Teni nodded. “I assumed the same. I’ll call the accident in via the landline when we reach shore.”
Lacking cell service and cable TV, among other amenities, the island was “lost in time,” according to the tourists, but it had its charms—the permanent islanders being cut off from the world after “the season” being one of them.
His experience as an Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives investigator and hers as a National Resources Police officer with unilateral statewide jurisdiction meant they could handle possession of the body until the ME could safely arrive after the storm.
Minutes later they approached the Kents’ dock. Well, Teni’s since her parents’ tragic death. He swallowed against the stark realization of just how horrific Julia’s loss had to feel for her, coming so close on the heels of her parents’ accident.
He gave Teni the helm and jumped onto the dock as she angled up to it, tying the rig line to the winch. After making sure the boat was secure enough, he jumped back on board and found Teni down below, standing over Julia, sobbing.
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her head as he’d done so many times. “I’m so incredibly sorry.” For more than he could express.
He heard her swallow, hard, and she turned, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her shivering hand. “We need to decide where we will keep Julia until the ME can make it over from the mainland.”
“I know. Why don’t you let me handle that?”
She shook her head. “She’s my cousin.”
“Maybe the volunteer fire station?”
“That glorified barn? Hardly a sturdy structure during the storm, and they have no basement or cellar. . . .”
He knew that look in her eyes.
She put a hand to the back of her neck. “The icehouse.”
“What?”
“It’s underground, so it’ll be safe from the storm. It’s secure and the cool temperatures will . . . preserve . . . her body.” She bit back what looked like another sob ready to wrack her slender body.
“Good idea. I’ll carry her there. You call the mainland.”
“I’ll come with you, and then we can call the mainland.”
He nodded, knowing she was going to see this through every step of the way. She was a good investigator and an even better cousin.
Jensen and Maxine, the Kent property’s caretakers—Teni’s caretakers when she was off property—came rushing out of the house.
“Wh . . . wha . . . what’s wrong?” Maxine asked as Jensen wrapped his arm around her. Both obviously knew the two girls had gone for the swim, probably saw them off, as always.
“Julia had an accident,” Callen said, certain Teni would have a hard time forming the pain-filled words.
“An accident?” Jensen asked as Maxine sobbed.
Callen explained as quickly as he could to spare Teni the horrible details and assumptions being repeated. He thought the assumptions right, but until the ME did the exam, they were just assumptions—not facts.
They laid Julia in the icehouse on the cold, stone bench and kept her draped with the sheet.
Maxine ran and gathered a sprig of fall wildflowers, dripping with rain, and laid them on Julia’s covered chest.
“Come, Maxie,” Jensen said after a short while. “Let’s leave them to their peace.”
“Peace? What peace?” Teni asked, then blinked rapidly, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Now was not the time to give her a lesson on God’s sovereignty or the peace He’d eventually fill her with. Now was the time for sorrow and grieving, and trusting He’d carry Teni through the days, weeks, and months of mourning ahead. And if there was anything he could do personally, he’d be there for her. He hadn’t been once. He’d never repeat that mistake again, if she’d allow him the privilege.
“Do you want me to call the mainland for you?” he offered.
“No. I’ll do it. I’ll process and report the accident as I would any other. NRP has jurisdiction on this one. I’ll call in my ME of choice after the storm—it’s our case.”
He didn’t know all the inner workings of the NRP but had researched the organization when he’d heard Teni had followed in the footsteps of her father and his line, who’d all joined the NRP, starting with her great-grandfather. He was a founding member of the Oyster Police, which, in time, turned into the National Resources Police. He knew she was right about the jurisdiction. The NRP utilized whatever local authorities they needed for their cases, but when it came to the water and any accidents or crimes committed on it—it fell under NRP jurisdiction. It was an interesting unit. One unique to Maryland and its shores and waterways.
Callen followed Teni back to the main house, where she called her superior and informed them of the situation. Then she called her ME of choice.
Jensen cleared his throat, wrinkled hands wringing, clearly at a loss for words. “I’ll finish securing the house for the storm.”
“I’ve got it,” Callen said.
Jensen looked to Teni.
“Callen and I can take care of it,” Teni said. “You two take care of your place.”
“Are you sure, Miss Tennyson?”
“Positive, and how many times have I asked you both to call me Teni?”
“Okay, love.” Maxine leaned in and kissed Teni’s brow. They’d been with the Kents since as far back as Callen could remember. Always a part of the girls’ lives—the two cousins growing up nearly as sisters after the divorce of Julia’s parents and the remarriages that bumped her all around. Eventually, Teni’s folks had taken her in, and she’d grown up on the island with them.
Them.
It always had been them—he and Teni—growing up together. And then he’d destroyed it all in one drunken night on campus, with a group of guys who were never truly his friends and a girl he’d been too drunk to even remember her name the next day. It had been exactly the wrong way to handle his father’s death, but the wound was raw, and instead of returning to Talbot to find solace in Teni’s arms, he’d remained on campus that weekend and fell into the very wrong ones.
