“Counting Christmases?”
“Wilder, be serious,” she huffed.
“Do you really think there’s foul play?”
“I don’t know but I have a sick feeling. Mary Beth was a sweetheart. And if she was out there by herself, she had a solid reason.” Caley owed it to Mary Beth and Mary Beth’s parents to get to the truth.
“Okay. I know a homicide detective who works for the Turtle Bay police. Tom Kensington. Former marine. He’s a good dude, and he owes me a favor. I’ll call him and see what I can find out.”
“Thank you, Wilder. I owe you.”
“You can pay up by not nosing around on your own. If it’s not an accident, then I don’t want you in the line of fire. Understand?” Wilder’s gruff command barked loud and clear.
“You know I won’t.” This wasn’t her line of expertise. She steered clear of purposely risking her life, unlike Wilder and his team of soldiers. Caley hadn’t inherited that gene. Or she’d buried it. Either way. “You’ll call me as soon as you hear, right?”
“You know I will, kiddo.” Wilder’s voice softened. “I love you. Hang tight and...I’m very sorry.”
That was the big brother she adored. Tough exterior, gooey middle. She missed him. “I kinda wish you were able to come out. I’m...scared.”
A sigh filtered through the line. “I wish I could too, darlin’, but I’m a phone call away, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Love you.” She hung up and closed her eyes. God, why did this have to happen? Caley didn’t expect an answer. She never knew why these things happened. Never got an answer to why Meghan had to die the way she did. But her heart wouldn’t let her stop praying, even if most of the time it felt one-sided.
She eyed her desk. Paperwork had mounted. She worked on some of it, her mind wandering. Giving up, she spent an hour organizing her office, but to no avail. Finally, she finished off her tea—Mama would pitch a fit if she knew she was drinking canned sweet tea—and headed for the aquarium. Open to the public on weekdays, this was one of her favorite places in the center. As she entered the room, the hum of the air-conditioning kicked on, the air filters in the tanks bubbled and a prickle ran up her spine.
Caley shivered.
The sense of being watched rippled across her neck. She turned to the windows. Nothing but the faint light from the small motel-turned-dormitory next door.
She backed her way to the main doors, turned to make sure they were locked, only to scream at the sight of a looming figure pressed against the tinted glass.
* * *
Shepherd Lightman ground his teeth and reined in his temper as he peered into the center’s doors. He’d been in a heavy sleep—the first one in two months, thanks to one assignment after another. Twiddling his thumbs would typically be the death of him, but he’d been ready for this vacation. Flown into Tampa for some deep-sea fishing, then leaving for a sweet cruise to the West Indies in two days. Vacation. A word Wilder Flynn, his best bud and boss, didn’t seem to understand.
You’re less than thirty minutes from her. You’ll be back in bed before the sun is up, dude. Promise.
Shep better be, and he was the closest to Caley Flynn. Twenty-nine minutes away to be exact. As if he hadn’t thought about her being near enough to swing by and see for a minute. But he’d never have done it in a million years. Nope. He wasn’t going near Turtle Girl unless he was instructed.
She was Wilder’s baby sister for one. And for two, she was sweeter than Alabama tea and way out of his league. He might only have six years on her in age, but he had a lifetime in experiences he wished he’d never had. He couldn’t help that. Couldn’t help the way his gut tightened every time he saw her wide blue eyes. Her black-as-night hair on summer-bronzed skin.
But he’d been instructed. And here he was.
“It’s me, Caley.” Even now, skittish as a jackrabbit, she was a sight to behold. “Shepherd Lightman. I work with your brother at Covenant Crisis Management.” He’d been with Wilder since he opened the agency. Been around Caley many times when she visited, but why would she remember a nobody like him?
Big round eyes narrowed and she unlocked the glass doors. “I know who you are, Shepherd. I just didn’t expect you to be nose to the glass at my center.” She let him inside. “Why are you here?”
