Twelve

Liam used his disciplinary teacher voice that was about three octaves lower and made her laugh. “A lot like a day in a high school hallway.”

“Who’s calling the cops?” Matt interrupted and approached the group with a draft in hand.

“Matt!” Willow said, her eyes betraying her and darting right to Seth’s poem. “You came!”

Ducking under Liam’s arm, she reached out and hugged the chief. She went to kiss him on the cheek, but while he hugged her back, he craned his head around to the direction of her traitorous gaze.

“Not that the cops would have shown,” Raine said.

Willow’s mother spoke up. “Now, Raine. Don’t you start.”

Liam put a hand on her shoulder. “Come now, Raine. You just had a Leatherback lay eggs on your island.”

“This is Willow’s night.” Raine waved her hand dismissively.

“What’s so special about a Leatherback?” Heads turned to Andre, the newest Beachfront waiter.

“They are quite rare, dear,” her mother said. “And enormous.”

Willow was more interested in her big sister. She looked more than worried. She looked sick. “Raine, what is it?” she asked.

Raine sighed. “That area never gets all that many nests, but it does get nests. That damned Richard Beckett doesn’t care. He just buys it,” she said, waving her arms around. “Plows it up, all to park some cars. I don’t even know who he’s selling it to or why.”

Liam interjected, “Zoe said something about remote valet parking for Blake Eaton.”

Raine ran her hands over her face, then the top of her hair. “Great,” she said sarcastically. “Richard Beckett with Blake Eaton.”

“Is this a story I need to know about?” Matt asked.

Raine only clasped her hands behind her neck like that when she was truly beaten down.

Before her big sister got herself in trouble with a snarky answer, Willow said, “Richard Beckett, prominent real estate agent and rental property owner on the island. He has a history of breaking sea turtle code and being a regular ass. Sorry, Mom. Blake Eaton. Bigger ass, actually. Not sorry, Mom. He owns Show Me’s. Other than the Tiki Bar, it is the only other spot on the island with dancing.”

“And non-turtle friendly lights and seating that goes way out onto the beach, and loud noises and lights past dusk from said seating.” Raine took a swig from her bottle. “As far as caring about the turtles, Eaton makes Beckett look like a saint.”

“Turtle code,” Matt said. “It looks like I have homework.”

Raine stepped to him. “Right,” she said, drawing out the word.

Willow put a hand out. “Oh, boy. Whoa, whoa.”

“Do we have a problem?” Matt asked.

“The problem is—” Raine stepped closer. “I was able to fence off the nest, but when hatching time comes, the chances of Richard Beckett or Blake Eaton following code and closing off that parking lot so the hatchlings have a path to the water is between zero and none.”

Matt looked down his nose at her, his gentle voice a direct contrast to his body language. “I’m gonna tell you right now,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “If when the time comes for the nest to hatch or come out or whatever it does, and I am still here, I will make sure that will happen by the books.”

“Is that a campaign speech?” Raine growled.

Their father stood. “That’s enough, Raine.”

Everyone’s shoulders fell, including Matt’s.

“I’m sorry,” Raine said, shaking her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She turned to face Willow. “This is unbelievable. I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes turned a shade of red.

Willow wanted so badly to wrap her arms around her.

“I have a mountain of data entry from the day,” Raine said. “I will catch up with you soon.” And at that, she turned and left without saying goodbye.

“Willow!” Paula called.

Oh hell. The keg. “Coming!” Willow said and jogged to the back room.

“Be right back,” Liam said and followed Raine out the door.

Dodging a few tourists on rented bicycles, he caught up with her at her truck. She was already sitting in the driver’s seat with her forehead on the steering wheel. He rapped on the window with the backs of his knuckles.

Without lifting her head from the wheel, she turned her eyes toward him.

Since it didn’t appear she was going to roll down the window, he opened the door.

“I’m a bitch,” she said.

Reaching in, he wrapped his arms around her and said, “Yeah.”

Her shoulders shook. He hoped it was from laughter and not tears. Her chest filled and released. “You’re the best replacement brother a girl could have.”

“It’s a job I take seriously. Are you sure you won’t stay?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I honestly do have a mountain of paperwork, and I’m filling in for a beach walk tomorrow.”

