Rescue on Gooseberry Bay: Orphan Andy

Book 3: Rescue on Gooseberry Bay

by Kathi Daley

Genres: Mystery; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Punny book titles; Cozy Mystery; Holiday books

Synopsis

Bexley Cosgrove knows what it means to be left behind. As a child, she was abandoned and would surely have died if not for the actions of a stray dog who found and took care of her. That dog didn't just save her life; he gave it meaning. Now an adult, Bexley has made it her mission to return the favor—one rescued animal at a time. With a heart as big as her rescue ranch, she fights for every lost and forgotten soul, determined to give them the second chance she was once provided.

When Bexley stumbles upon a stray dog behind the Gooseberry Bay Adoption Center wearing a cozy sweater and a collar with the name "Andy" she immediately knows something is off. This isn't just another abandoned pup. Andy was clearly loved and clearly cared for, and yet, no one has reported him missing. Determined to find Andy's family, Bexley takes him back to the cottage on the peninsula and starts digging. Her search leads her to a quiet, seemingly deserted home, with signs of recent activity, and neighbors with stories that don't quite add up. While her friends insist the family likely just moved and deserted the dog, Bexley can't shake the feeling that something deeper is going on. As she follows the clues left behind, she uncovers a mystery riddled with secrets that may have been better left buried.

With Friendsgiving around the corner Bexley finds herself juggling a dog with a secret, a case with no clear answers, and a holiday that promises more twists than turkey.

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Release date: November 18, 2025

Publisher: Kathi Daley Books

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1) female sleuth (1)

Sample

Chapter 1

“Oh, good, Bexley’s here,” Willow Washington greeted me as I entered the Gooseberry Bay
branch of Forever Home Pet Rescue, the pet rescue I’d founded years ago with my best friend,
Denver Marshall. Denver and I both grew up in the foster care system, so we knew what it was
like to be without a forever home. After Denver inherited a large piece of property on Bainbridge
Island, we decided to use the land to build a forever home for the stray cats and dogs in the area.
Since then, we’ve added two adoption centers to the pet rescue, which has allowed us to help
thousands of animals find their forever homes.
“I’m here,” I replied, smiling as I hung my jacket on a hook and tossed my purse onto the
desk in the shared office. “I love the Thanksgiving cart you set up in front of the adoption center.
It’s very festive.”
“We wanted to do our part to bring the holiday spirit to the primary shopping and tourism
area,” Willow explained.
“Well, you did a good job. It looks very nice. The entire boardwalk looks nice, although I can
see that some of the vendors have already ditched their fall décor in favor of the red and green of
Christmas.”
“I noticed that last year as well,” my adoption manager, Poppy Hancock, jumped into the
conversation.
“I think there’s a real push to get the Christmas décor out by Black Friday,” I offered an
opinion. “Since some of the vendors on the boardwalk go all out for Christmas, there’s pressure
to get started early with the change from fall leaves, orange lights, and pumpkins that are

displayed from September first through Thanksgiving, to the evergreens, white lights, and red
bows of Christmas.”
“I guess I get that,” Willow said. “And I was thrilled when the coffee vendor switched from
pumpkin spice everything to peppermint and gingerbread.”
“Have you tried the eggnog latte?” Poppy asked. “I thought it sounded a bit gross at first, but
it’s really pretty good. Not too sweet as I feared it might be.”
“I haven’t tried it, but I will,” I assured her. I looked around the room where most of our dogs
were allowed to run free within the boundaries created by the portable dividers we used to create
play areas. “I don’t see the little pug puppy I brought from the main facility last week.”
“He’s already been adopted,” Poppy informed me. “A very nice family who has been waiting
for a small yet manly looking dog came to meet him the day after you left him. The family had
been preapproved, so the adoption process went smoothly and quickly.”
I was happy to hear that. The pug puppy was definitely a cutie.
“Speaking of small yet manly, Andy was by this morning, and he actually stayed for over an
hour,” Willow informed me.
Andy was a French Bulldog who’d been stopping by almost daily for the past week. He’d sit
on the sidewalk and look in through the window, but, despite our best efforts, we’d been
unsuccessful in our attempts to lure him inside. Given the fact that every time we’d seen Andy,
he’d been on his own, our only conclusion was that he was currently living on the street. The
dog, however, wore a sweater and sported a collar with a nametag, which indicated to me that
he’d been a valued member of a family at one point in time.
“Were you able to get any closer to him this time?” I asked.
“No,” Poppy admitted. “He did eat the food we set out for him, but he took off when I tried
luring him closer with one of our most popular treats.”
“Did he leave anything?” I asked. During his previous visits, he had left something behind,
which we assumed was a payment of sorts for the food we had provided. It was my hope that the
items left would provide clues as to where the dog had been staying when he wasn’t sitting in
front of the adoption center.
“He did,” Willow answered, holding up a sock so small that it could only have been meant
for a kindergartener or possibly a preschooler.
I reached out and took the sock from Willow. “Pink. The sock must have belonged to a girl.
Based on its size, I’m going to guess the child the sock was originally purchased for was four or
possibly five.”
“The sock Andy brought us when he first started coming by looked to be stolen from an older
child. Maybe a boy of nine or ten,” Poppy added. “Between the blue dish towel, the two socks,
the work glove that appears to have belonged to a large man, the garden trowel, an old baseball
with the letters ‘DW’ written on it, and the slightly chewed tennis shoe with a Chicago Bulls
logo, I’m going to suggest that Andy is stealing these items from a family.”
“Or he may just be taking items from random homes or garbage cans, and the items he brings
may not even be linked to one another,” I responded as I placed the pink sock in the drawer with

