Murder in the Lighthouse (Beachcomber Mystery #4)

1

B rogan and Lucien Sutter found themselves up to their eyeballs in other people’s problems during the run-up to Thanksgiving. They barely had time to take down the Halloween decorations before tackling Beckett Callahan’s missing person case.

Sam Heywood, a thirty-two-year-old city engineer from Santa Cruz, had been visiting Pelican Pointe two weeks earlier. When Sam stopped returning texts or phone calls, his long-time friend Lacey Jarnigan, who just happened to be Beckett’s ex-girlfriend, had reported him missing to the police. Brent Cody had already assigned Theo Woodsong, the new cop in town, to the case.

But when she dropped by the police station, Brogan discovered numerous details about Sam’s case that Lacey and Beckett had left out, either through miscommunication or handed misinformation, they’d gotten several things completely wrong.

It came to light at the front desk when Brogan asked for the new guy, Theo Windsong, and watched Eastlyn Parker laugh at the name.

“We’ve already had several people make that same mistake,” Eastlyn explained. “Theo went out and introduced himself to the community on his first day on the job. It seems the neighbors got the name wrong. It’s Woodsong, not Windsong. When Colt and I teased him about it, Theo didn’t even know that Wind Song was a popular perfume back in the day. I had an aunt who used to bathe in that stuff.”

Brogan widened her grin. “I must’ve heard one of the neighbors referring to him as Windsong. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, if you want to stay on his good side, I wouldn’t get his name wrong. He’s kind of sensitive about it now.”

“Woodsong. Got it. I’ll repeat the name until I get the perfume out of my head. Is he here at the station? When Beckett dropped this on us last night, he told us we should talk to Theo if we had questions because Brent would be on vacation for the next two weeks.”

Eastlyn nodded, picking up a business card with Theo’s name and handing it to Brogan. “The Chief is taking his family on a vacation to New Mexico, where River’s from. They’re participating in a tribal event for her and the boys, a ritual of sorts. The Cody family left this morning to catch a flight out of Santa Cruz. River’s idea was to take the boys camping, get them to spend quality time with their dad, and return to their native roots. As for Theo, he’s out following up on a lead, but he’s the one in charge of the case while Brent’s gone. Besides, he’s the one who found Heywood’s car parked at the lighthouse three days ago.”

Brogan studied the business card with Theo’s direct line and his cell phone listed. “I must be missing something already. Why was Sam Heywood here in town? Was he visiting a relative?”

Eastlyn swiveled in her chair. “He wasn’t visiting. That’s the weird thing. Sam initially came to this area from Santa Cruz to try and find his younger sister, a thirty-year-old records clerk who disappeared in Wilder Ranch Park six days before he went missing.”

Brogan sent the cop a confused look as she took out her iPad to make notes. “Wait a sec. Are you saying this case involves two missing people, not one? And they’re brother and sister? And they’re both from Santa Cruz? And both of them went missing a week apart?”

“It’s complicated. Bethany Heywood went missing first. She disappeared three weeks ago, and her brother a week later. He’s been missing two weeks. If you ask me, it’s a weird set of circumstances.”

“So, is Woodsong handling both disappearances?”

“Negative. The sheriff’s department is handling Bethany’s case because they believe she went missing in Wilder Ranch State Park. She told friends she had met someone online who liked to hike. She headed out to the park on a Sunday morning to meet this person. When she didn’t return home, the family sent her older brother looking for her. Now, no one can find him.”

“I get the feeling Lacey Jarnigan must’ve left out a lot of information when she contacted Beckett. It seems we got the basic premise wrong from the start. Was there a search at Wilder Ranch for the sister?”

“You bet. Massive. I took the chopper up to help out with the search. The sheriff’s department looked for three days by air using night vision, heat sensors, and drones. The ground search included dogs and four dozen volunteers. In all that time, we didn’t find squat, not even a backpack.”

“So the brother leaves his house in Santa Cruz and heads to the state park to find his sister but ends up missing in Pelican Pointe? That’s another forty minutes from Wilder Ranch.”

“For some reason, the brother’s search led him to Pelican Pointe and the lighthouse because that’s where Theo found his vehicle.”

