Chapter 2
TESSA
Tessa woke to silence. Not the comfortable silence of a sleeping house, but the empty kind that meant she was completely alone. She blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling, momentarily disoriented, before remembering where she was. Seabird Cottage. Nantucket. The seabird on the doorstep last night.
She sat up too quickly and her head protested. She had barely slept, her mind churning through every detail of the previous evening. The dead bird. Mitch’s methodical examination of the scene. The boat escape. The professional way whoever it was had planned everything.
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, and a glance at her phone told her it was already nine-thirty. She never slept this late. Years of early court appearances and demanding clients had trained her body to wake by six-thirty at the latest.
Tessa pulled on yoga pants and a t-shirt and padded downstairs. The cottage was definitely empty. No Lori humming in the kitchen. No Misty’s nails clicking on the hardwood. No sounds from outside that would indicate Mitch and Piper were around.
A note sat on the kitchen counter, propped against the coffee maker. Tessa recognized Lori’s neat handwriting.
Tessa, my car was overheating so Mitch is following me to the mechanic and then I’m going with him to take Piper some more clothes as she’s spending another night at her friend Emma’s house. - Love Lori.
Tessa set down the note and started the coffee maker, grateful for the quiet moment.
Her phone sat on the counter, and she picked it up, scrolling through work emails.
Three messages from her assistant about the Morrison case.
Tessa sent a message back to her assistant.
As she waited for the coffee her mind went over the previous night and she made a decision.
She was not leaving Lori alone to face whatever was happening here.
Not when dead birds were being left on doorsteps and strangers were escaping by boat in the middle of the night.
She made a mental note to call her mother later and explain she was staying longer.
The trick would be doing it without alarming Carrie.
Her mother had a sixth sense for trouble, and if she suspected Lori was in danger, she would be on the next flight back to Boston and then to Nantucket.
Which would defeat the entire purpose of the house swap and the healing her mother so desperately needed.
Besides, they didn’t know who the real target was yet.
The coffee maker beeped, and Tessa poured herself a large mug.
She was debating whether to make breakfast or go back to bed when a knock sounded at the front door.
She froze, coffee mug halfway to her lips. Who would be knocking at this hour? After last night, unexpected visitors felt ominous.
The knock came again, lighter this time. Almost cheerful.
Tessa set down her mug and moved cautiously to the door. She looked through the side window, pushing the curtain aside just enough to see out.
A woman stood on the porch. She looked like she was in her early thirties, pretty in an expensive casual way.
She was wearing designer cut off jeans, a crisp white blouse, and sunglasses pushed up on her head holding back honey-blonde hair.
She looked like she belonged in a catalog for upscale beachwear.
The woman knocked again and called out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”
Tessa debated ignoring her, then sighed and opened the door. Better to deal with whatever this was now rather than have the woman keep knocking.
“Hi,” the woman said brightly, extending her hand as she pulled the door open. “I’m Clara. I just moved into Nature’s Cottage around the corner.”
“Hi,” Tessa said, shaking the offered hand. The woman’s grip was firm, confident. “Can I help you with something?”
“I hope so,” Clara said, her smile widening.
“I’m a nature writer from Boston. I’m doing a piece on Pelican Bay and the wildlife sanctuary.
It’s absolutely fascinating work, documenting the seasonal patterns of the local bird populations.
” She gestured toward the water visible beyond the cottage.
“I was told I need permission from the residents on this lane to use the private beach. Is that right?”
Tessa suppressed a yawn. She was too tired for this level of enthusiasm so early in the morning.
“I honestly don’t know,” Tessa said. “I’m just visiting. I don’t live here.”
“Oh,” Clara’s smile dimmed slightly. “Well, maybe the owners would know? Are they home?”
“No, they’re not here right now.” Tessa shook her head.
Clara looked genuinely deflated, her shoulders sagging. “That’s too bad. I was really hoping to get down to the beach today. The tide is perfect for observing the feeding patterns of the terns.”
Tessa just wanted this woman to leave so she could finish her coffee in peace.
“I’m sure it’s fine if you want to go to the beach now,” Tessa said. “I can’t imagine anyone would object.”
Clara brightened immediately, like someone had flipped a switch. “Really? That’s wonderful! Could you tell me how to get there? Which spots are best for observing seabirds?”
