Last Chance Harbor

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Last Chance Harbor Page 6

by Vickie McKeehan


  “You and everyone else,” he said, rifling through the stuff. “These baseball cards are worth a small fortune. Makes me wonder why these would just be sitting around and not in someone’s collection.”

  “I figured as much. But factor everything in and the question is why would something so…bloody…be hidden away inside an elementary school with little toys and a bunch of rocks?”

  She noted the expression on his face looked as though he was already trying to puzzle out the solution. “I guess Brent Cody has a mystery to solve.”

  “Indeed I do.” When he stood up to go, he stopped like he’d just thought of something. “By the way, I need to warn you that Nick and Jordan are planning a welcome dinner for you. The entire town will probably turn out for it.”

  “The entire town? Why?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It’s what Nick and Jordan do, what the town does. We all want you to feel at home there.”

  The sentiment meant she’d made the right decision to relocate. “Thanks for the heads-up. Do you have any idea when? Because I really need to do something with my hair.”

  Once again, he stared at the pretty brunette. “Your hair looks fine to me. I don’t think I’m spoiling the surprise if all I tell you is…soon…very soon and leave it at that.”

  Ryder didn’t sit down to grab any downtime until after eleven o’clock that night. Dropping into the well-worn leather recliner in a living room that brought to mind the’70s, he turned on Sports Center to catch him up on the evening’s basketball scores.

  Staring at the 55-inch flat-screen TV he considered how good he had it. No snow to shovel. No working on construction sites in sub-freezing temperatures. And since Bethany had cleaned him out, how many friends could he count on? Many had turned their backs on him, people he’d known since high school. Since Cord had him crashing in a place rent-free, Ryder considered himself lucky to count the man as a friend.

  The work wasn’t even that hard. All he had to do was put in a little extra effort around the farm and he had a roof over his head.

  It didn’t matter that someone had tacked up outdated paneling or furnished the place with ugly furniture. Ryder had no complaints. He knew he was fortunate to be right where he was right this minute. After several months here, he’d found he fit in with the rhythm of the farm and the little town without much effort. He could hunker down here for an evening of solitude with the supper he’d fixed himself or head into Pelican Pointe to catch the daily special at the Hilltop Diner if he chose to do so. These days, he wasn’t looking for any more than that.

  He didn’t mind working around the cattle. Although the animals had given him some anxious moments until he discovered they were social creatures of habit. They were docile if handled with a firm, gentle hand and not the scary things he’d imagined them to be. For a city boy, it had taken him a few jittery first weeks before he gained a confidence around them. But once he had, everything had clicked into place. It was ridiculous now to think he’d ever been afraid of a bunch of cows.

  If he had to pinpoint a fear, it would have to be all the times since settling in that he thought someone kept creeping around the house—watching him, especially when he was in the barn during the evening milking—like tonight.

  The first time it had happened he thought he’d imagined things, conjured up some distant war memory. After all, the farm was remote, secluded, and he was used to the sights and sounds of a busy urban area. He couldn’t deny the quiet had gotten to him. But he’d been here three months now and still the feeling remained. It hadn’t gone away.

  The second time had occurred in the middle of the night when he had awakened from a deep sleep to the sound of footsteps out in the hallway. He could’ve sworn someone had been stalking around on the hardwood floor. But when he’d gotten up to check, there’d been nothing to see, no one lurking in the rooms. Creaks and groans in an old house didn’t add up to much. So he’d chalked it up to that and let it be.

  But lately, he wasn’t so sure.

  Tonight during the milking, he hadn’t been able to shake another presence. Call it a second sense from having been in a war zone but it felt like someone else had been standing next to him while he’d hooked each cow up to the machine.

  A week ago, he’d caught a glimpse of a man coming out of the barn heading to the administrative offices. He’d even broken into a run in pursuit—and then watched as the figure had dissolved into mist right ahead of him.

  Monday he’d started seeing that same guy hanging around the construction site. Maybe he had a stalker. But that made no sense. That’s why he’d already decided to say something to Cord about it, get his take on whether someone was hanging around the farm that shouldn’t be. But hell, these days Cord had enough to deal with.

  “You afraid Cord will think you’re nuts?”

  Ryder flinched at the voice, kicked the recliner causing the chair to bolt upright. “What the hell? Who are you? How’d you get in here? You’re trespassing not to mention breaking and entering.”

  “You know who I am. Everyone in town knows. I’m pretty sure the guys on the job mentioned me before now. They talk while they work.”

  “Oh come on, that’s just guys bullshitting one another about some ghost rumored to haunt the town. No way is Scott Phillips standing in my house. No way is he a fucking ghost!”

  “Sure about that, are you? Go out to Eternal Gardens sometime, check the name on my headstone. I’d suggest going over to Promise Cove and asking my widow to show you the family photo album but that’s incredibly insensitive to Jordan, not to mention my daughter, Hutton.”

  For some crazy reason he didn’t doubt that reasoning. “What the hell do you want from me?”

  “It’s not a question of what I want, but rather what you want to get back from Bethany. What she took from you belonged to your grandfather, your family. It’s an heirloom you need to get back.”