“Orders.” Just check on her, Shep. Humor her. She’s scared. She’s never seen a corpse. Not anywhere but a casket. It won’t be pretty. I’ll make a few calls to Tom, get the real deal. Just sit with her until her mind is put at ease and she knows this was an accident. She’s freaking clean out.
“From your brother.” He glanced around the aquarium. He’d never been here before. Huge photos of turtles lined the walls with information about each species underneath. Several tanks filled the room. Turtles inside each one. Smelled like fish to him.
Caley locked the doors and folded her arms, staring.
He stared back, panic creeping into his bones. Did she want...a hug or something? Oooh nooo. He wasn’t the comforting type. He could take down a dude from about two thousand yards with a sniper’s rifle, but “there theres” weren’t his thing. “I’m really sorry about what happened tonight. You’ll get through it.”
Caley blinked, tilted her head.
“It’s not easy seeing what you saw. Nightmares are normal.”
Her pouty mouth dropped open.
“I’m not good at this.” Heat flushed his neck and he shifted his weight. Yeah, he was closer distance-wise, but making people feel at ease wasn’t his thing. Wilder should have sent Jody. She was a female. And Caley and Wilder’s cousin. Had lots of words. Too many for his taste, but still. Shep was the worst at words. Worst at mushy-mush. He ground his jaw and sucked it up. “You need some physical contact?” Say no.
Caley’s eyebrows shot north at lightning speed. “Physical contact?”
“You know a hug or pat or something?” He stood like a dummy, not even knowing what to do with his hands—hands skilled at war, inexperienced at comfort—so he jammed them in his cargo shorts’ pockets.
“A hug? Or pat?” She crinkled her nose as if she’d gotten a whiff of a rotten odor.
“Or something,” he muttered.
Caley slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t need a hug or pat from you. I could use information, though. Like how did you get here so fast?”
“I was in Tampa.”
“Wilder said he was making some calls. Did he change his mind and put boots on the ground? Are you going to the medical examiner’s office for answers instead?”
Turtle Girl was an arsenal of questions.
She eyed his torso and neck. “You can stand down, soldier.”
Shep hadn’t realized he’d been tensed. But being around Caley Flynn made him nervous. He relaxed his shoulders. “He’s still making calls to our contact at the police department and the medical examiner’s office.”
“So why did he send you?” she asked.
“To make sure you remain calm.”
She snickered.
Why was that so funny?
“So offering some physical contact is your way of doing it?” A slender dark eyebrow rose.
Heat flushed his cheeks. “Well...no. Just seemed... I don’t know, like, maybe you needed it, but it appears you’re okay and don’t.” The woman sent his tongue into a knot. “Wilder said you were scared.” And wished he was there. But he couldn’t be. So he’d sent Shep. The last person she seemed to want here.
She slipped her bottom lip in her mouth. “I’m okay, Shepherd.” She didn’t seem 100 percent. “I was on my way next door to the dormitory to pack up Mary Beth’s belongings.”
“The vic?”
“The intern who died. My intern.” She pursed her lips and headed for the doors, mumbling something about her brother
being a dope.
“Sorry.” He followed her, catching a hint of something fruity. She was like a ballerina, the kind that popped out of jewelry boxes. All slender and dainty. Her voice even sounded like a music box melody. He’d know. One of his many foster moms kept a box like that on her dresser. She also kept cash inside. Taking that cash had sent him straight back to the group home until another family thought they could love him into being a healthy boy, or until the government money for keeping him in their care wasn’t worth it anymore. No one had wanted him.
“So that’s why he didn’t send Jody? You were thirty minutes away?”
He snorted. Nope, Caley Flynn didn’t want him. “All you got is me, Little Flynn. Sorry to disappoint.”
She frowned. “As you can see, I’m fine. If you want to get back to your work in Tampa, you can.”
“It was a vacation.”
“Oh. Well, now I’m sorry.” She pushed open the door and waited for him to exit, then she locked it. “What are you doing there? Partying it up on the strip?” No contempt in her question. Neutral. But clearly his past preceded him.
