Lost Love Cove (Sunset Keys Romance #6)

Chapter 1

CARRIE

A heavy thump hit the door, followed by a sharp “oof” and the rattle of a chain.

Carrie rose half out of her chair as the suite door burst open.

Matt filled the doorway, and despite the dangerous situation, her heart thumped, but her attention was caught when Trent pushed into the room behind him, his gun steady in his hand.

“What on earth!” Cheryl hissed, pushing back from the table so fast the chair feet scraped.

“Mom. Alisha.” Trent crossed the threshold in three long strides, concern breaking through the hard set of his jaw. “Are you okay?” His weapon was aimed at Cheryl as he hissed. “Don’t take another step, ma’am.”

“Dad!” Alisha rushed past them to where Matt had stopped just inside the doorway. He caught Alisha up and held on, his relief so plain it softened Carrie’s chest. He pressed his cheek to his daughter’s hair, then looked over her head to Carrie, mouthing, “Are you all right?”

Carrie nodded and gave him a tight smile before turning back to where Trent was pulling some cable ties from his jacket pocket and holding them out toward Matt. “Matt, would you mind restraining those two goons in the hallway?”

“Okay,” Matt gently pushed Alisha away from him and took the cable ties.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Alisha offered.

“No, sweetheart, stay back,” Matt told her. “Trent managed to knock them both out.”

He ducked out the door, and Alisha stood beside Carrie, who was trying to diffuse the situation between Trent and Cheryl.

“What did you do to the guards?” Cheryl asked, her eyes wide with shock.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Trent said, not taking his eyes off Cheryl. He stepped closer to Carrie, still keeping the gun trained on their reluctant hostess. “But you, on the other hand…” His gaze was cool and unblinking. “You’re coming with me.”

“Wait.” Carrie moved between them on instinct, a palm angled toward Trent, the other hand open toward Cheryl as if she were directing traffic. “You’re not taking her anywhere. She’s in my custody.”

“Mom…” Trent lifted his brows, the warning in his voice unmistakable. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me pull rank on you.”

“You can try,” Carrie answered quietly, eyes holding his. “But then you’d have to tell me the truth about who you really work for… and why you’ve lied to your family all these years.”

Trent didn’t flinch at the words but glanced accusingly at Alisha instead. “Thanks,” he said dryly.

Alisha set her chin, a hint of color rising to her cheekbones. “You said you were the good guy. Good guys don’t keep this much from the people who love them.”

Trent exhaled and lowered the muzzle a fraction, enough to show he heard them, not enough to be careless. “I can’t discuss my work,” he said to both of them, then focused on his mother. “Mom, as a police chief, you understand why.”

“We’ll discuss it another time,” Carrie told him, knowing he was right about procedure and still not liking any of it.

“For now, lower the gun before someone gets hurt.” She turned to Cheryl, keeping her voice even.

“Are you going to come with us and cooperate, or do I let him take you into his custody?”

Cheryl lifted her chin as if she were standing at a gala podium rather than in the middle of a mess she’d helped make. “I told you, I was trying to make this right.”

“You can start by sorting out the fraudulent land deals,” Matt said, stepping back into the room and coming up behind Carrie and Alisha. “Although I’m not sure how you’re going to unravel that.”

“There is a way,” Cheryl replied, unexpectedly firm. “But we have to find the missing heir first.”

Trent and Matt spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping in confusion. “You’re not Cheryl Winters?”

“She is Cheryl Winters,” Carrie said, cutting through their confusion. “She’s just not Delia Winter’s missing heir.”

“That would be her older sister, who was adopted at birth,” Alisha added, filling in the line that still felt unreal even after hearing it once.

Cheryl folded her hands on the back of her chair, as if bracing herself. “My mother gave up her firstborn daughter so she could marry my father,” she said. “I knew nothing about this until the reading of her will in her attorney’s office.”

“Do the attorneys know who she is?” Matt asked. “They must know.”

“They did,” Cheryl said. “But my mother’s attorney handled everything quietly. He was the only one who knew the details, and he passed away a month before she did.”

“There must be records,” Carrie insisted.

“I’ve looked for them,” Cheryl replied. “There’s no record in the state of Florida of my mother giving birth to anyone except me. Not in any hospital, not in any county file.”

