Starlight Dunes Read online

  Filled with lustful thoughts, he grinned as he threw an arm around her shoulder. “Great idea, let’s get out of this chilly wind and go make out in my truck.”

  Once they reached Promise Cove, he parked his pickup at the edge of the driveway near the road for fear of waking the kids sleeping inside.

  They sat in the dark in the Silverado and stared at each other. Both unsnapped the button to unfasten their seat belts at the same time.

  “What do you have on your agenda for tomorrow?” Brent asked.

  “I scheduled a meeting with the team for around ten o’clock.”

  “On Sunday? What a taskmaster.”

  “Not really. Julian and Laura know the work keeps my mind off things. The meeting isn’t mandatory. But what else does my crew have going on in a town this size? They’ve settled in for the long haul. How else are they going to spend their time? What can I say, we love to dig. Why do you ask?”

  “How about ditching your own meeting? There’s a place I’d like to take you.”

  Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I just bet there is. I’m pretty sure you could get me there, too, without too much effort.”

  He grinned back. “I like the sound of that. But there’s a physical place I’d like to show you. It isn’t far from town. We could have a picnic. I’ll supply the food.”

  “You’ve definitely piqued my interest. Where is this place?”

  “North of here, up the Coast Highway a bit. You’ll love it.”

  “Hmm, I can’t wait.”

  “That’s good because I’ve been waiting all night to do this.” He dragged her over his lap and lowered his lips to touch hers.

  Almost straddling him, she curled into his chest, matching his moves, searing heat to scorching burn. They set an urgent pace. Tongues thrilled, tasted and teased.

  “I could sneak you into my room,” River said in a breathless sigh as soon as they came up for air.

  “I haven’t done that since…never mind.”

  “Since your wayward misspent youth with Donna Sullivan?”

  “You make me feel young again, River.”

  She laughed. “Brent, you talk as though you were as ancient as Methuselah. Forty is the new twenty-five. Don’t you know that? There’s only a seven year difference in our ages. If you’re old then so am I.”

  “Funny, but right this second I don’t feel so old.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re cute when you’re being silly?”

  “Here, let me show you cute.” And with that, he took her mouth again. His wandering hands began to work on the buttons of her sweater. Soon River was arching her back while his fingers worked their magic on her breasts.

  A little after two a.m., River crept back into the inn like a fifteen-year-old who had missed curfew.

  She couldn’t say why but she found the need to tiptoe into the house using the back door that went into the laundry room. On her way to the back staircase, a lone figure appeared just inside the kitchen. Startled, River jumped.

  “It’s just me,” Jordan said, jumping a little herself.

  “What are you doing up this time of night?” River asked.

  “Scott woke up with a cough and sniffles. I think he’s coming down with a cold.”

  “Fever?”

  “Just a tad.” Jordan eyed her guest who looked as though she’d gotten caught slipping in through the window instead of the door. Her long hair was mussed. The buttons on her sweater weren’t hooked in the proper holes.

  “Your cheeks look hot. Do I need to feel your forehead or was that Brent Cody’s truck I heard pulling out of the driveway?”

  “Uh, we were just…talking.” The minute she met Jordan’s eyes, she knew the innkeeper wasn’t buying it. “Okay, we made out a little. Okay, a lot. He wants to take me on a picnic tomorrow.”

  Jordan snickered. “That’s why your clothes are buttoned wrong and your cheeks are rosy red.”

  “It’s a chilly night.”

  Jordan grinned. “Sure it is. You need food for a picnic I’ll put a basket together for you.”

  River’s jaw dropped. “That is so sweet. But you don’t have to do that. Brent said he’d take care of the food.”

  “Hmm, I can’t see Brent Cody in the kitchen unless he’s making a sandwich.”

  “He fixed me scrambled eggs the other day.”

  “Really? Now see, I’ve always gotten the sense Brent was a diehard bachelor who relied on takeout, especially with his job and the hours he keeps.”

