Island Reveal (The Island Escape Series Book 3) Read online

  ISLAND REVEAL

  ISLAND ESCAPE SERIES, BOOK 3

  R. T. WOLFE

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2019 by R.T. Wolfe. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  Published by ePublishing Works!

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  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64457-121-7

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Before You Go…

  Also by R.T. Wolfe

  About the Author

  Thank you to my dear friend and AMI PPH, Suzi Fox, for all you do.

  You are appreciated.

  ONE

  The toasts, the ogling newlyweds, the dancing guests. This was more happy than Raine Clearwater knew what to do with. It was early enough that the scent of cologne and flowers filled the pub more so than the sweat or liquor. Leaning on one of the tall wooden tables, she sipped an MGD with one hand as her bridesmaid sandals dangled from the other.

  One of the newer busboys paused at her table. Empty bottles covered the surface of the giant wooden spool. He glanced at her, dipped his head, then rotated on the balls of his feet and moved to the next table.

  “They’re not all mine,” she yelled at his back over the music and loud conversation.

  Her baby sister glowed. Raine supposed that was what newlyweds did. The floor shook under her bare feet as Zoe danced to a place called Kokomo in the crowd of friends and family. What she and Dane were doing looked more like mating than dancing.

  Her middle sister was much the same, minus the gyrating. Willow circled her fiancé like a flower child dancing around a Clearwater family fire. Like most restaurants and pubs on an island in Florida, two sides of the dance floor in Luciana’s were open, allowing the crisp scent of beach and salt water to add to the ambiance. Willow hadn’t been this happy since before her first husband died at war. It was about time.

  Her parents even sashayed to getting somewhere faster if they took it slow.

  “Great party,” a deep voice yelled from over Raine’s shoulder.

  Tilting her chin, she noted the voice was directed at her and that it was male. One of the few men in the place she didn’t recognize. His light brown hair was cut short around the back with a fluff of some left over his forehead.

  The man inched his gaze down to her bare toes and up again. “You part of the wedding party?”

  Raine’s hair twisted high on her head with curled pieces dangling between clusters of some kind of small, white flower. The straps of her dress were solid lace and her sandals a matching powder blue. “You must be a detective.”

  Tapping his temple, he winked. “Just observant.”

  She tilted her head back as she took a swig. “You, uh, one of the guests?”

  “Me? No. Just came to check out the new place.” He looked around as if he’d forgotten to before.

  “Renovated,” Raine corrected but assumed he didn’t hear her over the noise. She had to admit that Willow did a knock up job with all of it. Luciana’s. Named after the historic Luciana Bezan. The sitting area dripped with thick ropes. Porthole windows lined the booths. The new dance floor looked as if it could have come from the original deck of the legendary Luciana’s lover’s sunken ship.

  Over the bar hung the poem her dead brother had penned. To think his obsession with the legendary Luciana Bezan dowry was legit. A warm breeze of sisterly pride filled her soul.

  Her Legacy

  The wet uncharted

  The cornerstone that is Home

  The under under

  Willow had it framed. The treasure her sisters had found in ‘the under under’ opened the wave of tourist activity to the island and the pub. Their brother died for the booty he’d hidden in the wet uncharted, and everyone seemed to be looking for the cornerstone that is Home.

  “What’d you say?” the guy’s mouth was much too close to her ear.

  Pulling away, she answered. “The place isn’t new. It was reno‍‍—” Thankfully, her phone buzzed in the lacey crossbody purse Zoe gave her for the occasion. She pulled it out and waved it in front of the man. “Sorry, duty calls.” The guy wouldn’t need to know what kind of duty. Raine was the Primary Permit Holder and head of Ibis Island Turtle Watch. The distraction was a life saver.

  She held the phone to her ear, even though there was no way to hear the message with the noise.

  The guy shrugged but didn’t budge.

  Taking a deep breath, she gave up and read the voicemail transcription.

  “Is this Ibis Island Turtle Watch? It looks like a turtle is bobbing in the water near the old wooden abandoned pier.”

  A tidal wave of tension clenched her shoulders. Her instinct was to bolt, but this was her sister’s wedding reception. She had eighty-seven Turtle Watch volunteers. She could call one of them. Darting her eyes around the room, she noted that most, if not all, were in the pub.

  “Damn.” She said it in two syllables, then slipped on the torturous shoes. She swung by the bar on her way out. “Paula,” she yelled to Willow’s head bartender over the voices and music.

