Page 3 of Lost Love Cove 2
"Just a clerical error," she muttered aloud, her voice barely audible over the soft rush of waves. Luna's ears twitched, the only acknowledgment of her words. "Nothing that can't be fixed with the right forms and a few signatures in the right places. That’s all. No fraud or intentional criminal activity."
But a voice deep inside, the same one that had saved her life three times on the force, screamed at her like a siren. It is FRAUD. This was well thought-out and deliberate. Her stomachclenched as if she'd swallowed broken glass. She pounded her feet harder against the sand, trying to drown the voice with each punishing impact, but it only grew louder with every heartbeat.
The cove narrowed like a funnel, the shoreline curving toward a jumble of jagged limestone rocks where the tide curled and foamed in frothy white ribbons. Luna suddenly froze mid-stride, her spotted coat bristling along her spine. Her muscles tensed, looking as rigid as a steel cable. The dog's ears flattened against her skull while her lips peeled back to reveal gleaming white teeth. A low growl rumbled from deep in her throat—not her usual playful warning, but something primal and afraid.
“Luna?” Carrie slowed, instinct prickling along her skin.
In an instant, the dog exploded into motion, a black-and-white missile launching across the sand. Luna's barks ripped through the air. Not playful warnings but desperate, throat-tearing sounds that sliced through Carrie's chest and sent adrenaline flooding her system. Each savage bark hammered Carrie's pulse higher until her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out everything but primal alarm.
“Luna!” Carrie shouted, but the Dalmatian didn’t slow.
Carrie's gaze locked onto what Luna had found—a human form sprawled at the tide line, one arm flung outward like a broken doll's, fingers half-buried in wet sand.
Her heart slammed to a stop, then exploded into thundering beats. Ice flooded her veins, freezing her in place. The world contracted violently. Sound vanished, colors bleached away, until nothing existed but that wrong-angled body and the hungry waves lapping at its legs.
Training ripped through her paralysis. She lunged forward, muscles burning, lungs screaming. Sand erupted beneath her pounding feet as she sprinted, each footfall jarring up her spine.
Luna circled the body in frenzied orbits, her barks piercing the air like gunshots.
"BACK, LUNA!" The command tore from Carrie's throat, raw and savage. The dog retreated, trembling, hackles still raised.
Carrie crashed to her knees beside the figure. A young woman. Her hands flew to the victim's throat, fingers pressing desperately for a pulse she already knew wouldn't be there. The skin beneath her fingertips felt like cold candle wax. Blue-tinged lips were parted slightly, as if caught mid-word. Seawater had plastered dark hair across one cheek, the strands like black veins against bloodless skin.
“No pulse,” Carrie whispered, voice hoarse.
She leaned close, forcing herself to catalog what she saw. Early twenties. Dark hair plastered to one cheek. Slacks and a blouse, not beachwear. Sand clung to the fabric. Shoes still on—work flats, scuffed, soaked through. Her hands were limp, nails pale.
Carrie sat back, her knees digging into the sand. A weight pressed into her chest. This wasn’t just another case file. This was a body at her feet, on the very cove she had come to for peace.
She drew in a sharp breath and scanned the surroundings. The stretch of beach was empty, the rocks jagged like teeth against the tide.
Carrie’s gaze tracked upward, and there it was—the large house perched above the shoreline. White stucco, tall windows catching the sun, a familiar landmark.
Carrie knew it to be the Marshalls’ house.
Her hand went to her pocket, and Carrie yanked out her phone, thumb slamming the screen and her heart still. There were no signal bars. A curse slipped under her breath.Of course. Reception on the cove was patchy, but right now it felt like a betrayal.
Her eyes flicked back to the house. Only one option.
“Stay,” she told Luna, though the dog shadowed her as she rose. Carrie ran, her muscles screaming as she charged up the slope toward the bluff. Gravel bit into her soles. Carrie took the stairs two at a time until she reached the top and pounded her fist against the door.
It wasn’t too long before it opened with a creak.
Arno stood there, hair tousled, a crease across his cheek as though he’d just rolled off the couch. He blinked, yawning. “Ms. Ware?”
His confusion was almost comical, except her urgency burned away any humor.
“Do you have a phone with a signal?” Carrie snapped. “I need a phone. Now.”
Arno’s eyes widened at her tone. “Uh, yeah, sure. Come in.” He stepped back.
She pushed past him, breath still hard, eyes darting until she spotted the wall-mounted landline in the foyer. Relief nearlybuckled her knees. She snatched the receiver, dialed emergency services from memory, her voice clipped and professional when the dispatcher answered.
“This is Captain Carrie Ware, Nantucket Police, badge number—” She rattled it off, forcing her tone steady. “I’m in Sunset Keys, Florida, temporary residence at the Carlton property on Lost Love Cove. I’ve discovered a body on the beach near the Marshall residence. Female, early twenties, no pulse. Request immediate response.”
The dispatcher confirmed details. Carrie slammed the receiver back onto its cradle, breath catching as she turned.
Arno stood just behind her, eyes wide. “Did you just say… dead body?”
