Starlight Dunes

by Vickie McKeehan

  “That’s perfect,” Ethan said. “We’re a coastal town. Having a dolphin pod out front represents the sea, the community as a whole, and the children inside that school.”

  “Exactly,” Logan agreed while the entire room erupted to life in a flurry of conversation, all of them talking at once, the eagerness growing in each person’s voice.

  Nick let the buzz go on for a minute or two before taking charge again. “While Mrs. Milburn’s generosity is extraordinary and appreciated, it still leaves a lot of work for us to do. We aren’t off the hook with cost, not at all. And we won’t shy away from any of it because we’re going to keep in mind that the beneficiaries of this project are the kids. Priority one is that we want a state-of-the-art educational facility for our children. As parents we want the best.

  “So here’s the deal. If the state doesn’t see fit to sanction our school, possibly because our low enrollment won’t meet the guidelines, which is a risk we take, we won’t take no for an answer. By that I mean Pelican Pointe Elementary will open next fall on schedule whether or not it’s deemed public or has to open as a private facility. But private doesn’t equate to charging tuition. Let me be clear on that. The objective is open enrollment for everyone. Because of that we’ll still need approaches to making money. And I’ll be upfront with all of you. It won’t end when the doors open either. Funding teachers, getting staff members, doesn’t come cheap. So I’m opening the floor up to suggestions.”

  Caught up, River got to her feet. “How about an auction? That way people could donate specific items, anything from antiques to their services.”

  “Excellent. That’s one option. Anyone else?”

  Several hands shot up.

  About that time Brent let himself in the front door and ran right into Murphy, mayor and owner of Murphy’s Market. The five-foot tall man grabbed Brent’s arm and said, “Just the guy I want to see. I have a proposition for you. Come into the kitchen so we can talk. The noise out here is deafening. But that’s a good thing.”

  Brent frowned. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

  “You will. How’s the PT coming?”

  “Almost done with the whole thing.”

  “And yet the county hasn’t seen fit to give you your job back. Why is that?”

  Brent remained stoic. “I’m not sure how that pertains to anything.”

  “Oh but it does. Rumor has it politics has you on the outs with your own department.”

  He should’ve known everyone would already have heard rumors about Richardson and his tactics. People liked to talk and especially when it pertained to anything personal. Such was small-town living. “I’m an elected official. Politics is part of the process.”

  “How would you like to put the county politics behind you for good?”

  “And just how would I do that?”

  “By becoming Pelican Pointe’s chief of police.”

  Brent couldn’t help it, his jaw dropped open. “You’re serious?”

  “I am. We had one a long time ago. But with declining funds in the city coffers, we had to let him go. That was right after I got here. Our police protection became a matter for the county. I don’t have to tell you that when anything major happens here, the response time can be up to half an hour or longer to get an officer on the scene.”

  Because he knew for a fact residents living here could be at risk for long delays, especially during emergencies like they’d seen recently when it took Garver longer than it should have to arrive, Brent grew curious. “How would that work exactly?”

  “You would no longer be an elected official but a municipal employee. Your allegiance would be to the citizens. You’d have to report to the town council every month but then it wouldn’t be anything as formal as a typewritten report, less paperwork for you. At first, you’d be the only cop we’d have. Maybe after a year, we’d re-evaluate the situation and you could hire some help. Pelican Pointe isn’t exactly a hotbed of crime.”

  Brent cocked a brow at the shorter man. “Other than the serial killer who called this town home for most of his life, you mean? Or the arsonist Kent Springer who did the same until said serial killer made Kent one of his victims? Or maybe the fact that the Russian mob targeted one of our own citizens in broad daylight? Or—”

  Murphy grinned, held up a staying hand. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. That’s definitely coming from a cop’s viewpoint.”

  “And not the mayor putting a pretty spin on things,” Brent said with humor.

  “I know you’re over-qualified for the position. But give it some thought. Think about serving the town in an official capacity, okay?”

  “Sure. But you should know I’m hoping to get my job back.”

  “I understand that. But at least now you have a backup plan.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The law office of Kinsey Wyatt Donnelly was located inside a Tudor-style house on Landings Bay, which according to Hayden Cody would be less than a ten-minute walk.

  Because it was a gorgeous autumn day, River decided to forego starting up her gas guzzler and make the trip on foot. She strolled past pretty little cottages lining Ocean Street and small children playing in the front yards.

  It looked like any small town in the country where families raised kids, where they went to PTA meetings on Monday nights and little league games on the weekends.

  Before she knew what was happening, tears were spilling down her cheeks. Would she ever get a chance to do any of that? What was wrong with her anyway? She’d handled things just fine for two years without getting emotional every time she walked around a town. What was it about this place that had her thinking so much about what might have been? About hearth and home? About settling down in one place?

  Which was ridiculous she decided as she went up to the front door, wiping away water from her face with every step.

  Since Hayden had mentioned the house acted as both residence and business, she rang the bell.

