Page 28 of Last Resort

“I think that can be arranged.”

Ben hurried back to his computer, eager to follow up on the leads Jenny had provided. He searched the addresses for Samson’s Groceries and found the managers’ names and contact information. Just as he finished drafting an email requesting information about the man in the grainy photo, his phone rang.

“Hey, Ben? It’s Monty,” Montana Clark, the lighthouse keeper, said. “You got a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“There’s a ghost at the convent who wants to talk to someone about a murder.”

Ben had a limited ability to see and hear ghosts, and he wasn’t a full medium. Monty Clark, on the other hand, could summon spirits, make them visible to others, and even channel them in a séance. He was one of the most talented mediums Ben had ever met.

“Any particular murder?”

“Somebody named Tom Raines.”

“I’ll meet you at the lighthouse in twenty minutes.” Ben reached for his wallet and keys.

“Something come up?” Jenny asked as he hurried past her desk.

“Going over to see Monty at the lighthouse. Might be another lead. I probably won’t be back, so please close up.”

“You got it, boss. See you tomorrow. Happy hunting, and don’t let the ghosties bite.”

Ben’s thoughts tumbled as he drove. Erik’s episode of PTSD the previous night shook Ben more than he wanted his partner to know. It broke his heart to see Erik so vulnerable and stripped of his defenses. Ben knew how strong and brave Erik really was and admired him for making such a successful new start. Glimpsing the fragility that went with that strength unsettled him.

I guess we all want to believe everyone else is unshakable because we know how shaky we are ourselves.

Most days, Ben could leave his past behind him. Years had passed since the worst times, and the move to Cape May had been healing in every way—especially his relationship with Erik. But on the darkest nights, Ben’s mind forced him to confront how deep the damage went and recognize that the memories he tried so hard to bury were never far from the surface.

This morning, Erik had done his best to appear unfazed. They had talked about the incident, but Ben wasn’t fooled into thinking that Erik had completely regained his balance.

There’s a fine line between “fake it til you make it” and repression.Most days, Ben couldn’t tell for certain which side of that line he was on.

Despite his worries about the recent move-in with Erik, Ben was glad he’d been there when the nightmares came. He hated to think how often Erik might have struggled through other times alone.

We’re stronger together. And we can take better care of each other now.

Ben didn’t doubt that moving in together was the right thing to do. He was more comfortable in his relationship with Erik, despite its newness, than he’d ever felt with any other boyfriend. None of his hesitation had to do with Erik; all of his doubts lay in his own suitability as a partner.

No one gets to be in their thirties without scratches and dents. We both might have a few more than most people, but we’re familiar with the damage. Maybe that makes us better able to take care of each other.

The unwanted Raines case made Ben nervous. Somehow he and Erik had gotten personally tangled up in the situation despite their efforts to leave their old lives behind. They didn’t know who had mailed the poker chips to Erik or why, but a possible connection to the Mob and the cursed hotel couldn’t be good. Ben had no idea whether Raines had chosen his rental because of Ben’s old police work, and if he had, why the link would matter.

In Ben’s experience, loose ends were pitfalls. That meant he needed to get to the bottom of the situation fast.

Gravel crunched under his tires as he parked at the lighthouse. The Cape May Lighthouse jutted toward the sky, a white cylinder with a red cap. At the bottom, a small attached building held the gift shop and museum. Not far away was the keeper’s cottage, where Monty lived.

This close to the shore, the brisk wind cut like a knife, cold and salty. Ben hesitated, not sure whether Monty was at the cottage or the gift shop.

“I’m over here.” Monty opened the cottage door and gestured for Ben to come in.

The cozy dwelling went with Monty’s job as a park ranger. Despite being more than a century old, renovations made it comfortable without losing the charm.

“Want some coffee?” Monty offered.

“I’d love some.” Ben sat in one of the kitchen chairs as Monty poured for both of them and then settled across the table.

“Thanks for coming. Sister Frankie’s expecting us, but I thought you might like a little background before we walk over to the convent.”

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