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  “He’s so far away that I can’t see which one it is.”

  “There are only three, plus the chief. Plus a few auxiliary officers they bring in sometimes in the summer.”

  The guys onshore only met for a few minutes before the men jumped back in the boat and took off.

  “We need to follow the officer and figure out who he is,” Cassidy said, her blood racing with anticipation.

  “I agree,” Ty said. “Let’s go.”

  They rushed back to his truck.

  But by the time they drove to the lighthouse, the officer was long gone.

  “We lost him,” Cassidy muttered.

  “I knew it was a long shot. He must have had four-wheel drive and driven down the beach.”

  “What’s going on here, Ty?” Cassidy felt like the pieces were starting to better form and come together. But they were still missing something.

  “I wish I knew.” He sounded as disappointed as she felt.

  They started back toward their homes. But they only got halfway there when police lights flashed in the distance.

  Cassidy’s lungs tightened. What now?

  Ty pulled over on the highway near one of the neighborhoods, and they hopped out.

  Cassidy sucked in a deep breath at what she saw on the side of the road.

  She was nearly certain it was the man in black. The one she’d seen on the beach when Sarge’s body washed ashore.

  And he was dead.

  Chapter 30

  Cassidy and Ty didn’t get much information at the scene of the crime. At least an actual perimeter had been set up at this one and an officer stood guard there.

  They went back to Cassidy’s after it was apparent they’d seen all they would see. Ty had insisted on checking her place out when they arrived. Everything was clear. And now they stood in her kitchen, and a pot of coffee brewed.

  Ty leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, showing off his spectacular biceps.

  Not that she noticed.

  His gaze fell on her, his Navy SEAL past locked into the depths of his brown eyes. “I don’t like this, Cassidy.”

  She started to cross her arms, but stopped herself. She wanted to tell him she could handle herself, but she kept quiet. She was an interior designer from Texas, not a cop.

  “I don’t like it either,” she muttered.

  “Maybe Kujo could stay here with you tonight.”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s a no pet clause in my contract.”

  He jerked his shoulder up in a quick, dismissive shrug. “Kujo won’t mess anything up.”

  Again, Cassidy’s resistance would only serve to hurt her. She had to keep that in mind. “Okay, then. If you insist.”

  Ty stepped closer, studying her without shame. “You’re hiding something, Cassidy.”

  She swallowed hard, unable to catch her breath. Was he onto her? How much did he know? She needed to take charge of this situation.

  She licked her lips before blurting, “You’re right. I am.”

  He waited for her to continue.

  She shoved a hair behind her ear. “Before my grandma Smith died, she told me her award-winning, top-secret recipe for fried chicken. I’m the only one who knows, and I’m never telling. Torture me all you want—you won’t get it out of me.”

  Ty stepped back and let out an airy chuckle that turned into an all-out laugh.

  Cassidy released her breath. The tension was broken, and the truth had been told. Part of it, at least.

  Her grandmother had shared that recipe with her.

  “You’re something else.” His laughter faded, and his eyes turned serious again. “Can I ask one more thing?”

  “Maybe.”

  His gaze went to her neck. “What’s up with the tattoo behind your ear?”

  The blood drained from her face, and Cassidy instinctively reached for the patch of skin. She knew she couldn’t deny the mark was there. Ty had seen it.

  “You noticed that?” She turned and began fixing herself some water.

  “I did. And I know it’s associated with DH-7.”

  This was getting worse by the minute. Cassidy had tried so hard to keep it concealed. She was going to have to launch into yet another cover story. The more she told, the more she disliked herself. “You’re right. It is.”

  He waited for her to explain.

  And here Cassidy went again with another lie. What kind of friendship were they going to have if everything was based on untruths? Then again, Cassidy would leave this place one day and return to her old life. It was silly to think she’d keep in touch with anyone here. Lantern Beach with all its mystery and charm was just a passing stop before the trial. She needed to keep that in mind.

  She abandoned her glass of water and turned toward Ty. She averted her gaze, fearful he’d see too much of the truth. “I was abducted by DH-7.”

  His eyes widened with horror, concern, and compassion. “I’m sorry, Cassidy. You don’t have to say anything else.”

  “No, it’s okay. Everything is really hazy for those twelve hours.” That was the truth. No, she hadn’t been abducted. But she had been injected with flakka against her will. What happened after that still wasn’t clear. “I woke up with this tattoo.”

  “I can’t imagine what that was like.” He stepped closer, his voice soft.

  Cassidy nodded stiffly, no longer acting. “Yeah, it was awful.”

  “And that’s part of the reason you came here?”

  Cassidy nodded again. “I needed to clear my head, you know.”

  “Is that why you and Justin started having problems?”

  You and Justin? That was right. That was the name she’d given to her fake boyfriend.

  Were his words true? Had her and—not Justin—but Ryan’s problems started then?

  Wait . . . they were having problems? Maybe they were. She’d just never realized it until now.

  Ty crossed his arms and stared into the distance. “So DH-7 has already gotten to Texas?”

  “I guess so. Their reach is surprisingly large.”

  Ty started to reach for her. Almost like he wanted to give her a hug. But then he dropped his hand.

