Page 7 of A Mile of Ocean (Pelican Pointe #19)

T rent pointed to where Duchess, Dolly, and Tate were sitting on the back porch, sipping a crimson-colored cocktail from oversized wine glasses and chatting about the power of women. Locke and Lotus, the two border collies, stretched out between the women’s feet.

It was unsettling how much Savannah looked forward to being part of this circle. At Trent’s urging, she approached the three women tentatively until Duchess looked up and smiled, patting the seat next to her. “We’re celebrating my small but mighty victory over the local attorney. Come and have a drink with us. Tate, pour Savannah a glass of sangria.”

“My pleasure,” Tate said, taking another glass from the tray. “We’re getting smashed tonight. What’s that you’re carrying?”

“She brought us dinner,” Trent answered, lifting the lid on the casserole dish to show off Savannah’s masterpiece. “Baked spaghetti.”

“I’ll take that,” Dolly said, sniffing the food. “Smells delicious. I hope you’re staying to help us eat this.”

“Trent asked. I said yes.”

“Great,” Duchess replied, handing Savannah the sangria. “Taste it. Dolly’s special punch we bring out for celebrations.”

“So showing Kinsey the detailed plans for a family cemetery must’ve worked?” Trent presumed.

“Like a charm,” Duchess replied. “The fact that we’d started the family burial plot twenty-two years ago didn’t hurt either. She didn’t even try fighting it because there were already two headstones there. It made sense to her. She couldn’t explain why Barrett wanted to change things in the first place.”

“Feel better now?” Trent asked his grandmother.

“About that? Yes, I do. Don’t you? Why would we have our patriarch buried somewhere else on the property and not next to the son he adored? Turtle Ridge will always be our special place. But it shouldn’t be his final resting place.”

Tate traded looks with Trent and shrugged. “I can’t argue with the logic.”

“Barton Pearson called, letting us know the county released Barrett’s body this afternoon to the funeral home. Tate and I are headed there after supper to hand over the outfit we picked out—his best suit and tie.”

“And his favorite dress shirt with the sparkles on it,” Tate added. “We’re stopping by the church on the way back to discuss the order of the funeral service with Seth and Ophelia.”

Savannah smiled, appreciating the family’s closeness and how they seemed to get along. “It’s wonderful the way you’re all on the same page,” she said softly, thinking of how different things were with her family.

But Trent had concerns. “Maybe the trip into town could wait until the security detail arrives. One of them could escort you to the funeral home and the church just in case our shooter tries anything else.”

“When will they get here?” his grandmother asked.

“They were supposed to be here this afternoon. No later than tonight, for sure.”

“I guess we could wait,” Tate said, glancing at her grandmother. “We could always go tomorrow. But we should let Barton and Seth know we’ve put off the meetings until Monday morning.”

“Speaking of postponing something important,” Duchess interjected, “I’ve wanted to do this forever and finally found someone actively interested in genealogy. I’ve asked Cooper Richmond to join us later in the week. He’s been studying at UC Santa Cruz, taking classes from Amalie Lockney, some kind of genealogy whiz.”

“Brogan Cole recommended her,” Tate explained. “And Professor Lockney recommended Cooper because he was local. She thought it might work better if we used someone here in town.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in looking at the family tree,” Trent said.

“That’s because your grandfather never wanted to talk about it. But Cooper will be helping us dive into the Callum branch. It’s important to document our history, especially now, don’t you think?”

Savannah nodded, intrigued. “I’d love to learn more about your family’s past.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Dolly assured her. “But for now, let’s take this inside and heat Savannah’s casserole. Let’s enjoy each other’s company before the security people arrive and remind us that we’re under siege.”

Dolly and Tate threw together a fresh salad with lettuce from the garden. As they sat down to dinner, the room filled with laughter and stories, each memory a thread that wove them closer together. Savannah felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t experienced in years and realized that these moments of connection were what truly mattered.

Dinner was a relaxed affair, filled with warmth and friendship. They shared stories of the past, laughter echoing through the room as they recounted family anecdotes and cherished memories. Savannah felt embraced by the familial bonds with each tale they told.

As the evening wore on, they moved to the living room, where more stories flowed, and plans for the genealogy project began to take shape. Duchess and Tate discussed the papers and photos they had collected over the years and Cooper’s potential contributions to their endeavor.

“I talked with him for an hour on the phone yesterday while sulking in my room,” Duchess admitted. “He used to be a photojournalist who’s traveled all over the world. I believe he could bring a unique perspective to the project.”

“What kind of perspective?” Trent wanted to know. “Isn’t genealogy all about following a paper trail, using websites with ancestry data already there? Why do we need a different perspective?”

Duchess frowned. “Trent, you sound exactly like your grandfather. Dubious to a fault about any information we find. I’m not sure why you feel that way, but it mirrors my bumping heads with Barrett about it.”

