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  Jackson had to admit upscale sounded like something Walker would demand. “But Sinclair said your brother came down here to fish.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes and snarled back, “That sounds like something your inept sheriff would focus on instead of the fact Walker owed him money.”

  “Police chief,” Jackson corrected.

  “Whatever. The thing you need to know is that Ryan fulfilled his part of the contract, one hundred percent. But after sending your brother-in-law several demands for payment, and getting ignored, Ryan felt like he’d been scammed. Buchanan went silent for almost a month, not a word out of him. But Ryan didn’t give up. He kept sending him invoices to Walker’s email account. After another week went by and the money still hadn’t shown up in the bank as promised, Ryan, went to bugging the hell out of him, this time with phone calls. Then one day, Ryan decided to ratchet up the heat with the only thing he had left. If Walker didn’t come up with the money within seventy-two hours, Ryan would take down the website. The day after Ryan sent that email, out of the blue, this Walker guy sends Ryan back a response, all friendly like. He says for Ryan to come down to Florida and they’d settle up the account. It seems Walker wanted to take him fishing during his visit to make up for the misunderstanding about the payment and to show there were no hard feelings.”

  Tessa started to tear up. “The last time I heard from Ryan was the day he left Nags Head. He drove down here in his own vehicle and now I can’t even locate the car. Neither can your chief of police. No one seems to want to cooperate with me or tell me anything. No one seems to care. All I know is Ryan’s business arrangement with Walker was amenable up until Walker refused to pay. Now, Ryan’s gone missing.”

  “So you’re saying Ryan drove all this way for five grand? That doesn’t make any sense. Why didn’t Ryan demand Walker send the money via wire transfer?”

  “Maybe because Walker never had any intentions of paying Ryan what he owed him. Did you consider that angle? If you want to know what I think, I think your brother-in-law lured Ryan down here with every intention of doing him harm and then followed through with it.”

  “Over five grand? Walker’s father pretty much owns half this town. Walker…”

  Tessa stepped closer to Jackson and poked a sharp fingernail into his chest. “Now, you listen to me, asshole. You don’t get to come to my room and accuse my brother of wrongdoing, especially since he’s missing. Ryan was merely doing his job, a job Walker contracted him to do. Ryan created a beautiful, detailed, artistic work of art for this guy and Buchanan stiffed him. The fishing story was nothing more than a come-on to get Ryan down here…”

  Her breath hitched. She had to pause before going on. “All Ryan did was trust the wrong guy. He came down here to collect his money and maybe get in some fishing, something he loved doing and now…”

  “But for five grand? People don’t go missing over five grand.”

  “Stop saying it like that! Some people need that kind of cash to—I don’t know—do regular things like eat and pay rent. Or haven’t you heard?”

  When she finally took a breath, Jackson tried to correct his mistake. “You’re right. Let’s back up a minute. In case you didn’t understand the situation, my family is in the same boat you’re in, looking for answers anywhere we can find them. That’s what brought me to your door, not...I didn’t come in here to accuse your brother of any wrongdoing.”

  Tessa pushed her hair off her face and cut him off. “Sure you did. It’s as if you thought Ryan had done something dishonest and pressured Walker Buchanan for money on a whim. If anyone should be outraged here, it’s me. I’m the one who should be chucking spears the size of cannons back at you for that accusatory tone. I’m willing to cut you a degree of slack because you have a missing family of four. But that doesn’t mean you get to walk in here and accuse my brother of being part of something illegal. And in case you weren’t paying attention, Ryan went missing weeks before the members of your family ever did.”

  Jackson’s eyes flashed amber hot. “That’s been pointed out to me already. For the record, I’m not accusing your brother of anything. I’m trying to figure out what went on and why we’ve been unable to locate two little kids. And how exactly they could possibly play into taking off like this? Or have you forgotten there are kids involved?”