“Nope.” He hadn’t lived that kind of lifestyle since he gave his life to Jesus in Afghanistan. But no one seemed to notice that. Just what he’d done beforehand.
“So what are you doing then?”
“Chartering a boat to deep-sea fish. Then boarding a cruise liner for the West Indies.” He followed her across the parking lot into the sand. His shoes were going to be filled with it. “Was this a motel?” The soft pink stucco building was rectangular with palm trees flanking the double glass doors.
“Yep. The center purchased it several years ago and converted it.”
“You live here?”
“Me? No. I live a few miles away. Little bungalow on the beach.”
Shep stayed on her six into the cool building, condensation fogging the glass. “Live alone?”
She gave him a strange half smile, almost confused. “No. I live with my landlord, Miss Whittle. She’s a sweetie.”
Like Caley.
She turned left and strode down a long hallway. Soft hums of TVs and chatter carried from the rooms. Not that he expected kids to be asleep even after midnight, but he did expect more buzz after losing one of their own.
“Mary Beth’s room is at the end of the hall.” She pointed to the last door on the right. As they neared it, Caley slowed. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” she murmured.
Against his better judgment, Shep rested a hand on Caley’s shoulder and patted. “There there.”
Caley let an exhausted chuckle loose and touched his hand. Hers was so small next to his. “Thanks, Shepherd.” She seemed to mean it. Maybe he did all right. She unlocked the door, stepped inside and gasped.
* * *
Caley froze in Mary Beth’s room. Nothing but a sliver of moonlight to outline the shadowy hooded figure by the window. He paused, then grabbed a brass lamp and chucked it toward her.
A force shoved her aside and she crumpled to her knees.
Shepherd used his forearm to knock the blow of the lamp away.
The intruder was already halfway through the window.
Lunging, Shepherd latched on to the attacker’s leg, yanking him inside, but the assailant used his other leg and rammed it straight into Shep’s nose, giving him enough leverage to scurry out the window.
Shep wiped the blood seeping from his nose. “You gonna make it, Little Flynn?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” Dazed. Terrified. But alive.
“Good.” Shepherd lurched out the window and disappeared.
Caley flipped on the dorm light, revealing the disaster before her. Drawers had been tossed. Papers and books littered the floor along with everything that had been on the top shelf of Mary Beth’s closet. Even her mattress had been overturned.
She laid a hand on her heart, willing it to slow its pace.
What had the intruder been searching for? And why such a mess? Why not come in and meticulously comb through everything so no one would be the wiser? Especially if the break-in was related to Mary Beth’s death, which was likely going to be ruled an accident.
But now?
Now, it was obvious foul play was at hand. This was too much to be a coincidence. So whoever had come in here like a tornado must have been desperate. The big question was what on earth did he want?
Caley rubbed her sore knee and sat on the edge of the upturned mattress. Of all the people to send why did Wilder send Shepherd Lightman? If his imposing size wasn’t enough to scare someone half to death, the menacing blue eyes, almost gray, and faint scar running through his right eyebrow separating the hairs was. He rarely spoke, but when he did his voice was unmistakable. Baritone. Full of grit and gravel and yet hypnotic. Nothing but rock-solid muscle. Had a record for longest shooting distance as a marine sniper. A point man for the Special Reaction Team. Shepherd Lightman was more machine than man.
Truth was, all Caley knew about Shepherd came from the stories Wilder and the others had told of him. Wild. Fast. A heartbreaker.
But something about his pitiful effort to comfort her actually did comfort her. Bless him. And now he was out there hunting down whoever tried to wallop her with a lamp, and no doubt when Shep did find him, a sheer look would have the intruder confessing everything.
Of all Wilder’s team members, Shep was the only one who revved her heart rate up a notch. Wilder should have sent Beckett Marsh. He was like a brother to her. Or their cousin Jody. She was capable and way easier to talk to.
