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Birk drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe she was roughing it on the beach. Camping out at night, then taking a dip in the ocean to wash off. It was August, our hottest month. People do it all the time when there’s no available lodging.”
“Maybe that’s how she lasted for seven days,” Brogan surmised. She picked up her glass of wine. “Did you know where the Fanning Rescue Center sits now used to be a hotel? It was apparently ready to be torn down when the Fannings bought the property. Getting rid of that decrepit building allowed them more space to expand, to make room for more animals. That was early 1970-ish.”
“I noticed that on one of the maps,” Lucien said. “But how did you know about it? We haven’t had time to study the stuff I picked up at the library.”
“Logan mentioned it earlier. He also told me we’d be hearing rumors about a serial killer named Carl Knudsen—active in the 1980s— who murdered his sister Megan. He said people would try to blame Knudsen for the murder. Logan says not to bother looking at Knudsen or his two partners for Gidget’s murder. He says none of the three men were in the area then.”
Everyone at the table traded looks with each other, but Birk was the one who cleared his throat to speak. “I’ll double-check this Knudsen to be sure. Who were these partners?”
Brogan rattled off the two names. “They’re both dead.”
Birk made a mental note. “Mark Knudsen and Kent Springer. I had no idea Logan’s sister was a murder victim. Turns out we have something in common.”
“I didn’t even know he had a sister.” Beckett shifted in his seat before picking up his beer. “Small world. Different serial killers. Shows how often predators target vulnerable women.”
Brogan let out a sigh. “I feel so sorry for our Gidget. Imagine taking what could’ve been her first trip to California—not having a lot of money to throw around—and not having a clue how badly her grand adventure would turn out.”
“You do realize we’ll need to come up with why she came here,” Lucien surmised, pushing his plate to the side. “It sounds impossible, I know, but it’s important to learn the reason she picked Pelican Pointe. I tend to think she was here looking for someone. We need to find that person.”
Jade shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that. Living in Santa Cruz, close to the beach, made me realize how many kids run away from home each year. They pack up and leave—just take off—for no other reason than to see the ocean and experience exotic California. Many are from small midwestern towns without a clue how to survive. They watch movies about California and think it’s like what’s on the big screen. They end up in Santa Cruz, not realizing that winters can get chilly along the coast in January and February. Soon they realize what money they have won’t go very far here. They end up on the streets, vulnerable and abused.”
Brogan lifted her wine glass toward Jade. “You’re right. Gidget could’ve done the same thing. It might be that simple.”
Beckett took a slug of his beer. “Would you like me to tag along when you talk to Richie Plunkett? Two against one. I’d be anxious to hear what he says.”
“Sure.”
“How did you get his name?” Birk quizzed. “I’m curious.”
Lucien looked uncomfortable and glanced at Brogan. “You’ll think we’re nuts.”
“He probably already thinks we’re nuts,” Brogan pointed out. “Go ahead. Tell him the truth.”
Lucien told him about the Scott sighting at the cemetery.
A skeptical Birk frowned. “Weird, no matter how you size it up.”
Kelly steepled her fingers and leaned back in the chair. “If I researched the paranormal, I’d say Scott is the anomaly, the common factor that remains constant to a theory. It’s not something you should discount, while at the same time, impossible to rely on an outcome.”
Jade glanced at the clock on the wall. She had a funny feeling that something wasn’t right. “When do you expect to hear from Logan and Kinsey?”
Lucien checked the time on his watch. It was almost seven-fifteen. “I would’ve thought before now. They did say they were going over to the house this afternoon. Maybe their plans changed.”
At that very moment, Brogan’s cell phone rang. She looked at the screen. Then her eyes darted around the table. “It’s Kinsey. Hello.”
“You’d better get over to Beacon Lane,” Kinsey urged. “There’s something you need to see.”
“You guys are still there? Why?”
“It’s more complicated than we thought. Just get here as soon as you can. 720 Beacon Lane. We’ve already called Brent.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain when you get here,” Kinsey said as the line went dead.
Brogan shoved out of her chair. “She sounded downright frantic. And they’ve called Brent. What on earth could they have found?”
Lucien tossed down his napkin. “If Brent’s involved, it’s gotta be big. Are you guys coming or staying here?”
