Last Chance Harbor

by Vickie McKeehan

  “It’s us who should be thanking you. That was a lot of fun. What do you say, girls? Should we repeat that performance midsummer?” Malachi asked his daughters.

  Sonoma lifted one shoulder. “Sure. If you really want us but Sonnet will need to practice. She was dragging for half the set.”

  “I was not,” Sonnet protested.

  “Girls,” Malachi said in his father voice, the euphoric mood sliding back into reality. “Say thank you and goodnight to Ms. Dickinson and let’s get home.”

  The girls obeyed, but as they started walking down Ocean toward home, he heard them picking up the argument.

  “How do you manage so many at one time in a classroom?”

  Julianne smiled and told him the same thing she’d told Nick. “I referee. I keep them in line and then they miraculously go home to mom and dad.”

  After the concert Troy and Bree went looking for Nick. When they spotted his SUV parked on Crescent Street, they hustled over to where he was in the process of strapping his sleeping son into a car seat.

  Bree noted that even though it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, Hutton rubbed at her eyes, looking as though it wouldn’t take much for the little girl to drift off on the way back home. “Maybe this is a bad time.”

  “Don’t be nervous,” Troy assured her as he approached Nick. “I know you need to get home with the kids, so I won’t keep you long,” he began. “But I just wanted to tell you that I’ve found you a guide, someone who wants to take the tourists around the area. Bree wants to apply for a business loan.”

  Nick broke out in a grin. “That’s fantastic. Why don’t you come see me first thing Monday morning, Bree? We’ll go over how this whole thing will work. Jordan and I have been waiting for someone like you.”

  “I don’t make much,” Bree admitted. “For the application. I went over my finances and they won’t impress you very much.”

  Jordan came around to the other side of the car. “But you do.”

  That had Bree smiling. “I do?”

  “Very much. If you’re willing to take on fussy guests, we’ll make a great team.”

  Bree reached out and gave Jordan a hug. “Not only am I good with people, but I’m getting certified this summer in diving and boating.”

  “Good first step,” Nick said. “You’ll put your business courses into practice all the while taking CPR and first aid for insurance purposes. We’ll talk more on Monday morning.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The minibus chugged along Main. The Turtle barely made it into the parking lot at Wally’s service station before belching up plumes of smoke and dying in its tracks.

  Julianne got out, walked into the station “Hi, Lilly. I need Wally to look at my VW bus. It died in the driveway.”

  “He’s just finishing up Alma Whittaker’s old Buick.”

  “I’ll wait then.”

  A few minutes later, Wally popped into the little lobby area. “Okay, Lilly, you can let Alma know her car’s ready. Hey Julianne, I noticed your bus. What’s the problem?”

  “Other than the fact it’s older than I am you mean?” she cracked. “I think it’s the carburetor thingy.”

  Wally cackled with laughter. “Let’s go out and take a look.”

  Once they got to the van, Julianne watched him go to work. While he jiggled wires under the hood, she decided to do a little digging.

  “Lilly tells me you knew Layne and Eleanor Richmond and Brooke Caldwell.”

  “Everyone in town knew Layne and his dad.”

  “Because of the train store?”

  “That and their sense of community. I don’t condone Layne stepping outside his marriage but Eleanor was a walking nightmare. We all knew he was miserable with Eleanor. As to Brooke, the two of them just clicked. Both teachers, both with so much in common, how could two people not connect that way. I never believed they ran off, not for a minute.”

  “That’s what Lilly said along with half the people I’ve talked to.”

  “I felt bad for Brooke’s family, especially her kid brother.”

  “Brooke had a kid brother? Where does he live? Do you remember his name?”

  “Yeah, I told all this to Brent already when he came by a few months back. I’m pretty sure Ryan Caldwell still lives over in Scotts Valley.” Wally looked up at her face. “You’re planning on contacting him, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty. Look, there’s a reason I’m vested in finding out what happened to Layne and Brooke.”

