Page 21 of Murder in The Summer House

An overwhelmed Gavin wasn’t sure how to respond to the genuine praise.

Lucien took pity on him. “It’s up to you when you’re ready to expand into a bigger market. If you want to deliver a cake to the book club, we’ll find a way to get it there. If you want us to put in a good word for you with Perry Altman, we’ll do that, too.”

“Absolutely,” Brogan echoed, resting a hand on Gavin’s arm. “We’ll make it happen.”

“It’s hard to believe all of you are this nice. You’re not anything like Mr. Sutter.” Realizing how that sounded, Gavin tried to backtrack. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

“Sure you did,” Lucien said with a chuckle. “It’s okay. It’s a nice compliment. Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“I planned to clean up the kitchen, then get out of your hair. You guys have more important things to talk about than sponge cake. I’ll sleep in the SUV. I’ve done it before.”

“Nonsense. You should bunk in the guest room. It’s down the hallway to the right,” Lucien suggested. “There’s a couch in the guest house, but I’d steer clear of that until morning. You never want to poke the grumpy lump in the corner. I know that from experience. And you never know how Graeme will wake up. He’s either tame as a pussycat or ready to rumble like a bear. I wouldn’t chance it.”

Gavin chewed his lip. “What if he needs to leave out of here at six-thirty and doesn’t know where I am?”

“He can wait until everyone wakes up like a regular person,” Brogan tossed back. “You’re not breaking any rules by getting a good night’s sleep in a bed instead of an uncomfortable car. Graeme doesn’t get to dictate things like that. He’s a guest here, same as you.”

Gavin looked puzzled and a bit skeptical. “I know you mean well, but I don’t want to get fired, not now anyway. I can’t lose this gig when Daisy and I are so close to buying a house.”

“You won’t,” Lucien promised. “We’ll finish eating and take our conversation back into the den while you decide if you want to risk it.”

The four finished their dessert and returned to the family room, carrying their coffees.

“We need to devise a workable plan within the next few days to get inside the barn,” Lucien began. “After the police get done with the place, that is.”

“But not just inside the barn,” Brogan stressed. “There are plenty of places the killer could’ve buried bodies.”

Kelly shuddered. “Morbid conversation after such a delightful dessert.”

After settling in one of the armchairs, Lucien held up his phone. “According to breaking news out of Santa Cruz, the sheriff’s department brought the forensics team out to the barn to investigate what the PR team verified as a suicide. It looks like the remains have been there for about six months.”

“That’s actually good news for us,” Beckett stated. “That means law enforcement will be gone in a few days. The minute they clear the area, it opens things up for us to run the GPR. Who owns the land there?”

“That’s a vague point at the moment,” Brogan answered. “Gerald Rescher heard rumors that the county owned it as an extension of the State Park. But we’re not so sure. Leave it to us to find out. We’ll hunt down the owner and get written permission before going there again.”

“How much background have you done on the Dolworths?” Kelly wanted to know. “I don’t want to brag, but my strengths are in research.”

“Let’s just say that we wouldn’t mind you digging harder into the couple’s background,” Brogan instructed. “The more we know, the better we can figure out why they were murdered.”

Beckett nodded and leaned back in the side chair he’d chosen to get more comfortable. “As I see it, there are only three possibilities here. One, the Dolworths were targeted. Because they were on vacation, somebody had to know where they’d be staying. The second scenario is more spontaneous. By that, I mean they could’ve crossed paths with their killer during their first week there. That encounter led to the murders. Could Mack or Anna have pissed off a local at the grocery store? Maybe someone at the beach got territorial and didn’t want outsiders encroaching on their stretch of beach. It sounds incredibly petty, but surfers are known to get upset by that sort of thing. It’s happened before. Maybe the killer went there to teach them a lesson, and things got out of hand?”

“But what would make anyone so angry that they’d kill over it?” Kelly broached. “I have seen locals get territorial. But enough to kill?”

Beckett shrugged. “History tells us that psychos are unpredictable.”

“What’s the third possibility?” Brogan asked.

“The entire thing went down as a case of mistaken identity. The killer got the wrong family or the wrong address.”

“We considered that,” Lucien muttered. “But then, why pursue the boys?”

Beckett fidgeted in his chair and kept his eyes trained on the floor. “Unfortunately, you need to think like a hitman, an assassin. After shooting Mack and Annie, he realizes he’s committed. This guy has backed himself into a corner. Right or wrong, he needs to act fast. He walks out of the bedroom to check the rest of the house. Who’s inside? Who’s here? Who might have seen him? When the killer spots the three-year-old, panic sets in.” Beckett laid a hand over his heart and finally met Lucien’s eyes. “It’s gut-check time for the killer. A hitman who’s been spotted is dangerous. He needs to make tough decisions fast because he knows he can’t leave a witness behind who can ID him.”

“Not even a baby?” Brogan murmured, the sickening feeling of that sinking in. “I doubt a three-year-old would be much of a threat. But like most toddlers, if Elliott saw this stranger, he might’ve gone ballistic and started screaming his little head off.”

“Exactly,” Beckett said. “Elliott probably spotted this guy with a gun in his hand and darted out the front door. The killer has no choice but to follow him. By this time, Elliott has bumped into the paperboy coming up the driveway, trying to rescue him.”

“Because Trey either responded to the gunshots or Elliott screaming,” Kelly provided. “I mean, Trey was right outside, wrong place, wrong time.”

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