Sebastian huffed and twisted at the waist, squinting through my front window.
“Wait.” I took his hands. “I had to tell you because they’re making a crime scene board in the living room, but I want to talk with you before you go inside.”
His focus snapped back to me. “Are you okay?”
I pulled in a long breath and swallowed. “I’m trying amazingly hard to listen to you this time and stay out of the investigation. I don’t want to get involved and make trouble for you or incite another killer. I truly don’t.”
His expression darkened. “But.”
I nodded. “But...I can’t get something out of my head and it’s making me so crazy I dreamed about it. I wanted to go and look on my own, but I didn’t want to mess up the crime scene, and the last time I told Fargas anything about the case, he tattled on me and you told me to leave it alone.”
Sebastian’s eyes twinkled with emotion for a moment before he shut it down. His blank expression returned, extinguishing the tiny glimpse of boyfriend material behind dark, hooded, special agent eyes. “Tell me.”
“When we were at Adrian’s today, I met Jesse Short.”
“The producer.”
“Right. I asked him why they’d continue taping here after what had happened only twelve hours earlier. I mean, that’s awful. Right?”
“Did you hit him?”
“What? No.” I made my best crazy face. “Of course I didn’t hit him.”
“Did something blow up? Catch fire? Break in an explosive fashion? Was an ambulance necessary for anyone in the vicinity?”
Sure, I’d faced a few calamities in the past three months, but it wasn’t like trouble followed me.
I glared at his handsome face. “Are you insinuating something, Agent Clark?”
“Just wondering how much cover-up work is required to keep you out of jail this time.”
A smile cracked my expression. “Stop that. Will you please listen?”
He lowered Freud into his lap and curved his free arm around my shoulders. “Go on.”
Freud rolled around a minute, looking for the sweet spot on Sebastian’s legs, and resumed purring.
“Jesse said Rick lived on camera. He said Rick taped every aspect of his life, and he’d want the show to go on. Could he mean that? Did Rick literally tape every aspect of his life?”
Sebastian put Freud on the stoop and took my hand. “You’re a gorgeous genius. If Jesse’s right, Rick Fitzgerald could have taped his own death.” Sebastian kissed my knuckles. “Let’s go find out.”
We took the Range Rover to the bed-and-breakfast. Sebastian handed me a pair of medical gloves and told me to limit what I touched in case the crime scene team needed to come back. Mrs. Moore let us into Sebastian’s room, though he still had a key. She smelled less like Chantilly and more like blackberry brandy than I remembered.
Sebastian went to work looking for a hidden video camera. The crime scene crew had swept the room for clues but hadn’t looked for a hidden sex-camera. I lifted a black light from Sebastian’s duffle and moved it over everything out of curiosity. Fingerprint dust was everywhere.
“Bingo.” Sebastian reached toward the ceiling fan and removed a little camera. He dropped it into a plastic evidence bag and winked. “You’re brilliant and beautiful.”
It was true. “He might’ve taped his own murder.”
Sebastian stopped at the door and stared at the light switch before tossing me a quizzical look. “Let’s hope this camera had night vision. The switches were off when Adrian got here.”
“Can I watch the video with you? How good is the camera? Is it like a nanny cam from Radio Shack or something sophisticated like we use at the bureau?” I stumbled on the word “use.” It’d been a few months since the FBI downsized me, but I worked there for several years, and I’d expected to work there many more.
“This one’s high end, but basic. It might be something they use for his show.”
Mrs. Moore was asleep in her recliner when we got back downstairs. Sebastian covered her with an afghan and whispered good-night. No sense in waking her. She’d looked half-tanked when we arrived. Self-medicating or not, I couldn’t have stayed there alone at the B&B now. She was too stubborn to stay more than one night at Mrs. Tucker’s, I guessed. Kudos to her. There wasn’t enough booze on earth to convince me to stay in this place alone after what had happened upstairs.
