Chapter 3 Zane #2
He’d had his suspicions about Gilbert from the start, but not the kind of suspicion that pinned guilt.
More of the kind that said the story didn’t fit, and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling at that thread every time he returned to the memory.
What had really brought Gilbert Fry to Sandpiper Shores?
Detective Nigel Frost had been the one to pull the hardest on the case ten years ago. Well, at least at first.
Zane had known Nigel since he was a baby. Not in a vague, small-town way, but in the blood-and-family kind of way. Cynthia Frost, Nigel’s mother, had been Zane’s cousin, and her death had been one of those moments where a whole family’s gravity shifted.
Nigel had been convinced Cynthia’s accident wasn’t an accident to the point he’d managed to convince Zane of it, too.
Nigel’s theory was that Gilbert knew who had killed Cynthia and that was the real reason he was here.
And for a while, Nigel’s investigation had been quiet but relentless, and Zane had been one of the few people Nigel trusted enough to talk to.
He’d sat in Zane’s office, eyes hollow with exhaustion, and told him what he suspected.
He hadn’t gone public. He hadn’t waved it around like proof.
He’d simply said, over and over, that something didn’t add up.
Then the fire happened. The big one. The one that killed four firefighters and Gilbert Fry.
And a week or two after that fire, Nigel had shut down his investigation.
Just like that.
He’d gone from relentless to resigned, from tight-eyed suspicion to a flat statement that he’d been wrong.
Gilbert had been setting fires and putting the town at risk for his YouTube channel.
The man had a juvenile record for arson and assault.
There was no concrete evidence to back up the theory that Nigel’s mother's death was not an accident. And everything that had happened around the town, including the fatal fire, connecting to a cover-up of Cynthia’s murder, was nothing but speculation.
But Zane had known Nigel better than that. He’d heard the difference between a man who had accepted the truth and a man who had been forced to swallow something poisonous.
Not long after Nigel closed the case, Nigel’s father, Alvin Frost, had sold their family home and business that had been present in Sandpiper Shores for generations. Then he’d cut his roots and ties to the town like they were bad baggage and moved to Miami.
Zane had forced himself to believe the timing of it was just a mere coincidence. Alvin was stricken by guilt over Cynthia and no longer wanted to be in Sandpiper Shores.
The sound of laughter pulled Zane back to the present as Travis and Patrick argued about the best way to load a cabinet without snapping the legs. Zane watched them for a moment, the normalness of it almost painful.
“Anything else you need, Chief Evans?” Travis called.
Zane shook his head. “No. Thank you for letting me look around.”
“Anytime,” Travis said, giving a small salute before turning back to the task at hand.
Zane nodded once. “Thanks again.”
He left the property, dusting his hands off out of habit, and stepped back onto the street. The sun had risen higher, and the town had grown busier. A woman pushed a stroller. A dog barked at a gull. Someone waved from across the road.
It looked so normal. The picture-perfect seaside town.
Zane turned the corner and nearly walked straight into Holt Dillinger.
It startled him, not because Holt was unexpected in town, but because Holt was walking with June Carter, and the sight of them together still had the power to tilt old memories.
Holt looked solid, as always. Controlled. Watchful. The kind of man who made people feel safer without meaning to. June, beside him, carried herself the way she always had, like she’d been forced to become unbreakable young and never forgot how.
They hadn’t always been strangers to Zane. Sandpiper Shores was too small for that. June’s family had started coming there when they were all teenagers, and Zane had known her long enough to remember her laughter before adulthood sharpened her edges.
Holt’s face eased into a warm expression when he saw Zane. “Zane, what on earth are you doing here?”
“Hello, Holt,” Zane replied, shaking Holt’s hand before turning to June. “Hello, June. It’s good to see you again.”
June’s greeting was polite but stiff, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Hello, Zane. Yes, it’s almost been a year since the last memorial service.” Her eyes narrowed a little more. “Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”
Zane felt the stiffness like a cold draft.
He didn’t blame her for it, even if it stung.
Last year, she’d walked in on Zane and Willa arguing over the high loss of firefighters in her town.
