Close to the Bone (Widow's Island #1)(22)

“I can’t go to Rex Conan with that,” she said.

“I agree,” said Cate. “And I don’t think we should tell him the bones are gone just yet. He’s not expecting an identification until the ferry can get the bones to the mainland. We’ve got a window of time to hunt them down.”

“Before everyone knows I screwed up,” said Henry. “My reputation here is shot.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Cate said forcefully at the same time Tessa declared, “You did nothing wrong.”

He wasn’t comforted.

“They couldn’t have gotten far with the bones,” Cate said. “The thief has to still be on the island.”

“Unless they took a personal watercraft.” Tessa turned to Bruce. “Contact the marinas. I want to know who’s left since yesterday afternoon. Luckily most boats are out of the water for the winter, so there won’t be much activity.”

Bruce nodded and strode toward the front door.

“Private docks,” muttered Cate.

“I know,” agreed Tessa. “But maybe we’ll get lucky. Thieves aren’t usually rich enough to afford a boat, let alone a property with a dock.”

“He could have stolen a boat from a private dock or marina,” added Henry.

“I’d planned to review Becca’s last twenty-four hours today,” said Cate. “Do you want help with finding the bones instead?”

“No. Do what you planned.” Tessa eyed Henry. “The doc here seems pretty certain the bones are Becca’s. Let’s not stop our progress on that aspect.”

Henry felt like he was under a spotlight. “What can I do?”

“Open up shop,” Tessa told him. “Widow’s Island still needs its doctor.”

True.

But it felt like Tessa and Cate were cleaning up his mess.





10


Cate walked to Buzz’s Head Shop from Henry’s office, her mind spinning with possibilities.

Who would steal the bones?

Someone who didn’t want them identified.

Hence, the killer.

The teenage girl’s killer was still on the island.

Or a drug seeker took them just for the heck of it.

She sighed and adjusted her scarf. The temperature wasn’t horrible, but the wind was icy. Passing Cheater’s Bookstore, she glanced in the windows and saw an employee watching TV behind the sales desk. No customers. Buzz’s Head Shop was next. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. Spotting the sign that stated the shop opened at nine a.m., she checked the time. It was past ten.

What did I expect from a marijuana dispensary?

Two years ago Jerry Hooper had claimed Becca Conan had been in his pot shop the day she’d disappeared. No other person had seen her. The previous investigators had found Jerry’s sighting to be rather odd because Becca’s boat had been found in Bishop Bay Marina, adjacent to the ferry dock and nearly an hour from Jerry’s pot shop in North Sound. His shop had sold legal drug paraphernalia for decades and then became a licensed dispensary when pot became legal.

“You waiting for me?” a lazy male voice asked.

Jerry strolled her way, keys jingling in his hand. Taking his time as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably doesn’t.

“Hey, Jerry.”

He squinted. “Cate?” His eyes lit up. “Nice to see you.”

“Your sign says you open at nine.”

He didn’t look at the sign. “Well, it should say somewhere around nine.” He slid the key in the lock.

“It’s past ten.”

“That’s pretty close.” He grinned, showing impressively white teeth. “You’re lookin’ good. I heard your brother is back.” He pulled the door open, and an odd mix of odors rushed out. Pine, citrus, and grass. Not the skunky smell of smoked pot she’d expected.

“Yes. He’s working for the park service.”

“What can I do for you? You need some help with pain?”

Does everyone know?

Jerry flipped on the lights and unlocked an inside door that allowed him behind a glass case. It looked like a case in a bakery, but instead of displaying cakes, this one presented large mason jars of the dried green herb. The jars and case were impeccably clean and arranged in perfect rows. Each jar had a neatly printed label.

Purple Power. Blue Haze. Lemon Haze. White Widow.

What’s the difference between Blue and Lemon?

“No pain. I’m reviewing the Becca Conan case.”

“Yeah. The author’s missing kid. I heard they found some bones on his island. Is that why you’re reviewing it?”

“Who told you about the bones?”

He leaned both arms on the case, his easygoing gaze looking her up and down. “Everybody is talking about it. You know how it is.”

“Two years ago you said she’d tried to buy marijuana from you.”

“Yep.”

“You sure it was her?”

“She looked like the picture being passed around by the police. Young girl—way too young—who wouldn’t show ID when I asked for it.” He yawned. “I told her to leave, and she left. That was it.”

“Were you stoned?”