We locked up when we left. I made a mental note to come visit Mrs. Moore soon and keep tabs on how she dealt with things in the coming weeks. Whoever killed Rick and Anna also hurt Mrs. Moore. I wasn’t sure she’d recover anytime soon from the trauma, and her business might suffer, too. As far as I knew, renting rooms in her home was her only source of income. A vicious cycle of pain caused by someone she’d probably never met.
Sebastian held the passenger door of his Range Rover open for me.
He slid behind the wheel and started the engine. “Good job, boss.”
I played with the corner of the evidence baggie. “Can I watch it?”
“No.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m turning this over to Fargas and letting him handle it. He’s a good cop, Patience. Trust him. I do.” He squeezed my fingers and pulled my hand onto his thigh. “Be happy.”
I tried to pull my hand free and failed. The corner of his mouth hitched up.
“I don’t see why I can’t know what’s on the tape.”
He kissed my knuckles and returned them to his lap. “Leave this alone now.”
The view through his windshield was ominous but lovely. The sun had settled in for the night, but the moon had yet to make an appearance. As a result, the sky resembled an angry bruise. Sebastian passed the turn for the police station and drove into the national park. He hopped out and swiped his special card through the slot beside the guard gate. The striped lever rose. Sebastian had acquired the special law enforcement pass in July when he saved me from an arms dealer and pony killer. I didn’t blame him for hanging onto the pass. Having a guard gate key for after-hours in the national forest was like having the key to Oz. No one passed the guard booth at night unless they were willing to leave their car to do it. No one except us.
I smiled. “Where are we going?”
“I wanted a few minutes alone before we head back for a slumber party with your buddies.”
The Range Rover wound down the inky forest road. Headlights illuminated the road in a minimal-view, eighties-horror-movie way. Reflections of green eyes blinked in the trees around us. I kept a vigilant watch for ponies. Shades of lavender and gray ran together over the horizon, underscored by the occasional hooting owl and crashing waves as we neared the beach. Wind beat against the car, whistling through the air vents and sending shivers down my spine. Autumn storms were powerful on the island and one loomed over us, darkening the night.
Sebastian parked in the beach lot and shut down the engine. He rubbed his thumb in soft circles over my hand. His eyes widened as clouds race through the sky.
“Storm’s coming,” I said.
“Yeah.” His voice was thick with emotion. He turned his sexy eyes on me. “I’m proud of you. I have no right to be. You’re not mine to claim, but I’m proud anyway. I know how strong your curiosity is and I know how hard it must’ve been for you to wait on me when your friends would’ve loved to have this.” He lifted the evidence bag between us and dropped it onto the backseat. “You trusted me to listen to you and follow through on your hunch. It means a lot to me.” He turned in his seat, unhooked my seat belt and dragged me onto his lap. “You mean a lot to me.”
Sebastian’s lips met mine with fire. He cradled my head and deepened the kiss immediately. I melted into him, sliding my hands over his shoulders and knotting my fingers in his hair. I inhaled the spicy scents of cinnamon and colog
ne unique to him, memorizing the texture of his shirt and tracing the muscles in his arms, chest and abdomen. Sebastian wasn’t perfect, and I loved that about him. He was guarded and distant, but those traits probably kept him alive more times than I could guess, so I appreciated them. I’d known he was different the moment I met him. That rare mix of scary and comforting, like the first time someone says they love you and you’re overjoyed they feel the same but terrified of what it means. Being with Sebastian was like my first time on water skis, exhilarating and worth the pain from the inevitable fall. I let his words inflate my heart.
My head dropped back as he tossed my shirt into the passenger seat and ran soft lips over my throat and collarbone. A low growl rolled up from his chest and I was undone. The stress of my day fell away. The world shrunk until there was only the night, the ocean and us. Sebastian’s shirt met mine on the passenger seat and it was my turn to growl.