Brogan jotted down more notes on her iPad. “What kind of car was Sam driving?”

Eastlyn flipped through several pages of the report on her desktop computer. “Sam Heywood drove a dark green 205 Subaru Forester. It’s in the police impound lot now. Bethany left Santa Cruz on a Sunday morning driving her mother’s 209 gray Mazda sedan because her car was in the shop.”

“What happened to the Mazda? Did they find that?”

“They never found the car or her belongings. Both Bethany and her brother are still classified as missing. Only the brother’s Subaru is listed as impounded.” She shifted in her chair. “Where’s Lucien? You two usually pair up on these kinds of things.”

“He’s dealing with a personal matter. One of Graeme’s multitude of fans keeps sending him love letters. Graeme wants to know who’s doing it.”

Eastlyn hooted with another round of laughter. “Celebrities. They live in a world of their own making, always attracting the odd stalker. Is it legit?”

“We don’t know yet. It seems this person got hold of his personal email account and began professing her love like clockwork, sending a love letter once a week for several months, usually arriving before noon every Wednesday.”

“It could be a nutcase and therefore dangerous. Best to check it out. I guess Lucien’s not taking any chances. I wish I could’ve made it to your Halloween party. Not that I’m a fan of Halloween.”

“You could’ve dropped in for a coffee after your shift.”

Eastlyn shook her head. “Turns out, we were hopping until midnight. Even Brent was still on duty. And yet he still got up at five this morning to get the whole family on the road to catch their flight. I wanted to drop by to catch up on the latest gossip. Cooper stayed home to hand out candy. What did we miss?”

Brogan wasn’t ready yet to confess that Lucien had a half-brother named Evan Sanders living in San Diego. Nor was she ready to admit that there was an excellent chance the woman she’d thought was her mother, the heiress Rachel Wingate Brinell, wasn’t her birth mother. Instead of bringing it up, she voiced a question of her own. “How often do DNA results come back from the lab a mistake?”

Eastlyn pondered that as she swept a strand of blonde hair back into her ponytail and tightened the band. “I suppose it does happen. But not that often.” She eyed Brogan, curiosity building. The cop in her wanted to know, “Did you take one of those DNA tests for genealogy purposes? Did you upload it into a database online and get results you weren’t expecting?”

Brogan nodded. “The results were—how do I put this—surprising.”

“That happens a lot these days. People are told one story their entire lives that turns out to be fabricated nonsense. They take a DNA test and get the shock of their life. Suddenly, their results turn their world upside down. What was the big revelation about yours?” Sensing Brogan’s reluctance, she held up a hand. “When you’re ready to talk about it, you know the drill.”

“Thanks. I’m still absorbing everything. The sad thing is that my dad isn’t around for me to ask questions. And my grandmother will likely be unwilling to share anything that puts the family name in a bad light.”

“Ah. Would it necessarily put things in a bad light, though? You’re pushing thirty. All that stuff happened a long time ago. My guess is it’s something about your parentage, correct?”

“The DNA revealed I have no blood ties to the Brinell side of the family. None at all. Rachel Brinell wasn’t the one who gave birth to me.”

“Oh. Wow. That is a shock. Was your mother adopted? Or maybe you were.”

Brogan swiped through her iPad to the DNA test she’d scanned earlier that morning into a digital format. “No idea about Rachel’s DNA or Delia’s. But my DNA came back as forty-eight percent English, forty-eight percent Scandinavian—heavy on the Swedish genes—and four percent Norwegian.”

“I take it your mother Rachel was not Swedish,” Eastlyn surmised.

“You got it. The Brinell claim to fame is thoroughly French. There’s no Scandinavian ancestry ever mentioned anywhere in the family tree.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“For now, stay busy with the Heywood case. Get ready for Thanksgiving at the end of the month. We’re looking forward to having Austin come home from college.”

“Your would-be veterinarian?”

“Fingers crossed. Cord’s protégé. If all goes as planned this summer, Austin should be doing his residency at Cord’s animal shelter or the Fanning Rescue Center. He’s excited either way.”

“In the meantime, you’re freaking out about this DNA result.”