the other items Andy had brought us. “Either way, I am curious as to where he goes when he
isn’t here, looking in our window. I may try staking the place out tomorrow and following him
when he leaves.”
“We considered doing that and even gave it a try, but he’s small enough to slip through really
tight spaces. So far, he’s managed to lose us once he gets into the alley.”
“If we all work together, maybe we can outsmart the little guy.” I walked over to the puppy
play area and picked up a black lab, who’d been cleared by our veterinarian for adoption and
would be going to his forever home this afternoon. “So how are things for the open house, pet
adoption clinic, and animal rescue fundraiser coming along?”
“We’ll be ready,” Poppy assured me. “We’ve been advertising the open house, adoption
clinic, and fundraiser for weeks. I was a bit nervous about having the event on the Saturday
before Thanksgiving, but the response has been positive. In fact, we’ve already had a few locals
stop by with cash donations.”
I smiled. “That’s awesome. I love it when the entire community gets involved.”
“Parker was in earlier,” Willow informed me, referring to one of my best friends, a
newspaper reporter, Parker Peterson. “She offered to do an article about the charity, the adoption
centers both here and in Seattle, our fundraising effort, and our plans to use the funds we raise to
expand our training and medical facility on Bainbridge Island.”
“Parker’s done so much to help us get the word out. I’ll need to be sure to thank her. Did she
say if she was going to be in town this week?”
“Actually, she did mention that she’d be working on a story in Gooseberry Bay and that if
she wasn’t needed elsewhere, she was going to stay for at least a few days,” Poppy replied.
Parker worked for the Seattle News and was assigned to the crime beat on both the Seattle
and the Gooseberry Bay side of the Puget Sound, so she often traveled back and forth between
the cottage she leased in Gooseberry Bay and the room she borrowed from our friend, Avery
Carmichael, on the Seattle side of the Sound. Avery owned a penthouse condo in Elderberry Bay,
a small town just north of Seattle, and had generously offered Parker and me a bedroom in her
four-bedroom unit for those times we were in town.
“Did she mention what sort of story she was working on?” I asked.
“She didn’t say, but if you’re going to be in town for a while, I guess you can ask her.”
“Unless something comes up, I plan to be in town at least through Saturday. I want to be here
for the open house, and I figured that I should be here this week to help the two of you get
ready.” I gazed out the massive picture window at the boardwalk and the bay stretching beyond
it. “Besides, I love being in Gooseberry Bay for the holidays. This town, more than any other
town I’ve visited, really knows how to go all out.”
“The local chamber of commerce is setting up the tree lot at the end of the boardwalk near
the marina,” Poppy informed me. “I won’t be able to fit more than a tabletop evergreen in my
tiny apartment, but I’m still excited to walk around the lot and pick something out.”
“Do you know when they plan to open the lot?” I asked.
“The day after Thanksgiving,” Poppy replied.

