Seagrass Pier
Page 1
ACCLAIM FOR COLLEEN COBLE
“Coble’s atmospheric and suspenseful series launch should appeal to fans of Tracie Peterson and other authors of Christian romantic suspense.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL
REVIEW OF TIDEWATER INN
“Romantically tense, but with just the right touch of danger, this cowboy love story is surprisingly clever—and pleasingly sweet.”
—USATODAY.COM
REVIEW OF BLUE MOON PROMISE
“Colleen Coble will keep you glued to each page as she shows you the beauty of God’s most primitive land and the dangers it hides.”
—WWW.ROMANCEJUNKIES.COM
“[An] outstanding, completely engaging tale that will have you on the edge of your seat . . . A must-have for all fans of romantic suspense!”
—THEROMANCEREADERSCONNECTION.COM
REVIEW OF ANATHEMA
“Colleen Coble lays an intricate trail in Without a Trace and draws the reader on like a hound with a scent.”
—ROMANTIC TIMES, 4½ STARS
“Coble’s historical series just keeps getting better with each entry.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL STARRED
REVIEW OF THE LIGHTKEEPER’S BALL
“Don’t ever mistake [Coble’s] for the fluffy romances with a little bit of suspense. She writes solid suspense, and she ties it all together beautifully with a wonderful message.”
—LIFEINREVIEWBLOG.COM
REVIEW OF LONESTAR ANGEL
“This book has everything I enjoy: mystery, romance, and suspense. The characters are likable, understandable, and I can relate to them.”
—THEFRIENDLYBOOKNOOK.COM
“[M]ystery, danger, and intrigue as well as romance, love, and subtle inspiration. The Lightkeeper’s Daughter is a ‘keeper.’ ”
—ONCEUPONAROMANCE.COM
“Colleen is a master storyteller.”
—KAREN KINGSBURY,
BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF
UNLOCKED AND LEARNING
ALSO BY COLLEEN COBLE
HOPE BEACH NOVELS
Tidewater Inn
Rosemary Cottage
UNDER TEXAS STARS NOVELS
Blue Moon Promise
Safe in His Arms
THE MERCY FALLS SERIES
The Lightkeeper’s Daughter
The Lightkeeper’s Bride
The Lightkeeper’s Ball
LONESTAR NOVELS
Lonestar Sanctuary
Lonestar Secrets
Lonestar Homecoming
Lonestar Angel
THE ROCK HARBOR SERIES
Without a Trace
Beyond a Doubt
Into the Deep
Cry in the Night
Silent Night: A Rock Harbor
Christmas Novella (e-book only)
THE ALOHA REEF SERIES
Distant Echoes
Black Sands
Dangerous Depths
Midnight Sea
Holy Night: An Aloha Reef
Christmas Novella (e-book only)
Alaska Twilight
Fire Dancer
Abomination
Anathema
Butterfly Palace
NOVELLAS INCLUDED IN:
Smitten
Secretly Smitten
Smitten Book Club
OTHER NOVELLAS
Bluebonnet Bride
© 2014 by Colleen Coble
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail SpecialMarkets@ThomasNelson.com.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version.
ISBN 978-1-40169-008-3 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Coble, Colleen.
Seagrass pier : a Hope Beach novel / Colleen Coble.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-59554-784-2 (trade paper)
I. Title.
PS3553.O2285S43 2014
813’.54--dc23
2014002835
14 15 16 17 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my brother-in-law Harvey, whose plot suggestions were invaluable for this book.
Love you, brother!
CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
READING GROUP GUIDE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
AN EXCERPT FROM DANCING WITH FIREFLIES
AN EXCERPT FROM DANGEROUS DEPTHS
ONE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ONE
The constriction around her neck tightened, and she tried to get her fingers under it to snatch a breath. She was losing consciousness. A large wave came over the bow of the boat, and the sea spray struck her in the face, reviving her struggle. She had to fight or he would kill her. She could smell his cologne, something spicy and strong. His ring flashed in the moonlight, and she dug the fingers of her right hand into his red sweater. The pressure on her neck was unrelenting. She was going to die.
Elin Summerall bolted upright in the bed. Her heart pounded, and she touched her throat and found it smooth and unharmed. It was just that dream again. She was safe, right here in her own house on the outskirts of Virginia Beach, Virginia. Her slick skin glistened in the moonlight streaming through the window.
The incision over her breastbone pulsed with pain, and she grabbed some pills from the bedside and swallowed them. In and out. Concentrating on breathing helped ease both her pain and her panic. She pulled in a breath, sweetly laden with the scent of roses blooming outside her window, then lay back against the pillow.