“Maybe in my spare time, I’ll keep digging for answers online until I run out of things to search. At some point, I’ll need to fly to Connecticut to ask my grandmother about my origins face to face. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“Don’t drag it out too long, or it will drive you batty,” Eastlyn suggested. “The sooner you learn the truth, the better you’ll feel. Here’s an idea. Couldn’t you ask your dad’s other band members about what was happening back then, around the time you were conceived? Maybe you could get some answers from those who knew your dad best.”

“Like Graeme Sutter,” Brogan muttered. “Great idea. I’ll do that. Since I’m dad’s offspring, it’s my maternal side in question. Do you think the band knows stuff like that?”

“A rock band on tour with a bunch of groupies, coming and going, following them around wherever they go? Absolutely.”

“Of course they would,” Brogan reasoned. But something else was on her mind. “I hope Theo Woodsong accepts that Lucien and I are working on behalf of Sam Heywood’s friend. I hope Theo won’t be a problem. Beckett is the one who pulled us into this, or rather his ex-girlfriend did. Does Theo think like Brent? Is he a stickler about outsiders helping him with his cases?”

“I don’t know him well enough. But if you have legitimate information, I don’t see why he’d object. But if he’s as territorial as Brent is, he might. At this point, though, he needs all the help he can get. Let me know when you find out more about your parentage.”

“Sure. But don’t spread it around, okay? I don’t want anyone picking up on the story and splashing it all over the tabloids.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Eastlyn promised. “I’m not the type to join the rumor mill.”

Brogan smiled at that, remembering how the woman had just admitted she wanted to drop by the Halloween party to catch up on the latest gossip. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Where are you off to now?”

“I thought I’d drop by the lighthouse, take a look around, and see if I could figure out why Sam left his car there.”

“Call me if you need more info,” Eastlyn offered. “After all, your generosity is why we have the hotshot new detective in town anyway. It’s the reason we can afford his salary. Your generous donation keeps us viable and helps the town.”

Brogan looked disappointed. “You know about that? How? Brent was supposed to keep that quiet. Does Theo know, too? Does Colt?”

“Like I said, Theo won’t hear it from me. But he might hear it from the mayor or someone else privy to the town’s financial disclosures. Brent didn’t tell me. I do the monthly budget reports, though. I saw the influx of cash to the city budget and figured it out. Others might do the same. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I hope that doesn’t get around town. I don’t want people to think we’re buying favors from the police department. Lucien and I made the offer because the force is understaffed. For a town that keeps growing, three officers isn’t nearly enough. If adding one more person is the difference to keeping us all safe, it’s worth the money. That’s all there is to it.”

“No need to justify it to me. I’m happy to have extra backup on the street. I know Colt feels the same way. I don’t know why you’re so worried. You’re doing a good thing for the town.”

Brogan left it at that as she walked back to the parking lot, feeling like she’d been sucker-punched. Her stomach hadn’t felt this way since eighth grade when Amy Shetterly elbowed her in the gut during a volleyball championship game. She should’ve known that keeping any secret in a small town was damn near impossible. Would it matter overall? Would it change how people perceived them? She hoped not. She liked being able to fit in here.

Heading out of the lot, she took a left on Beach Street, then a right on Ocean as her thoughts turned from worrying about her own problems to the overall oddities of the Heywood case. By the time she pulled her Range Rover into a graveled parking lot in front of the keeper’s cottage, officially known as 4 Lighthouse Lane, her head felt like mush. It was full of questions and puzzling aspects of how someone could disappear in a town the size of Pelican Pointe where everyone knew everyone else’s business.

And why would Sam abandon his car at this location? It was up on a hill overlooking the town and, ultimately, the ocean. Had he met someone at the lighthouse who promised him information about his sister? Had Sam ever left the area at all? And where was Bethany?

Brogan glanced toward the thick woods across from where she sat in the car. Could Sam have met with foul play in those woods? It wouldn’t be the first time such things had happened there. She recalled the stories about a serial killer using those same woods as cover to bury his victims.

