Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
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Staying with Ford and Peyton was less weird than I was afraid it would be, which, in and of itself, freaked me out. It felt natural. Easy.
I didn’t trust easy.
I hadn’t felt comfortable just shacking up in his bed with her in the house, so we’d ended up sleeping wedged on the sofa. That way we’d have the excuse of pretending oops, we just fell asleep out here. Given Ford’s height and bulk, that meant he slept on the sofa, and I slept stretched out on him. Comfortable? Not exactly. But I wouldn’t have traded being wrapped up in him for anything. Ford might have, considering I’d nearly unmanned him with my knee when Keeley started barking at something in the wee hours of the morning, and I’d jolted awake, confused.
Now I was on breakfast duty and wishing for about a gallon of coffee as Peyton tried and failed to hide a delighted grin. I didn’t think our ruse had fooled her one iota. Damned smart kid.
The scent of bacon filled the kitchen, and I kept my bleary gaze on the pan to make sure it didn’t burn.
Ford nudged my shoulder and passed me a mug. “Here.”
I inhaled deeply and sighed as my synapses perked up at the smell of dark roast. “Bless you.”
He sent me a long look and a faint smile that curled my toes, before turning away to pull eggs from the fridge. “What’s on your list for the day? Going in to the Brewhouse?”
“I want to check in on the lunch shift, for sure. But this morning I want to go by Pop’s place to check on things. Water the plants and whatnot. I also want to pack him a bag. I know it’ll be a while before he’s released, but he’ll want fresh clothes when he is.”
Ford’s hand stroked down my back. “I think that’s a positive step.” He glanced at his daughter. “What about you? I know you said you still have that Spanish vocab.”
“It won’t take long.”
He nodded. “I, unfortunately, need to catch up on work.”
“Peyton could come with me while you do that. Then we could bring back a late lunch after shift’s over.”
“Oh, yeah. That sounds good.” Peyton’s ready agreement had me wondering whether she was waiting for a chance to corner me about what was going on between me and her father. But I couldn’t very well retract the offer because I was being a chickenshit.
So that was how I found myself loading Peyton into the front seat of my Jeep as I drove the short distance to Pop’s place.
His house sat back from the road, nestled beneath ancient live oaks draped with Spanish moss. The cedar shingles had weathered to a soft gray, worn smooth by decades of salt spray and storms. It wasn’t much to look at—just a simple one-story cottage with a deep front porch and white trim that needed touching up. But it was home.
“This is where you grew up?” Peyton hopped out of the Jeep, taking in the weathered wind chimes and the collection of beach glass in mason jars that lined the porch rail.
“From age eight on, yeah.” I climbed the creaky steps, fishing my keys from my pocket. “Pop’s lived here for over forty years. Back when this was just a working-class neighborhood of fishermen and boat builders.”
Now most of those modest homes had been torn down, replaced by towering vacation rentals with infinity pools. But this little pocket had survived, probably because the owners were too stubborn to sell.
Through the front window, I could see Pop’s favorite chair still pulled up to the view overlooking the water. His coffee cup sat on the side table, where he’d set it down that morning before heading to the Brewhouse. As if he’d expected to be back later. Because, of course, he had. My throat constricted.
“There’s his dock.” I nodded toward the weathered boards stretching out over the sound. “He doesn’t take the boat out as much anymore since his heart started acting up. But he still likes to sit out there and fish.”
The space felt empty without him in it. Wrong. But I pushed that thought away and focused on why we were here.
I pulled open the screen door and went to put the key into the lock, but I realized the interior door was already slightly ajar. Had he forgotten to lock it on his way out? It wouldn’t surprise me. He’d been on the island since God was a boy, through all those years when people simply didn’t lock up. I’d been on him the past decade to change that habit, but my success rate was spotty.
Shaking my head, I pushed the door open and froze.
The living room looked normal at first glance, but something felt off. My gaze swept left, catching on the slightly crooked drawer of Pop’s roll-top desk. He was meticulous about keeping that closed.
My heart kicked up. “Stay here.”
But Peyton had already followed me inside. “What’s wrong?”
I moved deeper into the house, taking in details that screamed wrongness. Books pulled partway off shelves. Cabinet doors left open a crack. The throw pillows on the couch sat at odd angles, as if they’d been lifted and replaced.
“Someone’s been in here.” My voice came out tight. “They went through his things.”