“I’m not sure I’ll get a tree since I seem to have a foot in several different residences at any
one time, but I do love to walk around Christmas tree lots.” I turned away from the window.
“Are there any new arrivals I should know about?”
“Just the expectant mama cat who was brought in yesterday. Thankfully, there are no obvious
injuries, but the cat has been agitated since arriving and isn’t showing any interest in the food
we’ve set out for her. Of course, the cat may merely need time to adjust to the new surroundings,
but I worry that the poor thing won’t have the strength to deliver her babies if we can’t get her to
eat.”
I paused and looked around the room. Poppy, Willow, and I went out of our way to ensure
that all our orphans were as comfortable as possible while they were with us, and I felt we did a
good job meeting that goal. Since this particular cat was very pregnant, it occurred to me that she
really should be moved to a foster family. I asked Poppy if she had someone she could call, but
Poppy shared that it was hard to arrange for new foster families so close to the holidays.
“Let me check with a few people here in Gooseberry Bay who aren’t on our official foster list
but might still be willing to fill in for a few days,” I offered. “If I strike out, I’ll change my plans
and take the expectant mama cat to Denver and Cassie, although I know the main facility is
already bursting at the seams.” Cassie Gibson, who was just fifteen when Denver and I rescued
her from a life on the street, was Denver’s right-hand woman at the main facility on Bainbridge
Island.
“I heard that Denver was able to rescue a bunch of dogs from a puppy mill up north,” Willow
said.
“He was able to talk the breeder into surrendering twelve mama dogs and seventeen puppies,
which is why the kennel on Bainbridge Island is so full now. He even has puppies in the cat area
until everyone can get checked out and they can start placing them with fosters, so it really isn’t
the best time to bring him an expectant mama cat, but if we don’t have any other options, he’ll
make room.” I glanced at my watch. “I’m going to head out and do a few errands, and then I’ll
head to the cottage and make my calls. I’ll be back in a few hours, whether I find a foster for the
cat or not. I’ll text as I’m about to head back, and you can get the cat transferred to a travel
crate.”
“That works for me,” Willow assured me.
Since I’d parked my van in the back lot, I headed out the back door of the adoption center
and entered the lobby area, which was shared by four businesses, including Ainsley Holloway
Investigations. Ainsley Holloway was a good friend, so when I noticed that the door to her office
was cracked open, I poked my head in to say hi. Ainsley lived on the same peninsula as Jemma
Hawthorn, who shared a cottage with her roommate, Josie Wellington, and Avery and I shared a
cottage whenever either of us was in town. Ainsley was Avery’s sister, and one of the first people
I’d met when I’d first opened the adoption center in Gooseberry Bay.
“Bex.” Ainsley smiled at me after I walked in. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“I just got here.” I bent over to pet her Bernese Mountain Dogs, Kai and Kallie, who’d gotten
up from the dog pillows they’d been sleeping on to greet me.
“Will you be in town long?” she asked after offering me a cup of coffee from the pot on the
side counter, which I decided to accept.

“I’m planning to be here at least through the weekend, but I have an expectant mama cat in
need of a foster, and if I’m unsuccessful in finding someone who has the space and time to fill
the need, I’ll likely have to take a day to travel to Bainbridge Island. Either way, I’ll be here for
the weekend. I guess you heard about our big open house, pet adoption clinic, and fundraiser.”
“I have heard about it, and I’ve already dropped off my donation. I think it’s awesome that
you’re going to expand the rehabilitation facility on Bainbridge Island. The service you all
provide is very much needed and appreciated.”
“With all the dogs, cats, and other various animals we have going through there now that
we’ve opened the adoption centers, we really needed more room for both training and medical
rehabilitation.”
“I heard about the dogs Denver rescued. It makes my heart happy to know that they’ll have a
second chance at a good life with a family who loves them.”
“That is the goal. Some of those dogs have never known life outside the small kennel
assigned to them by their previous owner. It really will do my heart good to see them with room
to run and people who care about them.”
I glanced at Kai and Kallie. Now, those were dogs who knew what love was.
“You know,” Ainsley said, “if you need a temporary foster for the expectant mama cat, you
might talk to Jemma. She’s generally open to the idea. I’d offer to do it myself, but I’m afraid
I’ve been a bit too ambitious and have taken on more cases than I should have. I wouldn’t be
home to really keep an eye on her.”
I sat down on the chair across from the desk where Ainsley was working. “That is quite the
stack of files you have piled up. How many cases are you working on?”
“Five. I usually only take on one case at a time, but it seems I’ve been inundated with
individuals needing help, and since Adam is busy at the academy now that school is back in
session, I’ve had a lot more free time on my hands.”
Adam Winchester was Ainsley’s boyfriend and the headmaster of Winchester Academy, a
private high school for intelligent youth with a specific challenge that naturally prevented them
from reaching their full potential. Adam had lived on the peninsula with Ainsley during the
summer, but once school started back up, he was at the academy more often than not.
“Five is a lot. Are they all big cases?”
“No,” she responded. “Three of the five cases are mostly research and not time sensitive, so
they can be fit into my schedule whenever I have a few free minutes, but the other two are a bit
more immediate.”
“Anything interesting?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I guess they’re all interesting, but I suppose the most interesting and most
urgent case I’m currently working on is this one.” She held up a file. “Morgan Gilhooly is
looking for her mother, Maria, who goes by Mimi, who she feels may be here in Gooseberry
Bay. Mimi has been suffering from some memory issues and has recently been moved from her
home to a memory care facility in Portland, Oregon. Morgan is unsure what happened exactly,
but somehow her mother walked away from the facility and was last seen boarding a bus that
was headed north.”

