Tessa and Bruce circled the property as she directed Bruce where to take photos. When they were ready to go in, Tessa slowly opened the back door and announced herself. She and Bruce entered with their weapons ready as Henry calmly leaned against the hood of his vehicle. If the druggie was still in there, he had to be sound asleep to not hear all the noise the three of them had made outside.
“Come on in, Doc,” Tessa called after a minute. “It looks pretty good in here.”
Henry walked through the office and had to agree. Cabinet doors were open, but the insides were neat.
Bruce and Tessa tailed him on his tour. He stopped in the doorway to his second exam room. “Dammit.” Glass from the broken entry window covered the floor.
“At least that seems to be the only damage,” Tessa pointed out. “Is anything missing? Drugs? Equipment?”
He told her about his encounter with the drug seeker from the day before. “The only drugs here are available over the counter. I haven’t noticed that anything is missing yet.”
Bruce spoke up. “I’m surprised he didn’t take your computer equipment or anything else he could sell for quick money.”
“Me too,” said Henry. He checked in his lab, a small room with a microscope, monitor, and some other portable equipment that would have been easy to walk away with. Again the storage cabinet doors were open, but nothing was out of place. His gaze shot to an empty spot on a low shelf, and his heart stopped.
“Shit.”
The tub of bones was gone.
An hour later Henry still felt like an incompetent idiot.
He’d crossed the drug seeker off his list of suspects—why would he steal bones and not the equipment? Now his suspect list was completely blank.
Tessa had called Cate, who now stood with her hands on her hips, clenching her jaw in irritation as she glared at the empty shelf. “We had just looked at them,” she mumbled.
Henry said nothing. He’d fucked up.
Cate looked at Tessa. “Chain of evidence was intact. Leaving the bones with the coroner for delivery to the lab wasn’t wrong.”
“I agree,” said Tessa. “If the county had stored them, they’d still be gone if that was the thief’s primary goal. Our evidence shed is locked with a chain and pathetic padlock.” She looked at Bruce. “I’m assigning you a project. Figure out an upgraded evidence storage system for our office. We’ve been lucky for too long. I’ll get the funding from the sheriff.”
“I’m on it,” the deputy replied. He’d covered areas of the office with black fingerprint powder, and Henry had watched in fascination as the young man twirled the feathery brush. The tons of smeared fingerprints on the cupboards weren’t encouraging, but Bruce had seemed pleased with some prints he’d found on large pieces of the broken window.
“I should have locked up the bones. They were evidence,” Henry said. “This is on me.” Bruce won’t be the only person looking for secure storage. And an alarm system.
“What’s done is done. Locking your cabinet wouldn’t have made a difference,” said Cate briskly.
“This brings the entire investigation to a halt,” complained Tessa. “We’ve got to find those bones so we can have them identified. I’ll get the fingerprints entered as quickly as possible and hope we can track down our thief.”
Henry looked at Cate, sending a question with his eyes. She gave a small nod.
“Maybe it’s not a complete halt,” said Henry. “I did a comparison between Samantha Bishop’s and Becca Conan’s films with the teeth. I’m pretty certain the bones belong to Becca.”
Tessa stared at him, hope in her eyes. “How certain?”
“Ninety-nine percent.” He pictured the small incisors on Becca’s films. The skull had the exact same anomaly. “The skull and Becca’s films had pegged lateral incisors, or microdontia—I looked up the right term last night,” he told Cate. “It’s not a rare occurrence, but it is unusual enough, along with some other things I noticed, to make a tentative identification.” He glanced over at Tessa; she still wasn’t convinced.
“I can’t go to Rex Conan with that,” she said.
“I agree,” said Cate. “And I don’t think we should tell him the bones are gone just yet. He’s not expecting an identification until the ferry can get the bones to the mainland. We’ve got a window of time to hunt them down.”
“Before everyone knows I screwed up,” said Henry. “My reputation here is shot.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Cate said forcefully at the same time Tessa declared, “You did nothing wrong.”
He wasn’t comforted.
“They couldn’t have gotten far with the bones,” Cate said. “The thief has to still be on the island.”
“Unless they took a personal watercraft.” Tessa turned to Bruce. “Contact the marinas. I want to know who’s left since yesterday afternoon. Luckily most boats are out of the water for the winter, so there won’t be much activity.”
Bruce nodded and strode toward the front door.
“Private docks,” muttered Cate.
“I know,” agreed Tessa. “But maybe we’ll get lucky. Thieves aren’t usually rich enough to afford a boat, let alone a property with a dock.”
“He could have stolen a boat from a private dock or marina,” added Henry.
“I’d planned to review Becca’s last twenty-four hours today,” said Cate. “Do you want help with finding the bones instead?”
“No. Do what you planned.” Tessa eyed Henry. “The doc here seems pretty certain the bones are Becca’s. Let’s not stop our progress on that aspect.”
Henry felt like he was under a spotlight. “What can I do?”
“Open up shop,” Tessa told him. “Widow’s Island still needs its doctor.”
True.
But it felt like Tessa and Cate were cleaning up his mess.
10
Cate walked to Buzz’s Head Shop from Henry’s office, her mind spinning with possibilities.
