The Lost Bones by Kendra Elliot

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?”

“I let them know of every lead I find,” said Alan firmly. “How they choose to handle that information is up to them, but I have more flexibility in how I get things done.” He took a bite of his burger. It had only pickles as a topping, and the meat patty had been cooked so long it was almost black. But Alan took another enthusiastic bite, so Cate assumed he’d ordered it well done and the kitchen hadn’t overcooked it while stalling for them to arrive.

“Anyway,” he continued. “She left to be with a guy, of course.” He wiped his mouth carefully with his napkin. “Ashlee told her parents she was going to move in with him, and naturally the parents freaked out. They forbade her to live with him—you can guess how well that went over.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his dry pickle burger. “So here I am.”

“Let me guess,” Cate said. “One of Ashlee’s girlfriends talked.”

“Nope.” Two fries vanished into his mouth. “I learned from the mother that Ashlee makes jewelry, and she hadn’t left any of her supplies behind. According to the mother, Ashlee only made stuff for friends, but I figured if Ashlee needs to support herself, the jewelry would be a logical place to start. I ran some reverse image searches on photos that her mother sent me, and nearly identical jewelry popped up on the website of your island store Sharp Objects.”

“Shiny Objects,” corrected Tessa. “But when you were in there, you didn’t tell the owner that she carried Ashlee’s jewelry. You only showed her photos of the girl.”

“I know better than to show my entire hand at once—I space things out over time and people. I was in there the day before and asked a different salesperson specifically about that jewelry. Most of the other displays had informational descriptions about the artists. The artist’s card on the pieces I think are Ashlee’s don’t say anything specific about the maker except that she believes she’s part wood nymph and finds her motivation in the sea and sky. The first salesperson told me it’s actually a man who sells and makes the jewelry.”

“Bummer,” said Tessa.

“I waited a day and showed Ashlee’s photo to a different salesperson. Struck out. No one in town I’ve shown the photo to recognizes her. I’d hoped when I saw you two come marching in that you knew her.”

Both women shook their heads.

Alan raised a brow, disbelief on his face. “So me simply asking questions around town was enough to earn a visit from the county sheriff’s department?”

Cate looked to Tessa, who answered. “No. We’re working on another case, and the timing of you asking questions was just too coincidental.”

Alan’s eyes narrowed. “In my twenty-five years of PI work, I’ve found that true coincidences rarely exist.” He nodded emphatically and downed the rest of the beer in his glass. “Now who are you ladies looking for?” His gaze was sharp as he glanced from Cate to Tessa.

The women exchanged a long look.

Cate was getting an honest vibe from the PI. He seemed professional and competent at his job. Her read of Tessa’s expression was that she felt the same. Alan appeared forthcoming and intelligent, and Cate liked his attitude.

“Would you believe it was your physical description that caught our attention?” asked Tessa. Subtle amusement danced in her eyes.

His brows shot up. “Me? What did my doppelgänger do?”

“Nothing in a long time,” said Cate. “He’s been missing for seven years.”

“Fascinating.” Interest filled his face. “And you’ve kept an eye out this long? Tell me more.”

“Maybe another time. We’ll let you enjoy your lunch,” said Cate.

“But now you’ve got my curiosity piqued. Especially with the federal involvement.” He winked at Cate.

She stilled.

Alan grinned at her. “You’ve got ‘federal agent’ written all over you,” he said.

“No, I don’t.”

He leaned back in his seat, studying her from head to toe. “FBI? Marshals?”

“I’m a baker,” she blurted out. “I own a bookstore too.”

He said nothing, a gentle smirk on his lips.

He doesn’t believe me.

Tessa’s shoulders quaked.

She’s laughing.

“Sometimes what you don’t say tells me more than anything you do say,” Alan told them. “Deputy Black here purposefully didn’t say who you worked for. I doubt she searches for people missing for seven years with the help of a baker.”

Tessa pulled out one of the barstools and took a seat. She signaled to the bartender, who headed their way. “It’s time for lunch,” she told Cate, patting the stool next to her.

Cate looked from Alan to Tessa.

He is amusing.

She reluctantly dragged out the other barstool as Tessa ordered fish and chips along with iced tea. Cate did the same.

Alan’s face lit up. “This is great. A working lunch. Maybe we can brainstorm some ways to find Ashlee. She’s in the area; I just know it. Her jewelry is quite distinctive.” He frowned. “Unless someone has decided to copy her designs.”