Her eyes drifted shut, then opened when she heard the tinkle of broken glass. Was it still the dream? Then the cool rush of air from the open window struck her face, and she heard a foot crunch on broken glass.
She leaped from the bed and threw open her door. Her heart pounded in her throat. Was an intruder in the house? In her bare feet, she sidled down the hall toward the sound she’d heard. She paused to peek in on her four-year-old daughte
r. One arm grasping a stuffed bear, Josie lay in a tangle of princess blankets.
Elin relaxed a bit. Maybe she hadn’t heard glass break. It might still have been part of the nightmare. She peered around the hall corner toward the kitchen. A faint light glimmered as if the refrigerator stood open. A cool breeze wafted from the kitchen, and she detected the scent of dew. She was sure she’d shut and locked the window. The hair stood on the back of her neck, and she backed away.
Then a familiar voice called out. “Elin? I need you.”
Relief left her limp. Elin rushed down the hall to the kitchen where her mother stood in front of the back door with broken glass all around her feet. The refrigerator stood open as well. Her mom’s blue eyes were cloudy with confusion, and she wrung her hands as she looked at the drops of blood on the floor.
Elin grabbed a paper towel. “Don’t move, Mom. You’ve cut yourself.” She knelt and scooped the bits of glass away from her mother’s bleeding feet. Her mother obediently sat in the chair Elin pulled toward her, and she inspected the small cuts. Nothing major, thank goodness. She put peroxide on her mother’s cuts and ushered her back to bed, all the while praying that when morning came, her mother’s bout with dementia would have passed. For now.
It was only when she went back to the hall that she smelled a man’s cologne. She rushed to the kitchen and glanced around. The glass in the back door was shattered. Inwardly.
He’s been in the house.
The neat plantation-style cottage looked much the same as the last time Marc Everton had been here. Seeing Elin Summerall again hadn’t even been on his radar when he pulled on his shoes this morning, but his investigation had pulled up her name, and he needed to find out what she knew.
He put the SUV in Park and shut off the engine. Blue flowers of some kind grew along the brick path to the front door. A white swing swayed in the breeze on the porch.
He mounted the steps and pressed the doorbell. He heard rapid footsteps come his way. The door swung open, and he was face-to-face with Elin again after all this time. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Her red hair curled in ringlets down her back, and those amazing aqua eyes widened when she saw him.
She leaned against the doorjamb. “Marc, what a surprise.” Her husky voice squeaked out as if she didn’t have enough air. Her gaze darted behind her, then back to him. “W-What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?”
She swallowed hard and looked behind her again. “I’ll come out.” She slipped out the door and went to the swing, where she curled up with one leg under her, a familiar pose.
He perched on the porch railing. “I-I was sorry to hear about Tim. A heart attack, I heard. Strange for someone so young.”
She nodded. “His lack of mobility caused all kinds of health problems.” She glanced toward the house again and bit her lip.
The last time he’d seen her she was pregnant. And Tim had thrown him off the premises. While Marc understood the jealousy, it had been a little extreme.
His jaw tightened. “I’ll get right to the point. I’m investigating Laura Watson’s murder. I saw a news story this morning about you receiving her heart.”
She gulped and clutched her hands in her lap. “That’s right. What do you mean ‘investigating’?”
“I’m with the FBI.”
“I thought . . .” She bit her lip and looked away. “I mean, you used to be in the Air Force.”
“I was ready for something new.”
“Sara never told me you’d left the military.”
He lifted a brow but said nothing. He doubted he’d often been the topic of conversation between his cousin and Elin. Eyeing her, he decided to lay his cards on the table. “My best friend was murdered while investigating this case. My supervisor thinks I can’t be objective now and wouldn’t assign me to the case, but he’s wrong. I took some leave, and I’m going to find his killer.”
She gulped. “Oh, Marc, I’m so sorry.”
He brushed off her condolences. “The article said you received Laura’s heart, that you’ve been having some kind of memories of the murder.”
Her face paled, but her gaze stayed fixed on him. “Yes, it’s been a little scary.”
“Sorry to hear you’ve been sick. You all right now?”
When she nodded, a long curl fell forward, spiraling down her long neck to rest near her waist. He yanked his gaze back from that perfect, shining lock. Her hair was unlike any other woman’s he’d ever met. Thick and lustrous with a color somewhere between red and auburn and lit from within by gold highlights.
Her hand went to the center of her chest. “I had a virus that damaged my heart. I’m still recovering from surgery, but the doctors are pleased with my progress.”