“North of Portland is a large area. Does this woman have reason to believe her mother was
heading to Gooseberry Bay?”
Ainsley answered. “I guess Mimi lived here for a while when she was fresh out of college.
She worked on the boardwalk, where she met a man she eventually left town with. Morgan isn’t
sure what happened to the man after they left town, but she was certain that the man Mimi met in
Gooseberry Bay was not the man she eventually married.”
“So the man she eventually married was Morgan’s father?”
“Actually, no. Morgan said that she was four years old when her mother met the man she
eventually married. According to Morgan, her mother never would tell her who her father was.”
“But she’s sure that the man Mimi met in Gooseberry Bay wasn’t her father?” I asked.
Ainsley shook her head. “She didn’t think the timing was right, but she also admitted that her
mother had never clarified things to her or offered a timeline other than to tell her that she lived
here for a summer, where she met a man she eventually moved away with. Morgan asked if the
man she left Gooseberry Bay with was her father or the man she later married, and Mimi told
Morgan that, no, the man she knew in Gooseberry Bay was a different man than the other two.”
I took a moment to process the story, which seemed somewhat confusing, but I supposed the
details weren’t really relevant to Ainsley’s current case, which was to find the woman and return
her to her daughter.
“Anyway,” Ainsley continued, “according to Morgan, while her mother had rarely mentioned
Gooseberry Bay in the past, about a year ago, as her dementia began to worsen, her mother
began talking almost nonstop about Gooseberry Bay and the time she spent here. She described
this time period as the best time of her life, often spending countless hours reminiscing and
recounting her experiences from that time. Morgan thinks that her mother headed back to the
place in her memory where she’d been happiest when she was moved into memory care, and she
found herself in a new environment where she felt insecure and unsafe.”
I supposed that made sense. If this woman was losing touch with her memories, it would be
natural to want to hang onto the memories that were the most important to her. “I hope this
woman is okay.”
“Me too,” Ainsley agreed. “According to Morgan, her mother’s cognitive function is fine
most of the time, but the progression of the disease had advanced to the point where she no
longer felt that it was safe for her mother to live alone, which prompted her decision to move her
into memory care. I asked Morgan if she felt her mother was capable of getting herself from
Portland to Gooseberry Bay on her own. She said that, on the one hand, if her mother was having
a few good days, she was perfectly capable of navigating the trip. She shared, however, that on
the other hand, it was equally likely that she’d get herself here, or wherever she ended up, have a
bad day, and suddenly have no idea where she was or how she had gotten there.”
“I assume the police have been notified.”
“They have been, but at this point, I don’t think this woman is a huge priority. When she first
went missing, the Portland PD looked for her, but their investigation was put on the back burner
when it seemed that she’d left the area. The police in Gooseberry Bay have been notified, and I
suspect they are keeping an eye out for this woman, but since Morgan has no proof that her
mother even came here, I don’t think they’ve made the case a priority. Morgan decided to come