“I, for one, can’t wait to start digging into our family tree,” Tate remarked, eyes shining excitedly. “Getting detailed information about Granddad’s family was always like hitting a brick wall. But unearthing new tidbits is like uncovering buried treasure, except the treasure is our heritage.”

Just then, the sound of an approaching vehicle broke the reverie.

“They’re here,” Tate announced, peering out the window. “One of them is kinda cute if you like the Secret Service, tight-ass, no-nonsense persona.”

Samantha joined Tate at the window. Within moments, all four men dressed in suits stood beside a luxury black SUV, presumably the security detail. “Jeez, you weren’t kidding. Men in Black for real.”

“That outfit won’t cut it on a ranch,” Trent grumbled in disappointment. “I told them they needed to blend in, not prance around in a suit.”

“It looks like they didn’t get the message,” Tate noted. “Communication breakdown at the very beginning is not a good sign.”

Trent went out the front door to greet them in the driveway. “I’m Trent Callum.”

“Eli Hawk,” a tall, muscular man sporting a short haircut said before he removed his polarized sunglasses. “Pelican Pointe isn’t exactly a hub of activity, is it?”

“We make do. I expected you here two hours earlier.”

“Sorry about that, but traffic from Los Angeles was terrible. And we had trouble finding this place. Have you had any more problems since last night?”

“No, it’s been quiet. But I suggested to my grandmother that she and my sister delay heading into town until you arrive. They rearranged their schedule for tomorrow. I hope that works for you. The plan is for one of your men to accompany them into town and stick with them in case this guy makes his move while they’re running errands.”

“We can do that. I’ll assign Drum to the task. In the meantime, we need a tour of the entire property and instructions on how far you want us to go if we spot this guy.”

Trent noticed all four men carried military-issued .45 automatic handguns. “You’re here to stop him from hurting any of my family or any of our employees. I don’t care much about how you do it. Just don’t shoot any of the ranch hands in the process. Let me show you where your men will bunk inside the main house. It’s up to you to schedule when they sleep.”

“That’s actually up to you,” Hawk stated. “We are here to protect and serve your family twenty-four-seven, however long it takes until the man is in custody.”

“Do any of your men ride a horse?” Trent asked.

“My guys are former police officers with military backgrounds. We can adjust to whatever you need.”

“That’s not really what I asked. But okay. I hope you at least brought proper attire for a ranch setting—jeans, work boots, or boots of any kind will work. It gets muddy and messy around here. I’m sorry if this isn’t the sort of celebrity detail you’re used to doing. It is what it is. There’s a lot of ground to cover and various family and employees who will rely on you to keep them safe.”

Hawk made the introductions. “This is Lincoln, Slade, and Drum.”

Trent wasn’t sure he could tell the four men apart. But after shaking hands with each one and discussing the arrangements, Trent led Hawk and his team through the main house. After dropping their bags in the guest wing, he led them on an extensive tour of the expansive ranch, beginning with the barns and stables and showing them where each outbuilding was located.

“These are great places for our shooter to hide,” Hawk stated. “We’ll need to secure each one every night.”

When it came time to tour the grounds, Trent pointed to a two-seater golf cart they used for hauling feed and hay to livestock in the fields. “This should get you back and forth for now.”

The vast property sprawled across rolling hills. Each section more picturesque than the last. As they toured the grounds, Trent pointed out key areas particularly vulnerable to an intruder’s approach.

“This is the east pasture,” he said, gesturing to a sizable expanse of open range. “This is where we think our shooter entered. The tree line and ground cover make for a great place to hide. It’s the farthest from the house and the most secluded. We’ve had issues with trespassers here before, minor problems with hunters looking for small wild game over the years, but nothing like what occurred Friday night.”

Hawk nodded, taking mental notes. “I’m truly sorry for your loss. We’ll set up a rotating watch here, especially during the night. We’ll use night vision goggles and heat sensors to pick up any signs of intruders.”

They continued their tour, passing the mechanic’s and blacksmith’s shop, Trent’s office, and the bunkhouse, where he introduced his men to their security team.

“Just make sure you don’t shoot any of us,” Blake cautioned. “I’m usually working the north pasture where the cattle are. I often go back and forth all day to the barn and stables.”

“This is a good idea,” Hawk said. “We probably need to know each man’s whereabouts on the property while they go about their jobs.”

“They work hard during the day, eat supper and breakfast inside the bunkhouse, and sleep here each evening,” Trent explained while showing them around. “They each have their own bedroom, a rec room, a mess hall, and shower facilities in the bathroom.”

“It works like a firehouse,” Cecil said. “We take turns cooking our meals. We eat, sleep, and depend on each other twenty-four-seven.”

“We get holidays off and vacation time,” Woody tossed in. “But the six of us almost feel like our job is a holiday, most of the time. We get to work with animals, ride horses, and get free rent and board. We’re usually a happy bunch. That is, until Friday night.”

After each man had recited their duties and what part of the ranch was their responsibility, the tour ended where it began by returning to the main house where his grandmother and Tate waited in the parlor.