  “I’m right there with you. I would never have considered him much of a cook but he surprised me. The eggs were delish.” River studied the innkeeper and added, “You look like you have something you want to say.”

  “Brent’s a good guy. He’s the best sheriff the county’s ever had. He came here personally in the middle of the night to arrest Kent Springer after Kent tried to set fire to the house.”

  For the second time, River’s mouth dropped open. “Your house? But Pelican Pointe seems so quaint and perfect.”

  “Like any place, I guess we have our share of rotten apples.”

  “Like the serial killer Brent arrested. He mentioned it.”

  “A definite low for the town. Before we finally figured out who was responsible for killing Gina Purvis, we were all starting to look at each other and wonder. And poor Troy Dayton had to sit in jail an innocent man before the DA would let him out.”

  “You don’t think whoever is trying to hurt Brent lives in Pelican Pointe do you?”

  Jordan shook her head. “Brent hasn’t spent all that much time here, other than to visit his grandmother and his brother. I’d say whoever is after Brent is someone from his past, maybe someone from his own department.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Are you nervous about spending time around him because of it?”

  “Nope, I figure he’s the top cop. I ought to have a little faith in his talents.”

  “You’re smitten.”

  “I am not. Well, okay. Maybe a little.”

  “It’s tough sometimes to admit it. That was the way it was with Nick and me.”

  “Really? Because of Scott?”

  “That and the fact we were both in a bad place at the time. Neither one of us wanted to give in and just let things be as a couple. Loss is difficult enough to deal with but when you complicate matters by being attracted to each other at what feels like the wrong time…”

  River thought of her baby. Would she even recognize him? What kind of mother thought that way? “I know loss,” she blurted out.

  Jordan eyed her guest with new insight. “I thought as much. Look, it’s late. Go to bed. We’ll sort this all out when you’re less distracted.”

  “Okay. Sure. It’s just that Brent Cody is a major distraction I hadn’t counted on.”

  “I know just how you feel. It seems to always hit you hardest when you never see it coming.”

  The whispered voices grew louder and louder. They were keeping the path clear, directing the effort where it should be—how best to end Brent Cody. Sometimes though, the headaches made it hard to think—to see exactly how it would all work out in the end. But then the pain had been here before. For such a long time it was part of the equation and dealt with as such.

  Sleep refused to come. The mind wouldn’t shut down long enough. The voices kept echoing against the four walls of the motel room. Shadows inched along the doorway to the window all the way to the bathroom, until they stilled in the illusion and the darkness.

  And in the blackness, madness prevailed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning started off with a dreary, gray marine layer that shrouded the tops of the tall cypress in mist. Even though the clouds wanted to spit and drizzle, River already knew that by noon they’d see the sun.

  At nine on the dot she spotted Brent’s pickup rumbling up the lane. After throwing her backpack inside, she slid in next to him in the front seat while the Red Hot Chili
Peppers blasted their way through the truck’s speakers.

  “You’re prompt.”

  “One thing about cops they appreciate a schedule. Not that we’re on one today.” He picked up her hand, kissed a few fingers all the while he made the turn to head north.

  After several miles, she noticed that he kept a watchful eye on the rearview mirror.

  “You think someone might follow us.”

  “No harm in caution.”

  “You don’t talk much about someone trying to kill you. Why is that? People are worried about you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Jordan cares for you. It seems she doesn’t forget how you were there to arrest that dunderhead who tried to set her house on fire.”

  “Nick’s the one who called it in. But I made it a point to slap the cuffs on the bastard myself. Hutton was in that house tucked in her crib. I don’t even want to think what might’ve happened if Nick hadn’t caught Springer red-handed.”

  Another five miles they drove in amiable conversation, him pointing out fields of wild strawberries, wildflowers, and her taking it all in, landscape so different than what she’d grown up with in Santa Fe. The ocean on the horizon to their left provided a misty fog over the gray water. In contrast, the pretty rolling countryside to the right gave her a continuous change of scenery.

