Last Chance Harbor (19 page)

“Some of this stuff has no doubt been around since I went to school,” Cleef said aiming a grin at both of them.

“So the plan is to use what we have here?” Ryder asked.

“I think it’s the best use of the money.” She turned to Cleef to get ready to bargain. “What’s your asking price?”

Cleef tossed out a figure.

“That’s your idea of a good deal?” Julianne shook her head and threw out a much lower number.

The old farmer countered.

Ryder stood back and watched a master negotiate to hammer out the deal.

“Don’t forget all this has been sitting here gathering dust all this time. If we walk away, what chance do you ever have of unloading the lot of it? And it’s for the kids,” Julianne reminded him before posing what she considered a fair price.

Cleef chewed on his lip before admitting, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a tough wrangler? You’ve got a deal.”

Julianne responded by throwing her arms around the old man’s shoulders with such force she almost knocked him back a step. “Yes, but they usually don’t hold it against me. I want you to promise me you’ll come to the open house. Mark your calendar.”

Embarrassed by the display of affection, Cleef shuffled his feet, turned to Ryder. “You got yourself a spirited female here.”

Ryder’s lips curved up before he slapped a hand on the old man’s back. “I don’t know what kind of man doesn’t appreciate a spirited woman.” He took out his cellphone. “If it’s a done deal then I’ll make the call to Logan. Give him a cost estimate to refurbish what we have here.”

While Ryder made his call, the three drifted back outside into the sunshine.

“Someone said that the Jennings family used to own a spread around here. Is that true?” Julianne asked, not wanting to admit she’d already looked up the information online in county tax records.

“Sure, I knew Euell Jennings for years, grew up together. These parts it’d be hard to find an old-timer like me who didn’t. As a matter of fact, his ranch was a couple miles down the road from mine.”

“Is it still there? The ranch, that is.”

“House is, but not any of the other buildings. As I recall a couple moving here from Los Angeles bought the place, decided to demolish everything but that mansion. Growing up, his family and mine went to the same church. Torn that down too though, a shame. I miss that old church. Anyway, his kids and mine were classmates. Euell and I remained friends. That is, up until the day he died.”

“You must have known Landon and Eleanor pretty well.”

“Oh, I did indeed. Landon had a good disposition. Now Euell’s daughter, Eleanor, was a whole other story.”

“We’ve heard stories that she was a real piece of work.”

“That’s because she was. Rumors floated around that the girl was the one who took the rifle out to the barn that morning.” Cleef leaned closer. “Killed her own father, girl was just mean enough to do it, too.”

“You really believe that?”

“I know for a fact she was so out of control at the age of fifteen, Euell didn’t know what else to do so he sent her away to one of those rehab places you hear about on TV. You ask me, didn’t do a damned bit of good. She said all the right things to get out. Then when she got back to Pelican Pointe, she came back madder than a dozen hornets and twice as devious. She was only sixteen. Try to imagine what she was like by the time she latched on to Layne.”

“She learned to play the system,” Ryder acknowledged.

“By that time she’d perfected her act.”

“You bet,” Cleef agreed with them both, scratching his stubbly chin. “I always suspected she tricked Layne into marriage.”

“How?”

“She just wanted to get hitched. Said all the right things but didn’t mean a single word that came out of her mouth. That was Eleanor.”

“She sounds like a real phony.”

Once Ryder and Julianne got on their way, a silence hung in the air until Julianne said, “Should we tell Brent about what Cleef just told us?”

“Even if it’s true, what good would it do? Eleanor’s dead. How would we prove she was the one who shot her father and made it look like a suicide? There’s no way.”

“I don’t know but I really think Brent needs to have all the facts at hand. How can he solve this thing unless he knows all the deets?”

Seeing the troubled look on her face, he took her chin. “Change in plans. The clock is ticking on your getaway weekend. You have to checkout at the B&B this afternoon, right?”

“You know I do.”

“Then let’s do something spontaneous and fun.”

She looked over, saw his eyes glow with a devilish gleam. “Like what?”

“Are you up for an adventure?”

“I suppose. As long as it’s legal and I’m back in class by tomorrow morning.”

“Ever heard of Treasure Island?”

“Of course, Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic.”

“According to Nick, we have our own right here. How would you like to go there and laze away the afternoon?”

“We’ve plenty of
time to explore the area,” Ryder assured her as they trudged down the steep set of steps to get to t
h
e
C
ove below the cliffs. “Besides, while you were upstairs changing into jeans, Jordan said not to worry about getting in a hurry to check out. There’s no rush.”

“Jordan shouldn’t have put together the picnic basket. That was too much. Everyone’s been so great to me this weekend. I’m almost sad to go back to Santa Cruz.”