“That’s good.” He pushed away the stab of compassion. The only reason he was here was to find out what she knew about the murder. “So tell me about these visions or whatever they are.”
Elin exhaled and forced her tense shoulder muscles to relax. She had to do this. But what if she told him everything and he didn’t believe her? No one else had listened. Was it because she didn’t know herself anymore and it came across to others?
His dark good looks, only enhanced by a nose that had been broken several times, had always drawn female attention. She’d vowed they would never turn her head, but she was wrong. So wrong. He’d haunted her dreams for nearly five years, and she thought she’d finally put the guilt to rest. But one look at his face had brought it surging back. The scent of his cologne, Polo Red, wafted to her, instantly taking her back to that one night of passion.
She’d been so young and stupid. They hadn’t even liked each other, and to this day, she wondered what had gotten into her.
Marc opened the iPad in his hand and launched a program. “How did you find out she was your donor?”
“I have access to the records, and no one thought to lock me out.” She twisted her hands together. “To explain this, I need to give you some background, so bear with me.” She plunged in before he could object. “I’ve worked matching up donors with recipients for five years. I love my job.”
“I know.”
Those two words told her a lot. “Anyone who works with organ donation has heard the stories. They’ve even hit the news on occasion. Accounts of things the recipient knew about the donor. Things they should have had no way of knowing.”
He nodded. “Cell memory.”
At least he knew the term. “That’s right. Within hours of receiving my new heart, I started having flashbacks of Laura’s murder.” She touched her throat. “I’m choking, fighting for my life. I remember things like the color of the murderer’s hair. I keep smelling a man’s cologne. I went to the department store to identify it. It’s Encounter.” She saw doubt gathering on his face and hurried on. “He was wearing a sweater the night he killed her. It was red.”
He lifted a brow. “A sweater? On a Caribbean cruise?”
She bit her lip. “Maybe he put it on to prevent being scratched. I fought—I mean, Laura fought—very hard.”
He didn’t believe her. He hadn’t taken a single note on his iPad. She had to convince him or Josie would be orphaned. Mom would have to go to a nursing home. “He’s stalking me.”
His somber gaze didn’t change. “What’s happened?”
“Someone broke into my house the other night. I’d just had a nightmare about the murder, and I heard the glass break. At first I thought it was an intruder, then Mom called for me. I found her in the kitchen in the middle of broken glass. I cleaned her up and got her to bed before I looked around more.” She shuddered and hugged herself. “The glass in the back door had been broken from outside. He’d been here.”
“What makes you think it’s the man who killed Laura?”
“Who else could it be? He knows I’m remembering things because it was in the newspaper. He has to silence me before I remember everything.”
He closed the cover on his tablet
. “Well, thank you for answering my questions, Elin. I’ll look into your claims. I’ve heard about cell memory, but most doctors consider it part of the psychological trauma from organ transplants. Have you been to a doctor? Maybe the intruder the other night was a nightmare. You said you’d been dreaming. And he wasn’t actually in the house, was he?”
She stayed put in the swing. “You have to believe me. I know I sound like I’m crazy, but it’s all too real.”
His mouth twisted. “The police didn’t believe you either, did they?”
She shook her head. “But they don’t know me. You do.”
His eyes went distant. “I’m not sure I do either. You seem—different somehow.”
Her eyes burned. Everyone said that, but she didn’t feel any different. Okay, maybe some of her likes and dislikes had changed, but it meant nothing. She was still Elin Summerall, Josie’s mommy and Ruby’s daughter.
The front door opened, and she saw her daughter’s small hand on the doorknob. No, no, Josie, don’t come out. Her daughter emerged with a bright smile. The red top and white pants she wore enhanced her dark coloring. Her distinctive hazel eyes were exactly like the man’s in front of her. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. A futile hope. Marc was a good detective, the best. Tenacious too.
“Hi, honey. Mommy is busy. Go back inside with Grandma.”
Josie’s eyes clouded. “She’s sleeping. I want to go to the park.”
Marc’s gaze swept over Josie and lingered on her widow’s peak. “This is Josie?”
There was no escaping this reckoning. “Yes. Josie, say hello to Mr. Everton.”
“Hi, Mr. Everton. You want to come to my birthday party? I’ll be five next month.”
His smile was indulgent. “What’s the date?”
“July 10.”
His eyes widened, and Elin could almost hear the wheels spinning in his head, see him calculating the time. Tim hadn’t come back for a month after that night.
He bolted upright, and his hands curled into fists. “I’d love to, Josie.” His voice was controlled, but the look he shot Elin was full of fury and disbelief.