Chapter Eight
I slept ten hours and woke with a smile. Sunlight streamed through my window, showcasing dust motes in flight. I stretched and twisted under the sheets. Everything smelled like Sebastian. I pressed my arm against my face. Even my skin smelled like him. I swung my legs over the bed’s edge and reached for my phone. A tiny white pumpkin sat on the nightstand. I stroked its cool sides and tossed it between my palms. Tiny pumpkins were better than flowers. I took a selfie with the little fruit pressed to my cheek and texted it to Sebastian. Then I sent a follow-up text. Can I call you pumpkin?
I set the pumpkin aside and slipped into my favorite worn-out jeans. I tugged a white silk tank top over my bed head.
A click-clack of heels moved down the hall toward my door. “Knock knock. Patience? Are you up?” Claire inched the door open.
“Come in.” I dug through my closet for something to wear over my tank top. I pressed my shoulder against the wall for leverage and pried the thousand hangers apart for a better look at my wardrobe. “I have nothing to wear.”
Claire didn’t argue.
I retrieved an emerald green sweater from the shelf and threaded my arms into the sleeves. “What do you think?”
“It’s cute. How was your night?” She pressed a shiny red fingernail to her bottom lip like a pinup girl.
“My night was amazing.”
She sat cross-legged on my bed and pulled a pillow into her lap. “How amazing?”
I wrangled the length of my hair free from the sweater collar and yanked a brush through the knots. How could I describe a night on the beach with Sebastian? We walked. We talked. We fooled around. He slept over until dawn. “Really amazing.”
I twisted the untangled locks into a bun and secured it on my head with chop sticks. I couldn’t use them to lift food, but they made an adorable updo.
Claire’s shoulders dropped. “You have to give me something. I’m spending all my time talking to strangers and binge-watching a reality show with Adrian. Define amazing?”
I furrowed my brows. “It was rainbows and unicorns amazing.”
“Rainbows and unicorns.” She slid off my bed and headed for the door. “I think I just lost my lust for that man.”
Adrian shoved my door open, half out of breath. “Are you talking about me in here? It’s okay if you are. I heard someone say lust and I thought I’d check things out. Make sure you two don’t need anything.”
I laughed. Claire shot me a droll expression.
Adrian bounced onto my bed and propped his ear in his hand. “Is everyone ready for another day of investigation? I’ve already met with the breakfast crowd. It’s almost time for my rounds again. The lunch crowd is different. Half the people on the island stay out all night chasing ghosts these days, so they miss breakfast.” He scooped the little pumpkin off my nightstand.
“Hey.” I pointed. “Put that down.”
A Cheshire cat grin slid across his lips. The pumpkin rested on one of his palms. “I dug through a wheel barrow of gourds and pie pumpkins looking for one of these without any damage. It’s perfect, right?”
My thoughts scrambled. “You left the pumpkin on my nightstand?”
He nodded and smiled at Claire. “We used to go crazy when the mainland farmers came in with pumpkins, remember?” He pulled me to the bed beside him and slung an arm over my shoulders. “Every year the farmers came to our school for the Fall Family Festival. The farmers set up a maze with hay bales and every student got to keep a pumpkin. Most kids went for the biggest one they could carry, but Patience always looked for a little white one.” He laughed. “Like a tiny ghost pumpkin.”
I leaned against his shoulder and he handed me my gift. “I loved it when they set up lanes for pumpkin bowling and served pumpkin pie with our lunches. On parent night, we had a big bonfire on the field by the track.”
Adrian rubbed my arm. “Endless hay rides and cider.”
Nostalgia hit me in the chest. Adrian had brought me a little white pumpkin freshman year with a face drawn on it. He presented it to me with a cup of hot apple cider at the festival. Both were slick with sweat from his palms, despite the chilly night air. That was the night he told me he liked me. He said he didn’t want to be the kid I met in preschool. He wanted to be my boyfriend.
