Starlight Dunes

by Vickie McKeehan

  Tears came for real this time like a dam bursting and water spilling over the wall. He reached over, took her hand in his and wasn’t surprised when the strong woman he’d come to know, fell into his arms. “My God, River. I am so very sorry. I’ll help you find him.”

  She shook her head. “No one can. I know his parents are helping him financially. With all their money, Wes could be anywhere, Canada, Mexico, maybe even in Europe somewhere. He obviously planned this out in detail before he went on the run.”

  Brent pushed her hair off her face, cupped her chin. “I’ll say it again. I can help find him. What’s the name of the detective originally assigned to the case, not the private investigator you’re paying, but the one in law enforcement.”

  “Ortega. Tony. I check in with him regularly at least twice a month. But he never has anything new. It’s like he’s given up, Brent, or maybe it’s a low priority. Either way, if the cops give up, what else is there? It’s like I’m supposed to give up along with them. And I can’t do that. I can never do that.”

  “Of course, you can’t. No decent human being would expect a mother to ever do that.” It was then he noticed the puffy eyes, how tired they looked, how glazed over they were. “River, how many beers did you have at McCready’s while you were waiting for me? Did you eat anything during that time?”

  “Three. I think. Okay, maybe four. And I’m pretty sure Wade Hawkins might’ve bought a few rounds of tequila shots somewhere in there, too.”

  “With all that alcohol what did you eat?”

  “Some peanuts and a few chips.”

  He moved her head from side to side, gazed into her brown eyes. “You can’t drive in your condition, River. You’re sauced. Not only that, you look exhausted. I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.”

  “Probably because you’ve had your own drama to deal with. You think I’m too drunk to drive?”

  “I know you are.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “’K. I might not be able to get behind the wheel but I can do this.” Her words slurred but to prove her point, she leaned in, touched her lips to his.

  Brent dragged her up against him to ravage her mouth. She tasted like spicy pizza with a hint of Anchor Steam in a blend that had him ready to move to the bedroom.

  The burst was instant, all heat and sensation. Tongues danced in that time-worn prelude to mating. Lust hung at the fringes as they sunk into the kiss together.

  River felt as if she came to life in his arms. She wanted to devour. Her hands roamed to his hair. Her back arched as he met her taste for taste, bite for bite.

  But just as she streaked her nails over his skin, Brent broke off the kiss.

  Instead of ripping off each other’s clothes, he rested his head on her forehead. “River, for what I have in mind, you’ve had way too much to drink.”

  “I do feel kinda sleepy,” she admitted, letting her head fall onto his shoulder.

  When she grew silent, Brent looked down, fingered a few strands of her hair before tucking the loose ends behind her ear. He tilted her chin up, prepared to take her mouth again before realizing she was sound asleep. The little snort she made had him chuckling. He reached down to take off her shoes. At the movement, her body sunk back into the cushions even further. He readjusted their positions on the sofa, covered her with a throw.

  Instead of cleaning up or moving to the bedroom, Brent decided to remain right where he was. He settled back, let his head fall on the headrest. His eyes fluttered closed. The long, tension-filled day caught up with him. In two minutes he was sound asleep, River’s bare feet still draped in his lap.

  Chapter Twelve

  River opened her eyes with a mouth as dry as Santa Fe dust. She tried to swallow and found it difficult. Her legs tingled like heavy logs had fallen across them. She couldn’t seem to wiggle her feet and discovered she couldn’t feel her toes.

  She opened one eye and was blinded by bright sunlight sliding through the slats in the blinds.

  Before raising her aching head, she felt a lump on her belly. When she reached down to determine what the source was, she heard, “Ow! That’s my eye.”

  “Sorry.” She lifted her head an inch, took in the tuft of black hair curving into her stomach. Her fingers strummed through the mass until Brent’s head snapped up.

  Their eyes met. “Hi. I guess we both must’ve sacked out. Good to see you’re still alive.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion. I think my tongue is swollen,” she said, putting her hand over her mouth. Through her fingers she announced, “I’ve got the morning breath from hell, too. Stay away. Got any mouthwash?”

  “Not on me. Bathroom,” Brent uttered still trying to focus.

  “What time is it?”

  Before he could answer she gave a leg kick and bounced up and down. “Move. I have to pee. Bad.”

  Brent sat up, freeing her limbs and watched as River made a mad dash for the bathroom.

  One glance at his watch had him shouting down the hall after her. “It’s almost nine-thirty.” He heard an expletive come out of her mouth along with something about how she needed to get to the site.

  At that moment the doorbell rang.

  “Christ. What now?” Brent grumbled as he used the palm of his hands to rub his eyes awake before finally getting to his feet to answer the door. He was still trying to get the fuzz out of his brain when he peered through the peephole only to see his father standing on the porch.

  “Great, just what I need right now.” He turned the knob but he wasn’t happy about it. In the native tongue of his people, Brent greeted his father. “Haku, kʰoko.”

  Marcus eyed his oldest offspring with a certain amount of curiosity. “Haku, kwop, you were still sleeping? The day is late for such things.”

