Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
CADEN
I’m out of the shower and shrugging into jeans and a fresh tee when there’s a light knock on my door.
“Yeah?” I call, assuming it’s Daisy. But the door opens a crack and Noah’s face appears. My best friend looks exactly the same—shaggy hair, dark eyes, wry smile—except now he’s dressed in a deputy uniform. It suits him.
“Well,” Noah says, coming in and closing the door behind him. “The prodigal son returns.”
In two quick strides, I reach him and envelop him in a bone-crushing hug.
“This is a better reaction than I was expecting,” Noah says, his voice muffled by my shoulder.
I release him. “I missed you.”
Noah shoots me one of his classic sardonic looks. “No shit. You think you were fooling me with your surly distance? I’ve known you since kindergarten, dude. This is your home. I knew you’d come back.” He rubs his neck. “Didn’t think it would take five years. You’re one stubborn son of a bitch.”
A smile cracks on my face and I can feel it splinter all over my body—hairline fractures, like spiderwebs across a mirror. Some of the tension I’ve carried all these years is finally breaking.
“Who told you I’d arrived?” I ask. I was going to text him after the shower.
Noah strides across my bedroom and plants himself in the leather armchair by the window. “Maria Perez saw you on her run earlier. It’s all over town. Jake Stein wants to throw you a welcome home party at the Crooked Screw.”
Maria Perez is Charlotte’s sister—and Charlotte is Isla’s best friend. Does Isla know I’m here? I wait for Noah to mention Isla, but he doesn’t.
“You know, Jake owns the Screw now,” he says instead.
“Daisy told me. That’s great.”
And I mean it. Jake was the top bartender at Magnolia Bay’s best wine bar, and a terrific guy.
“Seriously,” Noah agrees. “About a year and a half ago, old man Sanderson moved to Florida to be closer to his grandkids and Jake took it over. But I’m not here to talk about Jake and the Screw.” Noah leans forward and I feel a thrill run through me. He’s going to tell me about Isla. He of all people must know I’m wondering about her. “I talked to the sheriff.”
My brain screeches to a halt like a record scratch. Right. The real reason I came home.
“I convinced him to keep the case active until the end of the summer. You’ve got two months. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Caden. This isn’t a case of us dropping the ball—there’s literally no ball to drop.”
I clench my jaw with renewed determination. “I’ll find something.”
“If you say so.” Noah leans back in the chair.
“Well?” I say expectantly.
“Well what?”
“Can’t I, like, look at your files?”
Noah raises one eyebrow. “No. It’s an active case, Cade. You’re a civilian. You don’t just get to look through police files.”
I hope the investigator Dad hired isn’t bound by the same rules. But if he shared his results with Dad, surely he’ll share them with me.
Noah is looking at me with a sad expression. “I didn’t get to say this in person but…I’m so sorry about your mom. I know how hard it is to lose a parent. It’s the most brutal pain imaginable.”
Noah’s parents died when he was only four. Hit by a drunk driver. He was raised by his grandfather.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
“You ready to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“Okay. I’m here when you are.”
I nod.
“And next time you feel like disappearing, tell someone first, okay? You do realize you were Suspect Number One in your mother’s death.”
My eyes pop. “ What? ”
Noah shakes his head. “Man, you need to get better at thinking like a cop if you want to solve this case. You know how suspicious that looked? Your mom gets shot and the next day, the eldest son, the heir to the Everton fortune, up and vanishes. Leaves the country without a trace. That’s some shady ass behavior right there.”
I can feel my mouth hanging open. It never occurred to me that I would be suspected. I wasn’t even there. I was with Isla.
“And it isn’t like we were all just sitting on our thumbs,” Noah continues. “Your dad was a man possessed. Calling the station every day. Demanding to know what the status of the investigation was, what we were doing to find the man who killed your mother. I swear, Sheriff Briggs was going to have a nervous breakdown.”
It’s some bleak consolation that Dad was so ardent about getting justice for Mom. Last time we spoke, he’d been back to business. Unfeeling. Only concerned with how Mom’s death or me seeing Isla would look for the winery. How it might “tarnish the brand.”
But I’m heartened that Noah is telling me things. Maybe if I get a couple of drinks in him, he’ll forget about all his police rules and procedures.
Noah’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Damn, Caden, it’s really good to see you again.”
“It’s really good to see you too.”
“Have you been working at that winery in Argentina this whole time?” Noah asks.
“Mostly. Four years now.”
Noah’s eyes trail across my arms.
“Nice tats,” he says. “They suit you.” Then he chuckles. “Your dad is going to lose his shit when he sees them.”
My lips pull into a brittle smile. “Probably.” I run my thumb over one of the thick vines that snakes up my left arm, right on the spot where a cicada perches.
Noah checks his watch. “I’m off duty,” he declares. “Let’s get a drink, celebrate your triumphant return.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“The Crooked Screw. Obviously. You can congratulate Jake in person.”
My knees lock and it takes great effort to walk normally, following Noah to the front stairs. Isla might be at the Screw. We used to hang out there a lot. I always felt like it was our spot.
What does she think of me now? Does she even think of me at all? Maybe I’m just a ghost to her. An old flame that sputtered out too quickly to be remembered. Or maybe she hates me. Maybe she never wants to speak to me again. I left her, after all.
But if I’d stayed, I wouldn’t be the person I am now.
Would Isla still want this version of me?
I can’t deny the hope that creeps into my chest at the thought. Even as I tell myself I’m not staying. I’ve got until the end of the summer to make some progress in the case and then it’s straight back to Catarina Azul.
But what if Isla asked me to stay?
Alistair is waiting for us by the newel post. “And where might you gentlemen be off to?”
“The Crooked Screw,” Noah says.
Al’s face brightens and he rubs his hands together. “Excellent! I’ll join you. I want to talk to Jake anyway.”
“What do you need to talk to Jake for?” I ask. We head out in the warm afternoon sunshine and walk to Noah’s car.
“Magnolia Day is coming, and we need to make sure the Everton wines are featured,” Alistair says. “We’ll have our own booth of course, but it’s important for the local bars and restaurants to showcase them too.”
Magnolia Day is the celebration of the founding of Magnolia Bay. It’s a huge festival at the end of the summer with live music and dancing, where all the local businesses get to show off their wares.
“That’s great, Al,” I say. “Seems like you’re really taking to this PR job.”
“Yeah, well, you know how Dad likes to keep things in the family.” My brother’s expression turns wistful. “Remember how Mom would always make us help set up the booths? It was the first taste of manual labor I ever had. Well, first and last.”
I think about all the Magnolia Days Mom has missed and my hand clenches into a fist.
By summer’s end, I’ll find the man who took her away from us.