  “Hey, I wish you would. I heard about all the boxes found over at the school. And there’s something else you should know. Back in the day when Eleanor’s father died, my dad was convinced that Eleanor had a hand in it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the day before Euell Jennings died, he came into the station to have his car fixed. Eleanor was with him. They had a huge fight right here in this parking lot over money. Eleanor wanted a thousand dollars for a trip to London or some equally exotic destination. Her friends were planning a shopping spree and she wanted in on it. Euell told her he didn’t have that kind of cash on hand. She hit the man, smacked her own father right across the mouth.”

  Julianne’s jaw dropped. That story had her repeating what Cleef had told her. “That’s why it sounds like it was common knowledge.”

  “I guess it was. Why didn’t the cops do more about it back then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Pelican Pointe fell into an abyss and no one really cared. What’s wrong with my car?”

  “I think it’s probably vapor lock. I’ll have to replace the fuel filter to make sure the fuel line is clear.”

  “How much to fix it?”

  Wally tossed out a figure.

  “Okay. Will I have it back before the weekend?”

  “Sure. I’ll put it up on the lift now and get started on it.”

  Later, Julianne used Google to hunt down Ryan Caldwell and get an address. That night, over a pot of spaghetti, she bugged Ryder to drive her over to Scotts Valley the next day.

  “It’s the only way to eliminate him as the owner of the boxes.”

  “If Brent knew we were butting in the way we are…”

  “That’s why he doesn’t need to know.”

  “You don’t think he’ll find out?”

  “Not if we keep our mouths shut,” she said with a grin.

  The next day they found Brooke’s brother an amiable man who still remembered his sister with affection. “She always had a smile and the biggest dimples. That was one of the things I remember the most. We were ten years apart and sometimes she treated me more like a mother than a big sister because, ever the teacher, she used to read to me at night before going to bed.”

  Ryder told him why they were there and mentioned the boxes.

  “Brent Cody already talked to me about that and I told him I didn’t know anything about a hidden box. He also showed me a few class photos. I didn’t recognize any of the kids’ pictures because I didn’t go to the same school where Brooke taught.”

  “What do you think happened to her?”

  “I did my best to tell the sheriff’s deputies at the time that she would never leave town without first saying goodbye to our mom and dad. But they didn’t want to hear that. To them, I was just a kid back then. At the time she disappeared, Brooke was twenty-eight. She was also gorgeous with a big heart. But the authorities seemed dead set on writing her off as an inconsiderate woman who’d been having an affair with a coworker and took off with a ‘devil may care’ attitude without any intentions of ever looking back. The thing is Brooke wasn’t like that. She might’ve wanted to get away from Layne’s wife but at the time, I could see why. All these years later and the cops still do nothing. Do you realize my mother died without ever knowing what happened to her daughter? My dad’s in a nursing home. To this day whenever I go to visit the man, he still asks me if I’ve heard from Brooke.”

  “It must be agonizing for you, for the
m.”

  “It is, plus it haunts me that I didn’t do more. Every day I think of my sister, how sweet she was. She’d do anything for anyone. Her students loved her because she was such a great teacher.”

  “What did you think of the affair?”

  Julianne saw Ryan’s eyes go dark. “I didn’t like it one bit and told her so. I did my best to get her to see that being with a married man was a mistake, that it would never go anywhere especially with Layne. Being with that man was dangerous for her. Brooke put herself in a bad situation.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You obviously didn’t know Eleanor. She threatened Brooke one day, showed up at the school and went nuts, yelling, screaming, pitching a fit. When Brooke told me, I worried about her after that. Then I got pissed off and went to see Layne, told him he needed to do something about his wife.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  “What could he really do about a nutcase? His wife was out of control. For someone who considered that she came from ‘old money,’ Eleanor acted more like a common thief to me. Brooke once told me that if Layne had fifty grand lying around in the bank, he could easily buy his way out of the marriage. That Eleanor was willing to give up custody of the kids for a price. Of course, she’d cleaned out Layne financially long before he and Brooke ever got together. She liked keeping him broke then complain that he had no money. So Layne buying his way out wasn’t about to happen.”