Shepherd poked his head in the window and Caley jumped.
“Sorry.” He hopped back inside and surveyed the room. “He gave me the slip about a mile down.”
“I guess my gut was right.”
“You’re a Flynn. I’d trust your gut.” He poked around in the empty closet. “What’s your theory?”
“How do you know I have a theory?”
“You’re a Flynn.” He ran his hand along the top of the closet shelf.
Caley pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and laid her theory on him.
“Well...” His voice sent a ripple through her belly. “I’m inclined to agree. This is desperation right here. And we interrupted him. So he may not have found what he was lookin’ for.” His voice only held a splash of Southern twang, though he was from Alabama. “What do you think he was after?”
“That I don’t know.” Caley kicked at loose clothing piled on the floor. “I don’t want her parents to see this mess. But I know the police need to come in and take prints, even if that guy did have gloves on.”
Shepherd studied her a moment, his gaze lingering on her face until she squirmed. “Let me call Wilder first. See if he can rush Tom at TBPD for answers on her death and if he can get someone out here to take prints. Then we can clean up the mess before her parents show up.”
“Okay. What if they don’t rule this death a homicide? What do we do?”
Shep’s full lips twitched. “We do a little snooping of our own. I have my PI license in Florida. Most detectives have an overload of cases anyway. Your hunch and a tossed room isn’t going to light a fire underneath them on an accidental death ruling.”
She stepped closer to him, noticing a smear on his cheek and fresh blood dripping from his nose. She grabbed a tissue, careful not to touch the box, and held it up. “Shepherd, your nose is still bleeding.”
He dabbed at it and pocketed the tissue while Caley paced the room. “Make the call. But I can’t let her parents in here with the room like this. So tell him to find a way to get me an answer. And say please.”
He nodded and made the call. Fifteen minutes later Wilder called back. Shep put him on speakerphone.
“They’re ruling it accidental. I’m sorry, Caley. No defense wounds, abrasions. Nothing
that indicates anything other than a terrible tragedy.”
Caley’s blood boiled and she felt some desperation of her own. “What about the dorm being ransacked? Someone threw a lamp at my head, Wilder!”
Silence for two beats. “I didn’t know about a lamp.” Accusation laced his voice and Shep rubbed his brow.
“Well, Shepherd blocked it but it was thrown at me nonetheless.” She glanced at Shepherd, who was still frowning. “Did you even tell Tom about her dorm room?”
“I did. They can come out and take a report. That’s about it. Anything stolen?”
“I don’t know,” Caley said, flailing her arms because she needed to do something. “Wilder, that girl was precious to me. I don’t believe this break-in, tonight, after she’s found dead, isn’t connected. Do you?”
“It could be connected, but not necessarily because it’s murder. Maybe someone knows her effects will be boxed up and given to her parents. Maybe she had something someone didn’t want to be seen. Doesn’t mean they killed her. Just means they wanted to get something before it was exposed. Might not even be anything criminal. You don’t know enough to make the lines meet.”
Unfortunately, Wilder had a point. “Fine. Thanks for helping me and sending Shepherd. I’m sure he’ll be glad to get back to his deep-sea fishing.” She smiled at Shep.
“Take me off speaker,” Wilder demanded.
Caley rolled her eyes and Shep held the phone to his ear. A few grunts and short replies later, he hung up.
“Well?” Caley asked when he clearly had no plans to relay the private conversation.
Shepherd ran his hands across his short cropped hair, the color of wet sand. “He wanted my assessment of you.”
Caley loved Wilder but he was ridiculous. “Oh really. And what, pray tell, is your assessment, Shepherd?”
“I said you were fine. Shaken up. But stronger than you look.”
“I didn’t hear any of that.” All she heard was yes, yep, yeah, no. Yeah. Okay. But it still warmed her to know Shepherd thought she was stronger than she looked. Wait, did she look weak?
Tracking Secrets Page 19
