Thorns on Wildflower Island Read online

  Thorns on Wildflower Island

  Wildflower Mystery Series Book 4

  Michelle Files

  Edited by

  Cecily Brookes

  Published by BookLovers.pub

  Contents

  Introduction

  Novels

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Author Note

  Ivy Preview

  INTRODUCTION

  Their story would shock the world.

  Marshall and Eliza Porter have a secret. A big one. Haunted by guilt and shame, the couple is living their worst nightmare. Reeling from a crisis that would destroy most marriages, they learn not to trust their friends...or their enemies...or each other.

  As the bodies keep piling up, someone is watching them and their lives begin unraveling as they quickly turn on each other.

  Several of the island's residents get pulled into the mystery, when investigators find a piece of evidence that can't be ignored. Everything the residents thought to be true is revealed to be a dangerous lie.

  Wildflower Island is full of unforgettable characters with secrets..and lies..and murder. Get caught up in this riveting mystery suspense novel.

  Novels by Michelle Files:

  TYLER SERIES:

  Girl Lost - Book 1

  A Reckless Life - Book 2

  WILDFLOWER MYSTERY SERIES:

  Secrets of Wildflower Island - Book 1

  Desperation on Wildflower Island - Book 2

  Storm on Wildflower Island - Book 3

  Thorns On Wildflower Island - Book 4

  IVY MYSTERY SERIES

  6 Part Serial

  For information on any of Michelle’s books:

  www.MichelleFiles.com

  Copyright ©️ 2018 by Michelle Files

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, without prior written permission of the author.

  Published in the United States by BookLovers.pub.

  Edited by Cecily Brookes and BookLovers.pub.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people, places or events is purely coincidental.

  1st Edition 2018

  Chapter 1

  It was late. Long after midnight, and much too late on that hot summer night for Marshall Porter to be out in his backyard, working in the garden. He had tried sleeping, but the stickiness from the night only resulted in restlessness, and his wife grumbling at him as he interrupted her sleep with his tossing and turning. As he laid there, staring at the ceiling, he thought about that rose garden he had been promising Eliza that he would plant. He decided right then and there that the time was right. It was an unusually warm summer, and the middle of the night was the only logical time to be outside toiling. Marshall had purchased the rose plants weeks prior and put them on the back patio. There they remained.

  Marshall worked only by moonlight. Not quite a full moon, but he could see as well as he needed to. He didn’t want to disturb Eliza or any of the neighbors by turning on the patio light. He hummed quietly to himself as he worked.

  Completely focused on his task, he paid little attention to the noises of the neighborhood. Crickets rubbed their wings together noisily, creating a chirp that droned on into the night. Ivy that clung to the back of his house grazed the wall in the slight breeze. Something flew over his head, causing Marshall to duck instinctively. It was too big to be a dragonfly or June bug. It was probably a bat. Marshall hated bats. They gave him the creeps. He had heard they carried rabies, though he was pretty sure they rarely attacked humans. Still, he kept his eyes on the night sky. He didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  Though it was the middle of the night, a dog barked off in the distance. Another answered. A third chimed in far off from another direction. They must have been quickly shut down by their people, because that was the last he heard of those three.

  As things quieted back down, Marshall was immersed in thought, when he became aware of someone watching him. The sensation was undeniable, almost physical. He looked up and into the dark night. As alarm began to grow, he felt eyes burning, boring into him. There could be no mistake about it.

  When he heard something snap. His head swiveled and his eyes darted straight to the source of the sound. The next door neighbors’ backyard. From where he was standing, all he could see was a wooden fence. The pickets were butted up to each other. They served their purpose, as he could not see between them.

  Marshall stopped what he was doing, put the shovel he was holding down on the ground at his feet, and walked slowly toward the fence, carefully treading so as to not make a sound. He heard what he thought were footsteps leading away from the fence. Soft footsteps that indicated someone was sneaking off, hoping to avoid discovery.

  Was it his imagination? It was the middle of the night after all, and unlikely anyone was standing in the backyard just on the other side. Still, he wondered…

  Marshall climbed up to the highest point of the pile of dirt he had been working with. Though it was a small mound, it was soft and giving, causing his feet to slip as he forged ahead to the summit. He grabbed the top of the fence and pulled his way up, the fence creaked under the stress.

  He carefully peered over the very back corner of the fence, only the top of his head and his eyes broke the plane of the pickets. Though he was very careful and as quiet as he could possibly be, if someone was standing there, he would be seen for sure. His eyes scanned the dark backyard, checking every corner that he could see. Nothing. Just as he looked up at the house, he saw the back door slide closed. Though the near full moon was bright, the neighbor’s backyard was covered in shadows that danced in the slight breeze, and he wasn’t entirely sure of what he saw. He stood there, on that dirt mound, watching the neighbors’ backyard for several more minutes. No sounds emerged. No movement could be seen. All of the shades in the house were drawn, and all of the lights were out.