  “Damn straight I do,” Ryder tossed out. But then it hit him. “How the hell do you know that? No one does.”

  “Yeah, I know. Not even your mother.”

  “If you know where Bethany is, tell me.”

  “Her name isn’t Bethany. But you knew that already.”

  “Where is she? What is her real name? Tell me,” Ryder demanded. But his words hung in the air unanswered and echoed off the walls as he watched the man fade right in front of him.

  Mouth gaped open, he finally thought of something else to say, “Son of a bitch. How in the hell can I be talking to a freakin’ ghost?”

  Chapter Four

  Ryder had never been one to procrastinate. He prided himself on meeting a problem head on, something he’d learned from both his mom and dad, not to mention his time spent in the military.

  That was only one reason after finishing the morning milking that he decided to hunt down Cord.

  It took him on a trip through the outbuildings, up and down the rows of growing vegetation looking for Cord’s silver birch-metallic truck. But his friend was not at the farm.

  He didn’t find him at the veterinary clinic either.

  One thing about a small town though, a person couldn’t go very far. When Ryder reached the corner of Ocean Street and Cape May, he spotted a GMC Sierra pickup parked outside the Fanning Marine Rescue Center. He recognized Cord’s ride.

  The big iron gate was closed so Ryder took out his cell phone to text him.

  Waiting for you outside. Do you have time to talk?

  A minute later he got a response. Sure. Be out in a sec.

  A few minutes later Ryder watched as the gate slid back and Cord came walking out wearing scrubs.

  “You really do look the part.”

  Cord grinned. “Keegan and I were removing a plastic ring caught in a sea otter’s mouth. We’ve been up since four-thirty. You seem to be adjusting to life in our little hamlet. Being away from Philly isn’t driving you nuts yet?”

  “The town’s actually a nice place. No complaints. Besides, I’m beginning
to hit my stride at both jobs.”

  “Good to hear it. So what’s up?”

  “I have to be at work in a few minutes so I’ll just get to the point. I had a visitor last night.”

  Cord’s smile evaporated. “Who?”

  “I’m not crazy,” Ryder stated when he saw Cord’s concerned face. “But this guy keeps showing up. In fact, for the last three months I’ve felt as though someone keeps watching me. One night last January I almost grabbed my service pistol. Last night I saw him again, came right into the living room without so much as a knock on the door.”

  Cord’s brow eased, a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “You saw Scott? Scott Phillips?”

  “I know he’s some kind of local hero around here. But I don’t know the man.”

  “I did. We served in Iraq together when I was there with the Guard. It was messy and deadly, a time I’d rather forget. I was there the day an IED blew Scott out of a Humvee.”

  “That’s the problem, Cord. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “You will,” Cord said as he paced off several steps in front of the gate and back again. “I haven’t seen him in months, not since my wedding day. He’s all over town though.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors since I got here. For the last week, the guys have been running their mouths. I thought since I was the newcomer, they were just doing it for my benefit.”

  “I wish I could say that explained it. The thing is if you see him once, you’re likely on his list for whatever reason.”

  “What kind of list? Why me? I’m not bothering anyone. I live a quiet life here, the way I want it.”

  “He goes after troubled people. Scott must think you’re in need of help.”

  “You’re kidding? But I don’t need help. And I’m hardly in the troubled category.”

  Cord narrowed his eyes, stared long and hard at Ryder. “You’re sure of that, are you?”

  “Positive.”

  “Yeah? What about Bethany? What about the fact she took off with everything you ever owned.”

  “What about her? She’s long gone. Sure, I’m pissed off about what she did. I think of it every single day. Who wouldn’t? I’m working my ass off to stash some money aside like I had before she came into my life. You think I don’t know that if it hadn’t been for you loaning me the tools, I wouldn’t even be able to take this job.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Logan wouldn’t let that stand in the way of giving you the job.”

  “Still, I appreciate it. It’ll take me years to catch up to what I had before Bethany. But I’m game.”

  “I know you are. But if you want to find this woman, stick with Scott.”

  “Come on, Cord. Talk about ridiculous… That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. We were in the same unit together.” Ryder pushed up the sleeves of the hoodie he wore, held out his bare arm decorated with the black-and-red Army Ranger band capped off with a skull and crossbones. He tapped it with his other hand. “We got these together after training in Fort Benning. This says we’re a band of brothers. I’ve trusted you with my life in combat.”

  “And you think I’d lie to you about this now? Lead you down the wrong path, give you erroneous info now? Is that it? Look, if it weren’t for Scott I wouldn’t be standing here today. That’s a fact. I’d be dead by now or in prison.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If Scott hadn’t intervened it might be me who ended up a ghost haunting this town. But I changed my life into what makes me happy. After Nick and Ben dragged me here from a jail cell in Houston, I was messed up.” Noticing the confused expression on Ryder’s face, he added, “I tried to commit suicide, Ryder. Twice. I was so screwed up back then over what happened with Cassie I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t see anything straight, feel anything but the guilt I was carrying around. Scott was the first one who clued into my depression and saved me. Then I met Keegan. She rescued me from my second attempt.” Cord nodded toward Smuggler’s Bay and the water beyond. “I got drunk one night, waded out too far into the water. I didn’t want to live, Ryder. But Keegan saved me,” he repeated.