“How is that possible?” Alisha asked.

“Home births,” Carrie said thoughtfully. “A lot of women back then preferred them, especially the wealthy who wanted privacy. And if Delia’s parents wanted to keep it quiet, that’s the way they would’ve gone.”

Cheryl nodded. “Yes, that’s what I thought too.

I did manage to get into my mother’s house, but I couldn’t find anything.

” Her eyes narrowed and she frowned. “When I was born, my mother also wanted a home birth and had already hired a private midwife, but there were complications and she had to be rushed to Key West.”

“So you think it might have been the same midwife?” Alisha asked.

“Probably,” Cheryl replied. “I know when my mother found out I was pregnant, she said she’d fix it. I’d have a home birth and she’d contact her good friend who was a midwife.”

“If a midwife delivered Delia’s first daughter, that would mean there wouldn’t have been a hospital record. And if her lawyer filed a delayed registration later, he could’ve kept the original sealed. Without him, there’s no way to find it,” Carrie added.

“Still,” Alisha pressed, “the woman would have needed a birth certificate eventually. For school, for a passport, something.”

“Not necessarily,” Carrie said quietly. “If the child was adopted privately or raised under another name, she could have had an amended certificate. That means the court would’ve sealed the original record. You’d never see the mother’s name unless a judge ordered it unsealed.”

“Then we need to get that,” Matt said.

He was so close Carrie could feel his warm breath near her cheek, and her pulse raced. Stop it, Carrie. This is not the time for your emotions to be running wild.

Before she could gather herself, Trent spoke. “We can find that out without Cheryl.” His tone was confident, almost dismissive, and it snapped Carrie’s focus back to him.

Carrie straightened. “You can’t be sure of that. Cheryl is still in my custody, and we’re not releasing her until we have this sorted. We need her.”

Trent’s mouth pulled tight. He glanced at Cheryl, then back at his mother. “Mom, we don’t need her to figure out Delia Winters’ secrets. Matt has all her things stored in a warehouse. Between us, we can go through them and find what we need.”

Matt nodded slowly, stepping closer. “He’s right. I boxed everything up when I bought the property. It’s all there—paperwork, ledgers, even her diaries. Maybe there’s something in there about the adoption or the missing heir.”

Cheryl looked between them, her face unreadable at first, then slowly softening.

“You could go through it,” she said carefully, “but I’m the only one who can make sense of what you’ll find.

” Her eyes slid toward the door where the faint groans of the two men could be heard. “Please… can you take those men away?”

Carrie frowned. “You want us to get rid of your bodyguards?”

Cheryl’s voice dropped. “They’re not my bodyguards.” She lifted her chin, though her face had paled. “They’re my keepers. Compliments of the Stansteads.”

The room went still.

Trent lowered his gun, though his posture stayed guarded. “You don’t have to worry about the Stansteads anymore,” he said. “We’ve already cut that head off and rounded up the rest of them.”

Cheryl gave a short, humorless laugh. “No,” she said quietly, her color draining further. “You don’t have the head of the snake.”

Trent frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t understand,” Cheryl warned, her voice shaking slightly. “There’s a new snake. Dick and I were trying to find out who before…” She swallowed hard. “Before Dick, my son, and Katy stopped answering me.”

Carrie studied her. The fear in Cheryl’s voice didn’t sound rehearsed. It was raw.

Trent didn’t buy it. “You’re playing us,” he said. “You’re hoping for protection—you’re trying to bargain your way out of this.”

Carrie’s tone hardened. “Enough, Trent. We need her cooperation. She knows things about these fraudulent land deals that none of us do. If we’re going to untangle this mess and save everyone tied to Lost Love Cove, she’s the one who can help us do it.”

“Mom,” Trent countered, exasperation showing through. “I can make sure she talks. I can get her to cooperate. But she’s coming with me.”

Carrie folded her arms, unwilling to give ground. “She’s coming nowhere unless I say so.”

Before the argument could rise further, a sound came from the hallway—a scraping, a grunt. The men Trent had knocked unconscious were stirring.

Carrie gestured sharply toward the door. “We have to make sure they’re secure before they’re back on their feet.”