June hadn’t taken it well and accused him of looking for excuses to dismiss Willa before throwing his nickname in his face.
“I’m here to lend a hand to Willa,” Zane told her honestly. “And to discuss her staffing needs.”
“I see,” June said, her shoulders remaining tense and the suspicion not leaving her eyes.
Zane turned back to Holt, moving the subject away from Willa. “How are you recovering?”
“Slow at first.” Holt’s expression didn’t change much. “But I’m fine now. Healing well.”
Zane believed him about as far as he could throw him, but didn’t push and turned to June. “I’m sorry to hear about your car accident, June. How are you recovering?”
June’s gaze held steady. “I’m fine too.”
There was a pause, the kind that carried old history like a suitcase nobody wanted to unpack on the sidewalk.
“For the record.” June broke it first, her voice cool, “Willa’s doing an amazing job. She doesn’t need, nor do I think she’d appreciate, a babysitter.”
Zane swallowed his instinctive defensiveness and kept his tone warm, because this wasn’t about pride. “I’m sure she doesn’t,” he said. “But I’m not here to babysit. I’m here to support my team.”
June’s eyes flicked away for a second, then returned, as if she were weighing whether to believe him.
Zane gave a small smile. “And I thought Willa might appreciate getting some time off. She’s got the ten-year memorial coming up. That’s not something you prepare for in between emergency calls.”
June’s expression softened a fraction, reluctant. “That’s… kind of you.”
Zane took it as a small win, and he didn’t press for more. Trust wasn’t something you demanded. It was something you earned, and sometimes, you earned it by shutting up and showing up anyway.
Before anyone could say more, a voice called from behind them.
“June!”
Zane turned as Captain Carmen Grant hurried toward them, her stride quick, her hair pulled back, her face drawn with exhaustion that even a competent smile couldn’t hide.
The stand-in EMT captain looked like someone running on adrenaline and stubbornness, and Zane had seen enough EMTs to know she’d be paying for it later.
“Excuse me,” June said, stepping away, still stiff, and went to meet Carmen.
Zane watched them for a beat, then looked back at Holt.
“How’s it been,” Zane asked quietly, nodding toward June, “being back here with June and her sister?”
Holt’s gaze followed June. “Actually,” he admitted, “June and I have been getting along rather well. We’re working on the fires and Dr. Peltz’s case together.”
“That’s good,” Zane said, and he meant it. “It’s good to get over the past and move forward.”
Holt’s eyes narrowed slightly. “In some things,” he agreed.
Then Holt’s gaze shifted back to Zane, and the suspicion sharpened. “You were coming from the direction of the old vet clinic.”
Zane didn’t deny it. “I had a look.”
Holt studied him for a beat, like he was measuring how honest Zane was willing to be in public. “Let me guess,” Holt said quietly. “You’re here because you believe what Willa, myself, my son, Margo, and June believe.”
Zane’s brows lifted. “And what would that be?”
Holt didn’t hesitate, and Zane felt a chill at the bluntness.
“That Gilbert Fry wasn’t the person everyone in town was looking for ten years ago,” Holt said.
“That something happened that spooked the real perpetrator. That they’re worried they’re about to be exposed and they’re trying to intimidate whoever they think is getting too close. ”
Zane held Holt’s gaze.
He didn’t confirm it. He didn’t deny it either. He just exhaled slowly, because Holt hadn’t said anything Zane hadn’t already thought in the quiet corners of his own mind.
Before he could respond, Willa Parker stepped out of the store across the road and hurried toward June and Carmen, her face brightening when she saw them.
“Mom. Aunt Carmen.” Willa smiled. “What are you two doing here?”
“I was coming to look over the clinic with Holt,” June said, and her voice shifted slightly as she became aware of Willa’s attention. “Then we ran into…”
The three women turned, and Zane saw Willa instantly stiffen at the sight of him. He and Holt walked over, closing the distance. Zane kept his smile warm, his posture open.
“I interrupted them when they were on their way to the clinic,” Zane explained. “Hello, Captain Parker.”
Willa’s greeting to him was formal. “Hello, Chief Evans. I didn’t expect you for another week.”
