Page 36 of A Mile of Ocean

“He’s been hiding somewhere on the ranch for days,” Trent concluded. “Ducking us, coming and going. He’s playing with us.”

Lincoln stepped forward. “We should be ready for anything. If he’s that close, we can’t afford to let our guard down for a second.”

Trent nodded, his mind racing with options as his eyes darted around the property. How could he leave the ranch, knowing the killer never left? “He knows the funeral is this morning. He knows our movements and everything else because he’s been listening. No one goes anywhere alone. Stick together with your patrol partner. While we’re gone, take rifles and set upon the third floor of the main house. The attic has a 360-degree view of the ranch. You’ll be able to see for long distances. Maybe I shouldn’t leave.”

“You should go,” Hawk stated. “We’ll be fine. But don’t make it a long-winded service, okay?”

“We should go in separate cars,” Trent said.

“I agree,” Tate offered, already decked out in her sleeveless black dress and wearing her mother’s pearls at her neck. “Barton Pearson is sending a limo for the Duchess and Dolly. I can drive Granddad’s Scout. I love driving that old SUV anyway. It would be like a tribute to him. You should go in your pickup. That way, we’re spread out in different vehicles. We should leave at different times, too, say in five- or ten-minute intervals.”

“I’ll leave last, hang back and bring up the rear, keep an eye out for anyone following.”

“You need to get ready. The service begins at ten-thirty.”

Despite the exhaustion that gnawed at the edges, he glanced at the men left behind to guard the ranch, their determined faces giving him a glimmer of hope.

After showering and putting on his black suit, he stood at the mirror, feeling like their killer would use this time away to wreak havoc. They couldn’t afford to make a mistake this time around. The enemy they faced was not just a murderer but a specter from the past, a shadow that loomed over their family going back—how long? Could it be years? Why was the guy making his presence felt after all this time? And what had they done to deserve such vengeance?

Chapter Ten

The Community Church on Main Street had undergone an upgrade in recent months. With a flurry of bake sales and countless fundraising events, Seth and Ophelia raised enough money to have the pews refurbished, add a choir box, and repair the cracks in the stained-glass windows after six decades of earthquakes. The outside had received two new coats of eggshell white paint, making it sparkle in the sunshine. The decrepit organ had been replaced with a vintage Acrosonic spinet piano in shiny satiny mahogany made by Baldwin in 1954 and donated by Reverend Whitcomb’s estate, the church’s former pastor. It sat on a raised platform next to the choir box like a stunning mid-century work of art, showing off its majestic grandeur.

Kinsey Wyatt, dressed in a black crepe dress, sat at the upright piano, strumming the keys to Hallelujah while the auditorium filled with townsfolk paying tribute to one of their own.

Trent was one of the last to arrive before the doors closed. Dressed in his Sunday best suit, he spotted Savannah sitting in the back row with her students. Instinctively moved by the gesture, he whispered in her ear. “Why don’t you move the kids up closer? I promise we won’t bite.”

Using her schoolteacher persona, she sent him her best smile and said, “We’re fine right here.” But she saw theexhaustion in his face and eyes. “You look positively wiped out. These night shifts are taking a toll.”

“It isn’t just me. They’re taking a toll on every man out there. I’m as worried as I’ve ever been. We discovered the man has been hiding on the ranch.”

Savannah’s eyes widened. “That means something bad could happen while you’re here.”

“Yeah. Look, Seth’s about to start. I need to get down front.”

“Go. We’ll talk later.”

He hurried down the aisle to join Tate, Dolly, and his grandmother on the first-row bench.

“It doesn’t feel right leaving the ranch,” Tate murmured. “Maybe we should have postponed the funeral until we catch this bastard.”

“Good luck with talking Duchess into that.”

Trent heard only half of what Seth had to say before it was time to deliver the eulogy Duchess had promised everyone.

He stood behind the podium and looked out at the crowd and into the faces of friends and neighbors. “As most of you know, Barrett Callum picked Pelican Pointe to settle here after serving in the military. He was a man dedicated to his family and community who happened to love working with and breeding Quarter Horses. He bought a hundred acres up on the hillside in 1971 at the age of thirty-three. He just kept adding a hundred more acres here and there until his dream of owning a working ranch became a reality. Rio Verde means river green for those who have never thought about it. And it was always a joke between my grandparents that if the river ever turned green, we’d be in trouble since algae is green and not good for horses or cattle to drink. The name came from his time spent in Green River, Wyoming, where he found his love for horses and the woman he married. My grandfather started small. He didn’t even add cattle until two years later when he could expand theranch enough that they had room to graze. His love for this town and its people was evident in his actions. His generous donations to renovate the old elementary school and Bradford House so that our kids wouldn’t have to ride the bus to San Sebastian speak volumes about how he wanted to help. Due to his tireless work opening a local library and hiring a local librarian, he believed in Pelican Pointe because the town had been good to him. He believed in its strength and ability to give people second chances, sometimes a third chance, if necessary. Barrett Callum was an unusual man who disliked talking about himself. If you ever cornered him at the drugstore, hardware store, or the market, he’d likely be extolling the virtues of a horse or a cow or maybe talking about a baseball game, just not himself. We honor that man today who spent almost six decades here for most of his eighty-seven years. Saying goodbye to a loved one is a stark reminder that life is fragile and so are the bonds that tie this community together. Barrett Callum was a husband, a father, and a grandfather. He was a friend, a good man to work for, an employer who always expected you to do your best and rewarded you when you did. I could bore you with two dozen more stories about him, but then we’d be here another hour in this hot, stuffy church. So, I’ll end this here by promising you one thing: Tate and I will always honor Barrett Callum’s legacy the way he did by giving back to the town that meant so much to him.”

Trent stepped down from the podium to applause, his heart heavy yet uplifted. As he returned to the pew, he was surprised when Duchess reached out, her hand trembling to grab his, a silent support that spoke volumes.

After the service, the family gathered outside the church, exchanging quiet words and accepting comforting embraces. The atmosphere was thick with grief as each person had a storyto share about the man. Savannah approached Trent, her eyes reflecting the same sorrow he felt.

“That was beautiful,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Trent replied, squeezing her hand gently. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t expect it.”

“You have a lot to get through, but we’ll do it together. I can help. I can ride the range; just say the word.”

“Maybe after school lets out on Friday, we’ll talk about you joining me on patrol. I would rather we catch this guy before then.”

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