  Julianne and Ryder exchanged looks.

  “Are you saying Layne hinted to Brooke that his wife would’ve given him the kids for a cash deal?” Ryder asked.

  “There was no hinting on Brooke’s part, no misunderstanding on mine. I remember the conversation as if it were yesterday. I wondered what kind of mother would do that. If Layne and Brooke had ever figured out a way to get the dough, I’m certain Eleanor would’ve taken the money and run. I’m convinced Eleanor didn’t give a whit about those kids, let alone her husband. I’ve no doubt of that.”

  “She did love money,” Julianne pointed out.

  Ryder agreed. “Yeah. More than anything else that woman coveted the almighty dollar.”

  “But to give up custody of your kids for money is a new low in my book.”

  “Eleanor seemed to strive for new lows.”

  On the way back to Pelican Pointe, a livid Julianne kept going over the conversation. “It struck me back there that the more I hear, the more I get the sense that Eleanor wasn’t so much crazy as she was sociopathic. I once did a research paper for my psychology class. I think Eleanor shared a lot of the same traits that serial killers possess.”

  “Like what?”

  She ticked off the highlights. “First, they get off on controlling people. Eleanor wouldn’t let her husband take a shower or sleep in her bed. She wouldn’t let the kids have any friends over to the house. Better to keep any outsiders from influencing them that way. Second, they have their own sense of superiority. Eleanor considered her family like royalty, herself from ‘old money.’ Third, they have no real sense of empathy for anyone else. Eleanor thought of her kids as possessions, her husband as someone there to do her bidding, to bring in the money as the pack mule, so to speak, and not a viable partner in the relationship like a normal couple.”

  “Stop. You’re making me think of Bethany.”

  “Really? And you put up with that? Why, Ryder? Why would you let someone have that kind of power over you? You didn’t have children with Bethany? What power did she wield?”

  “The truth? I guess as a soldier I wanted to know there was someone back home waiting for me. It never occurred to me she was lying when she said she loved me.”

  “I’m really sorry she hurt you. Drop me at Wally’s, will you? I need to pick up my van.”

  “Sure. You should know I overheard what you said to Troy the other day, about Danny, about me. After Bethany I wasn’t sure I could ever let anyone in again. But I feel the same way about you.”

  Because she knew that was probably the closest she was ever going to hear Ryder utter a declaration of love, she said the only thing that came to mind. “I guess for people like us it takes a third party to convey our feelings.”

  After she hopped out of the car, Ryder stewed on her comment the rest of the day.

  Damn it, hadn’t he taken the initiative? Hadn’t he been the one to tell her how he felt first? Even though he hadn’t used the word love, she had to know what he’d meant. Was it up to him to point out that she hadn’t used that word either with the third party? She’d never mentioned it to Troy specifically. So what was wrong with the third party catalyst angle?

  He was pretty damn sure he didn’t need any input from an outsider about how and when to tell the woman he loved how he felt about her.

  The day was a short one and didn’t do anything to offset his temper.

  By the time he walked through the front door of her house, he’d built up a good head of steam. He found her in the laundry room folding clothes.

  She glanced over from a stack of towels. “Ryder. Hi. Could you give me a hand with this?”

  “What the hell did you mean when you said ‘people like us’ this morning? Who are people like us?”

  Amused at his slow reaction, his obvious foul mood, she abandoned the pile, waded through the laundry scattered on the floor, to take his face in her hands. “I really wasn’t looking for love but I found you. If I tell you how I feel, it will, no doubt, scare the bejeezus out of you and you’ll take off so fast I won’t be able to catch up.”

  Insulted, he protested. “I don’t want to be anywhere else but right here with you. That is, unless you want me to leave.”

