by Penny Plume
And Bart still hadn’t taken his drink. He held the glass near his mouth, staring across it at something only he could see.
Or maybe not.
Jenna turned, her entire head in flames, and followed his gaze across the room, through the den door, and saw what he saw.
The resort model. Towering, hideous, and Harrison Kavanaugh’s dream.
Bart offered his glass in its direction.
“And to The Lost Haven Resort. Whoever killed my dad, did it to stop the resort from being built. Well guess what? That’s not how the Kavanaughs handle things.”
Bart raised his glass higher, and Jenna realized he was looking up, across the hall and through the ceiling, toward the library. Toward his father’s corpse.
“I will build it for you, dad. A monument to everything you were, everything you would have been. Nothing will stop me.”
He knocked the entire glass down and smiled.
Jenna forced her tiny sip through her spasming throat and tried not to vomit.
“I should stop bothering you,” Jenna wheezed. The burning liquor was making the room spin, and Bart’s vow to complete the resort wasn’t helping.
“You’re not bothering me,” he said. “As long as you don’t start talking about books, or…what else do you talk about?”
“Oh, that’s about it, really.” Her eyes drifted to the stack of paper near her feet. “Town history, of course, but that’s probably even more boring.”
She yearned to tell someone about the discovery she’d made—even if that someone was dull Bart—but she checked herself. Telling the wrong person would be disastrous, and it didn’t feel like the right moment to crush Bart’s dream of building a monument to his dead father.
When was the right moment for that?
When someone else could do it for her, that’s when.
“Town history,” Bart mused. “Is that what you and my dad were talking about in the library today?”
The way he asked it, a bit too casually, made Jenna wonder: Does he know about the secret library? The map? Is he fishing to see if I know?
“A bit,” she said. “The founding families are incredibly interesting and complicated.”
Bart snorted. “A bunch of rich weirdos, if you ask me. Some of the stuff…”
He poured himself another dose and held the bottle above Jenna’s still-full glass, his eyebrows raised.
“Good lord no,” Jenna said. “Bart, I truly wish your father and I could have had more conversations like we had today. Without the looming accusations of Ingrid’s murder, of course. I have so many questions.”
“Questions,” Bart said. He drained the glass slowly this time, watching Jenna over the rim the entire time. He set the glass down and gave it a spin, watching it rotate a few times on the smooth wood until it came to rest.
“I have some of those myself. Like when Sherri and I pulled in and I saw the Jeep outside, then when I was right here and saw you.”
Jenna’s stomach suddenly went cold, despite the burning liquor. For the first time since she’d met Bart Kavanaugh, she actually saw a lot of his father in him.
“Why are you here?” Bart asked. “And what the hell were you doing in my dad’s den?”
Well, this was awkward.
Jenna hadn’t taken the time to piece together any plausible explanations for why she was doing what she was doing, other than the truth. And she couldn’t tell anyone the truth.
Was she on the verge of being outsmarted by Bart? And an increasingly drunk Bart at that? If that happened, there would be three deaths to mourn: Ingrid, Harrison, and her poor ego.
“Well?” Bart said.
“I had to bring Cabo back,” Jenna replied. Winging it wasn’t a great strategy, but she had to be better at this than Bart…right?
“Cabo? Why was he with you?”
“He came to see me after he found your father’s body.”
“Why?”
“He was scared. Didn’t know where else to go.”
“Uh, the police? Garrett?”
“He needed help, not someone to play catch with,” Jenna said.
“Nice burn.”
“Thanks.”
“Where is Cabo now?”
“Getting cleaned up and packing. He’s not comfortable staying here.”
“Because he killed my dad?”
Jenna blinked. “No. Because he feels terrible. Like it’s his fault.”
“It is. Whether he killed him or not.”
“Not true. Your dad told him—”
“Don’t change the subject. Why were you in the den?”
“I…needed a moment to myself. You know. All the death.”
Bart nodded. “Certainly not the boring old Lost Haven we’re used to. What’s with the papers?”
“Papers?”
“The stack you were carrying out of the den. Big. White. Hard to miss.”
Shoot! He noticed them! Maybe not quite ready for international spying just yet…
Jenna did some quick math: If Bart knew the truth about Sanctuary and the graveyard, he’d realize she knew about it too as soon as he saw the map printouts. And that she’d use it to stop the resort.
If he didn’t know, he’d probably be shocked, dismayed, even a little curious. Then he’d realize Jenna would use it to stop the resort.
Either way, it would only complicate things.
“Oh, I brought those with me.”
“You brought a stack of papers with you?”
“Yep.”
“Why?” Bart said.
What a fantastic question.
Jenna shrugged. “Well, you know me and my books. I’m working on a contemporary history of Lost Haven. Those are just some notes I’ve been jotting down.”
“About my dad’s death?”
Jenna frowned. “What? No. Gross.”
“Are you going to sell the story to the tabloids?”
“What tabloids? And no, it’s just historical stuff.”
“Let me see.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not ready yet.”
“Who cares?” Bart said. “Let me see.”
“Bart, trust me. You’ll be bored to death.”
