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  “It’s a deal,” she said.

  He smiled. Working with Cassidy as a partner had its appeal. The realization surprised him.

  Ty nodded slowly, trying to recalculate his plan of action now. “Great, where do we start?”

  “You want some ice cream?”

  “What?” Had Ty heard her correctly? Certainly she wasn’t making an effort to be cordial.

  “Let’s talk about it over ice cream—but not from my truck.”

  “Well, as long as it’s not from your truck.” He grinned.

  After Ty put her bike in the back of his truck, they rode together to an ice cream shop. Why had she even suggested this? It must be the heat getting to her. Or maybe it was her newly found love of ice cream. She found herself sampling treats from her truck at least once a day.

  The place they were going now was called À La Mode, and it was a small, old house with rustic outdoor seating, where your ice cream could melt quicker than you could eat it. Cassidy witnessed it before her eyes. Were there locals here? Locals that would eat this ice cream and not hers?

  She had bigger worries at the moment.

  From their seats at the perimeter of the area, they enjoyed their cones. Cassidy had gotten chocolate, and Ty cookies and cream. She hated to admit it, but freshly scooped—and freshly made—ice cream was always better than the stuff she sold from her truck.

  “So, is this so much better than ice cream from my truck?” She stared at Ty as he enjoyed his treat. He boldly ate it, looking so strong and confident.

  Something panged inside Cassidy. Her entire life, she’d walked on eggshells. She’d cared what people thought.

  It was like Ty had said. She was the girl who was always trying and trying to earn people’s favor and affection. It wasn’t a great way to live.

  “I don’t know—ice cream for only twenty-five cents . . .” He grinned. “That’s quite the steal.”

  She scowled. She did that a lot around Ty. “Very funny. Really. You were one of those handsome but humble charmers in high school, weren’t you?”

  She could picture it so, so easily. He was laid-back but tough. A hard worker—but he looked awfully good while working. Handsome, but he didn’t put much effort into it.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. And let me guess—you were the pretty girl whom everyone admired but—”

  He stopped himself.

  “But what?” she asked, curious about what he was going to say.

  “Never mind.”

  “No, I want to hear it.”

  He leaned closer. “You were the pretty girl whom everyone admired but who always felt like she had to prove herself.” The color left her face. He’d pegged her so easily. Could he really see who she was like that? Even with her alias and pretenses, he’d still hit the nail on the head.

  She cleared her throat. “Interesting observation.”

  He stared at her another minute before shifting and changing the subject. “I think we should talk about this case.”

  That was right. They were working together. The realization caused her a moment of panic. But then she remembered that ice cream cone Ty had whittled for her. It was in her purse, and every time she saw it, she smiled. Maybe this whole arrangement was worth a shot.

  She’d told him that this was for the money, but she didn’t really care about the cash. Except it would help her with expenses. But still, fair was fair.

  “Fine,” Cassidy conceded. “Let’s talk.”

  His eyes sparkled as he licked his ice cream cone again. “I think it was someone with Hamby Investments.”

  She hated to admit it, but she agreed. “That would narrow this down considerably.”

  “I think that’s the best possibility,” Ty said. “I’m assuming you don’t think that Phil Goodlatte is guilty?”

  “I don’t. I believe there was another boat involved.”

  He paused and a milky drip ran down his fingers. “Why would you think that?”

  Cassidy explained her reasoning to him.

  “You found a piece of the boat?” He twisted his head as if Cassidy might be tricking him. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? Why did you ever even guess it was connected?”

  With a bit of tightness in her chest, she shrugged. “Just instinct.”

  She hated lying, even if it was for the sake of justice. But what other choice did she have?

  “I’d say you’re on the right track,” Ty said. “But if it is someone from Hamby Investments, how do you suggest finding answers?”

  She remembered her plan. Her solo plan. Should she share?

  Yes, she decided. It always helped to have someone to talk things through with. Everything is worse when faced alone.

  That settled it. “So, there’s going to be a party tomorrow . . .”

  They set their plan into motion. Ty would help with the party also, and together they would try and find more information. Because the killer was going to be at this party. It had to be someone with Hamby.

  The most likely suspect was Stan since he also went out boating. But she couldn’t rule out the rest of the gang either. Especially Madison, who might have been seeing Sarge on the side. Annalise and Walter were less likely suspects. After all, Walter had offered up his own money to find the killer and he got seasick. Annalise didn’t seem like the type to orchestrate a murder like Sarge’s, nor did she seem to have motive.

  They finished their ice cream and started back to their houses just as the sun began going down.

  It had been a long day, Cassidy realized. And she was tired. And she needed to get her ice cream truck back.

  After Ty took her bike from the back of his truck, he walked with her toward the front door.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Sure I do. My mom would have my head on a platter if I didn’t.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Sounds like she raised you right.”

  “She tried. My dad too. Apparently, I was difficult.”

  “I have no idea why anyone would say that.”

  They shared a smile, and something passed between them. A moment.

