Page 17 of Below Grade

Putting Waugh, Dear, and the missing girl out of his mind for now, he returned to the dilapidated shed. It was the only building on the property that hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned out before Martin took possession. Whether it had been an oversight or purposeful, Martin didn’t know. But he was certain damn big spiders lived there, and he hated spiders.

Taking a steadying breath, he stepped inside again and tentatively peeled back the lid of one of the moldering boxes. He was immediately greeted by the sight of an eight-legged beast staring back at him. Its front legs were raised upward as if demanding a duel.

“Nope, not happening.” He let the lid fall shut again. “You win. Whatever is in that box can wait until I find a really big broom. I’m going to go have some cookies.”

MARTIN

Fact:Over four thousand minerals exist, but only 30 of them are available in abundance on earth.

Martin woke slowly, stretched, then rolled over onto his side to peer out the bedroom window closest to him. His king-sized bed was a little overkill in that it took up most of the bedroom, but it was damn comfortable. And it had cost a lot, so he wasn’t just getting rid of it.

He couldn’t see the ocean from the window, but he could hear it. The rhythmic pounding surf had lulled him into a mostly dreamless slumber each night so far, offering a kind of rest he hadn’t known he’d needed. What dreams he had focused on Lizzy Harlow, his subconscious brain working overtime to solve a mystery he had no business (or skill, for that matter) involving himself in.

“I should adopt a pet,” he muttered into the stillness. “Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m talking to myself all the time. A fish tank seems cruel right next to the ocean though. Maybe a cat.”

Rolling onto his other side, he picked up his cell phone. It had been windier last night than it had been the first three nights, but it looked like he still had internet access.

Aside from losing a battle to invisible spiders yesterday and doing some organizing, he’d reached out to contractors and reconfirmed dates for things he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do himself. He was antsy to get the remodel moving along, and while Martin was handy with a saw and nail gun, electricity was a whole different scary ball game.

He’d also driven to Aberdeen and back, picking up various supplies he couldn’t get in town—groceries, for one. And paint chips from the hardware store. Of course, the thing he’d forgotten to buy was a damn big-ass broom.There was no way he would enter the shed again without a damn broom in hand.

There’d been a grocery store in Cooper Springs in the past, and a hardware store too. He’d driven past the empty buildings on the main road several times now. The grocery looked to have closed fairly recently, while the ghost of the wordHardwarewas still visible above a set of mullioned windows next to the thrift store. He wondered if Xavier Stone had plans for those buildings, too.

It would be nice not to have to travel to Aberdeen when all he needed was a big-ass spider-killing broom immediately.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he realized the off-white shade of the clouds crowding the sky outside his window meant it was later than when he’d woken the past couple of mornings.

“Way past time to get your ass out of bed,” he scolded himself. “It’s time for coffee.”

Once that was ready, he’d fill up his go-cup and bundle up for a wander down the beach. He’d bypass the footbridge, however, and slog through the marsh grass instead. The bouquets of flowers left at the bridge by town residents were more ragged every day. He assumed it was residents who’d left them, anyway. Each morning fewer and fewer of them remained, having fallen victim to the wind and possibly small animals.

Swinging his sleep-pant-covered legs out from under the covers, Martin snagged his ancient UW sweatshirt and pulled it on over his head before adding a pair of thick socks. Taking his phone with him, he headed to the kitchen.

Xavier Stone had insisted Martin needed a battery-operated clock because of power outages and, in fact, had given him one as a housewarming gift. The kitschy black cat clock with zirconium eyes and a swinging tail hung opposite the kitchen window. He liked it; this kitsch was the new Martin.

The clock agreed with his phone that it was past eight already.Maybe he didn’t have time for a walk on the beach. He halted in front of his mini-espresso maker in its special place on the counter. Coffee was the elixir of life.

Of course I have time for the beach. This is my new life.

The windwasmore intense than it had been the past few days. By the time he got back, Martin didn’t feel like he’d taken a walk so much as he’d been steered down and back up the beach by gusts of wind. The waves seemed bigger than usual and crashed against the shore in a way that had Martin wary of getting too close to them. Even the few seabirds hungry enough to brave the weather were hunkered down on the sand, as if they’d decided waiting it out was the best plan.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

Even if the worst happened and, for some unknown reason, he never got the resort up and running the way he envisioned, Martin was living in his version of paradise. Aunt Heidi hadn’t known what Martin wanted, but she’d known what he needed. Hell, he hadn’t known until he’d set foot on the mossy gravel drive.

“Thank you, Heidi,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”

The seasons would change and once the warmer months arrived, visitors would make their way to the coast and possibly to Cooper Springs, but he was lucky enough to be here all year long, and his aunt had helped make it possible.

Martin was thinking about the generator that was being delivered that day—and not Nicholas Waugh—when he rounded the corner of his cabin. Protected from the buffeting wind, he glanced down the row of cabins toward where something odd caught his attention.

“What the hell is that?” he exclaimed as he dug in his pocket for his keys, his cold, stiff fingers protesting the movement.

Abandoning the promised warmth inside for the time being, he squinted in the direction of where Waugh lived, trying to figure out what the hell he was seeing. A tall, slender pole had been erected in front of Nick’s place.

Martin cocked his head, peering harder as he moved closer.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said once he stood directly in front of the carving.

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