“I don’t know,” Tessa admitted. “I haven’t been down there in a while.” She frowned. “I think if you go across the road and down the small path it will take you to the main beach. Just be careful of the rocks.”
As she spoke, Tessa noticed Clara’s eyes had shifted, no longer looking at her but past her into the cottage. The woman’s gaze darted around what was visible of the interior, taking in details with quick, assessing glances.
“Oh, thank you so much.” She smiled. “When will the owners be back?” Clara asked, her attention returning to Tessa. “Maybe I should ask them directly about the beach access. I want to make sure I’m following proper etiquette.”
Tessa felt her irritation growing. This woman asked a lot of questions.
“I’m not sure when they’ll be back,” Tessa told her. “But see that car?” She pointed to her Subaru sitting in the driveway. “When there are other cars here besides that one, and there is a pickup truck in the drive next door, then you’ll know someone’s home.”
“Perfect,” Clara said, with her icky sweet bright smile. “Thank you so much. You’ve been so helpful.”
She turned to leave, humming a tune Tessa didn’t recognize.
At the end of the walkway, Clara climbed onto a pink bicycle that had been leaning against the fence.
It was the kind of bike that looked like it belonged in a vintage photograph, complete with a wicker basket on the front.
A large, brightly colored tote bag sat in the basket, bulging with what Tessa assumed were Clara’s nature writing supplies.
Tessa watched her cycle away down Pelican Bay Lane, the cheerful humming fading into the distance. As Clara disappeared from view, Tessa felt a shudder run through her that had nothing to do with the morning chill.
There was something off about that woman. Not just the annoying sugary sweetness or the over-the-top enthusiasm about seabirds. It was the way her eyes had darted around, assessing everything. The pointed questions about when people would be home. The careful noting of which car belonged to Tessa.
Tessa shook her head at herself. She was being paranoid. Clara was probably exactly what she claimed to be: an overly enthusiastic nature writer staying at the AirBnB down the road. The weird feeling was just leftover anxiety from last night’s incident.
She closed the door and locked it, then stood in the hallway for a moment. The cottage felt too quiet. Too empty. No Lori. No Mitch. No Piper. Not even Misty’s comforting presence.
Tessa returned to the kitchen and retrieved her coffee, which had gone lukewarm while she dealt with Clara. She considered making fresh coffee but decided against it. Instead, she moved to the living room and curled up on the comfortable sofa, tucking her feet under her.
She yawned and took a sip of her coffee before putting it on the side table. She was feeling really sleepy after having hardly any sleep the previous night. Her eyes were already drifting closed when a sound made them snap open again.
It was a pounding. Someone was pounding on the front door.
“Oh good grief,” Tessa muttered, as she jumped and her heart stuttered.
She breathed deeply, slipped her legs over the side of the sofa, and then slowly stood to move cautiously toward the door. She peeked through the side window curtain, and her jaw clenched when she saw who stood on the porch.
Ryan Brandon. Mitch’s younger son.
Tessa knew Ryan, had met him several times over the years when she came to Nantucket for holiday visits to see her mother with Maggie.
Ryan would be home on leave from whatever deployment he couldn’t talk about, and he and Trent would spend hours talking shop.
Of course they got along like a house on fire.
They were practically mirror images of each other: military bearing, that same intensity, the ability to assess a room in three seconds flat.
Personally she couldn’t stand him. Ryan was far too arrogant for her. She considered ignoring him and going back to her coffee, but before she could move away from the window, Ryan knocked again and called out.
“Tessa? Tessa, are you there? I see your car in the drive.”
Drat. She mentally cursed her Subaru. Trent and her mother kept telling her it was time to get a new car, something less distinctive. But she liked her eight-year-old vehicle. It was reliable, paid off, and comfortable.
With a sigh, Tessa swung the door open.
Before she could say a word, Ryan pulled her into an enthusiastic hug. It was so unexpected that she stood there for a moment, arms at her sides, before awkwardly patting his back.
“Hey Tessa,” he said, releasing her and grinning. “How are you? It’s so good to see you! I’m so glad you’re here!”
The questions came rapid-fire, barely giving her time to process one before the next arrived.