“I’ve got tomorrow off. I know what turtle tracks look like.”

“Thanks, but sorry. You have to be certified.”

He gave her a tight squeeze, then let go. “I’m going to hold that detective to his word. I won’t forget.”

She jerked her chin up once. “Right. Sure thing. See you around.”

Starting her truck, he shut the door. “I mean it,” he called through the window as she drove away.

He made his way back through the crowd and spotted Dane with Willow on the dance floor. It was a strange mixture of salsa dancer meets flower girl. Yet, it worked. Everything about her was contagious and full of life.

Harmony held her hand out for him as he approached their tables. He took it, and she pulled him into the empty seat next to her. “The renovation is positively delightful. Don’t you think so, Detective?”

Matt squirmed on his stool and ran a single hand over the back of his neck. “The woodworking is exquisite, Mrs. Clearwater.”

“But, that’s not why you’re here,” she said with the knowledge that she and Willow always seemed to carry.

He nodded as he said, “But, that is not why I am here.”

Liam guessed where this was going and held up a single finger. “Hold on a minute.”

A few more customers had joined the dance floor. Liam made his way around gyrating bodies to where Willow reached to the sky and Dane sashayed. He tapped Dane on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

With a dramatic bow, Dane gestured a hand to Willow while backing away.

Her hand was soft and her waist softer. Stepping in so their bodies pressed into each other, she whispered something in his ear. The feel of her curves apparently caused deafness.

“Isn’t that great?” Willow asked.

“Huh?”

With the fog clearing slightly, he decided he ought to listen better. “Say that again.”

She lifted on her toes, bringing her lips to his ear again. “People are dancing on your gorgeous floor.”

Pulling back, he smiled into her eyes. “Our gorgeous floor.” Over her shoulder, he spotted the detective. “Oh, yes. Matt is talking about the poem. Or going to, I think.”

Willow’s expression fell. She took Liam’s hand. Together, they sidestepped their way back to the circle as the beat of margaritas claimed someone was to blame.

A tight circle that looked like a football huddle, clustered around a single table that had been pulled away from the other. A cowboy hat had been added to the mix during his deafening dance with Willow.

“Hello, Zoe. How was the tour?”

“Eventful. Where is the shrimp?”

Willow simultaneously tucked her hair behind her ear and pushed Liam back. “She’s with her other set of grandparents.”

“Jacob’s birthday.” Zoe took Willow’s hand.

“You remembered.” Willow smiled at Zoe. “I dropped her off after Raine and I went to see Matt.”

“You and Raine went to see the detective?” Harmony interrupted with the same smile she used to call him out on why Matt was here.

Both Willow’s chin and her gaze dipped toward the floor.

Henry stepped into the circle. “How about you tell us of this visit, Willow?” Everyone seemed to know, even the new Beachfront waiter, to shut up when Henry Clearwater spoke.

“So. Well.” Willow fluffed the back of her hair.

Liam couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen her do that before.

“Liam thinks Seth’s poem is a map. Dane thinks islanders think it is a map to Luciana’s dowry. Raine and I went to tell Matt, here, because it was the right thing to do, and you always taught us to do the right thing.”

“Impressive,” Liam had to say. “Throw everyone under the bus and finish with a suck up.”

“Thank you,” she said and grinned.

Henry was not as amused. “Islanders who?”

“Well. Right.”

This was more interesting than grabbing the back of the neck of Skull and Crossbones.

Closing her eyes, Willow answered. “Richard Beckett, Blake Eaton, Miriam Roberts, Timothy Hart, and sort of Glen Oberweiss.”

Henry said, “Sort of.”

“I ran into him riding his bicycle in front of the pub.”

“Does he normally do that?”

Willow shrugged. “I’ve never seen him do it before.”

“And Lucky Nemo,” Dane added.

Matt asked, “There is someone on the island named Lucky Nemo?”

“Named before the movie,” the group answered in unison.

No one mentioned the potential change in motive for Seth’s murder, and there was no way Liam was about to.

“Anyone know where the original is?” Matt asked as he took a sip of his draft.

This time everyone turned and looked at the bar.

“Because that,” he said, pointing over his shoulder at the poem, “is a copy.”