Page 28 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)
Royce
Neither Max nor I slept well after he received those threatening texts. Minutes after they’d arrived on his phone, I called Hartley. He was the lead on the murder investigation and had taken over everything potentially connected, including Max’s break-in.
When he heard about the texts, he instructed us not to delete anything and not to respond, which was fine.
We wouldn’t have done either of those things.
He also requested timestamped screenshots for his report.
Since he was working out of the LASD Homicide Bureau, he wanted us to drop Max’s phone at the Lost Hills station, where local deputies would log it and send it downtown to the cyber unit.
I also called Deputy Gonzalez, just to keep him in the loop, which turned out to be a smart move. He sent a deputy over to do a quick on-scene copy and photograph the messages, so we didn’t have to drive to the station and Max kept his phone.
We went to bed around midnight, but a little before dawn, Max and I gave up pretending to sleep and went downstairs to make coffee.
Max looked exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes, and I assumed I had the same telltale signs of strain.
He moved robotically as he made the coffee, grinding the beans and pouring the water into the coffee maker.
“Let’s not stress too much about those texts,” I said for the hundredth time as I grabbed mugs from the cupboard near the fridge.
“I’m trying not to.” He glanced at me, distracted. “But I can’t stop thinking about who could have sent them. It had to be someone who knew about Lucinda Pratt, right?”
I grimaced. “Her death wasn’t a secret.”
“No.”
“Which means a lot of people knew about her death.” I leaned on the granite, studying Max. “It’s someone who has a grudge against you.”
“That’s not a short list.” He winced.
“You may have put some people’s backs up over the years, but texts like those run deeper. Whoever sent those messages wishes you actual harm. That’s different from someone who thinks you were rude to them once. So… who from your past fits that bill?”
“Besides River, the first person who comes to mind is Bethany,” he grumbled. “When we ran into her at El Mar y Sol she made it clear she had a grudge against me.”
“River isn’t involved. I called Sam last night to double-check River didn’t slip away from Rainy Dale or something. He’s still there. Sam saw him with his own eyes.”
“Okay, well, that’s good to know.”
“Bethany, however, is a different story. She’s local and obviously resents you.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’ll say. To think this whole time she’s been assuming I was the reason she lost her job at the hospital. She’s in denial about her own behavior. Of course the hospital had to fire her. She opened them up to legal trouble. How is that my fault?”
“It’s not, but she needed someone to blame.”
“I guess,” he muttered.
“Do you have the same number you had when you lived here?”
“Yes. I saw no need to change it.”
“And she had your number back then?”
“She did.”
“Okay, then she definitely could have sent those texts. We’ll let Hartley know about your run-in with Bethany.”
He gnawed his bottom lip. “Maybe she’s the person who tried to run us off the road, too. Who knows? She seemed unhinged that day at lunch.”
“She did… but I’m pretty sure the person in the car that day was male. I could be wrong, of course. But can you really picture Bethany, with her perfect nails and hair, risking her life driving like a maniac on those canyon roads?”
He sighed. “Probably not. But I still say she could have sent the texts.”
“I agree. That seems more her style—saying something ugly from a safe distance. Although, granted, I don’t know her like you do.”
“No, I can definitely see her sending poison-pen letters and things like that. Even when we were friendly-ish, I always thought she had a vindictive streak. She had a lot of people she held grudges toward.”
“Interesting.”
The coffee maker gave a series of beeps, indicating it was done brewing, and Max poured the rich, dark coffee into our mugs.
After doctoring our java the way we liked, we settled onto the back deck with the warm ceramic cradled in our hands.
Beyond the deck, the waves washed rhythmically onto the beach, depositing intricate patterns of lacy foam and twisted orange seaweed across the sand.
“Whoever sent those texts really wants me to leave L.A.,” Max murmured after a sip.
“It seems that way.”
“But why?” He met my gaze, the morning breeze fluttering his dark hair like invisible fingers. “Who am I bothering by being here? Why would anyone care whether I’m here or in Rainy Dale?”
“Beats me.” I sighed.
“If it’s not Bethany, maybe whoever wants me to leave is connected to the burglary.” He wrinkled his brow. “But if they just wanted me gone so they could finish robbing me, why not just wait until I leave?”
“Maybe it’s someone who has no idea you’re not back for good?”