Teni grabbed the toolbox Jensen had sitting on the entrance table. “I’ve got this. You should take care of your place.”
“I did earlier when word of the storm shift first came in. I’ll stay and help you. Actually . . .” He took the toolbox from her hand. “You shouldn’t be worrying about this now. Let me handle it.”
“No.” She shook her head, always so stubborn. “I’d rather stay distracted.”
He understood the urge to find a distraction during a loss, only too well—and that distraction had destroyed his and Teni’s relationship.
four
TENI SLIPPED ONE FOOT into the luxurious bubble-filled claw-foot tub, then her other, the soothing scent of lavender wafting in the steam rising from the tub and clinging to the gilded mirror hanging over the pedestal sink.
Callen had held true to his word, helping her secure the house, and then remained until leaving at nearly ten o’clock, saying she needed to get some rest. Like she’d be sleeping tonight.
She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Callen’s help. He had crushed her with his betrayal, but his presence today had brought an unexplainable measure of peace and stability amid the storm raging in her.
Slipping to a seated position in the tub, she jerked as lightning cracked nearby, the flash of light casting leaf-patterned shadows across the hardwood floor.
She swallowed. Her momma would scold her for drawing a bath during a thunderstorm, but her momma wasn’t here, and now neither was Julia.
As she sank deeper into the water, the bubbles tickled her chin, the aromatic scent of lavender filling her nostrils.
Calm down, Teni. You’re strong. You’re a fighter. You will not fall apart, and as good as it felt to have Callen near, you don’t need him.
She took a steadying breath.
You don’t need anyone.
Beca
use no one was fixed—all could be lost in the blink of an eye.
Approaching the house, he noted candles flickering in the master bath window upstairs. Why candles? He wasn’t sure why she used candles while the electricity still ran, but any open flame only stood to serve his purpose.
He made his way down the four concrete outside cellar steps and entered the dark, dank basement. Lifting his flashlight, he scanned the space, thankful storm shutters covered the two small windows. He had total privacy as long as Tennyson remained upstairs.
Not wasting any time, he got to work—following the gas line leading from the propane tank into the cellar and along to the hot water heater.
Teni stirred in the tub as the wind rattled something outside.
She stilled.
Had something come loose in the storm? Or was she just being jumpy because of her raw emotions over Julia’s death, coupled with her earlier argument with Jared Connor about her decision to bring ferry service to the island?
She listened carefully—as still as a mouse caught in a cat’s piercing glare.
There it is again. The rattle of something. Had the cellar door or a shutter come loose?
Pulling the plug from the drain, she grabbed the fluffy, white towel off the tub-side towel stand, wrapped it around herself, and stepped from the tub onto the bath mat. And after drying further, Teni pulled on her yoga pants, long-sleeved Woman Up tee, and a pair of pink fuzzy socks that reminded her of Julia, then made her way downstairs.
He glanced to the exposed-beam ceiling and stilled. Something was draining.
Footsteps padded across the floor, catching each ease and creak of the timeworn floorboards. He needed to work faster.
Teni turned on the kitchen light. The house appeared still, despite the storm raging outside. Maxine and Jensen were tucked away in their cottage. Perhaps the rattling she’d heard had simply been a branch scraping against a window on the first floor, the sound having echoed from below. She was just being overly jumpy—her emotions getting the best of her, and yet . . .
Better safe than sorry.
Especially if a storm shutter had come loose. For the nor’easter hadn’t fully hit yet—this was just its outer bands.
Yanking on her yellow raincoat and matching rain boots with whimsical ducks carrying umbrellas, she grabbed the Maglite off the hook by the door and stepped onto the porch, the blustery wind whipping the hair from her damp, lopsided bun.
Her house phone rang and she turned. Probably yet another sympathy call about Julia’s loss. The news was already spreading across the island. It was so kind of everyone, but it just made it harder for her—jarring her back to the moment she’d rolled Julia’s limp body over and . . .
She swallowed, moved back into the house, and lifted the phone, shucking out of her jacket and dropping the flashlight on the entry table beside the phone base.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Tennyson.”
“Alex.”
She turned her back to the entryway table, leaning her weight against it.
“I just wanted to let you know I made it back safely. I should have called hours ago, but I was making sure Lenny got to where he needed to be.”
“Lenny?” Hadn’t he returned to Talbot as planned?
“He said the storm was moving in swifter than anticipated so he anchored his slip in the marina and is crashing with friends until it passes.” Alex cleared his throat. “Look . . .” Hesitation hung thick in his voice. “I know today wasn’t easy, but it was the right decision for us both.”
After what happened with Julia—which Alex didn’t know about, but she couldn’t bear to say it aloud one more time—their breakup wasn’t at the top of her concern list.
“Thanks for calling, Alex, but I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. You be safe in this storm.”
Which one? The one raging outside or the one tearing her apart from the inside out?
“Good-bye, Teni.”
