Chapter 6
At his small Forestview apartment, Braden exchanged his Ducati for his county-issued cruiser and drove back to the sheriff’s office—though it would take him a good forty-five minutes away from Cressida—but he needed to speak with Sheriff Thatcher about the precarious investigation that now included a protective detail.
But Thatcher wasn’t in, so Braden settled into his small corner cubicle.
His day off was officially over the moment he’d turned to follow Trent onto that beach.
In the county offices, a few deputies and personnel focused on their tasks and left him to his. Reports and paperwork were unfortunately the bulk of his job.
He needed to contact Octavia at some point today. If only he could cut all ties with her and live his life. If only he didn’t owe her anything. Owe her everything. As if to emphasize that truth, his cell dinged.
Caller ID revealed the call was from his sister.
His neck tensed as he answered. “Lauren. Is everything okay?”
An incredulous chuckle met his ears. “Relax. I can call you just to say hi, can’t I? Everything isn’t an emergency.”
Wasn’t it? He released a slow breath as his shoulders slowly relaxed. “I know. I’m sorry. How are you? How’s Elise?” Elise, his deathly ill ten-year-old niece.
“She’s . . . okay.”
He heard the hint of a lie in her voice. But he understood—“okay” was relative. It was personal. Okay for Elise was someone else’s worst day. “I wish I could be there with you. I wish I could do more.”
“Are you kidding? Without your help, Elise would . . .” Lauren choked up and couldn’t finish the sentence. Her next words were breathless and tear-filled. “I can’t thank you enough, Braden. But what has this cost you?”
“The cost doesn’t matter.”
Didn’t she understand that he would pay any price to save Elise?
Any.
Price.
He’d wanted to be the hero and spare his sister the truth, but he had no alternative explanation for leaving her alone to go through this with Elise.
Again. Alone. Her husband had died in a work accident.
Then Elise had fallen ill, and Braden had been on the other side of the world in the middle of a high-risk mission involving multiple US and foreign diplomats—a mission that had gone very wrong.
He instinctively touched the old scar along his jaw, hidden beneath his stubble.
He hadn’t been there for Lauren and Elise.
The loss of that job after covering for someone else and taking the blame might have gutted him at first, but in the end, he counted it a blessing.
He was then able to stand by Lauren’s side, holding her up and being both uncle and father figure to Elise.
So he’d had to tell Lauren that Octavia required this of him—to secure a chance at survival with an experimental drug.
“It matters, Braden. It matters to me.”
“You don’t need to worry about it. You just be there for your daughter. You take care of my niece. She’s precious to me too.”
Lauren had resigned from her job as an up-and-coming attorney to be with Elise. And with Rick’s life insurance policy, they had a nest egg, but that wouldn’t last forever.
This situation couldn’t continue on like this for infinity.
God, please let the medication work. Please save Elise.
Braden couldn’t be sure if this experimental drug was the answer, God’s answer, or if he’d taken things into his own hands and allowed himself to be manipulated by a master.
“Can I talk to her? Is she awake?”
“Sure. That’s why I called, actually,” Lauren said. “But first I wanted to make sure you were in a good place to talk.”
He was never in a good place to talk anymore. Then again, he would always make time for Lauren and Elise.
“Uncle Braden.” Her sweet voice came through the cell. He squeezed his eyes shut, listening to her, hoping to remember every part of how her voice sounded in case she didn’t make it. Hoping to hear any pain she was suffering but too afraid to tell anyone.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“I miss you. When are you coming back? When can you come and see me?”
Braden worked to keep the pain from his voice, enduring the acid rising in his gut.
“I miss you too, honey,” he said. “You know I would be there right now, today, and never leave, if I could, right?”
“I know.”
“Just remember that I love you. I’ll come visit as soon as I can.” I’ll come live close, again, as soon as I can.
Elise continued talking, sharing with him about a man who made her laugh by making balloon animals when she was at the hospital getting her infusion. Then Elise grew tired, and Lauren said goodbye.
How had it come to this? The agony was almost unbearable.
He hated Octavia for this. And at the same time, he couldn’t be more grateful that she had made this possible and given Elise a second chance at life.
Still, everything about this situation felt completely wrong.
But maybe it was due to the simple fact that he lived in a fallen world. Nothing was as it should be.
He blew out a breath and tried to refocus on his current situation. The sooner he completed his task here, the sooner he could get back to the people who mattered most.
Lauren and Elise.
And what about Cressida? She hadn’t been far from his thoughts even while he talked to his niece. Braden didn’t like leaving her alone in the cabin, but Remi assured him she would make sure she had a place to stay at the lodge. In the end, it was Cressida’s choice.
Dreading the next call, he stared at his cell.
Braden contacted Octavia and, as expected, got her voicemail.
He didn’t leave a message because she’d asked him not to.
She would recognize the number and return the call.
Next, he returned Trent’s call and got his voicemail.