Matt nodded, already moving. “On it.” He disappeared into the hall.

Carrie turned back to Trent. “She claims to have information that can keep the Stansteads locked up for life. That’s reason enough to make sure she stays safe and cooperative.”

“Then you need to let her come with me,” Trent said. “I can get her somewhere secure.”

Carrie wasn’t budging. “Why don’t you take all of us with you? That way, we can make sure you’ll listen to what she has to say and that she’ll be protected.”

Trent rolled his eyes but relented with a sigh. “Fine. I have to call this in and get the men out of here first.” He took out his phone and walked toward the bedroom, muttering into the line as the door clicked shut behind him.

Cheryl exhaled shakily, rubbing her temples. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Carrie glanced over, wary but willing to hear her out.

“I mean it,” Cheryl said. “Thank you for sticking to your word—for not letting him haul me off. It’s been a long time since I felt like I could trust anyone.”

Carrie hesitated, then nodded once. “I’m not sure I trust you yet,” she said honestly. “But I do believe you’ve been through more than you’re letting on. If I can help you find your son, I will.”

Cheryl gave a sad smile and gestured toward the drawer by the small sideboard. “Your things are in there. Your phone, your badge, your gun.”

Carrie’s brows lifted slightly.

Cheryl moved to the drawer, opened it slowly, and turned her body so only Carrie could see. As she spoke, her hand dipped inside and came out with Carrie’s belongings—and something else. A white card key.

“Room 225,” she whispered, slipping it discreetly into Carrie’s hand.

“At the Mirabelle Resort, just outside Key West. There’s a safe in the room.

The code is the room number with a seven at the beginning and end.

Inside, you’ll find everything—the real papers, the ones Dick and I collected before everything fell apart. ”

Carrie’s breath caught. She slid the card key into her pocket, keeping her voice even. “Thank you, Cheryl.”

Cheryl’s eyes met hers, glassy but steady. “You’ll know what to do with them when the time comes.”

The door opened again, and Trent stepped out, phone still in his hand. “My boss says we can bring Cheryl in,” he said, his tone clipped. “She wants the three of you to come with.”

“She?” Carrie asked suspiciously, a chill crawling up her spine. “Who is your boss, Trent? And why does she want us there?”

He hesitated just long enough to make her nerves tighten. “You already know her.”

A frown pulled at Carrie’s mouth. “Paula Day?”

Trent nodded. “Yes.”

Alisha’s head whipped toward them. “I knew there was something off about that woman,” she said, shaking her head. “All that sticky-sweet kindness and those sharp eyes. She was always watching, always listening.”

Carrie crossed her arms. “What does she want with us? She could have just cycled over to our houses with cookies and questions.”

Trent ignored the sarcasm. “She needs you, Matt, and Alisha to confirm what you know about the man who kidnapped Ian, Maggie, and Cody. We have reason to believe he’s also the one who killed Katy and tried to kill Dick Stanstead.”

“You mean Detective Lawrence?” Alisha asked sharply.

Cheryl drew in a sudden breath. Her face went pale, and her hand gripped the edge of the table for support.

Carrie turned toward her. “Cheryl? Are you all right?”

“Do you mean Peter Lawrence?” Cheryl whispered.

Her voice cracked, and she nodded.

Trent nodded, his expression wary. “Yes. Why?”

“No. No, no!” Cheryl swayed where she stood, her voice trembling. “It can’t be true.”

Alisha’s face hardened. “He kidnapped my father, my children, and nearly killed my family. I wouldn’t put it past him to have killed Katy or left Dick for dead.”

Carrie took a step forward, realization slamming through her like ice. “Cheryl… Petie—he’s Peter. Detective Lawrence is your son?”

Cheryl nodded weakly, tears glinting in her eyes. “He’s mine,” she whispered. “Mine and Ian’s.”

The room fell silent. Even Trent looked stunned.

“Why would he do this?” Carrie asked quietly.

Cheryl’s voice broke. “Because…” She swallowed hard. “Because I think he’s the new head of the Stanstead Syndicate.”

Carrie’s stomach dropped. The pieces she’d been trying to fit together for days suddenly made a dark kind of sense.