  Disappointment panged through Cassidy. But it was better this way. She couldn’t let herself get too close. It wasn’t smart.

  Ty stepped back, something changing in him. A wall going up? She wasn’t sure. “I guess I should go get Kujo and let you relax.”

  “I guess so.” Her voice cracked, and she suddenly felt heavier. More burdened. It was the first time she’d ever talked about that evening. Yet it haunted her every moment.

  And that was something she’d never be able to run from, no matter how far from Seattle she was.

  Chapter 31

  Today’s goals: Serve at Sarge’s memorial service. Find answers. Stop thinking about Ty.

  Cassidy sold ice cream that morning until it was time for the party. It would be a casual yet fancy affair at Walter Hamby’s beach house. A time for reflection yet a celebration of life. Lisa had gone over all the details with her.

  Cassidy desperately wanted to talk to Stan while she was there. He was her best option as a suspect, but she would keep her eyes wide open. Besides, there was also Madison. Had she been seeing Sarge on the side? It would only give Stan more motive.

  At noon, Serena showed up to pick up Elsa. Cassidy wondered if the college student knew about the history of the ice cream truck. Cassidy would guess she didn’t.

  She met Serena in the driveway, soaking in the girl. Today, Serena was dressed in all black and wore dark, stark makeup that made her look pale and gaunt.

  Cassidy dangled the keys in mid-air. “You keep changing your look.”

  Serena shrugged like it was no big deal. “Someone once said we should reinvent ourselves thirty times within our lifetime. I think it’s a great idea.”

  Cassidy stared at her, waiting for her to continue. Because that made no sense to her. Reinventing herself twice had been hard en
ough for Cassidy.

  Serena sobered and let out a sigh. “It’s like this. I don’t know who I am. I’ve always been the person my parents wanted me to be. And I don’t know if that’s who I am at all. And then I went to college, and I was the person my friends wanted me to be. But that didn’t feel real either. The truth is, I have no idea. Sometimes, I feel brave and bold. Other times, I feel quiet and reflective. Sometimes I can be shy, and other times I can’t stop talking. Am I making any sense?”

  Unfortunately, she was. Cassidy, though years ahead of Serena in age, could relate all too well. “Yeah, it does make sense. You should figure out who you are, Serena. Just remember that, like it or not, we’re defined by the choices we make.”

  Another inspirational quote. Of course.

  It didn’t matter who Serena decided to be. People would define her by what she did. Actions, after all, spoke louder than words. Spoke louder than the way we dressed or what we claimed were our good intentions.

  “Thanks, Cassidy.” She leaned closer. “You know, there’s a part of me that thinks there’s some kind of hard-core action hero buried deep inside you.”

  Cassidy’s eyes widened. “Is that right?”

  “It’s totally right. Maybe you and Chief Mac could work together.” Serena raised her keys. “Okay. I’ve gotta run. See ya later!”

  Cassidy had to change into black-and-white. Thankfully, she had black shorts and a blousy white linen top.

  Just as Cassidy was getting ready to leave, someone knocked at her door. Was Ty here already? They were riding together.

  Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him. Which was stupid and something she needed to squash immediately.

  But a different face peered in the door.

  It was . . . Diane?

  Cassidy pushed the door open, quickly noting the woman’s swollen red eyes.

  Something had happened. Something new. Something bad.

  “Are you okay? The kids?” Cassidy touched her arm.

  She let out another sob. “It’s terrible, Cassidy.”

  Cassidy glanced behind the woman. Seriously, where were the kids? She liked this conversation less and less by the minute. Internal warning bells were going off left and right.

  “Money showed up in our account.” Diane’s voice came out as a scratchy whisper.

  That didn’t sound great. But Cassidy couldn’t fully give her attention to this conversation until she knew one thing. “Where are the triplets?”

  “I took them to this daycare place.” She wiped her eyes with a well-used paper towel. “I just needed a few minutes to myself. I saw your truck parked here when I went for a walk down the beach yesterday. I hope you don’t mind me coming by. I have no one else to talk to here.”

  “Not at all.” Cassidy opened the door wider. “Why don’t you come inside and tell me exactly what’s going on.”

  Diane took a seat on the edge of the couch, refused any water or coffee, and launched into the story. “I got a call from the jail this morning. It was Phil. He said the police had new evidence.”

  “Okay.”

  “Apparently, they’ve been monitoring our financial accounts, and they discovered a twenty-thousand-dollar deposit that went through last night.”

  Twenty thousand? That wasn’t chump change. “You don’t know where this money came from?”

  Diane swung her head back and forth. “I have no idea.”

  Cassidy tried to think it through. “So you think whoever killed Sarge put the money there to set your husband up?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  Cassidy lowered herself across from Diane and contemplated her words. “Has Phil regained any memories of that evening?”

  “No, he hasn’t. Not yet.” Her sniffle turned into another sob. “What am I going to do, Cassidy? I’m sorry to come here, but you’re the only one who’s been nice to me since I arrived. And you just seem so sweet and like a good listener . . .”

  “Who else would have had access to your accounts, Diane?”