to Gooseberry Bay and look around herself, and was walking the boardwalk, talking to vendors
and showing her mother’s photo around, when she saw my office. She stopped in, we chatted,
and I offered to take the case pro bono.”
Ainsley’s parents died when she was a young child, and she inherited a lump sum of money,
as well as a share in a vineyard from which she received a monthly income. She didn’t need to
charge a fee for the cases she agreed to work on, although if the client was able to pay, she would
charge a small fee to maintain professionalism. If cash was an issue for her client, she usually
offered her services for little or no charge.
“Have you found any proof that this woman is even here?” I asked.
Ainsley admitted that no one she’d spoken to so far could definitively say that they’d seen
Mimi in the area, but that there had been several sightings of an old woman on her own. The sad
thing about this was that, to most people, an old woman was merely an old woman, and
seemingly, all old women appeared to look the same.
“When you get to a certain age, I suppose you simply become invisible,” I said.
Ainsley nodded in agreement.
She printed a copy of the woman’s photo for me, and I promised to keep my eyes open.
I needed to head to the peninsula and talk to Jemma about the expectant mama cat and my
need for a temporary foster, so I promised Ainsley that we’d get together later and continued
toward the parking area behind the building. I’d just pulled on the highway and was about to turn
right to head toward the grocery store to pick up a few items I’d need if I was going to be in town
all week, when I noticed Parker sitting on the hood of her car, staring at the empty building that
used to house the Gooseberry Bay Gazette. The Gazette had been the local newspaper for
generations before eventually going out of business following the death of the previous owner,
Parker’s boyfriend, Sawyer Banning. The newspaper had been running in the red for years before
Sawyer was murdered, and would likely have gone out of business anyway at some point;
however, I knew it had been doubly hard on Parker to lose both the man she loved and the job
she’d loved even more within only a few weeks of one another.
I was tempted to merely drive by and leave Parker alone with her thoughts, but I found
myself pulling over and parking parallel in front of her car at the last minute.
“Hey, Parker,” I greeted, unsure of Parker’s mood or the best approach on my part given the
situation.
“Hey, Bex.”
I stood next to her car and asked. “Whatcha doin’?”
Parker sat cross-legged, her elbows resting on her thighs. “Just thinking.”
I slid onto the hood of the car next to her, although I allowed my legs to dangle over the side.
“About?”
She turned and looked at me. “Madeline Woolverton turned a hundred today.”
I smiled. “Wow. That’s really something. Is Madeline a friend of yours?”
Parker shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that she’s a friend, but I know her. Everyone does. She’s a
Gooseberry Bay institution.”

I was trying to figure out how Parker’s sad face and this woman’s birthday were related when
she continued.
“When Madeline turned seventy-five, the Gazette ran a feature in the birthdays and
anniversaries section. Then, when she turned eighty, the Gazette took her cupcakes. By the time
she turned ninety, I’d joined the staff and was assigned to write an article chronicling her life.”
She smiled sadly. “At the time, I considered myself a serious journalist and felt it was beneath
my station to write a fluff piece for the birthday and anniversary section, so I’m afraid I didn’t
give the article the attention it deserved. When Maddie turned ninety-five, I was asked to do a
similar article. This time, I took my time and really gave it my all. I believe Madeline enjoyed
and appreciated the extra time I spent with her, which allowed me to learn about her incredible
life. I also remember promising that the Gazette would do a two-page spread rather than a
column in the birthday and anniversary section when she made it to a hundred.” She paused and
took a deep breath before continuing. “Maddie was excited about the spread and promised me
that one way or another, she was going to stick around long enough to see the details of her life
spread over two full pages for all to see. At the time of her ninety-fifth birthday, Maddie was
having some medical issues, and I doubted she’d actually be around for her hundredth birthday.”
“But she made it,” I said.
Parker nodded. “She did. Unfortunately, the paper didn’t.”
I could see that Parker was genuinely upset that Madeline wasn’t going to get her two-page
spread.
“Perhaps you can write something to print in the Seattle News.”
“I actually thought of that, but the paper isn’t interested in doing a major article about a
birthday. Apparently, a lot of people are around for their hundredth birthday these days.”
I supposed that people were living longer.
“I understand why the Gazette went under, and I really enjoy my job with the Seattle News,
but when I stopped by Maddie’s place today to bring her flowers on her birthday and saw how
sad she was about not getting her two-page spread, it really hit me that the community had lost
something vital.” Parker sat up a bit straighter. “Ever since the Gazette closed and I took the job
in Seattle, I’ve been telling myself that the news is still being reported, so nothing was actually
lost. What I failed to consider, however, was that while most major crimes in the area are still
being covered, it’s the fluff pieces I used to hate that have been missed by the people who live
here. The birthday and anniversary section, the photos of elementary school plays, high school
sports, community picnics, and bowling league standings.”
“The Gazette was the glue that tied the community together,” I said.
She turned and looked at the building. “Exactly.”
Parker wasn’t wrong. The community felt more fragmented now that the Gazette was no
longer around to keep everyone up to date on the everyday events that had once been celebrated.
Of course, the Gazette wasn’t the only small-town newspaper to go the way of the dinosaur. In
fact, it seemed to me that the Gazette had held out longer than most newspapers comparable in
size.
“I guess social media has picked up some of the slack,” I pointed out.