She winced before it was all the way out of her mouth.
Bart just shook his head and waited. He extended the first finger on his left hand, lifted it up, and let it fall straight down onto the bar next to his bottle and glass. Right where he wanted Jenna’s stack of maps.
Well, it was fun while it lasted, Jenna thought.
She picked up the sheets and her stuff, let the keys, wallet, and phone slide off onto the bar, and dropped the papers next to Bart’s finger.
“Enjoy.”
Bart stared at her for a long moment. She was again struck by how much of his father she saw in him now. Was this some genetic Kavanaugh thing? When the patriarch passed away, did the next in line suddenly become a shrewd narcissist?
Well, more of a shrewd narcissist?
He finally looked down and saw what was on the paper.
He frowned, scanned the top sheet, then flicked it aside to check the next one.
The next.
His lips moved slightly as he read Jenna’s first draft synopsis of Wonderful Lost Haven: A Visitor’s Guide.
She’d only printed six pages of the seventy-five-page document, placing them on top of the maps just in case something like this happened, and Bart was now on page four. If he flipped another page he’d likely see the colored maps bleeding through. Jenna could already see it, but she knew what to look for.
Bart squinted at the page, leaning in…
“Jenna, you’re in big trouble.”
“Listen. Your dad gave me—”
Bart cut her off with a laugh. “This is absolutely terrible. Nobody will buy this. And you’re right—I need to stop reading before I die of boredom. Or adverbs.”
He poked the pile toward her like it was a plate of table
scraps.
Jenna was torn between relief, fury, righteous offense, and confusion.
The nerve of this guy!
Jenna gathered the loose pages and tucked them under her arm.
Wait, Bart knows what an adverb is?
She collected the rest of her things from the bar.
It’s just a first draft!
“I’m sorry about your father.”
He grunted and took another hit of the jet fuel.
“Please tell Sherri we’re thinking about you guys.”
“Go on and tell her yourself. If you can wake her up.”
“No,” Jenna said, “I’ll let her rest. But if she needs us to keep an eye on her shop for a while, it’s no problem at all.”
Bart snorted. “What’s the point? I’m tearing all of it down as soon as I can.”
Jenna made it out of the receiving room and into the foyer before she took a breath. She was still waiting for Bart to call her back in so he could check the pages again when Cabo emerged from the hallway, showered and dressed in a black golf shirt and khaki pants, carrying a small suitcase.
She’d only seen him in a suit before, which hinted at his size and strength but didn’t showcase it. Now, the short sleeves of the golf shirt displayed biceps and forearms bigger than her legs, rippled with muscle. Jenna had a brief vision of Bart ordering Cabo to tear down Main Street himself, and Cabo having no trouble taking the structures down with his large, bare hands.
He stopped in front of her. “You okay?”
“What? Yeah. Why?”
“You’re kinda staring at me.”
“Oh, sorry. I was, uh, zoned out.” She dropped her voice. “And I just had a little scene with Bart.”
Cabo’s eyes popped. He whispered, “Bart’s home?”
Jenna tilted her head toward the receiving room.
“I should say something to him.”
“He’s drinking.”
“Oh boy. I’d better do it before he gets too deep in the bottle.”
“Be careful. And don’t get stuck talking to him—we have some work to do.”
Cabo raised an intrigued eyebrow at the stack of papers in Jenna’s hands. He walked to the receiving room entrance and, very gently, said, “Hey, Bart.”
“Murderer!”
Cabo turned around and headed for the front door. “That went well.”
The fresh, slightly chilly air on Horizon House’s front steps was exactly what Jenna needed to put the drama with Bart behind her. She took a deep breath, smelling Lake Michigan on the breeze that wrapped around the mansion from the Great Lake.
The tail end of the cleansing breath was tainted by exhaust, and she looked down to see the state police crime scene van idling next to Garrett’s cruiser. Two technicians were unloading cameras and hard plastic cases that contained…whatever they used for crushed-skull deaths.
Garrett stood with his hands on his hips, supervising. He looked up and saw Jenna and Cabo.
“Hey, finally. You guys having a party in there or what? Thanks for the invite.”
“Oh yeah, it’s a real blast in there,” Jenna said.
She and Cabo walked down the steps. Garrett met them at the bottom, leaving the crime scene crew to actually get some work done.
“What have you been doing? Where’s Olson? I’m out here by myself, nobody’s talking on the radio—I got no idea what to do here.”
“Well,” Jenna said, “I’ve been getting berated by Bart, and Cabo has been washing Kavanaugh’s blood off. Then getting berated by Bart.”
“Yeah, him,” Garrett fumed. “He and Sherri pull in here, don’t even say hello, and I have no idea if I’m supposed to let them in or not. He goes straight into the garage and closes the door in my face.”
Cabo said, “He’s at the bar if you want to tell him to leave.”
“And Sherri’s passed out on Xanax,” Jenna added. “Good luck with that.”
Garrett considered the looming facade of Horizon House for a moment, then seemed to dismiss the idea of storming it and the people within. He frowned at the stack of papers Jenna carried, then at Cabo’s bag.
