Page 103 of Secrets Along the Shore (Beach Read Thrillers #1)

CHAPTER

NINE

The storm had passed, but inside me, determination churned. I could no longer pretend this was someone else’s responsibility. It was mine.

I sat up slowly after a night of tossing and turning. Sunlight slanting through the blinds cast bars of gold across the bed but did nothing to comfort me. The lodge now felt like a witness. A keeper of secrets. It knew the truth about what happened to them all, but it wasn’t talking.

Livvie’s killer was still out there.

Or maybe not out there at all.

Maybe her death had been a tragic accident just as the authorities deemed it.

Or maybe it was me. Maybe I was the killer. Programed to silence the child who knew too much.

The thought sat in my stomach like a stone, cold and immovable. But I had to face it. If I’d been part of what happened to Livvie, then the truth deserved daylight, even if I paid the price.

I dressed quickly, stuffing a protein bar in my mouth and grabbing my keys from the counter.

I didn’t bother to clean up the mess I’d made the night before when I’d tracked mud through the house and half-packed my suitcase in a panic.

Let the house rot. I didn’t care if it sold or not.

Nor about the hardwood floors or the antique cabinets or about the faulty wiring.

I just wanted the truth.

The drive into town was quiet, the road winding peacefully. The trees swayed in the gentle breeze, their weakest leaves and branches released to die in the gutters or flattened beneath my tires. A symbol to shed what weighs us down.

I parked outside the Sheriff’s department and stared at the modest brick building. It hadn’t changed much since I was a kid. Same dusty windows. Same crooked flagpole.

Inside, a young deputy stood behind the front desk. Early twenties, clean-shaven, with a buzz cut and a badge that looked like it still had its factory polish.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Ma’am . God, I felt old.

“I’m here about the Bishop case. Livvie Bishop. She was found in the lake fifteen years ago. I was a friend of hers.”

His brows lifted, and he opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a woman behind him—older, with steel-gray hair and glasses hanging on a chain—spoke up from her desk. I missed her first few words but caught the tail end.

“…was so tragic. Sweet child.” The woman looked at me a moment longer. “You were the one who was with her, weren’t you? A witness said she had been out with a friend on the water that night.”

I nodded, my throat dry. “Yes. Scarlett. Scarlett McBride.”

The deputy turned toward the woman. “Wait, what case is this?”

The receptionist waved a hand. “Long time ago. Sheriff McNealy worked on it when he was still a deputy. He’s not in right now—should be back after lunch.”

“I’d like to speak with him when he returns,” I said.

“You can wait, if you’d like. Or come back.”

I checked the clock on the wall. It was just after ten. Lunch felt forever away.

“Thanks. I’ll come back.”

I left the station with my nerves buzzing like a live wire. Sheriff McNealy. I remembered him. He had kind eyes. Maybe he’d tell me what the old reports left out. Maybe he’d help me sort out what was real and what had been fabricated in rumors.

I had time to kill, but I didn’t want to waste it. There was another place I needed to go.

The real estate office to see Evan.

I parked along Main Street and stepped inside the Scanlon Real Estate Agency. The front room smelled of coffee and lemon-scented polish. Evan looked up from his desk, startled for a second before recognition set in.

“Scarlett,” he said, standing. “Did you reconsider selling?”

I shook my head, arms folded. “No. But I thought we should talk.”

He tilted his head, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “About?”

“The secret room,” I said flatly. “The things inside it. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

His smile faltered. Just slightly. But enough.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I gave him a look. “We both know that’s not true. Maybe we’re looking for the same thing.”

There was a pause. A breath.

A standoff.

He tapped a pen against his desk, then leaned back in his chair. “You go first.”

Of course. It was always going to be me.

“I believe Livvie was murdered,” I said quietly. “She didn’t drown. Someone killed her and dumped her in that lake. I’m here to figure out who did it.”

Evan exhaled slowly, his posture easing.

“Same,” he said. “Been wondering about that for years.”

I raised a brow. “You knew her?”

“Well enough. We’re both locals. Went to the same church when we were children. My dad also did repair work at the lodge. Sometimes I tagged along. We all knew something felt…off.”