A chill ran through her body as she studied the towering lighthouse overlooking Smuggler’s Bay, restored to full function only a dozen years earlier. A sad thought occurred to her. Could Sam have gotten curious and ended up going inside? Had Theo or anyone else checked that out? she wondered. Had it been thoroughly searched from top to bottom? Or had Sam gone too close to the edge of the cliff, lost his footing, and taken a tumble down the side of the bluff?

“Not that,” she stated aloud. “Someone would have found his body by now on the beach below,” she reasoned. But thinking about all that brought out a round of anxiety so terrifying she found she couldn’t move, even a few inches to where her handbag was to dig for her phone and send a text message to Lucien.

Frozen by an unseen fear, she took a deep breath, trying to shake off the paralysis that gripped her. She knew she couldn’t let panic win, especially with no one around, alone in the middle of a parking lot by herself. With resolve strengthening within, she forced herself to move her arm. With her fingers, she began to dig for her phone, feeling around in her bag before finally pulling it out.

A tap on the window glass made her jump. She looked out the driver’s side window to see Lucien standing beside her SUV. Her fingers fumbled with the door lock.

Lucien noticed she was visibly upset. He opened the door and reached for her hand. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“How did you find me?” she managed.

“Eastlyn told me you were headed here. What the hell happened?”

She blurted out all the wrong things they’d assumed about Sam’s case. With it, her list of questions in a long, word string. In addition to that jumble, she told him about Sam Heywood’s Subaru, which was left in the parking lot. “The bottom line is he might still be in that lighthouse.”

Lucien seemed skeptical. “We should get hold of Windsong.”

“His name’s Woodsong. Theo. We had his name wrong. She dug in her bag for the business card she’d taken from the police station. “See? I was getting ready to call…somebody. You. Actually.”

“What scared the crap out of you, though? You looked white as a sheet. I don’t think you heard me drive up and park next to you,” Lucien pointed out as he keyed in Theo’s cell number. He glanced around the area and realized that even though the lighthouse overlooked the town, even though it was in broad daylight, the place gave off an abandoned, spooky vibe. “Did you see something or someone?”

She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I got this…eerie feeling that someone might be watching me…from the woods…or maybe from the top of the lighthouse.”

His eyes scanned upward to the tower and realized it wasn’t the best place to be alone. “Didn’t they used to have community Halloween parties here every year back in the old days?”

“They did. They tried to keep the tradition going, but after IDing the serial killer as the local pharmacist and recovering his victims’ remains in those woods, Murphy had a tough time convincing the town to continue, especially on Halloween. These days, the keeper’s cottage is mostly used for more upbeat events. Get-togethers like wedding receptions, sports banquets, baby showers, and community stuff. You can see how the cliff makes a perfect backdrop for taking photos. This is where they take school pictures now.”

Feeling better and talking things out with Lucien always helped—she stepped out of the car, her open-toed slingbacks crunching on the gravel. The salty tang of the ocean filled her senses. The wind whistled through the air, carrying a sense of something that prickled her skin. Brogan squared her shoulders, steeling her spine against whatever force kept her on guard.

As the two made their way closer to the lighthouse, the November air had a bite to it. The waves crashing against the rocks below signaled that morning high tide still lingered. The lighthouse loomed above them; its off-white stucco walls battered by the constant wind.

When Theo finally answered his phone, Lucien rattled off the reason he’d called. “Brogan and I are standing outside the base of the lighthouse. We were wondering if you looked for Sam Heywood inside the tower.”

Lucien could tell Theo didn’t mind the intrusion. The guy answered in a methodical, cop-speak tone. “The day I found the car, I went inside and looked around, underneath the spiral staircase, checked out the base and foundation rooms, but I didn’t go all the way up to the lantern room, maybe halfway up. I didn’t see the point of going to the top. Besides, it’s not a public place where you have access. You can’t just stroll inside and check the place out. The town keeps the place locked down tight for obvious safety reasons. The fear of jumpers is always there.”

“That makes sense.”

“It does. Heywood couldn’t get in because the doors were locked. There were no signs any doors had been jimmied. I had to ask Colt Del Rio for the keys. I now have my own set. Do you want to go in and look around anyway?”