He grabbed a quick lunch at the sandwich shop next door, then returned to the reports app, which allowed him to review the information they had and connect dots if possible.
He needed to upload the recorded statement into the database and include a written transcript.
He wanted to listen to it again. Listen, in case he missed some nuance in her tone or answer.
Braden turned on the recording and got up and paced as it played.
He struggled to listen to the pain in her voice.
This wasn’t what he signed up for, and he was furious at Octavia. The woman managed to offer favors and pull strings in the most unexpected places. In Braden’s opinion, she was working overtime to keep her daughter clueless or at a distance.
Why not give Cressida a call and talk out their differences? Why send Braden into this situation, while also leaving him in the dark? Leaving him clueless was one thing—and he would get those answers—but her daughter was another matter.
Octavia had done something to alienate her daughter, and she had her reasons.
Braden couldn’t fathom any reason would be worth losing your daughter.
He would go to the end of the earth for his family—all he had left were his sister and niece, and he had done everything he could for his niece. And now here he was.
People had a way of justifying their position. Like right now, he justified his own position—owing Octavia and following through with her demands. And he could see no end in sight.
After a few hours working on the reports and research, he closed his laptop.
Trent finally called Braden back. “We got no one on the CCTV. No man going in or out.”
“Okay, then let me see the footage. Her attacker could have had an accomplice. Someone else could have been working with him, stealing her laptop while someone else was trying to drown her and leave her for dead.”
“You might want to ask her what she has on her computer or in that bag of hers that someone wants. What’s she involved in to bring this on?”
Trent and his detective instincts. “She’s the victim, Trent. Don’t twist it around to sound like she’s guilty of a crime. Anything else?”
“I canvassed the beach again. A couple saw a man hiking up the trail from the beach, looking like he was in a hurry. He fit the description Cressida gave, but that’s all I got.”
“You could have led with that,” Braden said.
“Anything else you need?” Trent asked. “I have to respond to a fender bender, oh, involving a motorcycle. Dude’s okay in case you’re wondering. But you should watch your back out there. Tourist season is in full swing.”
“Thanks for the advice.” He needed to get footage from the surrounding area up and down the only highway in and out of this region, tourists stops, and gas stations. He’d get that himself, so he ended the call.
A text from Remi came through.
Cressida received a package today—a journal.
He thanked Remi. He would love to talk to Cressida about the journal, but he wouldn’t give Remi away.
He needed a good reason to contact Cressida and hoped to finally reach Jo Cattrel, who worked as a freelance forensic artist for law enforcement around the state.
Jo also worked part-time at Cedar Trails Lodge.
Fortunately, this time Jo answered her cell. “Braden, what’s up?”
“Did you get my message that I need you on an investigation?”
“I just finished with a client, and I’ll be back on the coast on Wednesday morning. Can we meet then?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll make the arrangements.”
He grabbed his county-issued rain jacket and headed out the door.
He’d prefer to take his Ducati, but the blue skies had given way to rain, and he’d left his leather jacket with Cressida.
He hadn’t had the heart to ask her for it because she’d been through so much.
Before heading over to see Cressida, he’d make those stops where security camera footage could be obtained.
Maybe he’d get actual footage of the guy who had attacked her.
Later in the day, after getting the footage, he finally parked at the lodge.
He made his way to her cabin and knocked on the door.
Nothing. Braden knocked again but got no answer.
He hiked over to the lodge—a centuries-old structure built from the surrounding trees—and scanned the small gathering at the tables near the panoramic window overlooking the rocky cliffs.
The kitchen served up the special of the day in the evenings, and a few people still lingered at those tables.
Lodge patrons came here in the winter to watch the spectacular storms—waves crashing on the rocks.
This was summer, and with an hour of daylight still left, even in the rain people were combing the beach, searching for tide pools.
He was relieved when he spotted Cressida at a table with one of the baristas and an older couple.
Remi sidled up next to him. “I don’t have to guess why you’re here. She’s doing well for someone who was attacked this morning. I joined them earlier.”
“Oh yeah? What are they talking about?”
“She’s asking questions about their lives. Just good old-fashioned conversation. The kind people used to have instead of staring at their phones.”
“They can’t really do that here, can they?” He referenced that lack of cell reception.
“Maybe conversation was all she needed. Just a sense of normalcy after that horrible welcome she got when she arrived in Hidden Bay.”
He started forward, and Remi gently pressed her hand on his sleeve. “I wouldn’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t mean to interfere with an investigation, but unless you have specific questions or something important to share, I’d give her some time before you start charging in again.”
Charging in again? Is that how Remi saw him? Cressida seemed relaxed and happy, though he could still see the strain of this morning in her eyes. Maybe Remi was right, and he’d give Cressida a break for today.
If Cressida was anything like her mother—and so far she seemed to be—she would face her fears head-on.
And look out, anyone who got in her way.
Good guys . . . or bad.