Page 35 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

Royce

Max had already left for his insurance meeting when Hartley called the next morning with the disappointing news that the phone used to send threatening texts to Max had come from a burner phone. That meant the odds of finding out who’d sent them were not good.

By noon, I was restless from just rattling around the beach house alone.

I decided what I needed was a nice long walk along the water’s edge.

I headed down to the beach and walked all the way to the far end of the colony, where the sand gave way to the rocky formations that seemed so oddly out of place.

The ocean was choppy today, and there were some rain clouds in the distance.

I found myself missing Max. While the trip had been tumultuous at times, spending so much one-on-one time with him had been amazing.

Max hadn’t shared what happened between him and James last night at the party.

He’d been upset though, that much had been obvious.

I felt a little uneasy at just how upset he’d been.

What could James have said or done to trouble him so deeply?

Were his feelings deeper and more confusing toward James than he’d admitted to me?

I didn’t want to push him to talk. He’d come to me when he was ready.

Max didn’t open up easily, but more and more he’d begun to trust me with things.

But in order to keep his trust, I had to be willing to wait until he was ready to talk. Even if it made me anxious.

On my way back from my walk, the clouds I’d seen in the distance earlier had moved in, blocking the sun.

As I neared Max’s home, I spotted C.J. and another person on her deck.

She was leaning against the railing in black yoga pants and an oversized white sweater, talking to a guy I didn’t recognize.

As I got closer, I caught the sweet scent of what smelled like artificial cherry drifting on the ocean breeze.

“Royce,” C.J. called out when she saw me. “Come over here and meet Harris.”

I climbed the steps to her deck, getting a better look at the man beside her.

Harris was younger than I’d expected, probably late twenties.

He had to be pushing six-foot-four and was built like he spent serious time in the gym—broad shoulders stretching his black security uniform, thick arms, and the kind of square-jawed face that probably made him popular with men or women.

While he gave off a macho vibe, there was something boyish about him too.

Maybe he seemed young because of the way his sandy brown hair was styled with a little too much product, or how he was holding a sleek black vape pen like it was a candy cigar.

“Harris, this is Royce,” C.J. said. “Maxwell’s boyfriend. Harris is our esteemed security guard here at Ocean Whisper Estates.”

“Hey there,” Harris said, extending a meaty hand for a firm shake. His voice was deeper than I’d expected, but friendly. “Nice to finally meet you, man. I’ve been hearing about you from C.J. here.”

“Uh, oh.” I smiled.

“All good things.” Harris grinned, taking another puff from his vape. The sweet cherry smell was even stronger up close. “C.J. was just telling me about the party last night. Sounds like it was quite the scene.”

“It had its moments,” I said diplomatically.

“Poor Luke,” C.J. said, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen him that bad before. The sweating, the shaking, he looked terrible.”

“Did anyone check on him today?” I asked.

C.J. nodded. “I went to see him this morning, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He was alive, though, so that’s something.”

Harris nodded knowingly. “Yeah, Luke’s been acting super antisocial for weeks now. Jumpy, you know? Always looking over his shoulder like someone’s following him. We used to have some interesting conversations, but not anymore.”

“Well, he’s got reason to be anxious,” C.J. said. “The drug charges alone would make anyone spiral.”

“Drug charges?” I asked, though I wasn’t entirely surprised.

Harris nodded. “Oh yeah, he got busted for possession of a controlled substance. What makes it worse is the drug he had on him was fentanyl.”

I winced. “Ooh, that’s not good.”

C.J. widened her eyes. “The type of drug makes it worse?”

“Definitely.” I met her worried gaze. “The law treats fentanyl more harshly than, say, marijuana or even cocaine, because fentanyl is Schedule II and incredibly dangerous.”

“Oh, God. What was Luke thinking? He used to just smoke a bunch of weed. Why did he branch off into something like fentanyl?”

Harris chuffed. “People act like weed’s no big deal, but it’s a gateway drug, man. Once you start chasing the high, there’s no stopping until you’re strung out on fentanyl or worse.”

I grimaced. “I mean, not exactly. Not that I’m advocating people use drugs, but smoking weed doesn’t necessarily lead to fentanyl or worse.”

Harris hesitated and then grinned. “Oh, that’s right. You’re a cop. I keep forgetting you’re a sheriff back in that town Rainy Days.”