Peyton’s eyes went wide. “Like at that Galef guy’s place?”
Without answering, I herded Peyton back onto the porch, not wanting to contaminate any prospective evidence. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“This is Bree Cartwright. Someone has broken into my grandfather’s house.” I gave the address.
“Is there any sign that the perpetrator is still on the premises?”
The house definitely felt empty, but I hadn’t looked. “None obvious. We’re still outside.”
“Officers are being dispatched to your location. Please remain outside the residence.”
I hung up the phone and texted Ford with shaking hands.
Bree: Someone searched Pop’s house. Police coming.
His response was immediate.
Ford: On my way.
“Should we… should we look around outside?” Peyton asked. “See if they left anything?”
I shook my head. “Better let the police handle that. Though I doubt they’ll find much.” Whoever had done this had been careful, methodical. They’d either known exactly what they were doing or had been able to take their time, so as to leave little trace.
The question was—what the hell had they been looking for?
That was the same question Office Chris Shelton had after he’d cleared the house.
“Any idea what they could’ve been looking for? Is anything missing?”
Once I’d been given permission to look, I moved through the house, checking where I knew Pop kept anything worth anything. The spare cash in his top dresser drawer was gone, but the TV and all the easily moved electronics were still there, including his laptop and tablet.
“Possibly his spare cash, but I can’t say whether Pop took that himself. I can’t exactly ask him right now.”
Ford wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
Chris offered a sympathetic smile. “That’s tough. We’re all rooting for Ed to make a full recovery.”
“I appreciate that.”
He rocked back on his heels, hooking his fingers into his duty belt. “There was no sign of forced entry. Is Ed in the habit of leaving the door unlocked?”
“Unfortunately, it happens more often than I’d like.”
I watched as Chris considered his words and knew I wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“Is it possible that Ed himself is the one who did this?”
I wanted to argue, but I hadn’t been over here in the days before his AFib attack. What if he’d been having smaller episodes, and I hadn’t seen?
I looked around the house again. Noting all the tiny things that were just… wrong. “No. He was meticulous about how he kept his books and his desk.”
Chris just nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll write up a report, but with nothing else to go on, it’s looking like a crime of convenience. Somebody found the place unlocked, grabbed the cash and dashed.”
“What if somebody was looking for his research?” Peyton suggested.
“What kind of research?” Chris asked.
“He was helping me with a school project on piracy in the area and found some inconsistencies between maps.”
Chris flashed an indulgent smile. “Ah, yeah. Everybody on the island has to go through a pirate phase. But nobody’s found anything in thirty years.”
“Doesn’t mean something isn’t there,” Peyton pointed out.
“True. Are his research notes missing?”
“No. I’ve got them. He had them at the Brewhouse the night he… well, when he got sick.”
“I’ll make a note in my report. But truthfully, Bree, we don’t have a lot to go on here.”
Ford’s arm tightened around my shoulders. “So that’s it?”
“We can pick up patrols in the area, but in all likelihood, nobody’s coming back. If you find out later something is missing, we’ll certainly add that in, but there’s not much else we can do. I understand you’re upset and probably rattled, what with everything else happening lately. Chief thinks some folks are taking advantage of everybody being unsettled to cause trouble. This is probably more of that.”
I didn’t like that as an answer, but I saw his point. The best we could do for now was set things to rights and lock up after ourselves.
Once Chris had gone, I began to do just that, straightening books and closing cabinets and drawers.
Ford interrupted me, taking me by the shoulders. “I think you should move in with us until all this is sorted.”
“Ford…”
“Seriously. I’ll worry less. Please.”
“Yeah, if it’s safer for me to be with somebody all the time, the same is true for you,” Peyton insisted.
I split a look between them. “Really? You’re both going to railroad me?”
“Railroad is such an aggressive term,” Ford drawled, but I didn’t miss the hint of a smile at the edge of his mouth.
“Sorry. Not sorry,” Peyton announced. “Is it working?”
I could fight them on it. I lived right next door, after all. But the idea of being alone in my place still left me a little unsettled. I didn’t expect that would be any better after finding out that Pop’s place had been searched. Maybe Chris was right, and it was a crime of opportunity. But in the wake of the murder and all the other vandalism that had happened around the island, it just didn’t feel right.
I blew out a long breath. “Fine. But when you see how much stuff Keeley comes with, I’m going to remind you that you brought this on yourselves.”