The Lost Bones (Widow's Island #8)(19)

“We’re stubborn too,” answered Cate. “Especially when children are involved. We aren’t anywhere near giving up.”

“Well, I said my piece. Now get off my property.” He stepped back and moved to shut the door.

“It’s a rental,” Isla snapped just before the door slammed in their faces.

She and Cate moved down the concrete steps. “Think we poked him enough?” asked Isla.

“I think so. The wireless carrier will let the FBI know if he makes any phone calls in the next hour.”

“He might use the girlfriend’s phone,” said Isla, tapping on her cell phone as they walked. “Tammy, right? I’ll find her last name and get her wireless information.”

Cate stopped to rub the foreheads of two very curious cows who had watched the entire conversation with Greg. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. Turning slightly, she saw Tammy watching them from a window.

Hmm.

Cate dug in the inner pocket of her blazer. She’d discovered old business cards when she’d put on the jacket that morning and stared for a long moment at her name in crisp letters under the FBI logo, a mix of emotions flooding her. The agency had been part of her identity for a long time. It’d been hard to cut away that piece of herself.

She still had an empty hole that hadn’t healed over.

But it was much smaller than it had been.

Cate scribbled her cell number on a card and shoved it into a crack in the fence and looked at Tammy again. The woman was still watching.

Isla noticed the woman. “Maybe she’ll call,” Isla said under her breath.

“Worth a shot,” said Cate. “Having a boyfriend who’s a nonstop asshole tends to wear on a person.”

“Agreed.”

“Let’s go,” said Cate. “I want to get back to the island. My stomach feels loopy.”

“Do you need something for it?” asked Isla.

“Nope. I just need to go home.” Cate exhaled, and a small part of her tension started to fade.

Stepping onto the island would take care of the rest.



Cate waited for Tessa outside the Cascade Café and seriously considered getting one of their dutch baby pancakes to go, even though it was almost dinnertime. Or maybe two pancakes. But she knew they wouldn’t taste nearly as good by the time she got them home. They were best fresh out of the café’s ovens, with plenty of butter, powdered sugar, and lemon. The smell of a freshly baked one teased her again, and she moved away a few steps.

I’m not the only one who likes breakfast for dinner.

She’d just returned from the interview with Greg Ledford when Tessa called, asking her to meet at the café. Tessa was now inside taking a report regarding a large group of young men who had dined and dashed. Cate could see the deputy talking with a young waitress. Tessa had told her the waitress was annoyed that the group had constantly made her run back and forth for stupid complaints and then not paid.

Tessa finally came out, bringing a fresh wave smelling of burgers, pancakes, and coffee.

“Was it tourists who dined and dashed?” asked Cate.

“Nope. It was the Wilkins boys and a group of friends.” She shook her head. “Did they really think no one would recognize them?”

“I don’t think ‘boys’ is the right term,” said Cate. “They’ve got to be in their early twenties by now.”

“They acted like boys.”

“True.”

“Their mom isn’t going to let them get away with it,” said Tessa. “Even if they don’t live at home anymore. I don’t envy them facing Debbie’s wrath after I tell her about it.”

“You’re going to report it to their mom?” Cate grinned.

“Yep. I have every faith that Debbie will take care of it.”

“I have no doubt.” The two women started to walk up the small hill in Bishopton. The town was adjacent to the ferry port and was often more crowded with tourists than North Sound. Bishopton was laid out so people could walk off the ferry and immediately find plenty of restaurants and little shops. It’d been a convenient place to meet upon Cate’s return. Both women were ready to update the other on their mornings.

“What did you find about the person who sold Marsha the jewelry?” asked Cate.

“Marsha said she’s bought jewelry from him three times and that it always sells well. Each time she’s bought some, she’s paid him more and also increased the price in her store.”

“It’s not a consignment?”

“No. She buys it outright.”

“That’s a little risky.”

“She says she knows what will sell in her store. She charges more than double what she pays for jewelry and rarely has to mark it down.”

“Sounds like she knows what she’s doing.”

“Anyway, I asked her to describe the seller. She guessed that he was around thirty-five. Said he’s very quiet and has a thick beard. She’s never seen anyone else come in with him, and she’s one hundred percent convinced that he makes the jewelry.”

“Hmm.” Cate didn’t know what to think about that. The age sounded too young for Rich, and he definitely wasn’t quiet, from Kori’s and his friends’ descriptions. Cate had a hard time picturing him as the quiet man talking to Marsha about his jewelry.