Chapter 5
HOLT
Holt looked up sharply. “You said you found this in Teacups?”
“Yes.” Rad’s eyes narrowed on his face. “You know who it belongs to, don’t you?”
“I think so.” Holt swallowed once, his throat suddenly tight. “Do you know who this belongs to?”
“I saw it on Sienna Morrison a couple of weeks ago,” Rad said. “I know because it flew off into the sand during a volleyball game, and she was frantic about finding it.”
Holt stared at the bracelet again. “Are you sure Sienna Morrison was wearing this?” He glanced at Rad.
“Yeah,” Rad said. “It was hard to forget because Sienna was really frantic about finding it, and then she demanded to be taken home as soon as it was found.” He frowned. “It looks expensive. That’s probably why Sienna was so frantic. Her mother would’ve killed her if she’d lost it.”
“It actually is worth a fortune,” Holt said quietly.
“I know it doesn’t look like much at first glance, but it’s old, and the craftsmanship is exceptional.
It’s white gold, hand-finished, custom work from a high-end jeweler back when pieces like this were commissioned privately.
Today, the metal and workmanship alone would make it valuable. ”
Rad let out a low whistle. “Okay, so Sienna has reason to be frantic.”
“It’s not even the monetary value that matters most.” Holt turned the baggie in his hand, examining the piece of jewelry.
“You’re talking about sentimental and historical value too.” Rad tilted his head and looked at the item in his father’s hand.
“There is,” Holt said with a nod.
He looked at the bracelet and felt the old anger stir, tangled up with memory and grief and something much sharper than either.
“Are you sure Sienna Morrison was wearing it that day?” he asked his son again, looking up at Rad.
“Yeah.” Rad was already pulling out his phone. “I took pictures on the beach. I’m sure it must be in one of them.”
He scrolled for a moment, then found the image and zoomed in before passing the phone across.
“There.” Rad pointed to the photo.
Holt took the phone.
Sienna stood near the shoreline laughing at something Ace had said, one arm lifted, the bracelet visible at her wrist.
“Yes,” Holt said, handing the phone back. “That’s it.”
He sat in silence for a second, thinking fast.
“Will you send me that picture?” he asked. “Then I need you to quietly ask everyone who was there on the beach that day with you to come see me. Everyone except Sienna. Keep it as quiet as you can. Use any excuse you like. I’ll need to get a statement from you too.”
“How much is this thing actually worth?” Rad’s expression sharpened fully now.
Holt turned the bag in his hand, watching the bracelet catch the kitchen light.
“It depends on who is valuing it. The white gold gives it a certain value. The age and workmanship add another. But that’s not really the point.” Holt looked at the object again.
“I understand,” Rad said. “It matters because of what it is.”
“And where it came from.” Holt’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting Rad’s curious gaze.
“Why do I get the feeling there is something I need to know about the bracelet?” Rad’s eyes narrowed.
Holt drew in a breath.
“This was made especially for the original owner on the day Sandpiper Shores was founded,” he said.
Rad’s brows shot up. “What? It’s that old?”
“It is.” Holt looked down at the bracelet again, and memory pressed at him with sudden unwelcome force.
A laugh on a staircase.
A bright young face.
A white bedroom.
A jewelry box.
The days before everything was burned into loss.
“No wonder Sienna panicked when it went missing on the beach,” Rad murmured again. “Her parents would’ve killed her if she’d lost a family heirloom.”
Holt’s jaw tightened. “Yes,” he said. “But it doesn’t belong to the Morrisons.”
Rad went very still. “How did they end up with it?”
Holt lifted his eyes to his son’s. “I believe it was stolen.”
“Who was it stolen from?” Rad’s brow furrowed again.
The room seemed quieter suddenly. Even Duchess had stopped sighing theatrically by the back door.
Holt heard his own voice roughen slightly before he answered.
“From someone whose uncle gave it to her when she was twelve,” Holt said. He swallowed once against the lump rising in his throat. “It belonged to someone who died far too young, and it went missing from her room a few days before she passed away.”