“But you’ll soon be here full-time, able to enjoy everything the place has to offer.”

“Look at this,” Julianne said when they reached the sandy beach below. It was everything she’d heard about and more. The stretch of p
r
i
stine
beach
hidden
a
w
a
y
from the tops of the bluffs was a prime sample of what set the B&B apart from others along the coast. With the rock wall as a backdrop, sugary sand met up with lapping sea.

“According to Nick they keep the
ketch tied up in the cave over there.”

They spotted the motorized lifeboat and dragged it to the launch. He helped her in before climbing aboard, started the motor.

Within the first few minutes the choppy sea had her wishing she’d stayed on shore. The up and down motion made her wish she hadn’t eaten breakfast hours earlier. They hadn’t gotten far when Ryder picked up on the way she looked.

“You okay?” he asked, noting her grayish pallor.

“I’m a bit queasy.”

“You should’ve said something. I didn’t know you’d get seasick. It never occurred to me. I never would’ve suggested this.”

“It’s okay. I guess I got caught up in the adventure of the moment.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. Can you stand it for that long? Or do you want me to head back?”

“No, let’s keep going. I want to see this place.”

She didn’t look okay, Ryder decided. But he could see the shoreline within sight so he continued on, all the while the little raft bounced over foamy whitecaps. Once they reached the shallow inlet, he tossed the mushroom anchor into the water to moor them as close to the little sliver of island as he could get.

Hopping out, he lifted her up out of the boat. Hugging her to his chest, he trekked through the waves and up the beach to the hilly terrain.

Her feet touched down on ground more rock than sand. Knee-high bunchgrass mixed with fragrant white sage, and eucalyptus peppered the tiny island landscape. Mosaics of bright poppies and blue storm mingled with perennial herbs. Budding California blackbrush fought for turf among hardy huckleberry.
Looking around at the coastal shrub, she saw
California quail nestled among the
grassland.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting but this is downright primitive.”

“Are you okay?” He took her by the shoulders, lifted her chin to peer into her eyes. “Your color’s better. You aren’t as pale as you were before. Weren’t you ever a girl scout?”

“Yes, but I excelled more at meeting my cookie quotas rather than camping or sailing.”

“Really? So you’re not the outdoorsy type.”

“I love the outdoors. I just never considered myself much of a wilderness freak or sailor. I’m more the lifeguard type who sits on the beach and blows my whistle when there’s a problem.”

He laughed. “So you don’t surf?”

“Sure I do. I’m a California girl, a regular
Sarah Gerhardt.”

“Who?”

“Sarah’s famous. She’s the first woman to conquer Mavericks, the spot around Half Moon Bay, the Mount Everest of big waves with nasty breaks. Sarah used to teach, chemistry, I think. You don’t surf?”

“
Not yet, but I’m willing to have you teach me.”

“It’s a deal. Too bad we didn’t bring a board.”

Once they got settled near a stony wash, Ryder spread the blanket next to a circle of stones. The fire pit would come in handy for overnight stays. Too bad they were only there for the afternoon.

Surrounded by the lapping water, Julianne dug into the picnic basket, brought out a bottle of Shiraz. “Can you believe all this stuff Jordan packed?” She set out leftovers from last night’s party—cheese, crackers, cucumber salad, bite-size quiche, cold chicken and pesto.

Stretching her legs out, her hands out in back, she tilted her face up to the sun.

Watching her, something inside him clicked.

He dropped beside her, raked his fingers through her hair and tugged it to get her to roll into him. It didn’t take much for her to respond. Their interest in food vanished replaced by attraction, need, heat.

Ryder forgot about the unforgiving ground and urged her to crawl on top.

She inched her way to his body, hovered over his face. Their lips met, hunger ramping up. His hands roamed down her back, gripped her butt.

From the sandbank, they heard voices, laughter. Both realized about the same time they weren’t alone.

In a split second, she banked her passion, rushed back into the present. She rolled to the side. “I recognize that voice.”

A flicker of annoyance flashed over Ryder’s face. He flopped on his belly, scooted so he could pop his head up around a patch of wild buckwheat to get a look at the spot where they’d left the boat.

“It’s Troy and he’s with Bree. Looks like we have company.”

“Damn, that is
so
not right.”

Troy and Bree
had spent the morning sending text messages back and forth which had Bree agreeing to come early enough so they could row over to Treasure Island before they ate supper. But Troy had a surprise in store.

He’d spent his Sunday prepping the apartment for Bree’s visit, doing all the necessary chores he’d neglected during the week—dishes and clothes tended to pile up. He took out the trash, dusted, and changed the sheets on the bed. He piled up all the dirty laundry, tossed it into a basket and took it to the main house for washing.

He’d done all that before Bree drove up in her Chevy Cavalier.