“Yes,” Mitch said with a nod. “And the same man I’ve seen hanging around Pelican Bay since Lori arrived.”
“So this is about Lori?” Ryan asked, alarm slicing through him. His protective instincts kicked into high gear. “Someone is targeting her specifically?”
“We believe so,” Mitch said carefully. “If it’s connected to her husband’s company, it means...”
“The Stansteads are probably involved, which means a shed load of danger and trouble,” Ryan finished, his mind racing through the implications. The Stanstead case had been serious. Federal investigation serious. People had died because of that fraudulent scheme.
He opened the file and started flipping through it, scanning the documents quickly. His eyes caught on a photograph, and he stopped cold. The image was labeled “Crime Scene - Bradley Lane.”
The photo showed a man lying in the woods, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled beneath him, dark against the forest floor. The hunting knife was still visible, and the scene seemed staged. Assassin-type staged.
Ryan looked up at his father and Marcus. “Looking at this picture, Sally is potentially just as dangerous and a little more unhinged than the Stansteads.”
4
LORI
Lori walked back to the kitchen, her mind already planning out her day. She’d decided to spend it painting on the front porch, where the morning sun slanted through the railings and cast honey-gold patterns across the shiny floorboards. The light there caught every ripple and foam-cap on the water, perfect for the half-finished seascape waiting on her easel. Her eyes scanned the horizon, admiring that impossible blue where the ocean met the horizon, the distant sailboat she’d painted with just three delicate brushstrokes. Perhaps losing herself in the rhythm of color against canvas would silence the anxious thoughts that had circled like restless gulls in her mind since last night.
She was just reaching for her coffee mug when the front door opened. Lori froze, her fingers hovering above the handle. She should call out and ask who was there. Lori’s breath caught in her throat as she refrained from calling out. It might just be him. The beige windbreaker man they now knew was Elias Dane from a ruthless security firm. She grabbed a paintbrush instead, its wooden handle slick against her palm. Her heart hammered as she crept toward the front of the house, torn between hidingin the kitchen and confronting whoever had entered. When Lori finally peered around the corner, her knees nearly buckled as relief and embarrassment washed through her in equal measure as Tessa walked in with Misty trotting beside her.
“Oh, where did you come from?” Lori asked, surprised as she glanced at the stairs. “I thought you were in your room on your conference call.”
“It finished early,” Tessa said smoothly. “When I looked through my window, I saw Piper and Ryan take Misty next door when they returned from their run, so I went to get her. I want to go for a walk on the beach, and I feel more comfortable taking Misty with me.”
Lori nodded, understanding completely. “I feel safer with Misty, too. She’s got good instincts.” She smiled. “Thank you for getting her.”
The German Shepherd’s tail wagged at the mention of her name, and she came over to press her nose against Lori’s hand. Lori scratched behind her ears absently, looking out the large living room window at the beach beyond. A walk actually sounded perfect right now. Fresh air, exercise, something to clear her head.
“Are you going for a walk right away?” Lori asked, glancing down at her painting outfit and sandals.
“No. I want to put on some shorts and better walking shoes first,” Tessa said, gesturing down at her jeans and casual sneakers. “These aren’t really suited for beach walking.”
“Would you mind if I joined you?” Lori asked. “I think a walk on the beach is just what I need right now.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Tessa said warmly. “I’d love the company. Give me fifteen minutes to change?”
“Perfect. I’ll be ready.” Lori nodded, then went back to the sun room to put her paintbrush down, snorting as she wondered what the hang she would’ve done with it if it had been an intruder. Her eyes landed on the fire poker by the fireplace. That would have been a much more useful weapon. She shook her head, astounded at how jumpy and paranoid she’d become over the last few weeks, then went upstairs to put on a decent beach walking outfit.
Fifteen minutes later, they were walking along the hard-packed sand near the waterline. Misty, now off-leash, ran ahead of them with her nose to the ground. The morning sun was warm on Lori’s shoulders, and the sound of the waves was soothing. For the first time in days, Lori felt some of the tension in her chest beginning to ease.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the rhythm of their steps and the endless expanse of ocean beside them. Gulls wheeled overhead, their cries sharp and wild. The beach was empty, as not many people ventured onto it. It was designated a private beach for Pelican Bay residents, of whom there were usually just Mitch, Piper, and Carrie. Occasionally, some of their guests or Nantucket locals got fed up with having to share their beach with summer tourists. They would come to this hidden gem to relax, soak up some sun, and avoid fighting for a spot with tourists.
They’d been walking for about twenty minutes when Tessa suddenly slowed, her hand coming up to shade her eyes as she looked ahead.
“Is that someone on the rocks?” Tessa asked.
Lori followed her gaze and spotted a figure crouched among the tide pools near the rocky outcropping that jutted into the water. The person wore a floppy hat that looked absurdly large even from this distance.
“Looks like it,” Lori said. “Should we turn back?”
“Maybe we can just walk past without?—”
But it was too late. The figure looked up and spotted them. An arm waved enthusiastically, and the person began hurrying toward them, navigating the rocks with surprising agility despite the ridiculous hat.
“Oh, drat!” Tessa muttered under her breath. “That’s the crazy bird lady.”
Lori felt a spike of alarm shoot through her at the mention of a bird lady. After the dead seabird on the porch, those two words together made her stomach clench. “Crazy bird lady?” Her eyes locked with Tessa’s before moving back to the woman closing in on them. “Who is she?”