Rad stared at him. Understanding began to move across his face in slow, deliberate pieces.
“What?” he said softly. “Dad… is this one of the pieces that went missing back then?”
“Yes.” Holt’s voice was a bit rougher this time.
“Do you know what this means?” Rad’s expression darkened at once. “Are you sure this is the bracelet?”
Holt nodded once, though the motion felt heavy.
“It means that either Tom or Victoria Morrison, and only Tom or Victoria, had the kind of access that would make sense if someone had taken it from Carly’s room all those years ago.
” He looked at the bracelet again, fury and grief battling behind his ribs.
“This belonged to my late sister. My uncle gave it to her.”
The words landed harder spoken aloud than they had in his head.
Rad was silent.
Holt rarely spoke in detail about his sister. The absence had always felt too large to manage cleanly. But here it was now, turning up in an evidence bag on his kitchen table after being found in the wreckage of Margo’s shop.
“I thought it was lost forever,” Holt said.
“And now it turns up in Teacups.” Rad eyed the baggie.
“Which means one of three things. Either it was missed by forensics, which I find highly unlikely, or it was dropped there after the scene was processed, or it was planted.” Holt’s gaze stayed on the bracelet as if mesmerized by it.
“You think it was planted to frame Sienna?” Rad’s brows shot up in surprise.
“Possibly.” Holt rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Or it could have been planted to point us toward the Morrisons for a different reason, or someone could have gone back to Teacups after the fire, looking for something, and lost it then.”
Rad considered that. “None of those scenarios look good for Sienna.” He glanced at the baggie again. “Or the Morrisons in general, if they really had stolen jewelry.” He blew out a breath and ran a hand over his face. “How do we handle that, Dad?”
“Carefully and tactfully,” Holt advised. “For now, we keep the origins of the bracelet to ourselves.”
“Agreed,” Rad said, his eyes still on his father.
“How on earth would the Morrisons have kept the jewelry hidden for all these years?” He shook his head.
“Surely they would’ve known you’d find out sooner or later.
This town is tiny, and someone was bound to notice, especially with Sienna wearing it and flashing it all over town. ”
“I think the reason Sienna was so frantic about losing the bracelet was that she wasn’t supposed to be wearing it,” Holt suggested. “That is why we have to proceed with caution.” He looked at Rad. “Please lock these items in the hidden safe in my office with all the original pieces of evidence.”
“I was going to do that,” Rad told him.
“Rad, I also need you to get the names of every forensic officer and technician who processed Teacups. I want them in my office with all the scene photos.” He downed what was left of his now-cold coffee.
“I’ll arrange it.” Rad pointed to the items on the counter. “Can I take them?”
“Of course.” Holt slid the evidence toward Rad, who scooped it up and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Make sure no one at the police station sees the items. Especially Chief Morrison.”
“Understood.” Rad held Holt’s eyes. “Dad… does this mean Sienna could have started the fire? If the bracelet was missed by the forensic team, I mean.”
“I honestly don’t know yet.” Holt shook his head, frustration weighing on him.
“And I’m not going to accuse her of anything based on a bracelet that shows no sign of fire or smoke damage.
” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think for a minute that the forensics team missed it. Those people know what they’re doing.”
“So you think the more plausible explanation is that it was dropped or planted after the fact?” Rad bit the side of his mouth thoughtfully.
“That’s the more likely scenario,” Holt confirmed. “And if so, somebody is either trying to mislead us or flush out a thief who is possibly tied to the fire.”
“That still points toward the Morrisons,” Rad pointed out.
“Or us.” Another thought hit Holt. It made little sense, but he could not rule anything out. He leaned back in the chair. “The jewelry can be traced right back to our family.”
“Why would anyone want to frame our family?” Rad looked a little startled.
“I’m not sure, son,” Holt admitted. “But we can’t take it off the table.” He looked at his son. “Especially when you’ve been the target of incidents over the past few weeks.”
