Page 58 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

His mind raced as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. It soon became clear that it wasn’t just one body but rather two adults mingled together, tossed into one grave like disposable garbage.

As the team continued to sift through the dirt, Muriel confirmed his ever-growing suspicion.

“There’s no child here that I can see,” Muriel said. “So far, we have two adults—one male, one female—placed underneath that small, cheap, wooden coffin on purpose. This is likely a homicide. Otherwise, why would you bury two people and hide them away like this? Any ideas who would do something so devious?”

Brent didn’t need to think about it for long. “Yeah. I have a pretty good idea. Are you sure there’s no sign of a child?”

“Not yet,” Muriel snapped. “There’s always a chance whoever dropped those two bodies in the same grave dumped the child in first. But that’ll take time to dig down further. We are talking about excavating a lot of dirt, sifting it away little by little in a rather deep hole. So, don’t rush me. There are still two bodies here that need complete forensic excavation.”

“I wouldn’t think about it. Text me when you have an update.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have a ghost to interview.”

There were times when a good cop needed to think outside the box. This was definitely one of those times.

Brent walked to his cruiser, all the while his eyes kept scanning the cliffs for any sign of Scott Phillips. He got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, turned up the heater to get warm, and pretended to have a conversation with someone on his cell phone. He didn’t want Muriel or her team to think he was a complete idiot who talked to himself.

“Come on, Scott. This isn’t the first time I’ve needed a face-to-face. I know Rowan Eaton didn’t find that grave on her own. Come on, Scott, tell me what you know.”

“Why does everyone think I have all the answers?” said a muffled voice from the backseat.

Brent sucked in a breath, trying to stay calm. It wasn’t every day that he had a conversation with someone long dead. He did his best to keep his tone casual. “Because you usually do.”

“Yeah. There is that.”

Brent twisted in the front seat so he could make eye contact with the ghost in the back. “I don’t know how you do that.”

“I’m resourceful,” Scott replied, a sly grin causing his lips to curve. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Tell me everything you know about the people in that grave.”

Scott hesitated for a moment, then leaned in close to Brent’s ear. “It’s better if I tell you about Jim and Lynette. They cared for Gwynn. Those two did everything they could to pull her out of drug addiction. They almost went broke twice, trying to get her the professional help she needed. But it’s almost impossible to help a junkie. And that’s the demon Gwynn brought to Jim and Lynette’s door. It seems maybe now it can finally leave.”

“Leave my ass,” Brent exclaimed. “As long as Rowan questions who she is, it’s never gone. I already know Gwynn was a lost cause. That’s why she’s spent the last years of her life in a nursing home. Tell me something I don’t already know. Who’s in that grave? I want names.”

“So you want me to do your job for you?” When he got a go-to-hell look from Brent, he tossed out, “Fine. Why don’t you start with Rowan’s name? Why do you think it’s on the headstone?”

“Scott, I’m not in the mood for riddles. I don’t have time for games. Lynette Dewhurst wasn’t even Rowan’s blood relative.”

“That couple has been hidden there since December 1999. The only place they’ll go is back in the ground. I can tell you this much: they loved each other. They didn’t deserve to die like they did. But then I know a little something about how life sucks sometimes.”

With that declaration, Scott vanished into the misty morning fog, leaving Brent cursing his bad luck.

“At least explain why her name is on the headstone?” Brent shouted as he looked over and spotted Muriel staring at him from twenty feet away. He held up his cell phone to make the ruse seem real before putting the car in gear and waved as he sped out of the parking lot.

Around two-thirty that afternoon, Rowan was in the middle of serving a slight uptick in customers when she looked up to see Brent walking in the door. “Hey, what can I get you?”

“You should let Daniel manage the line while you and I sit down for a talk.”

Daniel traded looks with Brent. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Fine,” Rowan said, removing her apron. “Would you rather head out back? It’s kind of noisy in here right now.”

“That’s fine.” He followed her through the store and out the back door where the sound of waves in the distance slapped against the shoreline.

“This is about the exhumation, isn’t it?” Rowan asked. “What did you find? How did the child die?”

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