  “See, it’s like you’re waiting for what we have to expire. Plus, you don’t seem at all comfortable telling me. Am I pushing you to? Nope. But it’s obvious you don’t want to love me. However, I think you do. You just find it difficult to say to me.”

  Hearing it so aptly nailed took the wrath right out of him. “I do love you. I…I’ve just never loved a woman as much as I do you.”

  She grinned and it showed off dimples. “I’m standing here ankle deep in dirty clothes and you choose now to tell me how you feel? Your timing may suck but—”

  “What?”

  “I love you, too.”

  Later after supper, she was on her laptop when she decided to check her email and found a message from a teacher she’d reached out to for help in searching the 1984 graduating class at UC Santa Barbara. Sure enough, Carol told her what she’d been doing wrong. There was a site specifically for classmates who were willing to sign up so they could keep in touch with one another. Julianne followed Carol’s link and soon she’d reached a list of alumni.

  Perusing the names, looking for one in particular, she went line by line. After all this time, it took no more than five minutes for her eyes to land on what she’d been searching for.

  “Ryder, Ryder, get in here! I found Layne Richmond.”

  The browser still highlighted the web site and the information was still on the screen when Ryder walked into the living room.

  “See, this shows Layne received his degree in education in 1984. The ring has to belong to him. That proves the boxes or rather the first box at least, has a connection to the Jennings family. So logically, why wouldn’t the other boxes be linked too?”

  “You’ve hit gold here. What do we do with this? Do you think Brent already knows?”

  “Of course, he does. But if we ask Caleb or Drea or both about what the hell is going on it might be misconstrued as confrontational and look like fools while we do it. So we could sit on the info until we’re able to ask Cooper Jennings what he knows about that night.”

  “I don’t think I want to ask Caleb face to face why he lied about the boxes. Or Drea either. Do you? It’s not our place.”

  “No, it isn’t our place. So that only means we bide our time and wait to get to Cooper.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The rare July storm tossed aro
und the boats in the harbor as if the sloops were nothing more than small bobbers at the end of a fishing line.

  Ryder watched the torrent from his perch, the workshop he’d set up that was one-third his now that he’d signed the loan papers. The documents referred to the space as Tradewinds Boatyard. But it was still a mess of cobwebs and rat droppings. Not surprising since its primary inhabitants had been spiders and rodents for the past two decades.

  Because most everyone with an interest in the school had high expectations for keeping on schedule he’d decided to spend this rainy Saturday morning in the dusty space where the old salvaged materials had landed. He looked around at all the stacked desks, lockers, at least twenty chalkboards, and several old water fountains.

  Getting a jump on the repairing project, he’d left Julianne at the computer combing the Internet for info. She’d already printed out a list of military bases for their trip to San Francisco. As of yet, they hadn’t settled on a definitive date, mainly because they were still putting together what they’d need to hunt down Bethany aka Crystal Dawn Lazzario.

  Two days ago he’d heard from his investigator. Bethany had finally made a mistake. She’d tried to fence his grandfather’s cartoons to a comic book collector in San Francisco. Good thing he’d had the sense to have the gumshoe put out feelers to all the private art reps in the area who might be tempted to bite, just in case. No one had until now. The art dealer had delayed the transaction and called the private eye.

  The rain drumming outside matched his mood. He weighed his options and decided they’d have to act soon. He didn’t dare tell Brent what he’d found out otherwise the man would try to talk him out of confronting her.

  As he worked, even during daylight hours the new place seemed a little spooky. Add in the overcast sky and he realized they’d have to do something about the poor lighting.

  Maybe that was one reason when he spotted Scott hopping up onto the dock, it didn’t freak him out. “I see you’re working on my old desk there. See these initials carved into the wood? SDP & SD. Those letters stand for Scott David Phillips, and my first crush, pretty Selina Domingo. It was third grade. I was eight and madly in love.”