The pumpkin weighted my hand until I couldn’t hold it up any longer. My shoulders stiffened. What was happening? I stood on wooden legs and marched to the kitchen. Claire and Adrian followed, lost in conversation. Adrian continued his stories of fall festivals past and she countered with the horrors of autumn in Georgia. Apparently, for debutantes like Claire had been, fall was also known as cotillion season.
“My parents insisted.” She rounded the corner behind me.
My parents would’ve protested a cotillion. I set the pumpkin on the countertop and poured coffee. Who cared if the pumpkin wasn’t from Sebastian? He couldn’t have known about my love for tiny white pumpkins.
I drummed my fingers on the counter. Sebastian would have gotten me a little pumpkin if he knew anything personal about me. Other than my bra size. My mom would ask me whose fault it was he didn’t and remind me how guarded she thought I was.
Claire checked her phone and pumped a fist into the air. “He got her.”
“Who?” Adrian and I asked together.
“Fargas texted me and said he’s bringing Elisa in for questioning. When I ran into him last night, he apologized for tattling to Sebastian after we contacted him about her. He said Sebastian asked that he keep him in the loop because he worries about you.”
I deflated. “Yeah?”
“Yes. Now Fargas will find out if Elisa had anything to do with the murders. When he proves this was about love, you both owe me your unending admiration.”
Adrian inched closer to Claire. His face contorted with humor and mischief. “When you say you ran into Fargas last night—” Adrian made air quotes around the words ran into, “—what does that mean? Also, how’d you get him to change his mind about questioning Elisa? You texted him about her twenty-four hours ago and he ignored you.”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “What’s the real deal with you and Fargas?”
She shrugged. “He said he looked into it. After you texted him, he sent Frankie to welcome Elisa to the island and they talked long enough for Fargas to confirm Elisa was in Virginia at the time of the deaths. Her plane landed on the mainland hours before the murders. She had plenty of time to get to Chincoteague and commit the murders.”
Adrian made a little noise. “Oh! I know. Call Melinda. She’s manning the phones until three. See if Fargas arrested Elisa.”
I gave him a sour look.
“What?” He became still. “Woman-ing? She’s womaning the phones?”
Claire snorted and patted him on the shoulder.
My eye twitched. “I don’t want to get involved.” I pressed the pad of my forefinger against my eyelid.
Adrian barked a laugh. “You’re lying.”
Claire raised her sculpted eyebrows. “You do want to get involved?”
“No.”
Adrian laughed again. “Liar. You’re lying or you’re hiding something.” He circled me like a shark.
I wrapped my arms around my middle.
“What do you know, Price?”
A traitorous smile spread. “Fine. Last night I waited on the stoop for Sebastian because I had a hunch. After Jesse Short said Rick recorded everything he did, I wondered if he meant everything-everything. You know? So, Sebastian and I went back to the crime scene.”
Claire grimaced. “Ew. Everything?”
Adrian nodded approvingly. “Sweet.”
Claire smacked him.
“Ow.” He rubbed his shoulder where her fist bounced off his shirt. “We’ve got the killer on tape now. That’s sweet. So who was it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see the tape. Sebastian took it to Fargas. You think Elisa’s on the tape?” Curiosity bubbled through me. “You think he saw the tape and confirmed our suspicions? That’s why he brought her in. We tipped him off yesterday. I knew it.”
I dialed the station.
“Chincoteague Police Department.” Melinda answered on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s Patience. How are you?”
“Good. The catering business is crazy right now and these phones never stop blinking. I keep answering them and sticking them on hold until they hang up. That’s bad, I know. I’m overwhelmed. But I recognized your number and thought I’d better answer.”
“Thanks.” I put the phone on speaker. “Do you know if Fargas arrested Elisa French?” Melinda’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No. She says she was on the mainland video chatting with her boyfriend all night.”
Adrian said, “They can check that.”
“They are. They’re bringing the boyfriend in until they can confirm the video chat’s timeline.”
Murder in Real Time Page 8