“I suppose that would be a waste of time if the doors were locked on the day he abandoned his car. Why would he do that? Leave his car here?”

“No idea what was going through his head. All I know is that he had searched multiple times in Wilder Ranch Park along with the search teams to find his sister. The day he disappeared; he came directly from Santa Cruz. We think he drove here to put up flyers around town.”

“And then disappeared,” Lucian concluded.

“Exactly.”

“What can we do to help you?” Lucien asked.

“If you’re serious, then help me search the woods. I wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Sure. Have you asked Terra Search one checks the bottom half while the other goes all the way to the top.”

“Fine,” Theo spit out, giving in. “Let’s just get this show moving. But I take the lead once we’re done inside when we get to the woods.”

Beckett held up his hands as he glanced at his brother. “Fine by us.”

After unlocking the outside door with his keys, Theo stood back to let Lucien yank open the heavy door for the others.

As the group entered the lighthouse in a single file, a musty mothball scent greeted them as motion-activated lights kicked on with each step. Birk and Jade followed Journey as the dog darted forward, her tail wagging excitedly, sniffing along the concrete floor for any trace of Sam Heywood. The dog led Birk and Jade toward the staircase while Beckett tried to get Brodie to go in the opposite direction and circle the base.

From their position at the rear of the line, Lucian and Brogan could see their presence had disturbed dust motes and cobwebs dancing in the beams of light that cut across the vast chamber. She elbowed Lucien in the ribs. “Do you smell that, or is it just me?”

“Hard to miss. I don’t know if it’s because the place is old, or something is rotting in the walls.”

“But Logan Donnelly had this place revamped a dozen years ago,” she whispered. “It shouldn’t smell like rotting eggs.”

“He probably just put on new plaster and stucco,” Lucien reasoned, noting that the smell was getting stronger as they got deeper into the first floor. “Maybe it was more cosmetic than a remodel.”

Brogan shook her head. A sense of unease settled in her throat as she watched Brodie refuse Beckett’s direction to veer off in another direction. As if the dog sensed something amiss, the pooch followed the first group up the narrow staircase behind Journey, Birk, and Jade.

Forced to trail after them, Theo stayed stuck in the middle of the pack.

As she and Lucien hung back, the walls seemed to murmur secrets from the past, and the creaking stairs beneath their feet added an eerie soundtrack to their search.

Birk and Journey reached the first room used for storage. It was a tidy space that housed the town’s emergency rations in case of a natural disaster—five-gallon jugs of water lined one wall while shelves of canned goods lined the other. There was a small bathroom with a shower stall to the left of the staircase.

Uninterested in this level, Journey kept going. She led them up one floor to the kitchen with all the conveniences of home—stainless steel appliances, cabinets, a sink, a table and chairs, and an island in the middle.

“I don’t understand,” Jade whispered to no one in particular. “As a newcomer, I’ve never been inside this place, but it looks to me like someone could live here if they wanted to.”

“That was Donnelly’s initial plan. He even set up his art studio inside the watch tower until he met and married Kinsey,” Beckett explained. “He spent a small fortune making this place habitable for himself, only to realize he didn’t want a bachelor pad anymore.”

“I would’ve still used it to paint, though. But that’s not what Logan did. He deeded the entire lighthouse to the town, including the keeper’s cottage,” Birk added.

The next level was the living quarters, where every inch of space was used to complete the apartment layout. The five-hundred square feet of living space held a king bed, a couch, and a small forty-inch television screen attached to the wall. There was another powder room, a half bath with a sink and toilet cordoned off by a pocket door next to the adjacent bedroom area. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Each floor looked in pristine condition.

A fact Theo pointed out. “I told you there’s nothing out of place here. I got this far in my initial response.”

“Except for that terrible odor,” Brogan muttered, waving a hand in front of her nose. “It stinks in here. I can’t be the only one who smells that.”

“It’s getting worse the closer we get to the top,” Jade acknowledged. “Birk?”

“Yeah, hard to miss. The dogs recognize that smell, and so do I. Decomposition.”

Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, Brogan turned to Lucian. “I’m heading back to ground level. I need to get outside in the fresh air.”