Who would steal the bones?
Someone who didn’t want them identified.
Hence, the killer.
The teenage girl’s killer was still on the island.
Or a drug seeker took them just for the heck of it.
She sighed and adjusted her scarf. The temperature wasn’t horrible, but the wind was icy. Passing Cheater’s Bookstore, she glanced in the windows and saw an employee watching TV behind the sales desk. No customers. Buzz’s Head Shop was next. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. Spotting the sign that stated the shop opened at nine a.m., she checked the time. It was past ten.
What did I expect from a marijuana dispensary?
Two years ago Jerry Hooper had claimed Becca Conan had been in his pot shop the day she’d disappeared. No other person had seen her. The previous investigators had found Jerry’s sighting to be rather odd because Becca’s boat had been found in Bishop Bay Marina, adjacent to the ferry dock and nearly an hour from Jerry’s pot shop in North Sound. His shop had sold legal drug paraphernalia for decades and then became a licensed dispensary when pot became legal.
“You waiting for me?” a lazy male voice asked.
Jerry strolled her way, keys jingling in his hand. Taking his time as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably doesn’t.
“Hey, Jerry.”
He squinted. “Cate?” His eyes lit up. “Nice to see you.”
“Your sign says you open at nine.”
He didn’t look at the sign. “Well, it should say somewhere around nine.” He slid the key in the lock.
“It’s past ten.”
“That’s pretty close.” He grinned, showing impressively white teeth. “You’re lookin’ good. I heard your brother is back.” He pulled the door open, and an odd mix of odors rushed out. Pine, citrus, and grass. Not the skunky smell of smoked pot she’d expected.
“Yes. He’s working for the park service.”
“What can I do for you? You need some help with pain?”
&nb
sp; Does everyone know?
Jerry flipped on the lights and unlocked an inside door that allowed him behind a glass case. It looked like a case in a bakery, but instead of displaying cakes, this one presented large mason jars of the dried green herb. The jars and case were impeccably clean and arranged in perfect rows. Each jar had a neatly printed label.
Purple Power. Blue Haze. Lemon Haze. White Widow.
What’s the difference between Blue and Lemon?
“No pain. I’m reviewing the Becca Conan case.”
“Yeah. The author’s missing kid. I heard they found some bones on his island. Is that why you’re reviewing it?”
“Who told you about the bones?”
He leaned both arms on the case, his easygoing gaze looking her up and down. “Everybody is talking about it. You know how it is.”
“Two years ago you said she’d tried to buy marijuana from you.”
“Yep.”
“You sure it was her?”
“She looked like the picture being passed around by the police. Young girl—way too young—who wouldn’t show ID when I asked for it.” He yawned. “I told her to leave, and she left. That was it.”
“Were you stoned?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t smoke the stuff, but I am around it, so I’m always in a good mood.”
“How come you don’t have security cameras?”
“Don’t need them. If someone commits a crime, where are they going to go?” He spread his hands. “It’s a fucking island.”
Cate couldn’t hold back a smile. Jerry hadn’t changed. “Good to see you, Jerry.” She held up a hand in goodbye and turned toward the door.
“You too, Cate. You here to stay?”
She paused, her hand on the door. “No. Just visiting. Doing a little work.”
“Too bad. I always pegged you and your brother for longtimers. I knew Logan would be back.”
“Maybe someday.”
The door pulled open, and she let go as a man stepped inside. Adam Jacobs. Son of the water taxi driver who’d driven her to Ruby’s Island the night the remains were found. He drew up short as he recognized her, guilt crossing his face.
“Hey, Adam,” she said, enjoying his embarrassment from being seen in the shop by an FBI agent.
“Cate. You sh-shopping?” he stuttered.
“Nope, just talking to Jerry. See ya.”
She pushed the door back open and stepped outside, still entertained by Adam’s shock. If you’re going to buy the stuff, don’t act like a felon. Retying her scarf, she looked up and down the street. Not a car in sight.
Not like back on the mainland. She pictured her Bellingham office. A small hive of action and energy.
I’ll be back to work soon.
She moaned as she remembered she needed to inform her boss the bones had been stolen. Pulling out her phone, she dreaded the call. She was tempted to wait and see if they could locate the bones before the ferry arrived.
Dream on.
“Cate? Is that you, honey?”
A woman approached, covered from head to toe in heavy winter wear with only her eyes and nose showing. It took Cate a moment to place the green eyes. “Good morning, Mrs. Bishop,” she said, watching the woman closely, remembering that Samantha’s mother wasn’t mentally steady.
Marsha Bishop’s eyes warmed. “It’s so good to see you. I’d heard you were back.”
“Just for a bit.”
“And you’re an FBI agent now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Seems like yesterday you three girls were having sleepovers at our house.” Her gaze was distant. “Music and chatter until all hours of the morning. I miss those days.”
“Those were good times.”
Marsha’s eyes sharpened. “You’ve got to find her, Cate. You and Tessa. No one knows her like the two of you do.”
Cate couldn’t speak. Does she not realize it’s been years since Samantha vanished?
“Those police didn’t take it seriously. They think she’s dead.” Marsha scoffed. “Ridiculous.” Her eyes pleaded with Cate.
