The Cottage at Pelican Bay (Nantucket Seashells #2)

Chapter 1

MITCH

Mitch sat in his home office, the only light coming from his laptop screen. Piper had been asleep for an hour, the house quiet around him except for the distant murmur of the ocean. He should have been in bed himself, but sleep felt impossible tonight.

On the screen in front of him were images from his surveillance camera. The one he’d installed discreetly on a tree at the property line, angled to capture anyone approaching either house. He’d been reviewing the footage methodically, frame by frame, looking for patterns.

There. He paused the video and leaned closer. The same sedan, and dark blue. It had driven past at three-forty-seven this afternoon, slowing as it passed Seabird Cottage.

Mitch advanced the footage frame by frame. The driver was just a shadow behind tinted windows. It could have been anyone. But the way the car slowed, the deliberate pace, the angle of approach, everything about it screamed professional surveillance.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes. All of the footage since Mitch had installed the camera showed the same vehicle appearing at irregular intervals.

Never a pattern he could predict, but frequent enough to be deliberate.

Someone was watching. Someone who knew how to avoid establishing a routine that could be anticipated.

The question that kept him awake was simple and terrifying: were they watching him or were they watching Lori?

His phone buzzed with a text from Marcus. Any developments?

Mitch typed back. Still gathering intel. Will update soon.

The response came immediately. Be careful. If this is what I think it is, you’re dealing with someone who knows the game as well as you do.

That was what worried him. Mitch had spent thirty years in intelligence work.

He knew how professionals operated. And everything about this surveillance screamed professional.

The unmarked rental vehicle. The varied timing.

The careful distance. This wasn’t some angry ex-boyfriend or curious reporter.

This was someone with training and resources.

He was about to close the laptop when he heard it. Barking. Loud and frantic, coming from next door.

Misty.

Mitch was on his feet and moving before conscious thought kicked in. He grabbed his flashlight from the desk drawer and headed for the door, pulling on his shoes as he went. The barking continued, urgent and aggressive, joined now by voices.

He ran across the yard toward Seabird Cottage. The porch light was on, the front door was standing open. He could see Lori and Tessa silhouetted in the doorway, both staring at something on the ground.

“What happened?” he called out as he approached.

Tessa looked up, her face pale in the porch light. “Someone rang the doorbell and left this.”

Mitch climbed the porch steps and looked down. A dead seabird lay on the doormat, wings spread, positioned with deliberate care. The arrangement was too perfect to be accidental. Someone had taken time to compose this.

“Don’t touch anything,” he said, crouching beside the bird. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Maybe five minutes,” Tessa said. “We were sitting in the living room. Misty started barking, then the doorbell rang. By the time we answered, whoever it was had gone.”

Mitch examined the bird without touching it. It was fresh which meant it was killed recently, probably within the last hour. Its neck had been broken—quick and clean.

He stood and swept his flashlight beam across the porch, the steps, the yard. Looking for footprints, disturbances in the grass, anything that might tell him which direction the person had come from or gone.

“Did you hear a car?” he asked. “Any sound of someone running away?”

“Nothing,” Lori said. Her voice was steady, but he could hear the fear underneath. “It was completely silent.”

Mitch moved down the porch steps, following a barely visible trail of disturbed grass toward the side of the cottage.

Someone had come this way. Recently. He could see where they’d stepped, the slight compression of grass that would be invisible in daylight but showed clearly in the harsh beam of his flashlight.

He was aware of Tessa following him. When he glanced back at her, she was watching him with sharp, assessing eyes.

“You move like someone with training,” she said quietly. “Were you in the military?”

“Something like that,” Mitch said, continuing his examination of the ground.

They returned to the porch, where Lori stood with her arms wrapped around herself. Misty pressed against her legs, still on high alert, her eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the porch light.

“Lori,” Mitch said gently but firmly. “I need to ask you some questions. Do you know anyone who would do this? Anyone who might have followed you here from Florida?”

“No,” Lori said immediately. “I don’t know anyone who would do something like this. And I barely know anyone on Nantucket. This is my first time here.”

“Could someone have followed you from Florida?” Mitch pressed. “An old boyfriend? Someone from your past?”

