Saltwater Cures
Orca Cove Series Book One

Chapter 1

Cold rain pelted down around Nick Ryan as he trudged away from his truck and across the pebbled beach. He pulled the bag he was carrying closer to him, tucking it partially under his open jacket to keep it as dry as possible. It was all he could do in this weather.

Thunder cracked down closer than expected, momentarily drowning out the crashing waves to his right. Raising his head, he searched the sky for lightning, finding it ahead of him, towards his new home. The thought of his fireplace sent a shiver of anticipation through him, anxious to get back into dry clothes.

A body crashed into him, bare arms and legs flailing about to retain balance. Shocked, he dropped the duffel bag, catching the arms of the soaking-wet woman who’d run into him, appearing out of the water.

“What the?” The words were taken from his mouth, the wind carrying the sound far away.

She clutched his arms, her eyes sparked, and her mouth opened in silent laughter. She ran a hand over her face, clearing it of rain.

He looked towards the water and back to her, finally noticing the tan strapless bathing suit she wore. Not a mermaid then, he told himself, chiding his imagination. Although, who would blame him on a night like this? Even on this spring evening, the water had to be forty to fifty degrees. It would be extremely cold without a wetsuit.

“Are you okay?” he tried again, but it was pointless over the howling wind.

Another crack of thunder erupted from the sky above them. Shocked, they tightened their hold on each other’s arms as they searched the clouds. The flash of lightning was closer the next time, illuminating the water droplets on her eyelashes and the light blue of her cold lips. A jolt ran through him, a strange connection at the sight of her. Her long hair hung wet, its curly strands plastered to her face. He moved to hold her closer, to try to keep her warm, keenly aware of the mysterious woman wrapped in his embrace.

Breaking their bond, she took an unsteady step back, clutching her arms across her chest. He could see her trembling from the cold. The corner of her mouth kicked up in a playful smirk, then she whirled around and ran up the shoreline, long bare legs kicking up sand and rocks. He had to silently command his feet to stay where they were, the urge to follow was so strong.

She paused only momentarily near the grass line to bend down to gather a blanket, then disappeared into the night.

It took him a minute to recover from the shock, finally remembering his neglected bag at his feet. Panic soaking in, he reclaimed it, holding it tightly to himself, his steps faster as he headed back towards the grass line and the parking lot where his truck waited.

Willa Daniels woke up the next morning exactly where she ended up last night, on the floor in front of her couch, still wrapped in thick blankets. That was strange; she never fell asleep in the living room. She frowned at the fog in her mind. It felt cobwebby and slow. Luckily, the candle on her coffee table had burned out safely at some point in the night. Her mug of tea, almost entirely full, now sat cold.

Shrugging the blankets off, she reached a hand up to her still-damp hair, digging her fingers deep into the curls in an effort to shake them out so they could fully dry. Her strawberry-blonde hair fluffed up haphazardly. She’d try to tame it later.

With a sigh, she bent to pick up her mug with one hand, and rubbed her eye with the other, trying to clear away the last dregs of sleep. That had to be all it was. The cold swim must have zapped her strength. The storm hadn’t helped. When the lightning started, they got out as quickly as they could, but it sure seemed like it was striking the water. She shivered involuntarily. They lucked out. But who would have guessed? It rained a lot in Orca Cove, but thunderstorms weren’t as frequent.

The water on the Hood Canal was still now, she noticed, looking out the double windows of her living room. Calm and deep blue. Her little one-bedroom condo was right on the coast in a long building, so each unit could overlook the cove. It was beautiful and an easy way to connect to life in the Pacific Northwest. Close to Seattle, but far enough outside the Emerald City for some peace and quiet.

Padding over to her kitchen, she clicked on the electric kettle, dumping out the contents of her mug and giving it a quick wash. She rifled through the many containers of loose-leaf teas on the small bookshelf between her kitchen and living room, selecting echinacea, warming ginger, and astragalus root, just in case her immune system needed it after being exposed to the elements the night before. Her hand hovered over the wakame, a seaweed she had foraged the weekend before, known for its high levels of iron, manganese, and other vitamins. She could probably use the extra energy to clear her brain. She added a generous pinch of ginseng for circulation to round out her tea.

Piling her blankets back onto her couch, she made her way to her bedroom, pulling on a long, embroidered wool cardigan that was practically a blanket with arms. She was still fighting away the chill from last night. She poured the now boiling water over the herbs in her tea infuser and stuffed her feet into a pair of boots, leaving them unlaced as she took her steeping tea out to the back deck.

Leaning against her wood railing, she scanned the coastline for anything washed up on shore from the storm. A long, dark mass far off to the right caught her eye. At first, it looked like a large tree branch, driftwood not yet bleached by the sun. But the soft roundness of it made her think more of an otter. No, not quite that small. A sea lion maybe. They often made their way on shore for the afternoon sun, but not typically at this time of day.

Shaking her head again to try to clear it, she sat down on her Adirondack chair. She must not have gotten enough sleep last night.

She took a sip of her tea. It tasted especially good this morning. But then again, hot tea always tasted good first thing in the morning.

The ping of her phone sounded from inside. Sliding open her door, she headed back in, sipping more tea.

“You okay this morning?” her friend Nell had texted.

