The Cottage at Pelican Bay 3 (Nantucket Seashells #3)

Chapter 1

MITCH

Mitch walked into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw Lori standing at the counter, staring down at his phone. The screen was still lit, Marcus’s message clearly visible.

Mitch. I’ve found out who the windbreaker guy is. His name is Elias Dane. I’m still looking into him. But he used to be in the military and now works for a rather shady private security firm that also does PI work. But, Mitch, I have his client list, and you know one of them. Sally Lane!

“What the heck!” The words came out before Mitch could stop them.

Mitch looked at Lori; her expression was unreadable. She stepped back from the counter as Mitch glanced back at his phone and read the message again, hoping the words might somehow rearrange themselves into something that made more sense. They didn’t.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Lori told him. “The message popped up on the screen.”

“It’s okay.” Mitch set the phone down, shaking his head firmly. “There’s no way it can be Sally.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lori’s brow drew together.

“Yes, she’s single-minded. Possessive, even a bit narcissistic.” Mitch met Lori’s eyes. “But under all that, she has a big heart. She wouldn’t do something like this.”

Lori didn’t look convinced. “She made it very clear she wants you back. She asked a lot of questions about me when she showed up at the cottage with a bottle of wine in the guise of friendship. What if she sees me as a threat?”

Mitch felt doubt creeping in despite his certainty. The constant lasagna. The hospital visits. Sally had been there that morning before he’d even woken up. She always just happened to be around, always finding excuses to stop by or call.

But hiring someone to harass Lori? To follow her, to surveil the houses, to plant that dead seabird? That seemed extreme, even for Sally, having a fit of jealousy.

“I need to talk to Marcus,” Mitch said. “Find out what he actually knows before we jump to conclusions.”

“Well, before you call him, sit down and let me change your bandage,” Lori told him, gesturing to a chair.

She was right. The bandage at the back of his head felt loose, and his wound was probably due for cleaning. Mitch sat without argument while Lori gathered the medical supplies from the counter.

Her hands were gentle as she removed the old bandage, carefully peeling away the tape. Mitch found himself acutely aware of her touch. The warmth of her fingers against his skin. The soft sound of her breathing as she concentrated on her work.

“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly.

“Not when you’re doing it.” He felt her smile even though he couldn’t see her face. She cleaned the wound with antiseptic, her movements sure and practiced, then applied fresh gauze and tape.

“There.” She stepped back. “That should hold until tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Mitch caught her hand before she could move away completely, turning in his chair to look at her. “For everything.”

Their eyes met and held. The kitchen felt suddenly smaller, the air between them charged with something Mitch didn’t have words for.

He wanted to pull her close, to kiss her properly instead of that brief peck on the cheek in the hospital.

But the timing was all wrong. Sally’s name hung between them like a ghost.

Lori seemed to feel it too. She squeezed his hand and stepped back. “I need to get back to Seabird Cottage. Ryan’s staying there tonight because of the break-in, and I need to make up the sofa bed for him.”

Right. The break-in at Seabird was why Ryan had volunteered to sleep there instead of at Sunrise House.

They’d told Piper someone had gotten into the cottage, which was true enough.

No need to terrify her with all the details.

He glanced up to where Piper’s room was above them.

She was on the phone with her friends right now.

Mitch walked Lori to the door. The night was cool and clear, stars visible above the bay. Across the yard, Seabird Cottage sat where Tessa and Ryan were. Ryan was putting the fuses back into the fuse box and securing the basement window to prevent anyone from getting in there again.

“Be careful,” Mitch said.

“It’s twenty feet, Mitch,” Lori pointed out.

“I know. But humor me.” Mitch’s eyes held hers.

Lori smiled and squeezed his hand once more before heading across the yard.

Mitch watched until she was safely inside, and he stood watching, relieved when the lights came on.

Good, Ryan had gotten the power back. It was only then that Mitch went back inside, closed the door, locked it, and pulled out his phone.

He dialed Marcus’s number. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Then voicemail.