“There’s no one,” Lori said. “Trevor and I were married for thirty-five years. There were no old boyfriends, no complications. After he died, I kept to myself mostly. There’s no one who would have a reason to follow me.”

Mitch turned to Tessa. “What about your mother? What cases was she working on before she went on leave?”

Tessa shook her head. “Mom’s been on mandatory medical leave since she was shot. She hasn’t worked on anything since then. And the man who shot her, Judge Whittaker…” She paused, and her brow furrowed. “He died in prison not too long after being convicted.”

“Judge Whittaker,” Mitch repeated, filing the name away. “Tell me about that case.”

“He was a corrupt judge,” Tessa said. “Taking bribes, expediting permits for luxury developments, manipulating zoning laws. When a journalist investigating one of his projects turned up dead Mom led the investigation. She built a case against him, got enough evidence for an arrest. Before they could get a warrant to arrest him and search his house there was a domestic violence call at his house. Mom insisted on taking the call. When she got there the housekeeper let her in. The woman was beside herself telling Mom that the judge was going to kill his wife.”

“This was the day she got shot?” Mitch watched Tessa closely. He’d heard about the incident and when Mitch had asked Carrie about it she had given him the cliff notes.

“Yes.” Tessa nodded. “The housekeeper rushed Mom upstairs at the same time the judge was dragging his wife from the room. He had a gun in his hand telling her it would be a lot easier to clean up the mess in the kitchen.”

Lori took over from Tessa. “Carrie told me that’s when she rushed forward yelling at him to freeze, raising her gun at him.

” She swallowed her voice a little hoarse with emotion.

“The judge shoved his wife at Carrie who fell into her and Carrie dropped her gun. Two other officers had just arrived on the scene and were rushing inside when the judge fired at his wife but Carrie jumped in the way.”

“That was brave,” Mitch said, he’d felt respect for Carrie the first time he’d heard the story but Carrie had downplayed it, it seemed.

“Or stupid,” Tessa hissed, her eyes flashing. “Mom was nearly killed. I think she would’ve been if the other two officers hadn’t arrived right then as he was going to fire again but they had their guns pointed at the Judge.”

“The judge was arrested with a few more charges added to the evidence Carrie had already gathered on the man,” Lori finished the story.

“He got the sentence he deserved,” Tessa said, her voice filled with anger and conviction.

“And he’s dead now?” Mitch asked.

“Yes, he was killed in prison,” Tessa confirmed. “I’m not sure of her other cases, but Mom wasn’t actively working on any cases except that one as she was the chief.” Her brow furrowed. “But then again she was responsible for all the cases of her station. I can ask her.”

“No.” Mitch shook his head. “Let’s not bother or worry your mother just yet.”

“I agree,” Lori said. “Carrie has… well, let her be for now.”

Mitch frowned as he looked at Lori wondering what she was about to say, then shook it off. He was sure if it was important Lori would say something.

“What about you or your brother?” Mitch asked Tessa. “You’re an attorney and he’s… FBI right?”

“I don’t think any of my cases would try to come after my mother or her friend,” Tessa said. “I work in Boston as well and I don’t think anyone would’ve come after me here.”

“What about Trent?” Mitch asked

Tessa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Again, we would have to ask him. But my mother and my brother are in Florida. If someone was after them wouldn’t they have followed him there?”

“You’re right,” Mitch agreed, nodding.

“Do you want me to ask him, just to rule it out?” Tessa looked at Mitch questioningly.

“No,” Mitch said quickly. “Let me look into it first. I have some resources that could help.”

Tessa’s expression shifted, becoming more suspicious. She crossed her arms and studied him with the kind of intensity that probably made witnesses squirm on the stand.

“What about you?” she asked. “You’re very good at asking questions, Mitch.

But you’re not offering much information about yourself.

Mom said you are a retired intelligence officer.

What kind of intelligence, exactly? In all the years we’ve known you, you’ve never actually elaborated on what you do.

” She raised an eyebrow. “I saw the way you assessed the bird, you move like field ops, not a desk analyst. And you have surveillance equipment just lying around. Motion sensors. Her head swivelled to the tree. “And that camera hidden so well in the tree is yours, I’m guessing.”

“How did you see the camera?” Mitch’s brows creased, impressed.