“It has,” Parker agreed. “Social media is immediate and cost-effective and likely responsible
for the death of the small-town press. And maybe that’s the way it should be. The ways of old are
constantly giving way to the new and improved version of whatever is being replaced, and I
know this is a trend that will continue into the future.” She turned and looked at me. “And I’m
still young enough to appreciate this. But I also understand that for someone like Madeline, a
shout-out on the community social media page certainly doesn’t hold the same appeal as a two-
page spread in a newspaper you can tuck into a scrapbook and pass down to future generations.”
Parker uncrossed her legs and let them dangle over the side of the hood. “I guess I should get
going. I’m actually in town to cover the Carl Cassidy murder. Alfred will want to print
something, even if there isn’t really anything to report yet.” Parker referred to Alfred Sutton, her
boss, who was also a crime reporter for the Seattle News.
Carl Cassidy was a forty-two-year-old man who’d been found shot to death in the vacation
rental he’d recently leased for a month. Based on what I’d heard through the local gossip
network, Cassidy had been dead for a week by the time his body was found by the landlord
doing a tenant check. Cassidy had arrived in town two weeks ago, so it was assumed he was shot
and left for dead within a week of his arrival.
“Any updates?” I asked.
“Not really. I’m heading to the rental property to take photos, and then I plan to track Dani
down and get what I can out of her, but we both know how tight-lipped she can be.” Parker
referred to Deputy Dani Dixon, who was assigned to the local sheriff’s office. “I honestly have
very little faith in my ability to come up with anything newsworthy at this point, but Alfred
wants a unique perspective, so I’m going to try to give it to him.” She looked toward my van.
“Are you staying over?”
“I actually plan to be here for a week or longer. I was on my way to pick up some groceries
before heading to the peninsula when I saw you sitting here.”
Parker slid off the hood of her car and stood next to it. I did the same.
“Okay then. I’ll go and do my job, and we’ll catch up later. Who knows, maybe I’ll have an
interesting update on the Cassidy case by the next time we meet.”
“Here’s hoping.”
I watched Parker as she got into her car and drove away. It seemed as if something had
changed. Since I’d known her, she’d been all about conquering the most difficult challenges
thrown her way, but today, she just seemed defeated. Not about the Cassidy case. Parker would
get the breaking news she was after. She always did. But about Madeline and her birthday and
the promise to the old woman she hadn’t been able to keep.

Chapter 2

Once I’d bought enough groceries to tide me over for a few days, I headed toward the cottage
I leased on the peninsula to put everything away. The cottage was a small one-bedroom unit that
I’d managed to snag when the prior tenant had moved away from the area. Since it was set in a
prime location, I’d needed to jump on it quickly, which I’d done, but that was before I really
stopped to think about the fact that I only spent a portion of my time in the area. When Avery
heard that I was considering giving up the cottage, she offered to share both the cottage and the
expense with me, and so far, that had been working out perfectly.
Once my groceries had been put away, I decided to head to the roommates’ cottage to speak
with Jemma about the expectant mama cat. Jemma wrote computer software and worked from
home. Her roommate, Josie, owned a catering business, which kept her busy when she wanted to
be busy, and allowed her time off to pursue other interests when she needed to take a break.
“Hey, Bex,” Jemma greeted me when I let myself into the cottage after she’d yelled for me to
come in when I’d knocked on the front door. “It’s been a while. Since Halloween, I think.”
“It has been a while since we’ve run into each other,” I agreed as I bent over to pet Hank, a
functionally blind special needs rescue dog Jemma’s boyfriend, Cooper Fairchild, had adopted.
“I’ve been to Gooseberry Bay a few times, but all the trips were quick trips to the adoption
center, so I didn’t make it to the peninsula. Where’s Coop?” Most of the time, Hank could be
found with his daddy.
“Coop had an airport run today. Since the chopper was going to be full, he left Hank with
me.”