  She drew in a deep breath, as if trying to get hold of herself, and began playing with her necklace. “No one. Just me and Phil.”

  “So how did the money get there? Not just anyone can drop money into someone’s account.”

  “I have no idea. You don’t think he’s guilty too, do you?”

  Cassidy chose her words carefully. “I’m just asking questions.”

  “What am I going to do?” She gave her eyes another wipe before locking gazes with Cassidy.

  Cassidy drew in a deep breath. “Look, I’m going to help serve at a memorial for Sarge the Hambys are throwing today and—”

  “They’re throwing a memorial? They didn’t even tell me.”

  Cassidy frowned. “I’m sorry. But while I’m there, I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Would you? That would mean the world to me.”

  “Of course I will.” Cassidy really hoped she didn’t regret it.

  “There’s one more thing.” Diane touched the necklace at her throat nervously again.

  “What’s that?” One more thing had an ominous ring to it.

  Diane took the necklace off and handed it to Cassidy. “Sarge gave this to me.”

  “What?” Certainly Cassidy hadn’t heard correctly. Why would Sarge . . .

  “I knew if I told you that, it would look suspicious. Like we were having an affair or something. But we weren’t. He gave this to me and said when he saw it, it reminded him of me. It was kind of strange. But thoughtful, I suppose.”

  “So why are you giving it to me?” Cassidy glanced at the round pendent, wondering about its significance.

  “Maybe it means something. Maybe it was a last-ditch effort on Sarge’s part to point to his killer.”

  “Maybe,” Cassidy finally conceded. It seemed like a reach.

  “I . . . I don’t know. But I don’t want it anymore, so I’d like for you to have it.” She shoved something else into Cassidy’s hands. “And take this also. It’s my phone number. I plan on leaving town in the next few days. I just can’t stay here anymore, plus my week is also up. I want someone here to have my number, just in case anything else turns up.”

  Cassidy slipped it into her pocket. “I understand.”

  Cassidy didn’t say it out loud, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Phil just might be guilty after all.

  Or Diane.

  Ty met Cassidy on the pathway between their homes just as a woman was leaving. His gaze followed the visitor, curiosity sparking in him. “Who was that?”

  “Phil’s wife.” Cassidy frowned, and her gaze contained a distant, far-off look.

  “Phil, the man in jail for Sarge’s murder?” His curiosity sparked even brighter.

  “That’s the one.”

  “How . . . ? What . . . ?” His hands went to his hips. How had Cassidy scored a meeting with Phil’s wife?

  “I think I told you that I met her while selling ice cream. Apparently, some cash dropped into their bank account last night, which the chief believes only confirms Phil’s guilt.”

  Wasn’t that interesting? And now that Cassidy mentioned it, he did remember her saying she’d met the woman. “How much cash?”

  “Twenty thousand.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “I’d say that’s a pretty good confirmation.”

  “Without actually getting into their financials it’s hard to tell for sure.”

  Ty gave her a look, and Cassidy shrugged. She sounded so . . . professional. Why was that?

  “I did the books for the interior design firm,” Cassidy said. “I know a thing or two about investments.”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up his hand and conceded. He supposed that made sense. But Cassidy Livingston was one big mystery to him. She was equal parts fire, ditz, and intelligence.

  She pulled the necklace from her pocket. “Diane also gave me this. She said Sarge gave it to her, which is weird.”

  Ty’s mind raced through the p
ossibilities, stopping at the most obvious one. “Were they seeing each other?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “She claims they weren’t.”

  “Then why would he give her that?” He wasn’t as trusting as Cassidy was. He’d seen too many things. Too many deceits and cover-ups. Trusting people didn’t come easily to him.

  “That’s the question.”

  As Cassidy examined the necklace, he stepped closer to get a better look. Some words were written inside. The beach fixes everything.

  Weird.

  That was when a realization hit him. “Cassidy, hold that to the light.”

  She glanced at him but didn’t argue. Instead, she raised the necklace toward the sun.

  “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, extending his hand toward the necklace. “May I?”

  “Be my guest.”

  He peered through what appeared to be a decorative scroll at the top, right below the link connecting the pendent to the necklace. Sure enough, it wasn’t a decorative scroll. It was actually a magnifying glass where you could leave personalized messages. A string of numbers appeared there.

  “I’m dying here,” Cassidy mumbled. “What are you doing?”

  “Here, look for yourself.” He handed the necklace back to her. “A shop on the beach sells these, and you can personalize messages that aren’t visible to the human eye.”

  She glanced at him again, but this time there was a touch of admiration in her gaze. “Brilliant. But what do the numbers mean?”

  “I have no idea. It’s too long to be a birthday and too short to be a social security number.”

  “We need to figure out what these numbers mean.” She glanced at her watch before shoving the necklace into the snug pocket of her shorts. “But we don’t have time now.”

  Ty fell into step beside her. “I suppose we have a memorial to get to. I’ll drive.”

  Cassidy frowned. “Speaking of which, when do you get your truck back?”

  “Next week. Why?” He tilted his head, a realization clicking in his mind. “You’re embarrassed by my truck, aren’t you? Even though it isn’t mine.”