Jade nodded. “Same here. I’ll go with her. I’m not keen on finding out where that odor originates. Hopefully, it’s a dead squirrel or possum. You guys can tell us all about it later.”

Lucien watched the women head back down before pivoting toward Theo. “If this is as far as you got that day, do you remember it smelling like this?”

Grudgingly, Theo shook his head. “The air was a little musty maybe, but nothing that reeked decomp.”

The dogs began to whine, especially Journey, as she climbed the stairs to the top. A small room opened up, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding woods and ocean. But what lay scattered on the floor caught the dog’s attention. A backpack lay forgotten in one corner. The contents spilled out and scattered along the concrete flooring.

Theo took out his camera phone to snap a picture. “No one touch anything. Got that?”

But Journey and Brodie were not finished. The dogs continued up the staircase to the beacon above, reaching the lantern room ahead of anyone else.

The source of the smell became evident as the dogs sat beside a decaying body crumpled against the wall in an unmistakable hit for search dogs. Lucien’s breath caught in his throat, a mixture of horror and sorrow washing over him as he studied the scene before looking away. With his heart sinking, he froze in the doorway, unable to take another step forward. The group stood back in stunned silence for a few seconds, unable to comprehend that they’d found the source of the putrid smell.

Theo moved first, his instincts kicking in despite the grim sight. The stench of decomposition had Lucien backing up. Not wanting to pass out in front of everyone else, he saw Theo bending down over the corpse, gingerly checking for ID in the man’s pockets. Lucien stumbled backward about the same time he spotted the man’s sickly shade of gray. He saw his eyes wide open in a frozen expression of horror. He fixated on the large patch of dried blood caked on the man’s shirt.

The room began to spin when he heard Theo curse under his breath as the cop immediately radioed for backup, his voice laced with urgency. “Eastlyn, I’m on the top floor of the lighthouse. I think we’ve found Sam Heywood. Notify the county coroner. I need a crime scene unit. I’m securing the scene. Wherever Del Rio is, could you ask him to get here as soon as possible? Thanks.”

Theo angled toward the group. “I need everyone to back out of here. Take the dogs with you.”

Lucien had no problem with that. But before he spun around, he thought he saw Theo’s hands shaking as he continued to film the area with his camera phone around the body for evidence.

The dogs whimpered as they descended the stairs, clearly distressed by the gruesome sight. The smell of death hung heavy in the air, suffocating and oppressive.

“How could he have missed that?” Birk grumbled to no one in particular as they made their way to ground level. “Big city detective or not, he had a chance to find that body three days ago at the same time he discovered the car and didn’t. He’s the one who didn’t even want to go inside today until we insisted on it.”

“He did say the door was locked,” Lucien pointed out. “I’m not defending his actions, but…”

“Locked or not, Woodsong didn’t check out the top,” Birk accused. “He admits he didn’t. If not for the dogs—”

“I know,” Lucien said, shoving open the door and sucking in fresh air. He spotted Brogan. Without saying a word, she seemed to already know what they’d found.

“He was up there, wasn’t he? Sam Heywood was up there all this time, and no one knew it.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “From what I saw, he’d been up there at least three days, maybe longer. But I don’t think he’s been up there for two weeks. Beckett, what do you think?”

“Nah. Not two weeks. Birk?”

“I would agree with that. But the body still should’ve been found three days ago.”

Lucien shifted his feet. “We still don’t know what happened to Bethany Heywood. Which means we should search the woods anyway.”

“Someone should check out the keeper’s cottage as part of the process of elimination,” Brogan suggested.

Jade nodded. “She’s right. We could clear it while you guys take the woods. It would save time.”

Birk sent her a skeptical look. “Do you really want to go in there on the off chance you could find another body?”

A mortified Jade shook her head. “I guess not. I’ll pass.”

“We’ll do it,” Beckett stated. “I’ll walk back up to the lantern room and get the key from Woodsong.”

“I’ll ask him for the key,” Lucien stated as he angled toward the lighthouse again. “You start marking up the grid for the woods.”

Beckett bobbed his head and removed a map from his jacket pocket. “Let’s get this done while Theo’s busy with the body. The less interference we have, the better.”