“That might be,” he murmured. “I suppose it’s not common knowledge that I’m going back to Rainy Dale. C.J., James, and Luke know I’m leaving next Thursday. Bethany knew I wasn’t here permanently, although she didn’t know exactly when I was leaving.”
“The police know, and Ethan and the pool guy know you’re leaving again.”
“So then it’s probably none of them trying to get rid of me, because they already know I’m going back to Texas.” His uneasy gaze met mine. “I suppose I could reach out to Bethany and feel her out?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Don’t speak to her. If she’s involved, we’ll let the police handle that. We can mention her to them, and let them take it from there.”
“Okay. It’s not as if I wanted to speak to her.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
We finished our coffee and went for a walk on the beach to clear our heads.
It was early, so the beach stretched empty in both directions, marked only by delicate sandpiper tracks and the occasional piece of driftwood.
We held hands as we walked the water’s edge, the cool sand soft beneath our feet and the salt-tinged breeze lifting our hair.
Seagulls wheeled overhead, their raucous calls mixing with the hush of waves, each one reaching a little farther up the sand before retreating with a gentle hiss.
At the far end of the colony, past the last house and separated by a chain-link fence, the civilized beach gave way to wildness—jagged rocks at the water’s edge, dark hollows and caves carved by countless tides.
We were heading back to Max’s place as the sun rose above the horizon, turning the ocean into a sheet of molten gold.
Back at the house, we ate a light breakfast of avocado toast on whole-grain gluten-free bread, just so we had something in our stomachs before the Getty.
We showered and dressed. I was heading downstairs when I heard a truck rumbling out front.
I opened the door and spotted a flatbed tow truck with the Tippity Top logo backing toward our driveway, and a BMW sedan.
“Reggie’s here to pick up the Hummer and drop off the new car,” I called upstairs.
“Be right down.”
I went outside as Reggie climbed out of a sleek black BMW, looking considerably more confident than during our first encounter. The tow-truck driver was already positioning his flatbed near the damaged Hummer.
“Good morning,” Reggie said cheerfully, walking over with the BMW keys. “I’m swapping out the car, just like I promised. Is Mr. Thornton around?”
“He sure is. He’ll just be a minute.” As I finished speaking, Maxwell came outside, looking handsome and freshly showered.
“There you are, Mr. Thornton.” Reggie gave an exaggerated bow. “Your chariot has arrived, sir.”
Max gave a confused laugh. “Oh, um… great.”
Reggie’s gaze shifted to the banged-up Hummer. He winced. “Oh boy, she really did get roughed up, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” Max accepted the BMW keys. “It wasn’t our fault, though. I’m not sure if your office told you, but we were involved in a road-rage incident.”
“They did. I’m just glad you two are okay,” Reggie said. “Road-rage incidents are getting scarier and scarier. Seems like people think they have the right to kill someone because they don’t like the way they drive.”
“It’s terrifying, and as you well know, I never wanted the Hummer.” Max gave a guilty laugh. “But I suspect we owe our lives to that monstrosity.”
“You might be right.” Reggie watched as the tow-truck driver hooked the winch cables to the Hummer.
Max examined the BMW and nodded. “Now that’s more like it.
” The replacement car was everything the Hummer wasn’t: sleek and understated, its black paint reflecting the morning light like polished obsidian.
It sat quietly in the driveway, elegant and unassuming, the kind of car that whispered, rather than shouted, “look at me.”
“I’m sorry about the earlier mix-up, but I’m glad we could make it right,” Reggie said, holding out his iPad. “I just need your signature, Mr. Thornton, to confirm the vehicle exchange.”
Max signed quickly, still admiring the new ride. The tow-truck driver had the Hummer loaded in no time.
“When you return home next Thursday, just leave the BMW locked in your driveway with the keys inside, and I’ll swing by to pick it up. We do offer airport pickup at LAX, but I believe you mentioned you’d hired a car service for your return flight?” Reggie asked, swiping screens.
“I did.” Max nodded.
Reggie leaned closer. “When you get home, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d leave a review on Yelp, Mr. Thornton. Word of mouth and positive customer experiences are how we’ve grown so quickly.”
“Er…” Max hesitated. Odds were he’d never written a Yelp review in his life. “Well, Reggie, it would be my pleasure. You’ve been extremely pleasant and accommodating, even when I wasn’t particularly gracious.”
Surprised but pleased by how magnanimous he was being toward Reggie, I gave him an approving smile.
Reggie beamed. “Awesome, Mr. Thornton. I can’t thank you enough.”