“Yes, a little tired, but taking an easy morning,” she answered. That was sweet of her friend. Nell had always had the habit of mothering the rest of them. She sipped her tea, slowly waking up, then texted more. “You doing okay?”

“Yes,” the answering text came. “I had a hard time waking up this morning. Didn’t even make it past my couch last night.”

That was strange. Both of them not making it to bed?

“Weird. Me too. The rug in front of my couch, though, for me.”

Three dots appeared to show Nell was texting back. Then they disappeared. Willa waited, drinking her tea. The dots resumed.

“ Shelby and Maggie too.”

What?

"And Duke?” she texted, asking about the last member of the group that took the memorial dip in the channel the night before.

“No answer yet.”

Finishing her tea, she wandered back to the deck, looking out onto the cove. So quiet, so still after last night’s storm. Cool, fresh air graced her cheeks.

A dorsal fin broke the glassy surface. Willa cocked her head to watch the water. It was black. Could it be? A black and white back broke the surface, confirming her suspicions. They got an unusual number of orcas in their cove. No one knew why, but it was still always a treat to see one.

The orca’s blunt nose rose from the water, and it seemed to acknowledge her. For a moment, it seemed like they were looking right at each other. A shiver ran through her, and she tugged her sweater close around her, her mind now completely awake and running at full speed. Even faster than normal. It was like she had recharged herself. She considered her empty mug. The wakame had seriously rejuvenated her.

Turning back towards the water, the orca was gone. She traced the surface for any signs of it, or other sea life.

A seagull had landed on the dark heap down the beach, picking at it. Discomfort pricked along the back of her neck. Not a sea lion sunning itself then, something dead. Hopefully not a sea lion. The dark shadow formed a plaid pattern. Pieces clicked together in her now clear mind. The meager contents in her stomach tumbled. That wasn’t something from the ocean. It was a body.

Spinning off the back deck, she launched herself down the stairs leading to the beach, her boots pulling at her feet as they sank into the sand and pebbles. She cursed at herself for not taking the time to tie them. She raced across the sand until she stood over the body, out of breath but otherwise feeling healthy and full of adrenaline.

The corpse of a middle-aged black man lay on the beach before her. His opened eyes and mouth appeared slightly shocked, as though staring sightlessly into the clouds. She knew better than to touch him, even though she wanted to cover him to protect him from the gulls.

It was then she noticed the dark brownish-red spot staining the front of his flannel shirt jacket, disrupting the blue and green plaid. Willa whirled and heaved into the sand.

“You’re sure you didn’t touch the body?” the chief of police asked gruffly, his hands on his knees where he leaned over the dead body. She’d known him all her life, having grown up in the cove. “You didn’t try to resuscitate him or anything?”

“Warner.” Willa cocked her head. “He’s obviously beyond saving.”

“You tried to put that salve on my razor burn last year.” He itched at his freshly shaved neck, still speckled with small red bumps.

“Yeah. And it would have helped.” She crossed her arms.

“It’s razor burn. It just needs some aftershave.”

“I’m glad that’s working out for you.” She smiled sweetly. There was no sense in trying to help people who weren’t ready to be helped.

“I’m just sayin’,” he muttered. “Not everything needs-”

“I didn’t touch the body.” She cut him off. “I waved the gulls away, ran inside, and called you.”

“Well, okay then.” Straightening, he leaned toward one of his deputy officers. “Ronnie, go get the box of gloves from my truck.”

“Yessir.” Ronnie ran off.

“Did you see or hear anything strange last night?” Warner regarded her.

“You mean over that storm?” Willa chuckled.

“Yeah, it was quite a doozy. Came out of nowhere too. It’s a good thing the body is so far up the shoreline, or it would have gotten pulled into the cove. Were you on the beach last night at all?”

“Yes,” she hesitated. “The girls and I, and Duke, were out last night.”

“I didn’t realize you all were still hanging out.” His eyes cast downward. “It’s nearly been a year since I’ve seen you all-”

His voice trailed off.

“Well.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her sweater. “Exactly. It’s been almost a year. And last night was his birthday. It was important.”

“I can hardly believe it’s been that long. Shame. How’s Nell doing?”

“Pretty good. Considering.”

“What time was this?”

“Eight, maybe?”

“Walk me through it.”

“Like you said, the storm came out of nowhere. We all hurried off the beach.”
“All?”

“Yes. I was the last off. It was a beautiful storm.” She grinned freely. “Wild and unpredictable.”

“Did you see anything?”

Willa thought back to the dark stranger she had literally run into the night before. His hair had been nearly as black as the dead man’s, with a similar body type, tall and thinly muscular. Had it not been for the darker skin, she’d have thought it was the same person. If she told Warner that he had been on the beach, that he’d been walking from the very direction where they were standing right now, he’d rush off and arrest him on the spot. As soon as he could find him, that was.

Sure, she thought the best of people, but she honestly didn’t think he murdered this man. Call it a gut feeling, but she was somehow certain. Her brows furrowed. “I saw a lot of waves and rain, Warner.”

Huffing, the older policeman turned to meet Ronnie, tugging on his gloves in frustration.

She hadn’t lied, exactly.

Saltwater Cures

Orca Cove Series Book One

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All mistakes are my own.