  There were undercurrents of attraction, a little flirty dialogue, along with a subtle effort to avoid bringing down the mood by talking about sad subjects, like Luke.

  She appreciated the fact that the cop in him hadn’t bombarded her with ten thousand questions about it. And he could have. It was as if he knew dissecting it wouldn’t give her the answers she so desperately needed.

  When Brent turned the truck onto a bumpy road that ended in front of an iron gate, she looked around at the pretty canyon in the distance and the closer rolling hills. A dusting of red and gold poppies on a grassy backdrop completed the picture postcard.

  While Brent grabbed the backpack that held their sandwiches and drinks and picked up a blanket he’d thought to bring—she reached for her own pack—the one Jordan had stuffed with her homemade trail mix and a bottle of wine and cheese. She shrugged it on over her shoulders.

  Gathering up the additional blanket Jordan had supplied, River eyed the weight of the food they intended to lug around. “By the looks of things, if we get lost, we certainly won’t starve,” River determined as she hefted the load. “There are enough provisions here to feed a family of four for a week.”

  “No chance of getting lost. I’ve been making this hike since I was two. It’s this way.” Brent frowned as they started off side by side through a hilly meadow thick with knee-high grass and a smattering of butterfly weed. “That does look too heavy for you. Give me the gear you’re carrying. It’s still a bit of a walk from here.”

  “No, I’ve got it. But will you be okay to make it that far on your bum leg?”

  “I’ll make it. Promise me you won’t tell a soul about what you’re about to see.”

  “If that’s a euphemism, it’s a damn good one. Of course, I won’t.”

  “No pictures either.”

  “Brent, stop worrying. I left my Nikon back at the B & B because you said to. And my camera phone’s back in the pickup because there’s no service way out here.”

  When the trail narrowed, he went first through the brush to lead the way. She followed in single file, trudging up another incline and down a ravine.

  “Do you want me to girl-scout swear or something that I won’t blab about your double-secret undisclosed place?” she asked to his back.

  “Nah, your Pueblo word is good enough for me. You know Native traditions as well as I do.”

  She decided to delve into something she’d been curious about since her conversation with Scott. “Which Native traditions are we talking about specifically? How do you stand on spiritwalkers? And have you seen any recently?”

  “Have you been talking to Ethan?”

  “Nope. But it’s a known fact Pelican Pointe has itself a resident ghost, a spiritwalker, a very strong one, I might add.”

  Brent stopped walking which caused her to bump into his backpack. “Have you seen him? Scott?”

  “Of course. Talked to him, too. Surely you knew he was doing his best to get us together. I think.”

  That sounded just this side of crazy. But since Scott had indicated as much, it did have merit. “What’s it to him anyway?”

  “That’s what I said. Have you talked to him?”

  “Now and then.”

  “I knew it. Be more exact.”

  “It means that since coming to Pelican Pointe I’ve seen the infamous Scott a couple of times myself. Why is it you don’t sound like you want to hightail it out of town because you’ve encountered a ghost?”

  “Because I’ve seen a few before Pelican Pointe.”

  “Okay. Now would be a good time to elaborate.”

  She told him about all the other encounters she’d had over the years at other dig sites, from overseas to stateside.

  “So this is no big deal to you?”

  “Scott’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “He knows things. He knew about Luke. How I don’t know. He just does. It must come with the afterlife.”

  Lumbering along behind him they finally came to a trail wide enough for both of them to walk side by side. “Could this trip get any more top secret or what? I feel as though I’m on a covert mission or something.” Her sense of direction kicked in. “Wait. Are we headed west again toward the ocean? We are.”

  He grinned. “You either have good instincts or you smell the water.”

  Her lips curved up as they came to a little clearing. “A little of both. You don’t need a compass?”

  “I could find my way here in the dark.”