“We can get more information from the owner of Shiny Objects,” said Cate. “I’m sure she met the person who sold her the jewelry. If he asked to remain anonymous for the sales, she would respect that. But once she knows why we’re asking about him, she’ll tell us anything we want to know.” The bartender delivered two huge iced teas, and Cate took a sip. “So do you think the boyfriend might be—”

Keeping Ashlee out of sight?

She froze as the parallels of Kori’s and Ashlee’s lives slapped her in the face.

The women have similar physical characteristics. Coincidence?

“Cate?” Tessa asked. “You okay?”

“Just a second,” Cate murmured as she tried to put her thoughts in order. “Who else do we know that kept his woman away from everyone? Made her essentially disappear?” she asked Tessa. “Alan just said there are no coincidences . . . is it possible Ashlee’s boyfriend is Rich Causey? Am I grasping at straws here?” She looked at the PI. “Do you have any information about the boyfriend at all? Was he older? Surely Ashlee told her girlfriends something about him.”

Alan looked sharply at Cate. “One said that Ashlee was confident the boyfriend would give her a stable life . . . that he was older . . . but Ashlee wasn’t specific about the age to the friend. When you’re eighteen, even someone who is twenty-one is ‘older.’”

Tessa pushed away her iced tea and leaned toward Cate, her expression intent. “If that message on the newspaper article is current, Ashlee could have written it if she’s with Rich Causey.”

“Rich Causey,” Alan repeated. “That’s the name?” He grabbed his phone and opened a browser.

Cate ignored him, her gaze locked on Tessa. “Rich posing as the artist for Ashlee’s jewelry work? And keeping her hidden somewhere? It fits what we know of him.” She pressed a hand against her forehead. “Is it as simple as that?”

“It’s not simple if we don’t know where he’s keeping her,” said Tessa. “It makes total sense that he’s repeating a pattern, though. Like keeping her from accessing the internet and friends or even showing her face.”

“Where could they be?” Cate murmured, mentally scouring the island, wondering where Rich would keep a woman completely isolated. There were too many places. It was a small island, but it had numerous rural and forested areas.

“Holy shit,” said Alan, focusing on his phone. “You thought I might be this asshole who kidnapped his ill daughter?”

“We have some recent evidence that indicates he might be on the island,” said Cate.

“Aha,” said Alan. “I was right about you being FBI, Special Agent Cate Wilde. You’re mentioned several times in this old article.” He gave Cate a side-eye.

“I’m no longer with the FBI,” Cate told him. “I really do own a bakery and bookstore. I’m a ‘consultant’ at the moment.” She made air quotes with her fingers.

“Whatever you say,” said Alan. “But I suspect if you can locate your missing person, Rich Causey, I’ll locate Ashlee.”

Excitement bubbled up in Cate. After all these years, do we finally have a solid lead on Rich Causey?

Alan leaned forward. “And what’s this about a message on a newspaper article you think Ashlee could have written?”

Cate mulled over how much to tell the PI. “An article about the kidnapping of Jade Causey was left in Shiny Objects. Someone had written on it that Jade had died, and the writer was scared the same thing would happen to her baby.”

Alan’s mouth opened slightly as he stared at the two women. “She’s pregnant? If it’s Ashlee, she hasn’t been gone long enough to have a baby . . . although I guess she could have been a few months along when she left. Maybe she has had a baby.”

“The article was in a box that was addressed to me,” said Cate.

Alan wrinkled up his forehead and blinked several times as he tried to put the pieces together.

“The article mentioned me.”

“And after seven years, you took this note seriously?”

“Yes.” She decided to not mention the mandible.

He gave her a measured look.

He knows I haven’t told him everything.

“Now the hard part is to locate them,” said Tessa. “The possibility that Rich and Ashlee are together is definitely worth pursuing. I’ll talk to Marsha again and ask what she knows about the jewelry.”

“How long since you’ve talked to Rich’s family or known associates?” Alan asked.

“He doesn’t have any family, but his friends are contacted yearly during the reviews of the case,” said Cate.

“So they get a random phone call from a faceless agent where they can easily lie about their buddy.” Alan shook his head. “I prefer to look people in the eye when I talk to them. I learn a lot more.” He gave Cate a knowing look.

“I do too,” she agreed.

“Who was Rich’s closest buddy?” asked Tessa. “Maybe it’s time for an in-person visit.”

“Greg Ledford,” Cate answered promptly.

“I’ll get an address for him.” Tessa slid off her stool and stepped away from the table to speak into the mic at her shoulder.

Alan lifted his beer to Cate. “To killing two birds with one stone.”

Cate clinked his glass with her iced tea, a new hope filling her.

Am I finally getting somewhere with this case?

Fingers crossed.