  No, not a moment. Cassidy couldn’t have one of those with Ty. She was dating Ryan. Having feelings for anyone else wasn’t a possibility.

  As she glanced away, her gaze went to her front door. It was open.

  Her stomach clenched.

  “It looks like someone broke in,” she muttered “. . . again.”

  Chapter 29

  “Let me check things out,” Ty insisted.

  Cassidy looked like she was about to argue, but surprisingly shut her mouth and nodded instead.

  That was easier than Ty had thought it would be.

  He cautiously opened the door before stepping inside. His gaze scanned the space. The living room had been wrecked. Cushions were upended. Books and DVDs were strewn. Blinds were pulled off the windows.

  Why would someone have done this? Had trouble followed Cassidy here? Or had she found it when she arrived?

  Ty didn’t know. But he didn’t like the way things were going.

  He checked the rest of the rooms and then went back to Cassidy. She stood on the deck with her arms crossed and a drawn look on her face.

  “Everything okay?” Fear and hope mingled in her gaze.

  “It’s going to take some cleanup.”

  She released her breath. “Can I go in?”

  “Of course.”

  Ty escorted her inside and gave her space to process what had happened. She wandered the perimeter of the living room, kitchen, and dining area, her body tense as she soaked in the damage.

  Finally, she picked up a cushion and turned toward him. “Why would someone do this?”

  Ty put his hands on his hips. The question had been echoing in his head since he’d seen the place. “I have no idea. I was hoping you might know.”

  Cassidy tossed the cushion back on the couch and frowned. “I wish I did. You know, it was weird because when I got here on Saturday, I felt
like the place had been gone through. Maybe it had been.”

  Ty’s back muscles tightened. He was liking this less and less all the time. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, usually when you stay at a rental, it’s tidy when you arrive. But this place . . . it wasn’t exactly strewn, but it wasn’t put together even. Small things were out of place. A couple drawers were open. A towel was on the floor in the bathroom. Things like that.”

  His jaw clenched. “I saw two men over here on Saturday. Something about them seemed suspicious, so I called the house’s owner, and he gave me the names of the last renters. I looked into them, and they don’t exist.”

  “What?” Surprise heightened her voice.

  He nodded, wishing he’d known then what he knew now. “I didn’t think much of it at the time. But the only reason someone would use an alias is if they’re hiding something.”

  Cassidy’s face looked a little paler, but as quickly as her unease appeared, she pulled herself together. Her intelligent gaze seemed to be searching his. “So you think someone came here for some reason? Maybe looking for something? And that they’re continuing to look, even after their checkout date?”

  He shrugged. “It seems like a good guess.”

  Cassidy released a small sigh. “It seems like they still haven’t found it.”

  “So it does.”

  “That does explain how they’re getting in.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s no sign of forced entry,” she said. “That means someone had a key to get inside.”

  Unease jostled in Ty’s gut. He didn’t like the sound of that.

  She remained silent until finally nodding. “I guess I should call the police and then start picking up.”

  “You do that, and I’ll help.”

  As she pulled out her cell phone and stepped away, Ty began putting the cushions back. Snapping the blinds in place. Picking up the magazines.

  As he picked up a local advertising magazine full of restaurant listings and coupons and top ten lists, something fell out.

  Ty paused and picked up the piece of paper.

  No, this wasn’t a piece of paper. It was a photo. Of a man.

  He studied it, trying to figure out if it was significant to the mayhem going on around here lately.

  “What is it?” Cassidy sidled up beside him.

  He showed her the photo, and she gasped.

  “That’s the dead man, Ty. It’s Sarge Perkins.”

  Two hours later, Officer Quinton had come and gone. As Cassidy expected, he hadn’t been able to tell her much—if anything. But he had taken a report, so at least the incident was on file.

  Once he was gone, silence stretched between Cassidy and Ty as they stood in the living room, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

  “What now?” Cassidy muttered.

  “Could the men who stayed here be in some way connected to Sarge’s death?” he asked. “I mean, I know it’s a long shot, but why else would they use an alias?”

  “I would agree that there’s a good possibility these crimes are connected.” Cassidy realized how professional she sounded and quickly tried to correct herself. “I mean, not that I know anything about these types of things.”

  “But why a photo?” Ty asked. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. If someone wanted to kill Sarge, why would they need a picture unless . . .”

  “They were hired to kill him.”

  Their gazes met, and excitement exploded between them.

  “They must have had Sarge’s photo and realized they left it here,” Ty continued, going into full-fledge military mode as he paced back and forth. “That’s why they must keep coming back. They’re afraid someone will find it and realize that Phil isn’t guilty.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But how do we even begin to figure out who these guys are?”

  “That’s the question. I did track down the boat that piece belonged to,” Cassidy started cautiously, knowing she needed to tread carefully. “Clark over at Dock Landing is repairing it, but the license number is gone. The address the owner listed—it was an alias, not his real name—was the lighthouse.”