  “You’re serious about this?”

  “I am. There’s a reason you’re on Scott’s radar. If I were you, I’d take the time to find out what it is.”

  Landon Jennings had spent his whole life in Pelican Pointe. Up to the day he’d finished high school, he hadn’t been anywhere much at all. The son of rancher, Euell Jennings, Landon and his older sister, Eleanor, were well-known around town. There’d been a time when the Jennings family wielded plenty of power using cattle and timber and money as their bargaining chip. Owning the largest spread in and around Santa Cruz County along with the best stock went a long way to fattening their bank accounts. Their businesses during the fifties—a grocery store, a feed store, the bank—all thrived. Profits went hand in hand with their position and standing in the community.

  But by the early seventies bad investments had forced Euell to begin selling off the land to pay off his debts. It didn’t take long till there was nothing left to liquidate except the house and outbuildings. In a matter of years, the family went from a respected place of honor to barely scraping by to finally losing everything.

  Spoiled by her father since her mother’s death a decade earlier, Eleanor was used to getting what she wanted. Maybe it was for that reason she considered herself above everyone else—a combination between an heiress who’d come from old money and a celebrity who expected superstar treatment.

  Whatever it was, Eleanor took the news about the family’s reversal of fortune exceptionally hard. With the delusion shattered and the bank days away from foreclosing, the rancher decided to do the only thing he thought would put everything right. He went out to the barn one warm summer evening—the barn that was about to belong to someone else—removed his rifle from its case and aimed the gun barrel at his head.

  The next morning Eleanor was the one who found her father like that with half his face blown away, leaving him almost unrecognizable.

  After that day, his sister had never been quite the same. She never seemed to recover from their father’s suicide or the knowledge that he had squandered away what she thought rightfully belonged to her. There was no old money anywhere and no new money on the horizon coming in.

  Eleanor’s classic attitude had always consisted of one common trait. Rules were for other people to follow and not meant for her.

  The embarrassment of no longer being part of Pelican Pointe’s “first family” was too much for her to bear. The humiliation of it all caused her to drink heavily. Before long she turned to drugs. Always a high-strung woman to begin with, after her father’s death, she slipped across the line until she was finally picked up for theft at a grocery store in San Sebastian.

  The first time the police caught her stealing, Landon had hocked everything he owned to bail her out of jail—a television, his stereo, jewelry belonging to their late mother—it didn’t matter as long as he got Eleanor out of that awful place.

  By the second time it happened though, Landon had wised up. He’d seen Eleanor for what she was. He’d been a hundred miles to the north away at college knowing full well Eleanor was never going to change. He’d gone to UC Davis to experience a little breathing room. There, he’d been able to escape his sister’s continuous drama by finding a job working at a landscape company to pay his tuition and make ends meet. He realized he liked the solitude of gardening and growing things.

  While Eleanor had continued to spiral downward back in Pelican Pointe, Landon ended up with a degree in horticulture and a new woman in his life who loved plants and growing things almost as much as he did.

  Shelby had caught his eye as they’d sat next to each other in floriculture class. After the two decided to get married, Landon had brought his new wife back to the only town he knew, the town where he wanted to prove himself.

  Landon looked over the rim of his first morning cup of coffee at the woman he still co
nsidered his bride.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he stated with some emphasis. “I’m willing to help the new principal out anyway I can, but I draw the line at selling her Eleanor’s house.”

  “I’m not sure why this is upsetting you so much. It’s a house, Landon, not a memorial to your sister. I’m sure Cooper, Caleb, and Drea will understand selling it is a way to finally put the past behind them and move on. Why can’t you see that? In fact, if you need a push why don’t you talk to them, get their thoughts. Caleb and Drea are right here so it won’t take much effort there. You won’t have to go far to have a sit down with them face to face. Since Cooper is off traipsing the globe and won’t get back from wherever he is until summer, you’ll have to settle for Skype or sending him a long email.”

  “You really don’t see the problem here?”

  “I really don’t. I’m not sure why you do. The house deserves to have someone take care of it instead of sitting there the biggest eyesore on the block.”

  Landon grimaced. “I mow the lawn a couple of times a month May through October. I’ve never once pushed that chore off on the kids.”

  “You know that isn’t enough. This young woman is making a new start here. I think the house could use a new start, too. It’s time, don’t you think?”

  “Okay, if the kids don’t have any objections I’ll pitch in and help with the makeover myself. It’s the least I can do.”

  “There you go. Don’t you feel better at the idea of paying something forward, goodwill to be sure?”

  “I suppose. But the kids haven’t weighed in yet.”

  “Don’t worry. They will.”

  The day started with a wintery marine layer keeping the sun out and the chill in. Jacket weather, Landon decided as he caught up with Caleb, his legally adopted, twenty-three-year-old son, who was busy loading one of their delivery trucks.

 

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