“You think I might be a target?” Rad pursed his lips and tapped his pocket where the evidence items were.
“Son, I’m not trying to alarm you,” Holt told him. “But look what’s happened to Margo, Lucy, and Lacey. I know that you, Margo, and Willa were reopening the fire cases from ten years ago.”
“I know you’re aware of that,” Rad pointed out, his eyes narrowing with worry. “If I connect the dots, it takes us right back there. Ten years ago.” His frown deepened. “I can’t understand why Detective Frost closed the case down so abruptly only a few weeks after the fire.”
“I’ve been trying to reach Detective Frost,” Holt told his son. “But so far, his cell phone has been cut off, and the police department he was supposed to transfer to said he’s not due to start there for another few months.”
“Maybe he took a few months of vacation?” Rad suggested. “He and his father had a huge falling out after his mother’s death.” He shrugged. “Maybe he went to patch things up with his father?”
“I did call his father, Alvin Frost,” Holt admitted. “We were at school together when I still lived here in Sandpiper Shores.”
“And?”
“Alvin said he hadn’t seen his son or heard from him in months,” Holt replied.
“He could be lying,” Rad pointed out. “Maybe Nigel Frost doesn’t want to be found or speak to anyone from here because he does know something he hasn’t told any of us.”
“We need to find him,” Holt said.
“I’ll get on it,” Rad promised.
“Just be careful,” Holt warned. “And don’t let anyone know what you’re doing outside our circle.”
“Which is?” Rad asked with a raised eyebrow.
“June and I are going to get everyone involved together so we can update all of you,” Holt explained. “We think it’s best to inform everyone before someone else gets hurt, or worse.”
“I agree,” Rad said, glancing at his wristwatch. “When will you be in? Do you need a ride to the police station?”
“No.” Holt shook his head. “June is fetching me.”
“Ah.” Rad nodded and grinned. “I see.”
“Hm.” Holt sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, be careful today and keep me updated on what I’ve asked for.”
“Will do,” Rad said with a nod. “Same to you, Dad.” His brows rose. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be overexerting yourself.”
“I’m not,” Holt assured him. “I’m actually less stressed helping at the police station than I would be doing nothing.”
“I understand that,” Rad accepted his father’s explanation. “I’ll speak to you later.” He started walking toward the door. “Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, son,” Holt called after him and sat staring at the door for a few minutes.
He glanced at his wristwatch. There was still some time before June came to fetch him. Holt got up and poured himself another coffee, then sat going over the evidence Rad, Margo, and June had found the previous night.
Questions flooded his mind, the biggest one being who had stolen the jewelry.
Holt had once thought he knew. In fact, for years, he had believed he knew exactly who had taken it, and that belief might even explain why his mother and uncle had not pressed charges and had instead tried to quietly get the stolen pieces back.
But now, knowing that Sienna Morrison had been wearing it, the whole thing opened into a new field of doubt.
It now looked as though either Victoria or Tom Morrison had taken the missing heirloom jewelry from Carly’s room.
They had both had access to the items, and Victoria’s father had been convicted of fraud and theft, but died a few months before he was meant to go to prison.
It could even have been Victoria’s father, since he had also had access and could have given it to Victoria as a gift.
So Holt couldn’t just storm in and accuse Tom or Victoria. Like he’d told Rad, this had to be handled delicately. They had to gather more evidence first.
There was also the question of how the bracelet had ended up where it did in Teacups, and if it had been planted, as Holt’s gut was screaming it had been, why.
Then there was the bigger question of whether all of this connected back to ten years ago and, if so, how, why, and why now.
Was it because Margo and Willa had decided it was time to figure out whether what they had been told happened ten years ago was true?
Or was something being covered up? Or was this a copycat, or someone new out for revenge over something they had not seen yet?
His mind flashed to the bracelet again, and his instincts screamed even louder that it was one of the most significant pieces of evidence they had found so far.
And to him, it suggested that the lost loved ones and friends were not finished speaking yet.