He opened a drawer, rifled through some papers, then looked up as the door behind me swung open.

A woman walked in. Late sixties, maybe early seventies. Expensive clothes. Pearls. A small white poodle nestled in her arms like a fashion accessory.

Her gaze swept the room. Landed on me. Measured. Cool.

Evan stood. “Scarlett, this is Mrs. Clarice Scanlon. She owns the agency.”

“Scanlon had family here?” How had I not known this?

The woman’s eyes sharpened. “Correction,” she said, her voice crisp. “I’m Mr. Scanlon’s ex -wife.”

My heart missed a beat, and then I remembered Evan said the relationship wasn’t by blood with the agency’s owner. And Tabitha mentioned a divorce. Now, here was Scanlon’s other half.

The question that resonated in my head was what caused the split in the first place?

“Would you mind coming into my office, Ms. McBride?” Clarice asked. “Alone.”

Evan looked at me as if to ask if I wanted a way out. I gave him a small nod. I could handle her.

Clarice’s office was elegant and precise—much like the woman herself. A velvet armchair sat across from her desk. She gestured for me to sit while she placed the poodle in a dog bed near her feet.

“I don’t remember Mr. Scanlon ever being married,” I said once the door shut.

“We divorced around the time he became headmaster at Bayberry,” she replied. “The school took over his life.”

I studied her carefully. “He always struck me as kind. Some of the other kids said he was strict, but I never saw it. He cared about us. About me.”

For the first time, something softened in Clarice’s expression. “He did care. He had a gift for making children feel seen. It’s one of the reasons I left. He didn’t have room for a wife when there were dozens of children demanding his attention.”

She settled into her chair, folding her hands in her lap. “We never had kids of our own. He used to say the students were all the children he needed. I had no objection. I’ve always been more of a dog person. Children are messy. Emotional.”

I nodded slowly, unsure whether I admired her honesty or resented her detachment. Maybe both.

“So when he began bringing us kids to the lake house…” I waited for her to complete my thought.

“That was the final straw,” she finished. “It was our sanctuary. But he insisted he could help them. He believed he had the magic touch. I didn’t believe it then. I don’t believe it now. He kept the lodge. I got the Victorian.”

“Sounds reasonable.” I bit back a smile.

“I was perfectly satisfied.”

I tapped my fingers against my thigh. “Do you remember the first student who came to the lodge those summers?”

Clarice wrinkled her brow. “Maybe. But I wasn’t paying attention to them. The students were added noise, along with Aaron’s nephew, who visited a few times. The way you all talked was so loud.”

Her callousness grated, but at least she was honest.

“It was Olivia Bishop,” I said. “Of the Bishops across the lake. The girl who drowned five years later.”

Clarice stiffened. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. Judging by the files and yearbooks in the secret room, she was Deaf and a student at Bayberry. But she wasn’t born that way. Like me, she lost her hearing after birth from a possible illness.”

Clarice blinked. “The Bishops…yes, I remember them being reclusive.”

“They weren’t always. They pulled away after Livvie became ill. Like they were ashamed.”

Clarice tilted her head. “My husband believed he could help those children. I never understood why. But he was drawn to them. Said he could fix what others couldn’t.”

I swallowed, trying not to curl my lips in distaste at her words. “Livvie got her hearing back. But no one else did. And all the other students…they’re dead. I’m the only one left.”

Clarice’s gaze narrowed. “Interesting. Sounds coincidental.”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe that for a second. ”

She leaned back in her chair and braced her hands on the edge of her desk. She lifted her chin haughtily. “Then you’d better watch your back, Ms. McBride.”

I didn’t flinch. Instead, I met her chin for chin. “I’m here to make sure I face this head on, as I always do. If you know something I should, I do hope you will share and be on the moral side of what went down at that lodge.”

The flicker in her eyes said all I needed to know.

Clarice Scanlon fled her home and marriage, choosing to put her head in the sand rather than help innocent children from a monster.

As far as I could tell, she was useless to me. But at least I knew I was on the right path. People in this town knew things and were afraid to speak up. I just needed to find the weakest link and make them sing.