“Rainy Dale,” I corrected, smiling pleasantly. “And while the town is small, we handle a lot of drugs in the surrounding areas.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Harris puffed on his vape, watching me. “Anyway, my main point was Luke is in a world of hurt lately with the drug charge and all the other stuff he’s juggling.”

“What other stuff?” C.J. asked.

Harris looked pleased to have information she didn’t. He glanced around, making a real show of it. He leaned in, lowering his voice. “His house is in foreclosure.”

“What?” C.J. yelped, her face going pale. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Harris said. “The poor guy’s behind almost six months.

The bank would have started foreclosure sooner, but his family knows people.

You know how money and power talks, man.

But doesn’t matter who his family is if he doesn’t pay eventually.

Bank’s gonna take it if he doesn’t come up with some serious cash soon. ”

C.J. gaped. “But his family has money. Why wouldn’t they help him pay that off?”

“Maybe they’re tired of bailing him out,” Harris said with a shrug. “Either way, the guy’s desperate. Desperate people do desperate things, if you know what I mean.”

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze.

A desperate Luke, facing drug charges and foreclosure, suddenly made a lot more sense as someone who might break into his neighbor’s house looking for something valuable to steal.

Could that have been Luke in the security video footage after all?

“When did you find out about the foreclosure?” I asked.

“Couple weeks ago. I was talking to the mailman, nice guy, we chat sometimes when I’m making my rounds. He mentioned seeing foreclosure notices in Luke’s mail.” Harris took another puff, looking satisfied with himself. “I keep my ears open, you know? Part of the job.”

“That’s so sad,” C.J. said. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about the foreclosure. I had no idea things were that bad for him. I mean, I knew about the addiction and drug charge, but I thought he was managing okay financially.”

“Yeah, well, drugs are expensive,” Harris said matter-of-factly. “And from what I hear, he was using a lot recently.”

“I can’t believe his family isn’t worried and trying to help.”

“Actually, C.J., I think Luke’s family is very worried and trying to help him,” I said, remembering Max’s and my encounter with Luke’s brother, Stiles, a few days ago. “Max and I met his brother the other day. He seemed like a nice guy, concerned about Luke’s situation.”

C.J. looked confused. “His brother?”

“Yeah, Stiles. He was parked in the lane outside, waiting for Luke to come back from surfing. Said their mother was worried and he’d come to check on Luke.”

C.J. frowned. “Royce, Luke doesn’t have a brother.”

I stared at her. “What do you mean he doesn’t have a brother?”

“I mean he’s an only child. His mom almost miscarried when she was pregnant with him and because of complications she was never able to have any more kids.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ve known Luke for many years now, and he’s definitely mentioned being an only child more than once.”

The fruity scent from Harris’s vape suddenly seemed cloying. “But this guy seemed legit. Sincerely concerned about Luke. He said their mother sent him to check up on Luke because he’d missed a couple of NA meetings.”

“Luke hasn’t been to an NA meeting in over a year,” C.J. said quietly. “And his mother lives in Phoenix and she doesn’t tend to pay much attention to what Luke is up to. He’s always just done whatever he wanted and she paid the bills.”

Harris looked between us with interest. “Wait, so some random guy was claiming to be Luke’s brother? That’s weird as hell. What’d he look like?”

I described Stiles—the expensive clothes, the red sports car, the polished appearance that was so different from Luke’s disheveled state.

“Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell,” Harris said. “How did he know the security code to the main gate?”

“No idea,” I said.

“But why would someone lie about being Luke’s brother?” C.J. asked, looking puzzled. “What would be the point?”

I was wondering the same thing, and I didn’t like any of the answers coming to mind. A well-dressed stranger showing up and asking about Luke, right when Max’s home had been burgled and Luke was acting paranoid and desperate, was troubling.

“Did this Stiles guy ask you any questions?” C.J. pressed. “About Luke, or about the neighborhood, or anything?”

I tried to remember the conversation. “Not really. He just seemed really concerned about Luke’s well-being.

Said something about Luke missing NA meetings and their mother being worried.

” I paused, thinking. “Although he did seem curious about the stuff that’s happened, like the burglary and the body that was found. ”

Harris shrugged. “That’s probably not unusual. There’s some pretty weird stuff going on lately.”