  “Yes, well, it’s a late day after a yesterday filled with a ton of stress.”

  “Which brings me to ask, why didn’t you let your second-in-command do the honors and handle Turley? You know that Richardson fellow is gunning for your job. What if the situation had turned out badly?”

  “Because I was here and Richardson wasn’t. Plus, my knowing Turley’s history worked out for the best.”

  “That and got you a lot of press coverage this morning. Rumor has it Richardson was pissed about that.”

  “Then Turley’s stupidity worked out to be a bonus for me, didn’t it? Don’t you just love politics? I’m just glad the idiot didn’t kill anyone in the process,” Brent grumbled before he added, “You drove all this way from Santa Cruz to let me know Richardson was steaming because I got the spotlight last night on the news?”

  “That and to see my oldest son, maybe walk him over to the dig. You’re getting around better these days. Now that they’ve started the excavation, it’s time I turned this over to you. Your mother doesn’t like me making that long drive to Pelican Pointe every day. ”

  “Save it, Dad. I’m not buying it for a minute.”

  But about that time both men heard the toilet flush down the hall indicating Brent wasn’t alone. A few seconds later River emerged from the bathroom. “Good news, I found the mouthwash. You have my favorite. Cinnamon flavored. Yum. I used it to get that bad taste out of my mouth from—” River’s stream of words came to an abrupt halt when she reached the living room and spotted Marcus.

  Both men stood staring at her until Brent said, “I believe you two know each other. I need coffee.” As he ambled past her doing his best not to hobble, he paused long enough to brush his lips to hers in the lightest of kisses. “Sweet taste. Always did like cinnamon,” he said as he moved into the kitchen.

  She watched him go and said to his back, “I need to get to the site.”

  From the other room Brent told her, “Then go. As soon as the coffee’s ready I’ll bring you over a cup across the street. How do you take it?”

  “Thanks, that’d be great. Black, no cream or sugar.” She turned to deal with the father. “Mr. Cody, were you looking for me?”

  “In a
manner of speaking, of course I didn’t realize you’d spent the night here with my son.”

  River ignored the obvious scorn in his tone. After all, she was a grown woman who didn’t intend to give Marcus Cody the satisfaction of seeing her squirm—about anything—least of all her personal life. They still had yet to find understanding and trust concerning the dig anyway. Because of that River straightened her spine. “As you know, our work was interrupted by the sniper Brent arrested last night. We haven’t yet finished the tunneling around the canoe and may not until the end of the week. It’s a slow process because I want to try to keep it intact as much as possible. When we extract it, I’ll send word to you through Brent.”

  Without another syllable to anyone, River strolled to the front door, threw it open, knowing full well that with every step Marcus Cody glared at her back.

  Brent poured freshly brewed coffee into a thermos for River while his father bored holes in him from the side.

  “That didn’t take long,” Marcus snarled at his son.

  Brent knew he wasn’t talking about the coffee. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I wish you and Mom would butt out of my love life.”

  “How could we possibly take that the wrong way? Your mother was rooting for Julianne.”

  “There’s not a single spark between Julianne and me. She knows it and doesn’t want hard feelings over it between neighbors.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’ve only been around Julianne at the…”

  “We went out once,” Brent interrupted. “Didn’t tell anyone because we knew there would be this kind of outside pressure. I don’t know any other way to say this. I’ve tried to be nice. But I’m not dating Julianne Dickinson, not now, not ever.”

  “That’s plain enough.”

  “Good. Now try to convey that to my mother because she’ll have to accept it sooner or later. Let her know she can stop asking Julianne over to the house for dinner.”

  Marcus sighed. “Easy to say, harder to do. This woman won’t stay here in the area. You know that, don’t you? She’s been all over the world. Why would she settle here?”

  Brent knew they were no longer talking about the first-grade teacher. Since he’d voiced much the same opinion about River himself to Ethan, he’d be damned if he’d admit it. “The woman is smart and funny, a helluva combination these days. And she has a name. It’s River.”

  “Does Pelican Pointe look like a place where River would settle down for good though? The foundation website keeps track of all the digs she’s been involved in. It reads like a travelogue.”

  Brent already knew that because he’d been curious enough to Google her, too. “Which is one reason we haven’t set a date for the wedding yet.”

  “Smartass. I’ve sensed a very troubled past within that woman. From the time your mother and I drove down to Santa Barbara with her—”

  Brent waved him off. As much as he loved his father, his temper flared just thinking about what River had told him last night about what her ex had done, how he’d cheated her out of precious years with her son. “If I’m not mistaken I come by smartass naturally. And before you say anything else, I’d like to caution you that my business, my love life is just that…mine. If River and I decide to…do whatever, it’s not a damn bit of anyone else’s business.”

  “You never did respect my ability.”

  “That’s one leap to another. You know damned well that isn’t true. I’ve brought you in to consult on many cases, off the record. And you know why that is. If it ever got out that the sheriff used your talents on a regular basis, I’d’ve been drummed out of the department long before now. You’ve been amazingly accurate over the years. But need I remind you that there were times when you’ve also been well off the mark.”