“Marcus, it’s Mitch. I got your message about Sally Lane. Call me back as soon as you get this.” He hung up and tried again immediately. It still just went to voicemail.

Frustrated, Mitch checked the time. Marcus was probably asleep. Or working a case with his phone off. Either way, there was nothing Mitch could do but wait.

He sat at the kitchen table in the dark, turning everything over in his mind.

Could it really be Sally? His brow furrowed, and while he didn’t want to believe it, Mitch knew better than most that people could do terrible things when operating on emotions.

He gave his head a small shake as he still couldn’t believe it was Sally.

Yes, she’d been possessive when they were dating.

She had always wanted to know where he was, who he was with.

Then she always showed up at places she knew he’d be.

He’d chalked it up to her being interested, maybe a little insecure after her divorce.

Which she’d told him was nasty, and then a few months later, her ex-husband had passed away.

Mitch had known that the man’s death had shaken Sally, as her eyes always darkened with a flash of emotion when she mentioned him.

But she’d gather herself fast and regain her composure so quickly that Mitch never wanted to pry into it.

Besides, it wasn’t really any of his business.

He had known after the first month of dating Sally that the relationship would go nowhere.

She wasn’t his type and the spark, for him anyway, just wasn’t there.

He glanced at the message Marcus had sent him once again, his brow creasing deeper. While he knew she could be scathing, he didn’t think Sally would stoop to this. Hiring a firm to harass Lori?

What would drive her to that? Jealousy? The fear of losing him to someone else?

Mitch blew out a breath. Marcus had found a connection between the beige windbreaker guy and Sally.

Mitch knew that even if his gut didn’t think it was her, the evidence was pointing to a possibility that it could be.

Until it led elsewhere—Mitch knew he had to follow the evidence.

Right now, there were too many unanswered questions, and it was putting people’s lives at risk.

He gently touched the back of his head and winced slightly when he pressed too hard.

He’d already been hurt, and he was a highly trained operative.

He suppressed a shudder, thinking about the people around him who weren’t trained like Piper, Lori, and Tessa.

After doing one last round of the perimeter of both properties, Mitch finally went to bed around midnight, but sleep didn’t come easily.

His head ached where he’d been struck, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lori’s face as she’d looked at him in the kitchen. Worried. Determined. Beautiful.

He woke at five-thirty to sunlight streaming through his bedroom window and the dull throb of a headache. The first thing he did was check his phone.

There was still no callback from Marcus.

Frustrated, Mitch got up and headed downstairs. The house was quiet. Piper would sleep for another hour at least. Ryan was at Seabird with Lori and Tessa. The morning felt strange and empty.

He started coffee and began pulling out eggs and bread for breakfast. The routine helped calm his racing thoughts. Scrambling eggs, making toast, trying not to think about Sally or surveillance or the fact that someone had attacked him on the beach three nights ago.

Trying not to think about the way Lori’s hands had felt against his skin last night.

A sharp knock at the front door made him look up and glance at the kitchen clock. It was six-fifteen. Too early for visitors. Maybe it was Ryan?

Frowning, Mitch wiped his hands on a dish towel and headed to the door. He opened it and found himself face-to-face with Marcus Hayes.

Marcus stood on the porch with an overnight bag in one hand and a thick folder tucked under his other arm. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a business meeting despite the early hour, his suit pressed, his silver-streaked hair neatly combed.

“Marcus? What are you doing here?” Mitch gaped at him. He must’ve been on an airplane from DC the previous night, and that was why Mitch couldn’t get hold of him.

“I got your messages on the ferry from Boston.” Marcus’s smile was easy, familiar. “As you got hurt, and I’ve dug up some disturbing information, I figured I’d take some leave and come help you with this mystery.”

“You flew up from DC?” Mitch said, still surprised and pleased to see his old friend.

“Yeah, I took the red-eye. It landed about an hour ago.” Marcus stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, the ease of old friendship and years of working together making it natural. “Is that coffee I smell?”

“Yup.” Mitch was still processing. “You didn’t have to fly all the way up here. We could have talked on the phone.”