“I came early,” Zane said gently. “I wanted to offer a hand. I know you’ve been understaffed, and I know you’ve been carrying more than you should.”
Willa looked taken aback for half a second, then recovered. “That’s kind of you,” she said, cautiously. “But it’s fine. My team and I have been coping.”
Zane didn’t argue. “I also brought you a list of potential recruits.” He glanced at Captain Grant.
They hadn’t formally met, and Carmen hadn’t been part of their group when they were young, but he’d seen her at every memorial over the past ten years.
She was hard not to notice. Not only did she have a naturally graceful bearing, but she was beautiful, calm under fire, and always seemed to be the shelter in a storm.
“I have some recruits for EMT services as well that I was hoping you’d help me go through. ”
“Oh,” Carmen said. “I’m sure when I’m back in the office, we can discuss it.” She gave him a tight smile. “Sorry but I’ve been on shift for almost two full days now…”
“I completely understand, Captain Grant,” Zane told her, his gut tightening with a jolt at the thought of spending one-on-one time with her. He quickly shook the thought away.
Good grief where had that come from. Zane had been widowed for years, and after the death of his wife, no one had quite caught his attention again. Except Captain Grant. A rogue voice at the back of his mind taunted him. But he ruthlessly pushed it away.
Willa was looking at him curiously. “I would also welcome the possibility of getting some new recruits,” she admitted. “I’m due to start work in about two hours, but I can rush home and be at the station in forty minutes.”
“Oh, don’t rush,” Zane said quickly. “I’m going to Teacups for breakfast, then I’m checking into the Sandpiper Inn. Take your time.”
Carmen, who didn’t say another word to Zane, glanced at Willa. “If you’re going back to the house, can you give me a ride? Then I don’t have to take my car from your mother.”
“Of course,” Willa said.
“If you’re ready? I really need to get home, shower, eat, and get a few hours’ sleep.” Carmen gave Zane another tight smile. “Please give me some time slots you’re available later this afternoon to discuss new EMT recruits.”
“Of course,” Zane said.
“I’ll see you at the station in a couple of hours,” Willa told Zane.
Zane held her gaze. “I’ll be there.”
June and Holt also took their leave not long after Willa and Carmen left. They headed down the street together, and Zane watched them go for a beat, feeling the strange tug of seeing two people with so much history walking side by side again.
He turned toward Teacups and started walking.
By the time he reached the coffee shop, his stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast and his early morning coffee.
As he neared Teacups, Rad Dillinger was just leaving, and Zane’s mouth twitched into a small smile. He’d known Rad since Rad had been young enough to run barefoot on the beach and come home with sand in places sand should never be.
“Hello, Rad,” Zane greeted.
Rad turned, his expression warm. “Chief Evans.”
They shook hands, and the grip was solid, respectful. Rad looked tired too, but there was a steadiness in him, the kind that came from finding your footing in a place you’d been uncertain about.
“How are you?” Zane asked.
“Good,” Rad said. “Settling in. It’s a lot quieter than New York, but… my son and I are loving it.”
Zane nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He glanced around the place. “We might have a sleepy town here, but we are very lucky to have someone of your caliber working here now.”
“It’s good to be here,” Rad told him. “Oh, you must pop by the lighthouse. My father is in Sandpiper Shores as well. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”
“I just saw your father with June Daily… or rather Carter now,” Zane said casually, and then added, because it was true and because he’d always been more blunt than tactful, “It’s nice to see they can be friends again.”
“What do you mean?” Rad asked.
“Well, in my experience, not many divorced couples manage to be in the same five feet of each other, let alone become good friends.”
Rad’s expression shifted. Not anger. Not surprise. Something else. Something guarded.
Before Zane could interpret it properly, the sound of sudden movement rippled through Teacups.
People started standing. Chairs scraped. A few heads snapped toward the back, where the kitchen was.
Then the smoke alarm began to scream.
It wasn’t a polite beep. It was a full, frantic, wailing alarm that made everyone’s skin tighten at once, and Zane’s entire body went on alert before his brain even caught up.
For half a second, the room froze.
Then people started rushing toward the door.