  Kinsey opened the door with a smile on her face. “Look at you, all upset. Get in here and tell me what I can do for you.”

  River fanned her face. “It’s okay, I was just beating myself up for getting so weepy-eyed on the walk over.”

  “Let’s settle into my office. Want something cold to drink?”

  “That would be great. Water is fine.”

  Kinsey led her to a nice-sized home office with a polished mahogany desk and bookshelves to match. She reached into a compact fridge and took out two bottled waters.

  “Can you sue a police department, specifically one detective?” River blurted out without prefacing her frustration.

  Kinsey eyed River. “That certainly came out of the blue. Sure you can. But usually that sort of thing pertains to having your civil rights violated. Are you by any chance talking about the Santa Cruz Sheriff’s Department?”

  “What? No. No. Not them. This has nothing to do with them.”

  More than a little confused, Kinsey suggested, “Okay, why don’t you have a seat and tell me what’s really going on. Maybe start from the beginning. Wait. Give me a dollar.”

  “What?”

  “Retain my services by giving me a dollar. Until I know what’s happening, that is.”

  River dug in her jeans pocket and came out with a five. “That’s all I have on me.”

  “Perfect. Now give me the deets from the starting point.”

  River got comfortable in one of the wing chairs in front of the desk. She began by going over the last two years, blow by blow. Once she opened her mouth she didn’t seem to be able to stop talking or crying.

  When she’d finished with all of it, Kinsey sat back in her chair, rubbed a protective hand over her growing baby mound. “My God, I had no idea. That’s the most heart-wrenching story I’ve heard in quite some time. And you think this Ortega has been taking payments under the table to specifically not work his own case file all this time?”

  “That’s exactly what I think he did. Brent think
s that, too. Each time I call Ortega, which is about once a month, he gives me some lame excuse, some story about why he’s having trouble finding time to look into any leads I send his way. I realize proving the Patton family is paying him off might be more than a little difficult but I have to do something.”

  “If it’s true though, that’s prosecutable criminal behavior and he would probably need to be charged before proceeding with any civil litigation.” When she saw that more tears wanted to leak out along with the disappointment cross River’s face at her answer, Kinsey added quickly, “But not a prerequisite to get a financial settlement.”

  “I’m not doing this for the money. I know it sounds like I am but I’m not. Although I want Ortega to pay for what he’s done, I’d sue for a dollar just to get him on record that he’s a sleazebag like Wes, maybe get him out of law enforcement entirely. I don’t want another mother back in Santa Fe, in Ortega’s jurisdiction, to ever have to go through what I have. All this time I thought I had the police on my side, doing everything they could. Now I find out that isn’t the case at all. False hope is what it is. And unfair on so many levels. I understand it’s difficult to find someone on the run but not impossible. To know the police let me down in locating my child is reprehensible. I might add I have sole custody of Luke legally—and brought the judge’s order with me to prove it.” River dug out a copy of her paperwork from her back pocket.

  Kinsey unfolded it, smoothed out the creases. After reading the document from top to bottom, she said, “Okay, that is a major legal hurdle right there. But it would have to be proved in some way that this detective’s bank account increased during these past twenty-four months. There are lawful means to go about that but we would need to prepare a case, subpoena for records, hire a private investigator and—”

  “Sounds like what you’re saying is it would involve a great deal of money.”

  Kinsey nodded in agreement. “It would take money and patience to wind through the court system, perhaps years. You might even be better off hiring an attorney from the Santa Fe area.”

  River shook her head. “No, if I did that I’d be butting up against the same problem. Wes and his parents are well-off. They know a long list of influential people back there.”

  “Okay. I certainly see your frustration in the system. I’m appalled that this Ortega did that to you. I’m willing to help any way that I can, mother to mother, well almost a mother.”

  “Pregnancy counts.”

  Kinsey smiled. “You bet it does. Bottom line is I won’t discourage you from going the civil route. You’ve had your heart ripped out. I’m right there with you, as I might point out, any jury in the country would more than likely side with a mother in this particular instance. I haven’t even held my babies yet, but if someone dared take mine, I’d fight whatever way I could, with whatever tools were at my disposal to get satisfaction, especially knowing the police were protecting the abductor in some way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, I haven’t done anything…yet. Look, why not come to the house tonight. We’re having a birthday party for Troy Dayton. It’s a chance to hear some music, do a little mingling. For all I know the entire town will turn out.” Kinsey looked at her watch. “I’m not exactly certain how many people will be in this house in six hours.”

  River frowned and looked around. “You can throw a party together in six hours?”

  “Not me. Jordan is catering it. She’ll be here in an hour to set up, a buffet-type thing.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “You can stop crying. I know that’s lame but I’m ready to kick some ass on your behalf. How’s that?”

  “Thank you,” River said again. “Do you think we could keep what I just told you between the two of us without everyone in town knowing about Luke?”

  “Honey, it’s the law. You’ve retained me now, remember? Lawyer-client confidentiality rocks,” she explained with a wink and a grin. “I can’t tell another person your woes if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “Even for five dollars?”