  Paula looked over the tapper as she filled a mug. “Sugar, you are not leavin’ your sister’s reception.”

  How did she know? “Only for a minute. Let them know if they ask?” Raine didn’t give her a chance to answer. She jogged out the door, cursing the damned heels all the way to her truck.

  Matt Osborne watched as she rushed out the door. Raine Clearwater. She didn’t fit the mold of a Clearwater.

  Resting his elbow on the new section of bar top, he sipped his whiskey on ice.

  Raine wasn’t peaceful, organic, or gen
tle. She was introverted and bitchy and might just be carrying.

  Checking his phone one more time, as Ibis Island interim chief of police, he hoped he missed a page. Not that he wasn’t honored to have been asked to stand up in Dane and Zoe’s wedding. He was, yet still honestly pissed off that the family concocted the plan to dive the under under behind his back.

  A woman might not be lying in a coma if the family had given him a heads up about their plan.

  Which he wouldn’t have allowed them to do.

  Which might have allowed the perp to get his hands on the treasure instead of the Clearwaters.

  Tipping back his last finger of whiskey, he reiterated his internal pledge. No dwelling while at Zoe’s wedding reception. There would be plenty of time for that in the morning.

  It was no wonder he hadn’t had a single page in the last several hours. What could happen when nearly every local on the island was here at the pub?

  Glen Oberweiss stepped to the spot next to him. As the new chief, Matt needed to pay close attention and remember faces and names. Oberweiss was easy. Not many male islanders had a long gray braid that lay down the middle of his back. So much for waiting until the morning.

  Matt lifted his empty toward the bartender. First name Paula. Wild red hair, wound tall on her head. Tiny woman who was front heavy and slightly terrifying.

  “Another round, Chief?” she asked.

  Paula pulled a pencil from her hair. She scribbled something on a notepad with one hand as she flicked a draft pull to top off a pitcher with the other. He nodded to her before setting his empty glass on the bar mat. “Sure thing, Paula.”

  “Evening, Chief,” Oberweiss offered first. That was helpful.

  “Evening, Glen. What do you think?” Matt gestured around the room with the back of his hand.

  “Of the pub or the party?”

  Matt shrugged. “Either, I suppose.” Oberweiss was one of the original six that dove with Seth Clearwater the day Seth was murdered. He may have been taken off the short list of Matt’s suspects, but that didn’t mean he was off the hook.

  “Well, as owner of the town museum, I feel as if I have the right to say that the pub is an excellent replica. Willow knows her 16th century legends.”

  “We handed over several million in treasure to the state that says it wasn’t legend.”

  Oberweiss nodded and gestured to the front wall. “See those?”

  Matt had no idea which “those” Oberweiss referred to. The wall was covered in worn tools secured with nails and screws.

  “The nautical chart and quadrant alone could be mistaken for authentic historical artifacts.”

  If he said so. Matt lifted the drink Paula set in front of him. “Cash me out and add a glass of ice water?”

  She saluted as she scribbled down the next order from a couple Matt recognized as employees from the dive shop the bride and groom ran.

  Matt asked Oberweiss, “How do you feel about the state taking all of it?” As a historian, Oberweiss would be the most disgruntled with the state confiscation.

  “I feel like they did exactly what the law says.”

  “That’s not a feeling.” Matt looked into his glass as the ice melted into the brown liquid. “Angry, frustrated, and indifferent are feelings. The confiscation was procedure. I know I’m not all too happy about it.”

  “It takes a lot to get me the former as I tend to hover around the latter. Just ask my first wife.”

  Matt laughed. He barely put the glass to his lips when his phone buzzed. Finally.

  “Is there a Mrs. Chief?” Oberweiss asked as Matt grabbed his cell from his belt.

  Matt shook his head and read the text.

  Possible body floating at Bay Street beach access.

  “Gotta go, Glen,” Matt said. “We’ll continue another time.”

  Oberweiss waved as Matt bolted through the crowd to his black and white SUV parked out front.

  Shifting into neutral, Raine pulled her truck to the Bay Street beach access and yanked the emergency brake. She jumped out and jogged through the narrow path toward the beach. Cloud cover was thick, but the color of the sand gave enough light to find the way until her eyes had a chance to adjust.

  The only sound was the water rushing the sand. She spotted the silhouettes of a small handful of people who stood pointing out over the Gulf. Ditching the damned sandals at the access bench, she ran the rest of the way to where they stood.

  “Did someone text Ibis Island Turtle Watch?” she called out, sucking air. She definitely had to start working out with Willow again.