“Bye, Alex.” She hung up, only to have the phone ring again.
With a stiffening breath, she answered, prepared for another consolation call.
“Hey, Ten,” Callen said. “I apologize for calling so late.”
She glanced at the giant clock hanging over the kitchen’s brick fireplace. Eleven o’clock. Not late compared to some of their nighttime mystery-solving adventures as teens. Good thing her momma had been a patient woman. Teni had tested her more than she prayed her future child or children would ever test her.
“I just wanted to see how you are doing.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks at the weight such a simple statement held.
“Ten?”
“Yeah.” She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “Sorry. Was spacing out. I’m fine.”
“You sure? I hated to leave, but I wanted to let you get some rest.”
One thing she wouldn’t be getting. No way was she going to find rest tonight.
A creaking sound stole her attention.
It sounded close. Very close. Gooseflesh rippled up her arms.
She stilled, listening, but it stopped.
“Ten?” Callen asked again. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, still trying to listen. “I’m fine.”
“Okay. Well—” The line went dead.
She sighed.
Every. Single. Storm.
Resting the dead phone back in the receiver, she moved to make some hot cocoa—her brief moment on the porch enough to spring a chill in her bones, and she could clearly use a bit of relaxation. She was so tense. Old houses creaked, especially in a storm, so why was her heart palpitating like she was in danger? The thought of Jared Connor following her back to her house nestled inside with unease.
Don’t let him intimidate you like he used to—bully that he’s always been.
It was just the roller coaster of emotions she’d been dragged through today. Jared’s threats, Alex breaking the engagement, precious Julia’s shocking accident—she was in a sensitive and vulnerable state, but she wouldn’t give in to the fear eating at her, despite her intuition screaming otherwise.
He worked fast, and as silently as possible. He needed to ensure Tennyson didn’t smell the gas until it had a chance to fill the basement and hit the blazing pilot light, which she was thoughtful enough to keep flickering by her use of hot water above.
He surveyed the space around him and smiled when his flashlight beam landed on the red velvet Christmas tree skirt in a clear plastic storage tub.
Now to be extra quiet . . .
He crept to the storage tub, opened it, bunched the skirt in his gloved hands, and ever-so-carefully climbed the basement stairs, wedging it into the space between the mudroom door and the floor. Even with her presence in the kitchen—a mere room away from the mudroom—filling the crack would give him the time needed for the gas to fill the small space. And then it was good-bye Tennyson Kent. All his troubles would disappear in an explosion’s brief but deadly blast.
Teni pulled the kettle from the burner and switched off the dancing flames. Pouring the hot water over the dark chocolate Godiva cocoa powder she’d emptied into her favorite I moose wake up travel mug, she scalded her hand on the kettle and, jerking in response, managed to splatter chocolate cocoa all over her light gray shirt.
Great. She dropped the kettle back on the burner and held her hand under running cold water until the burn chilled, though a blister was already forming on the heel of her palm. Switching the water to hot, she yanked a dish towel off the stove handle, dampening it in the steaming water, hoping to use it to dab out the stains dotting her favorite shirt before they set.
Lightning struck with a house-shaking clatter, illuminating the tree line outside her kitchen window.
A chill reverberated up her spine.
Was that . . . a man’s silhouette? Had Jared returned?
Thunder rumbled in her chest.
Lightning crackled again, this time zigzagging acro
ss the black night sky, again clearly illuminating the forest and a fleeing silhouette.
She swallowed. Someone was definitely out there. Grabbing her sidearm and flashlight, she shimmied into her raincoat and rushed outside, flipping on the porch light as she went.
The metal flashlight was cool in her still-burning palm as she raced for the tree line. She took one step across the forest’s threshold and an explosion rent the air, quaking the ground and propelling her toward the trees in a rush of fire.
five
TENI’S HEAD SWAM, darkness and fierce heat enveloping her. Something was shaking her. She tried to open her eyes, but they were so heavy. So very heavy. And why was it so hard to breathe?
Again the shaking. This time she somehow managed to raise her heavy eyelids. Rain poured down on her, and Callen knelt beside her, leaning in close, his face mere inches over hers, fear flaring in his dark eyes.
Lightning scorched the sky, thunder quickly following.
His mouth moved, but all she heard was ringing searing her ears.
Callen rattled her. “Teni,” he mouthed.
She blinked, a cough wracking her shoulders and chest.
“Oh, thank God,” Callen said, his voice finally breaking through the ringing as she struggled to breathe.
He pulled her up into his arms.
Flames danced high and fiercely beyond his shoulder.
What was happening?
She blinked. Flames were engulfing her home—her family home.
“No!” She lunged from his hold, her head swirling.
“Teni,” Callen said above the incessant ringing in her ears. “Easy now. You’re okay.”
“But my home.” It had belonged to her family since her ancestor was deeded the island in 1767 and had built the first part of the house the following year. And it was burning to the ground.
The Cost of Betrayal Page 15