  “Are you saying I’m wrong about this woman?”

  Brent flinched at the use of this woman one time too many. “I’m saying you don’t have all the facts. Not having all the facts, you invariably draw the wrong conclusions. You could cut her some slack, you know. Sometimes I don’t understand that certain talent you have and where exactly is goes when you fail to pick up on things.”

  “When it concerns my sons, I’m too close, although I was right about Hayden. What are you saying?”

  “I’m trying not to. Ever heard of keeping a confidence?”

  Marcus let out a loud harrumph. “Who would I tell?”

  “Dad, you just admitted you were too close to pick up on a decent vibe. Let it go.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m not sure I’ll mention the fact she spent the night here to your mother.”

  “Suit yourself.” Brent took out the carton of eggs, cracked four into a bowl, started whipping them up before turning on the burner to the stove. He got out the tub of butter, scooped up some to drop into the pan.

  “What are you doing?” Marcus asked. “I’ve already eaten.”

  “That’s good because I’m making River scrambled eggs and toast to go with her coffee. Then I’m taking it across the street. She deserves a hot breakfast and I plan to see she gets it.”

  “So, what happened after you disappeared to go find the hunky sheriff?” Laura pondered as soon as River reached the site. “We closed the place down last night and you didn’t come back.”

  “His father showed up.”

  “Last night?”

  “No, silly. This morning.”

  Laura made a face. “Ugh. But the sheriff’s gotta be forty, right? He’s a grown man. What did you do?”

  “Doesn’t matter how old he is. A dad is a dad no matter what.”

  “Wait. This morning? You spent the night? River, you just met the guy. That has to be some kind of record for you.”

  “Just hear me out. To make matters worse his father mistrusts all outsiders. And what I did was get out of there as fast as I could.”

  “And you’re an outsider?”

  River nodded. “We all are. But I’m the one interested in his son.”

  “So you admit it? Wait. You spent the night? Wow. That isn’t like you either. It usually takes you weeks to even warm up to a guy.”

  “No point denying I’m attracted.” When she saw Laura’s eyes go wide, she added, “Nothing happened between us other than a really hot kiss.”

  “So if the father hadn’t interrupted, something might have happened between you two this morning? Ah, I get it. I can see by that look in your eyes you’re already expecting a repeat performance.”

  “Probably. I also did something really, really stupid.”

  “A kiss isn’t stupid. It’s a nice buildup to foreplay and a precursor to see if the guy in question knows his stuff. And from what you say, the sheriff does.”

  “Oh yeah. Not complaining here. But I told him about Luke.”

  Laura’s mouth gaped open. “You did what? Oh, River. That’s so unlike you. What made you do that?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been kicking myself since I got out of that house because of it. The only thing I can think of is that while we sat at the bar waiting for word, I had four beers and several shots of tequila over a span of hours before I ever walked up to the cliffs. I guess the combination of all the alcohol and seeing him handle the crisis situation somehow loosened up my tongue. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” With that, River decided to change the subject to something a little more fascinating. She told Laura about the local legend known as Scott and the fact that Pelican Pointe had a resident ghost.

  Just as Laura began to pepper her with questions, River looked up to see Brent making his way along the strand. Walking with a slight limp, he carried a thermal cup in one hand and a paper sack in the other. River wasn’t sure which was more appealing, the man or the prospect of coffee and whatever food he’d brought.

  She trudged down the incline to meet him on the pathway. Inside her chest her stupid heart set up its own little dance. Remembering the kiss they’d shared she went hot from head to toe all over again.

  “You look like
you could use caffeine,” Brent said as he handed off the stainless steel mug.

  “You’re a saint. My head’s pounding from the alcohol last night and the lack of coffee this morning.”

  He held out the bag. “Think you could keep down scrambled eggs?”

  She grinned. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  From up the hill and behind her there was shouting. “River! River! You have to see this,” Julian yelled. “Get back up here.”

  “Sounds like they’ve found something,” Brent concluded.

  “I guess they have. Julian doesn’t usually get jazzed unless it’s big. I’ll go see what it is. Be right back.”

  But once she got to the hole and peered down to where Julian was practically dancing a jig in the confined space, she knew whatever it was would be huge. She used the ladder to climb down, stood toe to toe with her anthropologist.

  The way Julian had brushed the dirt aside it didn’t take long for River to make out the framework of skeletal remains. She scanned the grid, realized the bones stretched the length of L-7 to M-10.

  “By the size, I’d say it’s obviously an adult,” River determined. Squatting on her haunches, she examined the outline more closely, running fingers over the bones. As soon as she made contact, the vision hit her almost at once. She saw a bronzed hunter, peering out from behind a thicket of Ponderosa pine, waiting patiently to send his arrow into a passing deer. Dressed in nothing but what amounted to a loincloth around his waist, his damp skin glistened in the sunlight. His body was painted. He wore beads around his neck. In the background waves rushed to shore as the water sparkled on a hot summer day. River watched as the man brought back his bow and let the arrow fly through the still air. The warrior hit his target, bringing the doe to its knees.