I looked around the cottage, which appeared to be empty except for Jemma, Hank, and me.
“Is Josie here?”
“She’s upstairs,” Jemma answered. “I’m sure she’ll be down as soon as she gets off the
phone.” Jemma, who’d been sitting at the dining table with her laptop when I came in, got up
and poured me a cup of coffee. “Are you going to be around for a while?”
“The plan is to be in town at least through the weekend, but I may need to change things up if
I can’t find a foster for my expectant mama cat.”
“Expectant mama cat?”
I explained that a very pregnant cat had been dropped off at the adoption clinic and that she
needed a safe space to give birth to her babies.
“I’ll take her,” Jemma said. She turned and looked at her and Josie’s cats, Stefan and Damon,
as they wandered into the room. “Do you think the expectant mama cat will be okay with the
boys?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “The cat seems quite skittish at the moment, but if you provide a
quiet spot for her to build a nest, I think that she’ll likely adjust to the new environment.”
“I’ll set her up in my closet. Other expectant mama cats I’ve fostered seemed to enjoy the
dark space. Once the babies are delivered, we can try moving her to a box in my bedroom suite.”
“Move who to a box?” Josie asked. She must have caught the tail end of Jemma’s plan as she
trotted down the stairs.
“The expectant mama cat Bex hopes we can foster.”
Josie’s grin grew larger. “We’re going to have babies?”
“If you’re both willing to take in an expectant mama cat who is within days of delivering
until I can make other arrangements,” I replied.
“Of course, we’ll take her and the babies,” Josie assured me. “And no need to make other
arrangements. At least not until the kittens are weaned. Jemma and I would be honored to help.”
She looked around the room. “Do you have her here with you?”
“No, but I plan to pick her up this afternoon. I’ll bring everything you need to get her settled.
And thank you both. I knew I could count on you.”
“Anytime,” Josie said. “This is actually a pretty good time for us. Winchester Academy will
be closed for winter break starting the day before Thanksgiving, all the way through the Monday
after New Year’s Day, so Hudson is going to spend the holidays here at the cottage with me. I
wanted to ensure that I could enjoy his company, so I didn’t book any jobs over the holidays.
Since I’ll be around more, I can help Jemma with the babies.”
Hudson Hanson was a professor at Winchester Academy, the private school for
disadvantaged youth that Ainsley’s boyfriend, Adam Winchester, ran with his brother, Archie
Winchester, so he lived at the estate when school was in session. When school was out for break
or during the summer, he lived on the peninsula with Josie.
“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Thanksgiving is next week,” I said. “I
imagine that you’re excited to have Hudson all to yourself for six weeks.”

“Oh, I am. I got used to Hudson being here over the summer, and it was hard to only see him
a few days a week once classes started.”
“It sounds as if the winter break is a nice, long break.”
“Adam and Archie wanted to give the students plenty of time with their families since most
are heading home for the holidays. And since many of the boys travel, it just made sense to give
them time off from before Thanksgiving until after New Year’s. By the way, speaking of families
and holidays, we’re doing a Friendsgiving get-together here at the cottage if you’ll be around,”
Josie added.
I hadn’t actually figured out what I was doing for Thanksgiving and had told Josie as much,
although having a meal with my friends in Gooseberry Bay did sound appealing. I usually spent
the day with Denver and Cassie, but I hadn’t spoken to them about it this year, so I wasn’t sure
what they were planning. If they weren’t planning anything specific, maybe they could come
here.
I supposed I should also check with Parker and Avery, my Elderberry Bay roommates;
however, it was likely that Avery would head to Whidbey Island to spend the holiday with her
mother, and Parker would make plans with Dante Ryker, an FBI agent and her current boyfriend.
I made a comment about Parker and her investigation into the details surrounding the Carl
Cassidy murder, which seemed to open the door to a discussion about police investigations in
general. This led to a dialogue about cases that were solved versus those that were allowed to go
cold.
“So, how goes the search for answers about your past?” Josie asked once the subject of Carl
Cassidy was exhausted. “The last time we spoke, Max thought she had a lead on Detective
Riley.”
Maxine Westwood, known as Max to everyone close to her, was a resident of the Elderberry
Bay Resort, the same place where Avery owned a condo, and I stayed in a borrowed room. She
was a computer genius of some sort who was currently under house arrest for hacking into a
high-security database that very few people in the world should have been able to hack into. Due
to her level of expertise, the CIA cut a deal with her, and she was allowed to live, with an ankle
monitor, at the resort rather than doing her time in prison. In exchange, she did “small favors” for
the CIA when asked to do so. I wasn’t privy to all the details surrounding the deal she’d made,
but it seemed that Max had proven herself to be enough of an asset to the CIA that they’d likely
offer her a job once her current arrangement expired.
“I did ask Max to try to track Detective Riley down,” I confirmed. “But not before obtaining
permission from Avery, who went to Max’s handler on my behalf.”
Detective Riley was the name given to me by social services during my search for answers to
the question of how it had come to be that I’d been found alone with no one to watch over me
other than a homeless man and a stray dog when I was only four years old.
“And did she find anything?” Jemma asked.
I nodded. “Initially, I told Max that she needed to look for Detective Riley in Ireland since
the woman at social services told me that the detective assigned to my case had retired and
moved out of the country. She wasn’t sure where he’d moved to, but I did some digging on my
own and eventually found a man who was a detective in training when Riley was on the force.

