safe.
And that was something he found hard to swallow.
Cassidy climbed into her SUV and took off toward the clinic, which was just down the road. Doc Clemson had called and asked her to come out. He said he had something to show her.
Lantern Beach Urgent Care Clinic was the only medical facility on the island. The practice wasn’t set up for anything extensive, but it was sufficient for most emergencies in the community. Tucked away in a back corner of the building, near Doc Clemson’s office, was the morgue—the area where the doc performed autopsies as well.
Cassidy called hello to the woman at the front desk before heading that way. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, but Cassidy was happy to see that the clinic looked empty.
Good. That meant there hadn’t been any more tragedies here. For the time being, at least.
“Cassidy.” Doc Clemson looked up from the cloth-draped body in front of him. “Or should I say, Chief Chambers.”
“You know you can call me Cassidy.” She stepped closer.
“I figured you’d be here quickly. I feel like I just put down my phone and now, boom! You’re here. Told you you’re giving Mac a run for his money for the title of best police chief Lantern Beach has ever seen.” Clemson winked.
Cassidy grinned. “I don’t think anyone will ever compare to Mac. Now, what did you want to show me?”
Doc Clemson’s smile disappeared, and he glanced down at the body. “Well, for starters, I think you were right about the means of death. This man didn’t drown—his lungs weren’t filled with water.”
Good to know.
“It appears he died of asphyxiation,” Doc Clemson continued. “I’m guessing, based on bruising, that he had a rope around his neck. Maybe a noose.”
“He hung himself?” Cassidy sucked in a quick breath.
“I don’t know if he did it himself or if someone else did it to him. But the bruises around his neck clearly indicate that was the cause of death.”
“If he hung himself, then how did he get into the ocean?” She mostly said the question to herself, though she was open to hearing any feedback Clemson might have.
“That’s the question.” Doc Clemson glanced at her, his look promising he was going to launch into something big. Leaving the sheet around the victim, Clemson rolled the man onto his side. “Take a look at this.”
Cassidy crossed to the other side of the examination table to see what the doctor was talking about. She sucked in a breath when she saw the man’s back—and the scars there.
Clemson’s knowing look deepened. “That’s what I thought too.”
“What could these be from?” The marks were almost too numerous to count, but if Cassidy had to guess, she’d say there were twenty-five at least. Some were large, some were small. But it almost appeared …
“It looks like he was whipped with something, doesn’t it?” Clemson asked, subtle grief in his gaze.
“Yeah, it sure does. How old do you think these are?”
“They’ve all scarred over, but they still retain a darker purple look to them. I’d guess our victim got these over the past six months.”
“Someone was beating or torturing this man, Clemson.”
He nodded grimly. “I know.”
“Any idea what left those marks?”
He squinted as he glanced down at the man’s back. “It’s hard to say, but it’s too thin to be a belt. My guess is that it’s some kind of switch or whip.”
Cassidy grabbed her phone and took a picture of the marks as another shiver went down her spine. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t either.”
The thought that the person responsible for doing this to the victim might be on this island caused the blood in her veins to run cold.
Now more than ever, Cassidy needed to find out this man’s identity.
Chapter Three
After leaving the clinic, Cassidy pulled up in front of Mac MacArthur’s place and paused. A grin curled her lip as she observed the scene there.
Mac had a group of about eight local kids—she assumed they were local, at least—out in his front yard. He’d set up what looked like a police training academy, and the kids were now navigating it while Mac appeared to keep time.
First, the kids ran through inflatable inner tubes, the colorful kind used to float around on in the water. They crawled under some volleyball nets that were flat and about a foot from the ground like a cargo net crawl at boot camp. They ended by grabbing water guns and hitting a target at the back of Mac’s property.
All the while, Mac stood there with a stopwatch in his hands and a whistle near his mouth, yelling instructions to them. Mac, with his scrawny but strong build, his full head of white hair, his thin white beard and mustache … he made being in your sixties look young.
Mac was one of Cassidy’s favorite people ever. He was the town’s former longtime police chief, and the man always had a mischievous glint in his eyes. But he was also dependable and capable.
He’d been helping Cassidy by filling in at the police department whenever he could. She desperately needed to hire someone else, especially before the busy summer season began. Finding good help was harder than she’d imagined, though.
When Mac saw her approaching, he blew his whistle and told everyone to take a five-minute water break. The kids ran toward a table at the back of Mac’s property. He owned a small cottage here—probably less than nine hundred squar
e feet—with cedar siding and built on stilts, like most of the homes in this area. He was about a block off the beach, only because he’d bought this before property close to the ocean tripled in price two decades ago.
Cassidy knew that only because people in town liked to talk about the changes to the former fishing community. Many of the locals—and they were the ones who stayed around in the winter with nothing but time on their hands—had lived through decades of changes in the area.
Mac was just one of the reasons she loved this place.
Cassidy thought of the phone call she’d gotten from her mother. Her dad … while she hadn’t been especially close with him, her heart still ached at the thought of what he was going through. He’d always been strong and smart and capable.
Being sidelined like this … it would be devastating for him. And for Cassidy’s mom. Appearance was everything to her family, and the golden couple now had to face this medical event.
It would be the test of her parents’ relationship.
Her thoughts shifted to her mom’s proposal. Leave Lantern Beach? No, it wasn’t a possibility. She’d gained her life here, her life away from the pressures of having a dominant, high-profile family. Of fighting her way past the expectations society had on her. She’d become her own person.
She and Ty didn’t have much—but they didn’t need much, as long as they had each other … and Kujo. Sure, money was tight sometimes. Trying to make the nonprofit work could be a struggle. But there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
Home is the place where your heart is happy. The wisdom came from a Day-at-a-Glance calendar that had once belonged to her best friend Lucy. Cassidy had practically memorized the advice there, and it seemed to serve her well at the most appropriate of times.
She shifted her thoughts back to her reason for coming to see Mac.
“What’s going on here?” Cassidy paused on the prickly grass at the front of Mac’s house and watched participants gulp down cups of water from an orange cooler. The mid-morning sun tried to warm her face, but the winter wind wouldn’t let it. At least the kids were probably warm as they spent their energy out here.
On the Lookout Page 2