“What are you two doing?”
Jenna said, “I’m finding a place for Cabo to stay, then collapsing into sleep. I’m exhausted. It’s been kind of a day, you know?”
“It sure has,” Garrett said. He checked his watch. “It’s just past eleven, who’s still open? Cabo, how about I take you to the Lost Hav-Inn? The rooms are nice enough. You’ll probably fit on the bed.”
Cabo looked back and forth at them, not sure what was happening. “Doesn’t Olson want you to stay here?”
“He’s not my boss.”
“Garrett,” Jenna said, “he’s going to need your help. This is a great opportunity for you.”
“Two people murdered and it’s a great opportunity. Real nice Jenna.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Cabo, hop in the back of the cruiser. I’ll run you over there.”
Jenna turned to Cabo. “He’s being stubborn. Let’s go.”
“Uhh…I don’t want to cause any trouble here.”
Garrett said, “Besides running around town with Kavanaugh’s blood all over you, terrifying the citizens?”
“I was never terrified,” Jenna said.
“Sounded like it on the phone.”
“I was being quiet, not scared.”
“Get in the car, Cabo.”
“Am I under arrest?” Cabo said.
“No. But you’re being a public nuisance.”
Jenna’s mouth fell open. “Garrett! That is enough.”
She tried to guide Cabo toward the Jeep with one hand. It was like pushing against an oak tree.
“Maybe I should just stay here,” he said.
Garrett nodded. “Great idea.”
“Nope,” Jenna said. “Bart will scream at you until he passes out, then he’ll scream at you in his sleep. And who knows what will happen when Sherri wakes up.”
“Man…”
One of the front doors opened and Bart stuck his head out.
“Murderer! You! Bigfoot!” He slid out of the gap and staggered toward the top step. “Hey, look at me. Look at me! What are you looking at?”
“Oh boy,” Garrett said. He hustled up the steps to keep Bart from tumbling down and giving the crime scene crew more work to do.
“This is our shot,” Jenna whispered.
Cabo nodded and they both hurried to the Jeep. Jenna got behind the wheel, and Cabo dumped his bag in the back and slid into the passenger seat.
“That was about as awkward as it gets,” he said.
“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s a whole thing between us.”
“You two…”
“Not anymore. But he sometimes has a hard time remembering that.”
“Huh. Are you really going home and sleeping?”
“Oh, no way.” She shoved her wallet, phone and keys into the middle console and dropped the stack of papers onto Cabo’s lap.
“We’re going to a graveyard.”
10
Compared to the last time Jenna drove down from Horizon House, this trip was almost ordinary. If not for the murder plots, hidden graveyards, and fate of the entire town in the balance, it would have been boring.
Still—Jenna squeezed the steering wheel like it held the secret to online dating.
Cabo had his interior light on and was flipping through the printed photos. Jenna’s death grip relaxed once they were past Ingrid’s mansion, the landscape apparently still operating on some sort of timer.
Cabo squinted at the faint ink on one of the sheets. “You’re telling me this graveyard is still there, under the park?”
“I’ve never read anything in the histories of Lost Haven about a graveyard being relocated. That’s big news for a town this size, back in those times, and I’ve read everything.”
“Even the stuff in Kavanaugh’s secret library?”
“Ohhh, I wish. Good
point though. I need to check with Olson about how soon I can get in there. Or at least remove the books and dig into those.”
“You sound pretty fired up about that,” Cabo said.
“You have no idea.”
“So what are we going to do? Find some shovels and start digging up rotten coffins?”
“Ehhh…”
They came to a cross street on the northern edge of town and Jenna stopped. There was no traffic coming or going from any direction. Jenna tapped the steering wheel a few times.
“What?” Cabo said.
“We have to be very careful here. I’d love to rush into town, gather the Main Street folks, and tell them about the graveyard. It would delay the resort, at the very least, while the Lost Haven Historical Society figures out what happened to the burial plots.”
“That sounds good,” Cabo said.
“But if one of those folks murdered Ingrid and Kavanaugh, because of the graveyard, where does that put us?”
“Next on the list.”
“Bingo.”
“Well,” Cabo said, “you’d be next. Once you got bumped off, I’d just bust the heck out of town, so no worries there.”
“Ah, very nice. What happened to ‘Go team’?”
Cabo frowned. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”
“Hmm.”
“But I have to ask: Why are you telling me all of this? I could be the killer. I’m not, but I could be. But I’m not.”
“You were with Kavanaugh the entire time when Ingrid was killed. Wow, was that just last night? It seems like a month ago.” Jenna shook her head. “Lawrence saw you, and there were a bunch of other people there, right?”
“Yeah, engineers and contractors. Some lawyers.”
“Plenty of witnesses. It would be too risky to use that as an alibi. If one person saw you leave, you’d be toast.”
Cabo nodded. “But I still could have killed Kavanaugh.”
“Why would you?”
“Who knows. Let’s say he insulted me one too many times.”
“Well, you didn’t kill him. And not because of the stoic philosophy hoopla you gave to Olson.”
