Lavender Beach (7 page)

“You mean you do everything Scott tells you to do?”

“Mostly. It’s easier that way than to bump heads with him in the middle of the night when he shows up, unannounced, scares the bejesus out of you and refuses to leave you in peace. Plus, Scott has this annoying habit of being right all the time.”

Cord ignored the look on her face and shifted gears. “By the way, I meant to mention this earlier, thought I’d let you settle in a little bit first. There’s an AA meeting every Sunday afternoon at the church. It’s such a small group that we’ve managed to merge into a get-together for both recovering alcoholics and those with substance abuse problems, a place to pour your heart out if need be. Most Sundays I manage to make it over there before they finish up. That is, if I’m not tending to an emergency. You’re welcome to join us.”

“You? Had a problem?”

“Me. Have. I’ll always be an alcoholic who takes antidepressants every single morning. My dad says it runs in the family.”

“I had no idea. Look, I appreciate you thinking of me. But it hasn’t been all that long for me out of rehab and I’m still managing to follow the program pretty well on my own without outsiders listening to my heartfelt story. So I think I’m good to go.”

“Suit yourself. Just remember the group is there, if or when, you need to talk.”

Eastlyn left it at that. But on her way to work, she decided to swing by Phillips Park just to reaffirm to herself that the whole thing was real, that Scott was really dead and she couldn’t possibly have talked to him on the beach.

When she pulled up at the curb, she didn’t even bother getting out of the Bronco. Instead, she stared at the entrance where a plain wooden sign with the words,
Phillips Park
, hung between two stone pillars, metal lanterns on top of each post. It was a simple, yet powerful memorial from the town to a war veteran.

As she sat there on Main Street, she began to think back to her first week at the inn. There had been little things she’d been unable to explain while staying there, especially at night. She recalled the first time she’d taken a walk on the beach at the cove, hidden below the cliffs. While there, she remembered feeling as though someone had been watching her. At the time, she’d chalked it up to a deep-seated anxiety at starting over in a new place, in new surroundings. Then, there was the night she’d heard whispering outside her door. When she got up to investigate the sound, the hallway had been empty. She considered the fact that she might be headed for the loony bin when she’d misplaced her dad’s army dog tags, which she carried with her wherever she went. Strangely, they had turned up the morning she checked out.

It might not add up to much. But then she included the incidents where she’d actually spotted Scott Phillips. Not knowing his name, he’d looked as real then as he had last night.

After some thought, she took out her phone, dialed the number for Promise Cove, decided Cord was right. It was best to ask the source.

Eastlyn didn’t make
it to the bed and breakfast until six-thirty that evening, a good twelve hours after her conversation with Cord.

When she made the turn down the narrow lane toward the inn, she slowed her speed past the apple-green sign where Scott’s name appeared.

As soon as the house came into view, Eastlyn saw Jordan waiting on the porch.

“Thanks for making time to talk,” Eastlyn said getting out of the truck. “I know this is your busy season so I appreciate it.”

“Don’t be silly. I always have time to talk about Scott. Come on inside, Nick’s on kitchen duty. Have you eaten?”

Eastlyn sent her a wide smile. “I didn’t come to impose like that. But I wouldn’t turn down a plate of anything you have on hand. You’re a genius in the kitchen.”

“Tonight it was buttermilk fried chicken with mashed potatoes and fried okra. The meal was in honor of the couple from Nashville staying here on their honeymoon. They’re due to check out tomorrow. They’re down at the cove taking pictures before they head back home.” In a casual tone, Jordan added, “So you’ve seen Scott.”

“Last night. And a couple times while I was here but I thought it was a real person, you know, walking the hallways, out in the courtyard, down at the cove. I just assumed…”

Jordan hooted with laughter. “That’s our Scott. He gets around.”

“How can you laugh about it? When I got to work this morning Isabella did the same thing. She wanted to know what was bothering me. When I told her, she said Scott appeared to her like it was no big deal. She told me the whole story. How you were married to Scott when he left for Iraq. How you’re now married to his best friend. Isabella was the first one of you who actually used the word ‘ghost’ to describe Scott. You should know, I don’t believe in this kind of stuff.”

Eastlyn followed Jordan into the kitchen where Nick, was indeed cleaning up the dishes. He caught the last bit of the conversation. “Then how do you explain what you saw with your own eyes? Tell me that.”

“I need glasses? My vision’s always been twenty/twenty but I guess now that I’m getting older…” Her voice trailed off knowing she could still see just fine. “I don’t know.”

“Scott brought me here, to this town, to this place, to this woman,” Nick said. “Without Scott’s interference in my life I wouldn’t have all this.”

“What does that have to do with me? I’ve never even met Scott.”

“But neither had Isabella,” Jordan pointed out. “Want something to drink?”

“Iced tea would be fine.” Eastlyn stuck her hands in her back pockets, wandered around the room in a nervous stride designed to buy her some time to think. “Maybe you guys should start at the beginning. Cord said that the reason you made the drive to Bakersfield in the first place is to bring me back—at Scott’s request.”

“I’ll fix you a plate and Nick will tell you everything.”

Over savory chicken and mashed potatoes Nick explained what happened. “I used to see Scott all the time. These days, not so much, unless he has something specific to say. Having said that, about two months ago I got up at two a.m. to let the dog out, and there he was standing right over there in the corner of the kitchen. We stayed up until four a.m. talking about you.”

