Pippin opened her mouth to object, but Jacobs held up his hand to silence her. Like every other man she’d met lately, he had a tattoo, this one on his forearm. It said something, but she didn’t see it long enough to read it. He lowered his arm and continued. “That’s not to say I’m not going to try. I’ll use every resource available to me from the department and town to get to the truth, but I need to be honest. It’s going to be a steep hill to climb. Let’s assume the body was killed on the boat and placed in the hatch. The boat has since been moved here, to this location. It’s been sitting in Carolina weather. Every raindrop. Every gust of wind. Every animal that’s passed through has destroyed any piece of viable evidence.”
“Do you think he was in there the entire time? Since he disappeared?” Grey asked.
The lieutenant shifted from one foot to the other. “There’s no way to know that for sure.”
“Do you know how he died?” Pippin asked. Her thoughts had skittered back to Bev and Mick’s story about the sinking boat. Her temples pulsed. Was that connected to her father? Could he have been involved? Or maybe he witnessed something.
Jacobs cleared his throat. “Medical Examiner found a nick on one of the ribs. She believes it points to a stabbing.”
Pippin’s head suddenly felt full of cotton and her chest contracted. Her breath became shallow. “Why would anyone do that to him?”
“Again, after twenty years, it will be difficult to piece together a motive,” Jacobs said. His expression softened, the hard lines of his face melting away. “I am sorry. I wish I could tell you more.”
Grey had calmed down, but his jaw was tight and his hands were fisted. If he could hit something, Pippin knew he would.
She held her breath for a moment before asking the question burning inside her. “Could it have to do with the boat that sank at the marina? The one next to his?”
Grey’s breath shot out in an angry hiss. He clawed his hand through his hair, walking away. Pippin had told him what Bev and Mick had said, but he had chosen not to believe it. “I bet rumors around here travel faster than you can say Outer Banks. It’s a story,” he’d said. “Nothing else.”
But Pippin wasn’t so sure. She looked at the lieutenant, waiting.
“That was a long time ago,” Jacobs finally said.
“But there could be a motive wrapped up in it, couldn’t there? Maybe our dad saw something he shouldn’t have.”
“It’s possible,” Jacobs admitted. “Tell you what. I’ll look into it. But keep in mind, after this much time, it’ll be hard to find anything valuable. Anything related to that boat was hunted down and processed at the time. It’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to uncover any new evidence.”
Pippin forced herself to respond. “I understand.”
The lieutenant nodded, closing the door on the topic. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before asking, “Were any of your father’s belongings still in the house?”
Pippin shook her head. She and Grey had searched every room, every closet, every nook and cranny. “Nothing. Our grandparents must have had it cleared out at some point.”
“That’s what I figured. Sitting vacant and abandoned for so long, it would have been looted and possibly destroyed in the process if stuff had been left inside. I’ll keep you updated on the investigation. I promise.”
Lieutenant Jacobs walked across the grass, back toward his car parked alongside the shoulder, leaving Pippin and Grey standing in front of their father’s fishing boat grappling with the confirmation that their father had been murdered.
Pippin watched as Jacobs pulled away in his black SUV, Devil’s Cove Sheriff’s Dept. emblazoned on the sides in a vibrant blue. Another car, this one a zippy lemon-yellow Volkswagen convertible with a black ragtop pulled up. Daisy Santiago popped out and headed toward them. She threw her arm up in a wave. “Hello there!”
Pippin managed to turn her frown to an impassive expression and lifted her hand in greeting before turning to tell Grey who the woman crossing their grass was.
“You remember her?” Grey asked, one brow raised in skepticism. Clearly, he did not.
“I do. Vaguely.”
Daisy came up to them. She’d pulled her short hair back with a wide orange headband and looked just as darling as she had earlier at the library. Pippin cleared her throat and swept her hand to the side, palm up. “Daisy, this is—” she started, but Daisy cut her off. “Grey Hawthorne. I’d recognize you anywhere. You look just the same.” She laughed and tapped her chin. “Minus the facial hair, of course.”
Grey managed a nod, but Daisy had already moved on. She gazed up at the house, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand cupped at her forehead. “It’s a helluva house.”
“That it is,” Grey said.
Daisy pointed to the left side of the house. “Is that Kyron Washington?” Her voice had turned excitedly breathy.
Pippin followed her gaze to the man coming out of the French door from her father’s study to the side porch. “Yep. He’s one of the guys working on the renovations.” Her gaze traveled up to the second floor where she knew Jimmy Gallagher and Travis Walsh were working. The nail gun was still popping. “They’re making good progress.”
Daisy still had her eyes glued to Kyron. “If you need extra help, I’m game.” She flicked her eyebrows up suggestively, and there was no doubt about what kind of help she’d like to offer.
As if he’d sensed they were talking about him, Kyron turned to face them. The features of his face were hidden behind the dark screening, and in the shade of the tall hydrangea bushes next to the porch railing, but his dark skin and bright smile came into focus as he moved out of the shadows. “Everything okay?” he called.
“Yeah. Fine,” Grey said. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
Kyron waved his acknowledgement. Pippin waved back. But Daisy wiggled her fingers coyly, tilting her head to one side. Even from where Kyron stood, Pippin was pretty sure he’d understood the hidden meaning to Daisy’s greeting. Subtlety didn’t seem to be her strong suit.
Grey turned to Daisy. “Good to see you,” he said, before sending a silent communique to Pippin. They’d talk about the bomb Lieutenant Jacobs from the sheriff’s department had dropped on them later. She nodded and Grey headed back up the walkway, disappearing into the house.
“Kyron, huh?” Daisy asked.
Pippin nodded.
“He’s a cutie. Does he have a girlfriend?”
“I have no idea,” Pippin answered. She hadn’t had the opportunity or the desire to grill any of the guys about their personal lives, and none of them had offered up the information.
Finally, Daisy redirected her attention away from the house and onto Pippin. “Can you find out?”
“I’ll try,” Pippin said, a genuine smile coming to her lips.
Daisy gave a little laugh. “That’s all I can ask.” She pointed to the boat in the side yard. “Your dad’s?”
The smile faded away. “Yeah. The police left just before you got here. I’m sure it’ll be common knowledge before long. We found the remains of a body in one of the lower hatches. It was our father.”