“I’ll see what I can do.” What else can I say?
Marsha brightened immediately. “Thank you, dear. I need to get going. Give your grandmother my love.”
She moved past Cate, humming under her breath.
Cate watched her leave and was swamped with guilt about her missing friend.
It can’t hurt to review Samantha’s paperwork.
Henry had swept and vacuumed up the glass and then hammered a piece of plywood over the window from the outside. It looked cheap and ugly, but it would have to do until he found someone to replace the glass. He’d looked online, and no one on the island did window or glass repair.
He wasn’t surprised.
He started scrubbing at the fingerprint powder and made the mess worse. The fine powder simply smeared, unwilling to detach from any surface.
The bell on the office door jingled, and he went out front, happy to step away from the mess in the back. He was pleasantly surprised to see Jane Sutton.
“Morning, Ms. Sutton. Are your hands still bothering you?”
“Oh, no. I just stopped by to see if you needed any help cleaning up.”
Am I more surprised at the offer of help or the fact that she knows I have a mess?
“Do you know everything that happens on the island?” he asked in full seriousness.
“Of course not.” She brushed aside his question with a hand. “I just know how pesky that fingerprint dust can be.” She held up a spray bottle. “I brought this for you.” Her eyes twinkled. “My special mixture.”
“You deal with fingerprint dust often?” he asked dryly, reaching for the bottle.
“Cate was fascinated with law enforcement when she was younger. She went through a stage where she was lifting fingerprints from all over the house. Took me a while, but I put together a recipe that works.”
“You didn’t tell me you were Cate’s grandmother when you were here the other day.” Henry gestured for her to follow him into the back of the clinic.
“You didn’t ask.”
He snorted, liking the woman more and more by the minute. “She was always into crimes, huh?” he asked as he sprayed a light-switch plate.
“Not until her friend Samantha vanished. Then both she and Tessa started talking about careers in law enforcement.”
Henry wiped the light switch and was astonished as the black dust seemed to jump onto his paper towel. “What happens in someone’s past can guide their future,” he said, thinking of his sister.
“She didn’t have to go all the way to the mainland to be in law enforcement,” Jane stated.
Henry glanced back at Jane. She was watching him closely. “Cate told me she’d been shot.”
Jane’s face fell. “She was,” she said softly.
“What exactly happened?” Cate had avoided details at lunch.
“A routine visit. Low threat. She and another agent went to interview a potential witness. They were on the porch, knocked, and when the door opened, the man fired on both of them.”
Henry slowly turned to Jane, horrified by the image in his mind. “I’d never be able to knock on another door.”
Jane nodded. “The other agent died. They were close friends.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Three weeks. I convinced her to come to the island. She has a few more weeks of medical leave.”
“She looks good. I would have never guessed.”
“The island heals,” Jane said simply. “Hurting people come from all over the world. Chronic illnesses, broken hearts, cancer survivors. Many never leave. They find peace. A serenity.”
“Some say being near a body of water will do that,” Henry found himself saying. Am I validating her claim?
“That’s a big part of it. Now Cate and Logan have returned, both damaged inside and needing to heal. The island is in their blood; it pulls at them, but their mother
moved away when the children were young. She didn’t belong here.”
“Wait.” Henry was confused. “How can your own daughter not belong here?”
“Believe me, it broke my heart and the hearts of her children. But the island will gently expel those who don’t belong.” He must have looked aghast because she held up her hands in reassurance. “They’re meant to live somewhere else in the world. They have a home, and they’ll find it.”
“And Cate should live here,” he said flatly. This is a bunch of crap.
“Yes.”
“You’ve told her this?”
“No. Of course not. You can’t force anyone to stay. You just know.”
Henry studied the older woman; she looked completely serious. “Is this more island hazing or tales?”
Her smile was sad. “No.”
“Why are you telling me this? I just got here.”
“Because I see and feel it in you, Henry. You’re meant to stay.” She tipped her head to one side. “Right? How did you feel when you first stepped off the ferry?”
He didn’t speak, remembering the sense of relief and peace that had pervaded him. He’d believed it was because he hadn’t taken a vacation in years.
She took his silence for affirmation. “You know. Cate knows too. But like any stubborn islander, she’ll continue to fight it for a bit.”
“Sounds like a waste of time.”
“Maybe. I have faith she’ll listen to her heart this visit.”
What have I gotten into?
11
After leaving Jerry’s shop, Cate walked back to Henry’s clinic, intending to pick up her car and drive to Bishop Bay to continue following Becca Conan’s last twenty-four hours.
Henry stepped out of the clinic’s front door, a garbage bag in his hands, and waved at her as she stopped near her vehicle.
She paused, wondering if he’d discovered anything else about his break-in.
“You just missed your grandmother,” he told her.
The dimple in his left cheek caught her attention, and she forced her gaze to his brown eyes. “Uh-oh. What did she tell you?”
Her cell phone rang, and she checked the screen. Tessa. “Hang on, I need to take this,” she told Henry as she accepted the call. “This is Cate.”
Close to the Bone (Widow's Island Novella Book 1) Page 7