  Ty’s look became stormier, and he rubbed his chin. “You did all that?”

  She nodded, trying to look embarrassed and not like she’d done this a million times before. “I guess I’ve read too many Sue Grafton novels. Maybe I got bored. Hard to say.”

  “I see.” He shifted, a far-off look in his eyes, like he was pondering something deep.

  “What?” Cassidy asked.

  “It’s probably nothing, but I’m helping Austin fix up that lighthouse. He mentioned there have been some sketchy things going on around there at night.”

  Cassidy straightened. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “You really think it could be connected?”

  His gaze locked on hers. “There’s only one way we can figure it out. You want to take a trip down there?”

  “Sure, let’s do it. You want me to drive Elsa?” Where had that come from? It was an awful idea.

  Cassidy was teasing Ty, she realized. She never teased people. What did this even mean?

  “Elsa? You’re not for real.”

  She grinned. “You’re right. I’m not. Let’s go.”

  Silence fell between Cassidy and Ty for a minute as they drove down the dark road.

  “So, do you want to tell me the story behind Elsa yet?” Cassidy asked, watching as groups of people gathered at the restaurants and shops along the road, no doubt creating memories together. A pang of jealousy rushed through her.

  “What story?” A smile curled the edge of his lip.

  “Oh, come on. I know there’s a story. And every time I see you eating ice cream, I think about what it might be.”

  “Are you stalking me? Because I really don’t eat ice cream that often.”

  “Okay, the one time before this that you were eating cream, as well as this time, I thought about it.” Ty was so infuriating.

  He shrugged, casually resting his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s nothing really.”

  “You were telling the truth—no locals will buy from me.”

  “It was really quite tragic what happened to Elsa.”

  Cassidy’s pulse spiked. What did that mean? “What happened to her?”

  Ty glanced at her, an unreadable emotion dancing in his gaze. “You really want to know?”

  “Of course.”

  He rubbed his chin before uttering, “She died.”

  “Well, I kind of gathered that.” Cassidy rolled her eyes.

  “What I mean is . . . her body was found in the truck.”

  Cassidy’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. She died and was found in the back of the truck. People think . . .” He shook his head. “Well, it’s just silly.”

  “I want to know. People think what?”

  “That . . . she’s haunting it now.”

  “What? Get out.” Certainly grown adults didn’t think that. Those were the kinds of stories kids told.

  “It’s true,” Ty said. “After Elsa died, that’s when the truck went haywire and started playing music at all times of the day or night.”

  Cassidy swallowed harder now as she remembered the truck’s strange tendencies. She still didn’t believe it was haunted. It just had an unusual propensity for malfunctioning. “How did she die?”

  “That was the other weird thing. The medical examiner thought it was just of natural causes, but some people believe there was foul play. Maybe poison or something. There wasn’t enough evidence to warrant more of an autopsy.”

  Cassidy shivered. Everything suddenly made sense. “Maybe I didn’t want to know.”

  “I tried to warn you.”

  Later—when she had more time—maybe she would look into Elsa’s death herself. She didn’t really trust any conclusion Chief Bozeman had come to. And everyone deserved justice.


  She added it to her list of things to do here. Because just selling ice cream day after day? It wasn’t going to cut it. The key was in being subtle about her investigations.

  She’d think more about it later.

  She spotted the lighthouse in the distance. It was surrounded by a stretch of lonely beach, but before that was a stretch of old, gnarled live oaks that formed somewhat of a fortress in front of it, minus a single lane leading toward the entrance.

  Ty parked behind some trees at an old picnic area. They would travel the rest of the way toward the lighthouse on foot.

  “Why is this place called Lantern Beach anyway?” Cassidy asked, swatting away a mosquito. Or two. Or three.

  She shivered. It was dark out here, and she could already hear the ocean roaring in the distance. Being here made her feel like she’d been swept into another world.

  “Back in the days of old, there was one night that the lighthouse keeper couldn’t get the thing lit. So instead he lit lanterns and left them up and down the beach. He was trying to protect the ships from crashing on the shore. After that, it was always known as Lantern Beach.”

  “That’s actually a pretty cool story.”

  “Well, this is a pretty cool place.”

  She dodged a root. “I agree.”

  “There’s even talk about buried treasure. But I’ll save that story for another time.” Ty grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a tree. “There it is.”

  Cassidy held her breath as she stared at the structure. The lighthouse really was stunning, even at night. The tower wound upward toward the sky. Flecks of paint were gone from the white stucco-like covering, but the effect only added to its charm. A gentle ring of red surrounded the top.

  Cassidy didn’t have time to admire it for long.

  She pointed to something in the distance. “Look!”

  A boat pulled to shore. Two men jumped out and met someone waiting for them onshore.

  The roar of the ocean was too loud to hear anything that was being said. All Cassidy could rely on was what she saw, and what she was seeing was a doozy.

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It is.” Ty’s breath tickled the side of her face as they leaned in together. “That’s a police officer.”