With sharp and discerning eyes, Duchess assessed the newcomers with a mix of curiosity and trust in her grandson’s judgment.

“Duchess, this is Eli Hawk and his team, Lincoln, Slade, and Drum. And my sister, Tate Callum,” Trent said by way of introduction. “These guys are on the clock beginning now. The goal is to keep us all safe.”

Tate shook hands with each man. “I usually start my day in the haybarn and end up feeding the mares between eight-thirty and ten o’clock. You can usually find me there in the middle of the property dubbed Painted Heart—that’s where the name came from for the foundation because we started by trying to save five Indian Paint ponies from a herd in Wyoming—anyway, all our rescued mares are now located in the heart of the property.”

“Trent showed us Painted Heart,” Lincoln said. “Not that I could find it again in the dark.”

That earned him a glower from Hawk. “You wouldn’t happen to have a map of the entire spread, would you, with each section clearly marked?”

“You didn’t hand out maps?” Tate asked her brother. “We have several in Granddad’s study. I’ll go make copies for all of you. The map breaks up each section of land and notes whether it’s used for horses or cattle. But only the property’s northern edge is used for cattle, so it’s fairly easy to remember.”

“Welcome to chaos,” Duchess stated, spreading her arms wide. “It shakes us up when there’s a nut out there with a rifle. I hope you’ll find everything you need. If not, don’t hesitate to ask someone. Dolly Hinton is our cook and housekeeper. She can tell you where to find anything if I’m not around.”

“Thanks, ma’am, for your hospitality,” Hawk replied respectfully. “Thank you for having us. While three of us are in the field, one person will always be at the house if you need them. We’ll use the main house as our base. We’ll keep in touch with Trent and the bunkhouse, maintaining radio contact with them throughout each night. But right now, we’d like to change clothes, get back outside, set up our equipment, and do our reconnaissance before nightfall.”

“By all means, make yourselves at home.”

While the four men went upstairs to change, Savannah pulled Trent aside to say her goodbyes.

“I enjoyed tonight very much. I like your family.”

“I’m glad. Call me when you make it home and let me know you got there safely. Okay? Will you do that?”

“No need to worry about me, Trent,” Savannah said softly. “But I will absolutely call you to say goodnight.”

Trent drew her closer, lightly kissing her lips, taking a moment to draw strength from her presence. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I wish we could go somewhere and be alone, don’t you?”

“When this is over,” Trent maintained as he watched her get settled in her SUV. As she drove down the driveway, the stress of the day’s events suffocated him like a wool blanket on a hot day.

He angled back toward the house, where Hawk and his team stood wearing not jeans but camo tactical gear with bulletproof vests. They were already hard at work setting up their surveillance equipment. The sense of urgency was unmistakable. But Trent couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. These men were professionals, and their presence promised a semblance of security that had been absent since the murder.

Inside the house, his grandmother busied herself with preparations for Barrett’s funeral, her calm demeanor steadying the household. She was a pillar of strength, a testament to the resilience that had seen the family through countless hardships.

As daylight faded, Tate handed out the maps while Dolly bagged snacks and poured coffee into four separate thermos bottles for Hawk and his team, preparing them for the long night ahead. “You need anything else? The kitchen is never closed around here.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Drum said, taking his thermos.

“Who’s staying behind?” Tate asked. “At the house tonight?”

“I am,” Slade acknowledged with a raised hand. “I’ll set up in the sunroom at the back of the house.”

She decided that the man looked positively at home in his chosen field. His steely demeanor and intensity were the epitome of professionalism. But something about his decision to remain on the ground floor didn’t feel right to her.

Tate motioned for the dogs to follow her as she turned to go to bed. As Locke and Lotus trotted up the stairs, she couldn’t shake that odd feeling that something wasn’t right. “Wouldn’t you have a better vantage point from an upstairs window, say from the third floor? We have a small third-floor attic that was once an office. But there’s plenty of room there for you to set up.”

“Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Suit yourself,” Tate stated as she ascended the stairs. Reluctant to go back to her house, she’d rather spend the night under her grandmother’s roof than stay by herself. She might feel different in a couple of days. She might even take the dogs with her when she returned home. But her priority right now was to feel safe. And she couldn’t do that at home alone.

Across the compound, in the fading light, Trent stood on the back deck, his gaze fixed on the eastern pasture. Somewhere out there, hidden in the shadows, was the answer to the nightmare that had shattered their peace. He vowed to find it, no matter the cost. The next few days would be crucial, and he was determined to protect his family and home.

His thoughts drifted to Savannah. Her compassion and understanding provided a much-needed break from the overwhelming to-do list. Trent found she was easy to talk to in ways he hadn’t anticipated, finding solace in their shared moments in the garden, even sharing a meal.

He couldn’t deny the connection he felt to her. Because deep inside, he had to admit he looked forward to the next time he would see her.