“Me? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I admit in all these years I hadn’t bothered to give the pilot who flew me to a hospital that day, a second thought. After all, if it wasn’t for you…” Nick’s voice trailed off giving him time to compose his thoughts and emotions. “I was kept alive during what the medics call the ‘golden hour,’ that dangerous period after a life-threatening injury when they can’t stop the bleeding and shock sets in.”

She’d certainly heard of the golden hour. She’d lost her share of soldiers during the ride, those whose injuries were so severe they hadn’t made it through that window to reach the hospital in time to get treatment.

“You were lucky,” Eastlyn finally uttered.

“I won’t argue with that assessment. But when the stars align and you live through something like that, you better pay attention, correct the things in your life that have gone wrong. You realize that same luck needs to be spread around to others. Scott told me you were in trouble. Ben did the recon. We cooked up this idea that he would go to Bakersfield to scout out a job. While he was there, he found out that what Scott said was true. I had to make a decision. Drive there myself to bring you back or let you spiral further downward.”

“Why bring Cord along?”

“Because we did the exact same thing with Cord. And this time Cord wanted to be a part of it. It was his choice, despite what he told you. Scott didn’t have to twist his arm or haunt him by rattling around chains until we got to Bakersfield.”

Eastlyn smiled. “I see. So Scott likes to save people from themselves.”

“Something like that.”

“Last night Scott knew things about me most people wouldn’t know. In fact, he said I was here to help someone else. Bringing me here wasn’t about me. Any clue what he meant?”

Nick shook his head. “Get used to Scott’s vagueness.”

“That’ll get annoying real quick,” Eastlyn proclaimed. “Scott also said something big was about to happen. You’re the town banker. You have your pipeline into everything that happens in this town. So what do you think Scott’s talking about?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Nick tossed a glance at Jordan. “What about you?”

Jordan frowned. “I guess Scott wouldn’t be referring to the fact that the Memorial Day parade is coming together or that his daughter is about to complete her first year of school.”

Jordan tilted her head to study Eastlyn. “No doubt you fit into the grand scheme of things. You’re here so that you’ll be a critical part of whatever it is that’s about to happen.”

Eastlyn’s face showed her disappointment with that assessment and Jordan added, “Sorry. But you already know that none of us have the kind of prescient ability Scott does.”

“No offense but Cord says you guys are supposed to be the experts.”

Nick chuckled. “That’s news to us. We’re usually as much in the dark as the rest of the town, although you could go talk to Wade Hawkins, the retired history professor. He’s done so much research that he’s written a book about Scott.”

Jordan chortled with laughter. “Everyone in town bought a copy when it came out last January. Wade even held a book signing at Hayden’s bookstore last month. If you don’t have the time to look him up I’ll let you have my copy. It’s actually informative.”

Jordan scooted around the table and disappeared into the dining room. While she was out of the room, Eastlyn stared at Nick and held up her index finger. “Don’t even suggest I should thank you for dragging me to the
Outer Limits
otherwise known as Pelican Pointe.”

Undaunted with her outlook, Nick deadpanned, “Tsk, tsk, such an attitude. And to think, you haven’t even seen the plot twist at the end yet.”

“Yeah. Exactly. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Four

I
t was never a good thing when the cops showed up at your door at six a.m., especially on a Saturday.

Eastlyn peered through the peephole to see Brent Cody standing on her little stoop. She glanced down at what she wore. She hadn’t even had time to dress for work yet. Coffee in hand, still wearing a tank top and pajamas, she flung open the door. 

“If this is a raid you’ll be mighty disappointed in what you find inside. The strongest drug in this house is ibuprofen, and maybe a shot of espresso.”

Her attitude made Brent grin. “Not a morning person. I’ll definitely log that into my book. I wouldn’t mind the espresso, though. Sorry to stop by so early but I needed to catch you before you headed out to the lighthouse.”

“Half a day for me today.”

“Still grinding away at the dirt?”

“Almost got it done. What’s up?”

“The authorities in Kern County wanted me to ask you about Durke Pedasco.”

“Oh, for God’s sakes. Come on in. Durke was never an informant if that’s what this is about.”

“Durke’s gone missing, Eastlyn.”

Eastlyn lowered her cup. “Define missing?”

“I mean, he left a bar called Hotshots four weeks ago and hasn’t been seen since. His employer said he didn’t pick up his last paycheck and that Durke’s not at his apartment. The landlord says Durke disappeared without paying the rent. In fact, Durke’s belongings were boxed up, things like his cell phone, clothes, personal items. His boss checked with his parents, discovered they’d filed a missing persons report. What can you tell me about Durke Pedasco that might help the police locate him? Do you have any idea where he might be?”

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. But she was far from unconcerned. Gathering her thoughts, she finally thought of something that might help. “Durke’s parents own a cabin about an hour and a half outside Bakersfield off Highway 178. He’s been known to go up there to get away. But his parents surely checked the cabin for themselves. And if Durke had gone there, he’d definitely call them so they wouldn’t worry.”

Brent took out a small notebook where he’d jotted down what the Kern County sheriff had shared with him. “His parents are Shirleen and Dale Novack.”