12

Cope

Lizbet was not a fan of sand. The little girl sat on her bright pink beach blanket wearing her floppy hat, her skin glowing white from the sunblock Cope had just applied. She'd been too squirmy for Cope to have rubbed it in all the way. He sat beside his daughter, trying to finish the job while she was occupied with the sand sticking to her hands.

"No!" Lizbet stuck her hands in Cope's face.

Reaching for their beach bag, Cope grabbed the baby wipes and cleaned off her hands. "How's that, little girl?"

Lizbet grabbed Cope's shoulder and stood up. Her legs wobbled as the sand shifted beneath her little feet. "Da!" She pointed toward the ocean where Wolf, Ezra, and Everly were running into and out of the water, letting the waves chase them up the beach. Tennyson stood nearby, watching the kids like a hawk. Aurora and Jace sat nearby in sun loungers reading. Aurora wasn't a big fan of the sand either.

"Come on." Cope scooped the baby into his arms and brought her to the edge of the water and set her on the hard-packed sand. Thankfully, he'd gotten her a pair of beach shoes, which kept the sand away from her feet.

A wave lapped over their feet. Lizbet screeched with the cold. Cope wanted to join her. "Maybe we should have stayed home. At least the pool water is warm."

"And clean," Ten added. "If I have to clean drifting seaweed from Everly's feet one more time, we're going inside."

Cope snorted. He'd been putting on Lizbet's sunscreen when he'd heard Everly scream as if she were being attacked by a bloodthirsty shark. She'd held a dainty foot out of the water toward Ten and waited for him to get the slimy green stuff off her. "This isn't as bad as I thought it would be. The beds are clean, and the beach is gorgeous."

"And the hotel is haunted." Ten snickered. "Have you spoken to Cyrus Longfellow again?"

"No." Cope shook his head. "I haven't really sensed him around." Cope wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Same goes for me and Everly. Why do you think Cyrus won't tell you who killed him? Who would you protect like that?" Ten asked.

Cope had been pondering the same thing. "I think those questions go hand in hand. If Cyrus's killer was a stranger or someone in town he'd known in a passing way, like the grocery cashier or the girl working the drive-thru window at McDonald's, then I think he would have told me. He would have no loyalty to a perfect stranger." Which brought up a more alarming list of suspects.

Ten nodded in agreement. "If it were me, the only people I'd keep my mouth shut for would be my kids and Ronan."

"Same. I'd be tempted to do the same for you and Ronan. Fitz and Jace. Carson and Cole." Hell, the more Cope thought about it, the bigger the list got. Kaye. Madam Aurora. Greeley. Cisco Jackson. Luca. Truman. Cassie. Cope shivered in the warm sunshine.

"According to what we've heard about Cyrus, he had a lot of lovers, both here in Maine and back home in New York City. We don't know a lot about his circle of friends." Ten wore a frustrated look.

"I would never say this to Jude or Ronan, but is it really our place to pester this happy spirit into reliving the last violent moments of his life? Is it our job to find out who killed him if Cyrus is happy with the world not knowing?" Cope's head spun with the possibilities. In the past, he and Tennyson had always assumed the task fell to them to help restless spirits and to seek justice for murder victims. What if that wasn't actually the case?

"That's an interesting thought." Ten nibbled his bottom lip. His eyes were on Everly and Wolf, who were jumping over a softly breaking wave. "Maybe we should leave well enough alone."

"I totally agree with you. I almost feel like Cyrus thought he deserved what happened to him. To be honest, I've never felt anything like that before from a spirit." In all the years Cope had been speaking to the dead, he'd dealt with a lot of anger, outrage, and the unfairness people experienced at the time of their deaths. This was the first time he'd ever spoken with someone who was at peace with their violent death. "We watched a show a while back where the main character was a serial killer. At the end, he begged his brother to kill him and end his suffering. What if something similar happened to Cyrus? What if he gave drugs to someone who overdosed or maybe was a driver in a hit-and-run accident?" The more Cope thought about it, the more scenarios he pictured in his mind's eye.

"Anything's possible," Ten agreed. "What do we tell Ronan, Jude, and Fitz?"

Cope had been wondering the same thing. "We both have kids. When was the last time you tried to get Everly to tell you something, and she kept her mouth shut? Wolfie does it all the time. It's like the more we ask, the more stubborn he gets. I mean, that describes Cyrus Longfellow perfectly."

"If Cyrus won't tell us what happened that night and no one comes forward to confess, our hands are tied." Ten grinned. "Whoops!"

Cope laughed along with him. "That leaves us with Alexandria Longfellow. She sounded like she was on death's door when we spoke to her last night. She really wants to see the case solved before she dies."

"I get that," Ten said. "I really do, but if Cyrus won't tell us who killed him and there are no new leads, what can we do? The mystery will be solved when they reunite after her passing, right?"

"If they reunite, then yes." Cope couldn't think of any reason why mother and son wouldn't be able to find each other. He imagined Cyrus would be waiting for her when the time came. "That brings up another question."

"Do we tell Cyrus what we know about his mother?" Ten asked.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that myself since last night. If we tell him she's sick and wants this case solved before her time is up, do you think that would convince Cyrus to spill the truth?"

Ten shook his head. "I'm not sure. Do you think he already knows his mother is sick?"

"He didn't say anything about it to me. It's possible his spirit was in the room last night when we spoke to his mother. I'll reach out to him tonight." Cope knew he had to tell Cyrus what was going on with his mother. He'd tell the spirit about her dying wish and leave it to him to decide if he wanted to tell his story or not.

"Send the kids over for a movie night. That way, we can speak to Cyrus without interruption. I'll text Ronan now and ask him to pick up snacks for the kids." Ten pulled out his phone.

"What about Everly?" Cope asked.

"She loves Swedish Fish. I'll ask Ronan to get her some."

Cope grinned. "No, I mean do you think we should ask her to get involved? If anyone could read Cyrus Longfellow, it might be her." Cope was constantly amazed by the things Everly was able to do with her gifts.

"I asked her the other night if she was sensing any spirits at the hotel. She said she hadn't but knew all about Chet Hines and what he wanted. She actually said she wouldn't tell him anything. Everly didn't like his energy and said his aura was dark and smelled like old leaves." Ten grimaced.

Cope had gotten the same impression from the man. He was only out for himself and his own glory. A disturbing thought struck him. "I'm not convinced he had nothing to do with the murder."

"Chet Hines?" Ten asked, sounding intrigued. "It's possible."

"It wouldn't be the first time a reporter became the story instead of covering it." Cope felt like he was onto something. "Maybe we should call him and set up a meeting. Let him think he's running the show and then ask if he killed Cyrus."

"It's not the worst idea," Ten agreed. "Ronan and the guys are on their way back from the Jungle. We can ask what they think over lunch. I'm starving."

"Me too." Cope couldn't even remember what he'd had for breakfast. It had struck him earlier that Chet Hines might just be the key to solving Cyrus Longfellow's murder, but why the hell wouldn't Cyrus implicate the reporter?

Unless, of course, they were in it together.