  The sun chose that moment to peek through the clouds. They stopped long enough to watch the marine layer lift and break apart over the bluffs to the north. As the slight breeze carried the remaining fog out to sea, she looked around at the countryside.

  Rock formations came into view on either side of them. She noticed etchings in some of the stones, engravings and symbols representing earth and sea and knew that wherever he was taking her, it had to be special.

  She studied him as they plodded over scenic knolls, through wooded patches of fir and birch, and came to a clearing of sage and rosemary growing wild. To River, the man looked like a warrior on the hunt minus the bow and arrow.

  She’d already noted he hadn’t gone on the hike without bringing along his trusty .45 in case there was trouble—or they happen to spot a snake. The gun was strapped to his waist. The thought of slithering reptiles had her glancing at the ground and her feet. But she couldn’t blame him for toting the cannon. With someone out to get him, he couldn’t leave the house without coming prepared.

  About that time though, the rugged trail abruptly dead-ended into a slight drop off.

  Jutting rocks met up with dunes and fragrant sea grass. Below them the ocean glistened like a collection of sapphires. Hilly mounds of sand created a little valley where two adjoining rocks naturally came together to form an A-frame shape.

  She looked closer. Oak and pine guarded the jagged opening with an added overgrowth of tough manzanita to discourage people from getting inside.

  “Ohmygod. Is this what I think it is?”

  “Sacred ground.”

  She slid her pack off her shoulders, turned in a circle to really get the lay of the land. The surrounding banks offered an array of berries and wild vines curling up and over the rock. Sand dunes butted up against stone and pillar. But the narrow opening to the cave was the draw.

  “That and much more. No photos, you said. That means…” She made her way past the ground-hugging red bark, ducking under low-hanging branches to enter the cave. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the difference in light, she took in the brightly colored pictographs on the walls and ceiling,
distinctly Chumash.

  Her breath caught. They were like those she’d seen in Santa Barbara. Some were whimsical like the one where people gathered in obvious celebration of some sort. There were a few different versions of the sun. All told a story.

  Those paintings in Santa Barbara had been off limits, no way to venture up close and personal—but these, these glinted back at her—almost magical. The boulders themselves seemed to come alive, layer by layer, despite the rough texture. It was like stepping back in time. She could imagine the artists taking turns coming to this exact spot hundreds of years in the past to create from the rudimentary paints they’d made themselves.

  She itched to touch the depictions of turtles, fish, all manner of animals, some with serpentine shapes amid tribesmen on the hunt. Figures had been outlined in bold reds and blues and greens for emphasis. Those that hadn’t were simply carved in the stone with no use of color but rather etched with precision enough to make out the dance or a deer or a rabbit.

  “What do you call this place?” she wanted to know as the blanket she carried dropped to the floor of the cave where she stood.

  “In Chumash it loosely translates to the dunes and cave under the stars.” When he saw her brow crease, he added, “Look up. Notice the natural skylight. It’s sunny now but at night, it’s a great place for stargazing. It probably saw a lot of action at night. If you get my drift.”

  She grinned, glancing upward at the craggy dome above her head. Sunlight drifted down in streams of gold from several splits in the rock formation in the ceiling. “This place must be amazing at night, like having your own personal observatory. Starlight dunes and a cave. What more could you want?” she emphasized. “Imagine this in its natural state centuries earlier. What a magnificent place for the elements to come together! Can we stay until dark?”

  “You read my mind. I was hoping you’d want to.”

  “Are you kidding? I may never want to leave.” She twirled around, took in the walls again. “My God, Brent, your ancestors had such a flair for color and art and innovation. I mean, I’ve read the books, know they were magnificent boat builders so they could navigate the sea and make the most use of it. I dragged your parents through the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History until they looked like they wanted to collapse. So I know… But somehow this makes it all more real. Up close, it makes an impact. Why isn’t this place included in the history of the area? I found no mention of a cave on any of the charts or maps I researched. How has your family managed to keep it off the radar all this time and not crawling with tourists?”