  “Yep. I’ve got to do some research though to get this going. Then the fee will go up. Are you prepared for that?”

  “I have some money my grandmother left me. It isn’t much but it’s been sitting in an account drawing interest for six years. I also pay a private detective back in Santa Fe to work the case. Believe it or not, I lived rather cheaply going from dig to dig until I got to Pelican Pointe, that is. I’m a little in love with Promise Cove. I don’t seem to want to leave.”

  “Everyone falls in love with the B & B. Can your PI be trusted or is he like this Ortega guy?”

  “So far, I think he’s on the level. Anyway, just getting all this off my chest and ranting makes me feel somewhat better.”

  “I assume Brent knows all this though since he feels Ortega is a dirty cop.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he have any leads whatsoever?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been pretty tight-lipped lately about a lot of things. He’s on the phone a lot making inquiries, checking with the FBI on a routine basis.”

  “There’s hope then. But ain’t that just like a man,” Kinsey teased. “And we all know Brent Cody is the king of reserved.”

  “Don’t I know it? I’m hoping it’s just the cop in him. But I wish he’d open up once in a while.”

  At that moment, the cop in Brent had just finished preparing River a sack lunch of tuna fish and apple slices. He walked it over to the dig only to see her crew, even the women, sporting baseball caps on their heads and gloves on their hands playing catch on the beach. River was nowhere in sight.

  Once Julian spotted him, Brent was forced to send the man a polite nod of the head and the game came to an abrupt stop.

  Brent watched as River’s lead anthropologist made his way over to where he stood on the strand. He could tell the scientist had something on his mind.

  “How’s it going?” Julian said amicably enough. A little nervous, he added, “It’s a pretty fall day.”

  “It is that.”

  “Santa Cruz County is turning out to be one of the most beautiful area’s we’ve ever spent time in.” Julian shifted his feet. “Uh, River’s not here. She walked over a couple of blocks to meet with the lawyer in town.”

  “Ah. She mentioned she planned to do that. I wasn’t sure when.” The two men stood there like that, an awkward silence hanging between them until Brent finally spoke up. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yeah.”

  Julian scratched his scruffy beard, shifted his feet yet again. “I don’t want to intrude but… How’s it going with River?”

  “Is that really your question? Don’t you really want to know what exactly my intentions are?”

  Julian chuckled and scratched his chin again, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sort of her only family right now. I won’t stand around and watch her get hurt, not again. I didn’t say anything when she got involved with that bastard Patton and I regretted keeping my mouth shut. Back then, she used to cry at work all the time. Then this thing with Luke… She doesn’t cry so much where people can see her anymore but I know she’s still hurting.”

  “I appreciate your concern for her. I really do. Known her a long time, have you?”

  “Fifteen years. We met in freshman year of college. She’s a good person. She deserves better than what she’s gotten.”

  “On that we agree.”

  “Do you think she’ll ever find Luke?”

  “There are a lot of people working on it.”

  “But what does that mean.”

  “It means, I’m doing all that I can.”

  That night, Logan and Kinsey opened their home to the town in an open house type atmosphere for the guest of honor, Troy Dayton, who was now officially legal.

  Troy had helped the couple paint and remodel their two-thousand-square-foot house. So it seemed fitting to celebrate his twenty-fi
rst birthday surrounded by the bright colors he’d slapped on the walls, the modern appliances he’d helped install.

  Troy looked around at the stylish furniture, the former home of Aaron Hartley, and realized Logan and Kinsey had upgraded it to a warm, inviting place to raise children, something he knew they both were excited about. Tonight the Donnelly residence was jam-packed with wall-to-wall people from every corner of Pelican Pointe.

  Troy scanned the room again, this time inching toward the table where the fancy hors d'oeuvres had been set out. He perused the array of gooey finger sandwiches, the spicy empanadas, rolled up taquitos, an array of dips and chips and realized Jordan had, once again, gone to a great deal of trouble just for him. It reminded him of last summer the day he’d been released from county.

  He couldn’t believe the mayor had shown up. To think that Murphy, and his main squeeze, the county social worker, Carla Vargas, had taken the time to come to his party was only one indication his life had taken an upward turn since the day he’d gotten his freedom back.

  For a kid who had scrounged around for scraps to make ends meet—for someone who had once aspired to making jewelry boxes for a living in hopes of getting a business off the ground so he could pay the rent—Troy considered himself the luckiest guy in town.

  He’d been raised by a single mother who’d died of breast cancer when he was fourteen, leaving him without a place to live. If not for his uncle, Derek Stovall, he would’ve been scuttled off to a foster home.

  But now Troy had put his false arrest for murder solidly behind him. He worked full-time for Logan as his construction foreman and rented the little studio apartment over the Harris’s garage at Promise Cove. He had a place to call his own with a gorgeous view of the ocean that didn’t cost a fortune and a job he loved.