  He let out a long, frustrated breath as he searched her wary blue eyes. “Look, I apologize if I led you to believe I thought your brother was into something bad. Walker wasn’t exactly a choirboy. He comes from a long line of slick wealthy operators.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I tell you what, let’s start over. How about we merge our forces? Come to my parents’ house tonight for dinner. We’ll sit down and hash this all out and try to get to the bottom of it.”

  Tessa bit her lip. “Really? This isn’t some sort of trick, is it, to lure me out of the hotel and do away with me in the dark of night? Because if you don’t mind me saying, so far, this town of yours sucks because it’s mostly been unfriendly as hell to me. And I’m not completely sure who I should trust.”

  “No tricks. I’m sorry about the cold reception,” Jackson said in apology. “But we’ll try to rectify the friendliness thing. Right now, I need to go pick my brother up at the airport. If you have a pen, I’ll write down directions to get to the house. It isn’t far. You won’t have any trouble finding it.”

  She sucked in a nervous breath to ease the pent-up stress. “Better still, give me the address and I’ll key it into my phone, let my mobile GPS app do the rest.”

  Jackson took the phone out of her hand and typed in the info along with his number. “There. You get lost, you call.”

  “I won’t. Get lost, that is. I started out as a mapmaker, also known as a field surveyor for the county. At least I used to do that before I found out there’s more money in blogging online full time.”

  “You’re kidding. There’s money in blogging?”

  She lifted a shoulder of indifference. “Yeah, who knew? If you do it the right way.”

  He cracked a grin. “It’s a shame you gave up the mapmaker thing. I use maps all the time.”

  She finally rewarded him with a half-smile. “Glad to hear it. But doesn’t popular myth state that most men forego directions or maps altogether?”

  “Only if they want to wander around aimlessly in the wilderness.” Curious, he had to ask. “What kind of a blog?”

  “DIY projects. One of the local hardware stores back in Nags Head employs me to run their blog, promote business and answer online questions about a variety of projects. Then there’s the fact I have an additional in with the owners because my dad’s a plumber. He’s been a good customer for decades, although he was thinking about retiring soon. That is, if my stepmother will allow it.”

  Jackson sent her a strange look. “So she’s one of those taskmasters who wears the pants in the family?”

  “Pardon my being honest, but Suzanne’s a bitch, plain and simple, the typical poster girl for wicked stepmothers. My poor dad joined one of those online dating sites and found Suzanne for a twenty-five-dollar membership fee. Not much of a bargain since she reeled him in looking for a lonely sap with a fat bank account, which she now controls. My dad’s the sweetest guy. All he was looking for was a little company after my mother died. Instead he got an overbearing shrew who makes him check in every thirty minutes or so.”

  “Wow, she sounds horrible.”

  “You have no idea. She has a penchant for sitting on her ass and screaming orders at him like a queen bee. She treats him like her personal fetch boy.” Tessa struggled with that description. “I feel so sorry for my poor dad. He’ll probably end up working himself into an early grave and have a heart attack standing over someone’s plugged toilet and when he dies Suzanne will get every dime of his life insurance. After he’s served his purpose she’ll likely go online, and do the same thing all over again to some other poor schlep.”

  Jackson wasn’t sure how to re
spond. So he went with a benign comment. “Families have complicated interactions all around.”

  “Mine wasn’t, not really, not until Suzanne happened on the scene. That was a short two years ago. Ryan and I spent the last six months trying to get Dad to wake up and consider leaving Suzanne. Then before we could complete the deal, Ryan goes missing.”

  “That’s why you should come over tonight and see if we can solve this thing. Remember, you aren’t alone in this anymore.”

  A lump clogged in Tessa’s throat at the notion. “So you think Ryan going missing is connected to your sister’s case?”

  “It’s a distinct possibility.” It suddenly hit him. “You came down all this way by yourself to look for your brother, alone, in a strange place.”

  “I’m a big girl.”