  The group turned to look at her. The woman in front opened her mouth, looked Raine over, then shut it again.

  Raine gave her a break since the sight of a woman in a bridesmaid’s dress might not be what she had expected. “I’m Raine Clearwater of Turtle Watch,” she said as she scanned the Gulf for signs of a distressed sea turtle. “Did someone call and leave a message?”

  “I did,” the woman admitted. “It was right out there.” She turned on a flashlight and pointed it north of the dilapidated wooden posts jutting out from the water.

  “No flashlights after dusk, please.” Raine squinted in the direction the woman pointed. “Not good for the turtles.” She couldn’t see anything but a few white caps as the water tumbled in. High tide was coming.

  The distinct sound of a police walkie talkie from behind made her left eye twitch. Purposely, she didn’t turn, but instead continued to scan the water. Turtles naturally came up for air. It was an easy mistake.

  “Did someone call in a possible body in the water?” the chief yelled from across the sand.

  A body? Like a human body? She rolled her eyes. Without acknowledging him, she stepped away from the group and edged into the Gulf. Warm waves crashed over her feet and the crisp scent of salt water cleared her mind. It didn’t suck.

  “We’re not sure,” a younger male with the open-and-close-her-mouth woman answered.

  She heard pages flipping and stepped farther into the water. Her dress was short enough to risk her ankles and calves. Tea length, Zoe had said.

  “Raine?” the chief called.

  Damn. Shit. Damn. She glanced over her shoulder. He still had on his shoes. The nice ones from the wedding. She took a step deeper into the water. “Present.”

  “What’ve we got?”

  We? She shrugged. “I don’t see anything.” The current was strong and headed north. Raine scanned the water. She started at the wooden posts and traveled her gaze north.

  A head popped up from the horizon. It was out there. Definitely a turtle.

  The woman behind her yelled, “There!”

  Holding out her arms to prevent any heroics, Raine waited and watched. “Hold on now. Turtles need air. She might just be coming up to get some.” Or coming out to dig a nest. It was late in the season, but not unheard of.

  The chief kept away from the water and asked, “How sure are you it’s a turtle?”

  “Pretty sure.” Her answer was probably more sarcastic than it needed to be, but it was what it was.

  There. It came up again. Her brows knit closer together. That wasn’t right. “Shit,” she said, looked down at her dress, sighed, then dove in.

  TWO

  Matt stood with his mouth open. It took a lot to shock him, even with someone as brassy as Raine Clearwater. She jumped into the Gulf wearing her bridesmaid’s dress. On her sister’s wedding day.

  What was he supposed to do? Be chivalrous and go after her? He knew zero about aiding marine life.

  He had no idea if the group was tourists or residents, and even with his walkie, they wouldn’t know he was a cop. Still, they gawked at him as if they waited for him to do something.

  He noted there were four of them. “I am Chief of Police Matt Osborne. We have this under control.” Raine had earned his trust in this area.

  Her arms broke through the waves. Damn, she was fast.

  Toeing off his shoes, he called it in. “Look
s like a turtle, over.”

  “Ten four.” Matt recognized the voice. Officer Walt Pence, the officer who had taken the 9-1-1. Walt was old as the hills and one of the few on the force Matt trusted so far.

  He stuffed his socks in his shoes and rolled up his dress pants like an idiot. There wasn’t any thrashing out there. When Raine began a single-armed backstroke, he hoped she was right that it was a turtle and not a human.

  “Look.” One of the men next to him pointed. “She’s pulling it in. It’s huge.”

  “Ohs,” and “ahs,” resounded among the small group as Raine swam a much slower descent inland.

  When she stood, he caught his breath. Her back was to him. The light blue dress clung to her. It was only for a second, but he was frozen. Curves in all the right places. A package attached to an ice princess.

  The male in the group waded in to help.

  “Thanks,” Raine panted. “Take that side?”

  Matt splashed in as well.

  “Don’t need you, Chief,” said the ice princess.

  He held up his arms in surrender and stepped out of the way as they pulled the lifeless creature onto shore.

  Raine collapsed to the sand. She sat on her heels and clenched her thighs. Her lungs heaved and her chin dug into her chest. The white flowers were gone and dark hair stuck to her face.

  He wasn’t distracted by the wet dress anymore or the smartass dismissal. An orange fishing line wrapped around a front flipper and the head. Strangled? Drowned? A gust of anger blew through him, and he wasn’t the one who was part of sea turtle conservation.