The Lost Bones (Widow's Island #8)(15)

He wouldn’t use his own name anymore.

“You’re sure the young mother is okay?” Marsha asked Cate. Her eyes were haunted, and Cate’s stomach twisted in sympathy for her.

“I’m positive. I saw her yesterday.”

“So odd,” Marsha said, almost to herself. “He didn’t seem like the type of man that would kidnap a child.”

As far as Cate knew, that wasn’t a recognizable type.

“Let us know if you see him again,” Cate told her as Tessa wrapped up her mic conversation.

“I will.”





7


Cate and Tessa had walked away from Shiny Objects for one minute when Tessa got a phone call.

“Bruce says the bartender at Widowmaker Brewery told him that a guy just showed him some photos of a woman, asking if he’d seen her,” Tessa told Cate.

“Is he still there?” The women changed direction, moving together at a fast walk. The brewery was a few blocks down the street. Optimism swept through Cate.

Did we get a break?

“Yes. He ordered lunch. Bruce told the bartender to hold his food back until we get there.”

“Perfect,” said Cate. The women broke into a slow jog. “It has to be the same guy.”

“We’ll know in a minute.”

The two reached the brewpub and jogged up the weathered stairs. The brewery had been started by a couple of retired navy officers two decades ago. It had a partial view of the bay, and tourists loved the old boat-and-fishing décor, with wide tables and benches in the dining portion of the brewery for family-style seating.

Cate immediately spotted the thin man at a high-top table in the bar section, his gaze on a news program on one of the dozen big-screen TVs. His profile was to her, showing an angular-shaped head, a clearly hooked nose, and a well-receded hairline. His posture was extremely straight, his bony shoulders creating sharp corners in his shirt.

That’s not Rich Causey.

Even though she’d never met Rich in person, she’d studied the FBI’s few photos of him countless times. This didn’t feel right at all.

The man wore cargo shorts and a hot-pink golf shirt dotted with flamingos. In front of him was a large pitcher of beer and a half-empty pint glass.

“I hope he’s staying within walking distance,” Tessa muttered, eyeing the beer. She nodded at the bartender, who’d watched them come in. He vanished and appeared moments later with a burger and fries. He set the plate in front of the man as Cate and Tessa approached.

The man popped a fry in his mouth and did a double take when he realized the two women had him in their sights and were headed to his table. His gaze went to Tessa’s uniform, and he visibly relaxed, wiping his fingers on his napkin.

Comfortable around law enforcement.

Usually Cate saw the opposite.

He held out a clean hand to Tessa. “Morning, Deputy. Alan Weekes. I wondered if I’d poked enough people to get law enforcement’s attention.” He was well spoken and polite.

Definitely not Rich Causey.

She knew Rich avoided conversations and people he didn’t know. He would never greet an officer over his lunch.

I doubt Rich has changed in seven years.

If anything, she suspected he was more reclusive. If he was still alive.

Tessa shook the man’s hand and introduced herself and Cate—leaving off any explanation of who Cate was.

What is there to say? Bakery owner? Temporary FBI helper?

“I suppose you’ve gotten a few complaints about me talking to the businesses in town,” Alan said. He pulled a wallet out of his shirt pocket and slipped out a card. “I’m a private investigator out of Oregon. I’m looking for a woman. Her parents hired me to find her.”

Tessa barely glanced at his identification. “Why didn’t you come to the county sheriff first? We would have helped you.”

Cate recognized the half smile Tessa gave him. It meant she was listening, but he had yet to impress her.

“I would’ve eventually gotten around to that,” Alan said. He gestured at the other barstools surrounding his table. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Will this take a while?” asked Cate.

“Depends if you want to order some food.” He eyed his burger, the hunger in his gaze making him look even thinner.

“Eat, please,” said Tessa. “Who are you looking for?”

He ate another fry and turned over his phone next to his plate. He tapped on the screen a few times. “Her name’s Ashlee Garnet. She’s eighteen. She left home six months ago after a big fight with her parents. They haven’t heard from her since late January. She stopped posting to social media and turned off her phone. Hasn’t contacted her friends. The Garnets contacted the local police in Portland, but they haven’t found anything. The parents hired me a few weeks ago.”

He turned the phone so Cate and Tessa could see a photo.

She resembles Kori.

Ashlee had the same shade of hair and slender build as Kori, but their faces were definitely different—they’d never be mistaken for each other by anyone who knew them, but Cate understood why Ashlee’s photos had prompted Marsha to think of Kori. She exchanged a disappointed glance with Tessa.

“Clearly something brought you to Widow’s Island to look for her,” said Tessa. “What did you find that the police did not?”