He thought Riley might have gone to Ireland since he had family there. I tried looking for him in
Ireland with no luck, so I asked Avery to try to obtain permission for Max to look on my behalf.
As it turns out, Max didn’t have any luck tracking Jonah Riley down in Ireland, but she did find
a Jonah Riley in San Francisco. Max couldn’t be sure the man she found was the same man I was
looking for, but she did find evidence that the Jonah Riley who was living in San Francisco used
to live in Seattle, and he was about the right age to be my Jonah Riley, so I decided to go to San
Francisco to speak to him. Remi didn’t want me to go alone, so he offered to accompany me. The
two of us made the trip two weeks ago.”
Remington Beckett, known as Remi to most, was a good friend who owned a chain of video
arcades all along the West Coast.
“And?” Jemma asked.
“And it took a bit of doing, but eventually, Remi and I managed to track the man down. I
explained who I was and what I was after, and he agreed to speak to me.” I paused and took a
deep breath. “I really hoped that he’d have answers for me, but he didn’t. Not really. It was true
that he was assigned to try to figure out how I’d come to be with the homeless man and stray dog
who helped me get the attention I deserved, but he had never been able to pick up a clue relating
to my parents.”
“So you’re back to square one,” Josie confirmed.
“Basically. Detective Riley did give me one clue that he picked up early on but never was
able to do anything with,” I said.
“Oh? And what clue was that?” Jemma asked.
“According to Detective Riley, when he spoke to Boz, the homeless man who found me
sleeping under the overpass with the stray dog, Boz told him that he’d seen me on another
occasion with a man who’d been hanging out by the ferry terminal. Detective Riley tried to
determine when Boz had seen me with this man, but Boz’s varied responses made it clear that he
was confused. Detective Riley also tried to get a reliable description of the man from Boz, but all
Boz could remember was that the man was tall, that he wore a black shirt with a logo of a red
dragon on it, that he had dark skin and dark hair, and that it looked like he had a sunken face.”
“Sunken face? Like sunken cheeks?” Josie asked.
I confirmed that the idea of sunken cheeks was the idea Detective Riley had settled on.
“Did Riley get anything else out of Boz?” Jemma asked.
“No. At least not that the retired detective shared with me. All in all, the trip was a bust, but I
suppose I had to speak to Detective Riley and confirm that he didn’t actually know anything
before I could move on.”
“Given that Boz saw you with a man near the ferry terminal before finding you on your own,
I suppose that an assumption could be made that you originally came from somewhere other than
Seattle,” Jemma pointed out.
“It is true that I’ve been assuming this whole time that I’d lived in Seattle and that something
had happened that resulted in my being on my own. Perhaps a home invasion I managed to
escape from or an auto accident. Even worse, I might have been abandoned. But if I came over

on the ferry and then was separated from the man I was with, I suppose my theory of what might
have occurred will need to be expanded a bit.”
“Did Detective Riley have any theories as to why you might have been with this man in the
first place?” Josie asked. “Given your red hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, a man with dark skin and
dark eyes doesn’t sound like a likely match for a biological father.”
“Detective Riley did say that based on Boz’s description, he assumed the man I was with was
likely not my biological father, but since he never figured out who the man was, he had no way
of figuring out why I might have been with him. Since all of this happened so long ago, there’s
no way to find any of this out now.”
“Do we know if Boz is still alive?” Jemma asked.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess it might be worth my while to ask around. If the man had
stayed in the same general neighborhood for any length of time, there might still be people
around who remember him and know what happened to him. Maybe I’ll look into it at some
point.”
“In the meantime, why don’t we go and pick up the expectant mama cat,” Josie suggested. “I
can’t wait to meet her.”
“Fine with me,” I responded. “Just let me text Willow to let her know to get her ready for
transport.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jemma said.
I glanced at Josie. “My van is cargo-only in the rear, so I can only take one of you.”
“We’ll take my SUV,” Jemma offered. “There’s room for all of us plus the travel crate in the
cargo area. I noticed Ainsley returned from town a while ago. I’ll ask her to watch Hank while
we’re away.”
Once I texted Willow to give her a heads up that we were on our way, the three of us headed
toward the adoption center. During the drive there, Jemma and Josie discussed the best room to
settle the expectant mama cat in and eventually decided that, since Coop and Hank slept over
much of the time, it might be best to settle the cat in with Josie since she didn’t have a dog in her
room to disturb the mother and kittens. ...