  “I see that. But it’s still an amazing feat.”

  “Why? What was I supposed to do? Leave it to your chief of police to solve and get back to me long distance?”

  Jackson smiled. Some people would’ve done just that. “I’m not sure waiting for Sinclair to act would get you anywhere. That’s why your being here is so special.”

  Chapter Three - Fire

  On Bayside Boulevard the Life Stone Church sat at the end of the block along a row of historic 1930 Queen Annes built with classic gables and widow walks. Residents in this part of town were known to keep their lawns tidy, their flowerbeds professionally maintained as landscapers toiled with overflowing fragrant hibiscus, wild petunias, and feathery periwinkles.

  Lenore strolled along the sidewalk lined with lofty buccaneer and silver palms. In no hurry to get to her destination, she stopped to study the cavalcade of yellow trout lilies that Cozelle Dunfrey had coaxed to grow in containers and set out on her front stoop. She’d tried to grow them a time or two without success. Even Livvy had attempted to get the hard-to-grow plant to thrive with no luck. And Livvy could grow anything.

  When she reached the chapel, she took a minute to gaze at the original stone structure, used now for private meditation and prayer. With its stained glass windows and Victorian turrets, it could’ve been plunked from any Irish countryside or nestled on a college campus. But it was here so long ago, that Lenore had sought out a place to make a spiritual connection, to find a refuge where she could bring her brood and get away from life’s pressures.

  Balancing other people’s books and carrying out a long to-do list raising four kids, she craved that link with others for a couple of hours every Sunday where she could make sure her head stayed on straight. Over the years Life Stone had become a staple in her life as fierce as the vitamin D she took every day to keep her bones healthy. She relied on the people here for inspiration and support.

  The walls of the courtyard were awash in warm sunshine as she flipped up the latch on the gate. But instead of heading inside, right now she felt more comfortable standing in the coolness of the shadows. For Lenore, the idea of knowing Livvy and Blake and Ally were no longer just down the street, made the world lose its brilliance.

  She didn’t really have the strength to open those double doors and go into the empty auditorium to sit confined within another four walls. She could’ve done that at home. Instead, she opted for a seat on the concrete bench under the burgeoning Jamaican dogwood.

  She raised her head upward, blocked the glare from her eyes with her hand. The thirty-foot tree, laden with purple fall blossoms, created such a beautiful sanctuary it made her realize she could pray anywhere without leaving the precious sunshine.

  In this beautiful garden, she’d surely get a little peace and quiet for longer than five minutes. Tanner was her rock, always had been. Her boys were coming together to help her through this ordeal. But lord, what a racket they could make when they got together. Livvy would be the first one to attest to that fact.

  These past two days had been a nightmare. If she could just sit here long enough to watch the sky fill up with stars, Lenore knew she could get through one more night of anguish. Maybe she’d wake up any minute and it would all have been a terrifying dream. Livvy and the kids would be tucked inside their house down the street again. Maybe they’d be dropping by later for supper. She’d fry up a couple of chickens and make a pile of mashed potatoes. Blake loved her fluffy potatoes. Maybe she’d throw together a key lime pie for dessert. It was Ally’s favorite.

  She snapped out of her daydreaming, rested her head in her hands. The dull throb of a headache began to pound at her temples. In spite of the pain, she lifted her head to the heavens.

  Please, God, please. Let Livvy and the kids be okay. Bring them back home where they belong.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as a thought occurred to her. She realized she’d left her cell phone back home. What if Livvy called while she sat here feeling sorry for herself?

  Lenore stood up and scurried across the bricks of the piazza to the street, all the while feeling the need to get back home. She’d make chicken the way Livvy and Ally liked it. She’d fix Blake’s mashed potatoes with all his favorite ingredients.

  Lenore had one thought in mind. Her daughter and grandchildren would soon be headed back home. She had to think like that. Anything else, made her crazy with grief.

  Jackson had a fifteen-minute wait on the tarmac for Garret’s commuter to arrive. At six-fifteen he watched the turboprop make its descent, touch down on the runway, and then taxi to a stop at an angle.

  Without a jetway, Jackson stood to the side as the hatch of the Beechcraft Super King opened and the steps dropped. His youngest brother appeared at the top, the first one out of the closed up space.

  Garret didn’t like long flights any more than he liked being cooped up in a claustrophobic cabin. With a flight time of twenty-five-plus hours, the trip from Melbourne to Miami meant Garret had been on a plane for longer than a day. It explained the day-old stubble that could easily be mistaken for the beginnings of a goatee.

  Jackson watched his brother heft a bag to one shoulder, sling a guitar case over the other.

  Garret’s face showed major jet lag, the giveaway was the dark bags under his eyes. His mahogany hair sported a few honey-colored streaks running from cap to tip, evidence of all the time he spent outdoors. Today the pro surfer wore it stretched back in a tight ponytail for easier upkeep while traveling.

  It occurred to Jackson that his parents had tagged this one at birth. The name Garret personified the label “brave one with a spear.” That was his baby brother, or maybe more apt, “fearless with a surfboard.”

  As soon as Garret reached the blacktop, Jackson relieved him of the bag and wrapped an arm around a shoulder. “God, am I ever glad to see you. Even if you do look wiped and out of it.”

  “Somewhere over the South Pacific I took an Ambien to help me sleep. But I got antsy once I woke up. Twelve hours in and I was ready to climb out on the wing. You try sitting on a plane for what seems like two days and then tell me how you’d do.”

  “No argument from me. Last time I did that I came back from studying the coral reef in Menai Bay, Zanzibar.”

  “Then you know. Look, I have to grab my surfboard out of the belly and then we’re good to go.”

  “I’ll do it.” Jackson surveyed the cargo hold. “You brought a lot of stuff with you.”

  “Hey, when I fly I never leave behind my board or my guitar, no exceptions. Them’s the rules I live by.”

  “But you still play drums, right? I noticed your old set is still taking up most of the hall closet.”

  Garret sent him an easy grin. “You bet. I’m a drummer at heart. But even I’ve never been able to build up the discipline to cart them around in the cargo hold of a triple-seven. It’s a pain in the butt with this much stuff. How are Mom and Dad holding up?”

  “About like you’d expect when one of their own is MIA. Plus, they’ve been waiting to get a look at their baby boy.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure Dad thinks all I do is bum around the world and surf.”

  “That’s exactly wh
at you do.”

  Garret grinned again. “You know who taught me to surf? Livvy. She was ten. I was four. I remember one particular summer day. Before that, all I’d done was splash around in the water near shore. Livvy put me up on her board and I sailed through the waves beside her. So blame her. The first time, holding on tight to her. The next time…”

  “You had to try it all by yourself. I hate to burst your bubble, but that wasn’t the first time you went surfing. That might be your first memory of it, but Livvy used to drag you to the beach all the time. You couldn’t have been more than two when she took her first picture of you sitting on top of her surfboard with that old Pentax Spotmatic camera. Mom still has it front and center, hung up on that photo gallery back home.”

  Garret’s lips curved up again. “I remember that thing. For a couple of years there Livvy never left the house without it dangling around her neck, took that thing everywhere she went.”

  “You ought to remember it. It used to belong to Dad’s Aunt Tansy.”

  “The one who worked as a photojournalist for Time magazine?”

  “Yep. Tansy used that thing to take pictures of combat nurses assigned to the MASH units during the Vietnam War. They should be in a museum somewhere. Sad thing is, I remember Mom making Livvy and me clean out the attic one summer day. We were being punished for fighting over chores. While we were knee deep in junk, Livvy discovered Tansy’s camera buried in a box of pictures. I swear Livvy danced all the way down the stairs to ask if she could claim it as hers, finders keepers and all.”