  Just as he was about to give up, Marshall could see a faint light turn on behind the dark shade over one of the windows. He watched as a shadow crept across the dimly lit room, then disappeared. A minute later, the shadow crossed back again, and the light was extinguished. Probably just someone using the bathroom, he thought. His nerves were beginning to get the best of him.

  Marshall decided to return to his task. After another hour, everything in the garden had been buried, mulch had been spread, and all was cleaned up. Marshall stood back and admired his work by moonlight, though he took no joy in the task he had completed that night. It was just something he had to do. Eliza would certainly be surprised in the morning.

  As he turned to head back into the house, he stopped for a moment to admire the Wildflower Island Lighthouse off in the distance. It no longer operated to aid ships in their navigation around the island, and hadn’t in many years. Marshall loved the lighthouse anyway, and it was no coincidence that it could be seen from his backyard. He wanted to be able to look at it as often as he liked. He remembered many hours as a child hiding in that lighthouse. Alone. It was his way of escaping an overbearing father. Still, the lighthouse held f
ond memories for him.

  Before he opened the door leading into his kitchen, Marshall paused one more time to listen to the night. All the usual night sounds floated in the air, save the dogs. They had all been corralled for the night. He did hear a brief cat fight nearby though, and smiled. Nothing ever changed.

  Though he had spent a better part of the night restless and working in the garden, Marshall still had trouble sleeping. He spent the remainder of the night thinking about the neighbors. It really bothered him that someone may have been there in the middle of the night, watching him. The whole thing made him jumpy and he gave up trying to get any rest that night.

  By the time the sun made its debut above the horizon, Marshall was already showered and dressed. He sat on his living room couch, drinking coffee and watching out the front window. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the neighbor’s front yard. He wanted to be there when they emerged from their home. He wanted to see how they would act. Would one of them look his way nervously, wondering if he knew they had been watching him?

  He didn’t know the neighbors well, just in passing. He knew a single mother lived there. If he remembered correctly, her name was Lindsey. She was thirty something, with dark brown hair and olive skin. Not bad to look at, Marshall thought. She had a young boy and girl. He didn’t think he had ever asked their names.

  “What are you doing?”

  Jolted from his surveillance, Marshall splashed hot coffee down his shirt, causing it to cling to him and sting his skin.

  “Aw shit, Eliza, you scared the crap out of me!” Marshall jumped up off the couch and headed to the kitchen in search of cold water to blot on his reddening chest.

  Eliza followed him into the kitchen, pulling her robe tightly around her. “Sorry about that. Why are you so jumpy? And what are you doing up so early? That’s not like you.”

  “Why are you asking me so many questions? I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” Marshall pulled off his shirt and used a wet towel as a compress against his burning skin.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Eliza said quietly.

  “I know. It’s okay.” Marshall didn’t look her way.

  “I saw your clothes on the bathroom floor. Why are they covered in mud?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you.”

  Marshall put down the towel and took Eliza by the hand, leading her out the kitchen door.

  Eliza stopped just a few feet out the back door, removed her hand from Marshall’s grasp, and covered her mouth with both of her hands. Marshall thought she was about to cry.

  “Oh, that’s really nice. Thank you for doing that,” Eliza told him as she admired the newly planted rose garden. “You did all of this? When? This morning?”

  “Last night actually. I couldn’t sleep, so I came out here to work on it. I didn’t disturb you, did I?”

  “No, I had no idea you were even gone. But it did need to get done. So, thank you.” Eliza put her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him. When she leaned back, Eliza ran her hand along the red line leading from Marshall’s chest to his belly button. “I’m so sorry about this. Does it hurt?”

  “No, it’s fine, now that’s it cooled off. I’ll live.” He half smiled at her, letting her off the hook for causing him pain.

  “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked him.

  “Not really. But that’s okay. I’ll get to bed early tonight.”

  Eliza cooked breakfast while Marshall retrieved a clean shirt and resumed his surveillance of the front of the neighbor’s house. Lindsey’s car was still there, so he knew she hadn’t left for work yet.

  “Marshall, you never did answer me earlier. What are you looking at?” Eliza handed him a fresh cup of coffee and peered out the front window, hoping to get a glance at whatever it was that had Marshall so fascinated.

  “The next door neighbors. I think someone saw me last night, but I’m not positive about that.”

  Eliza stopped and turned to her husband. “Saw you? You mean when you were…you know, planting the roses?”

  “Yes. I heard a noise and then I swear I saw someone close the back door of their house. It was really late and it was dark back there. So I don’t know, maybe I imagined it.” Marshall was beginning to doubt that he had heard or seen anything at all. A dark, shadowy night could do that to a person.

  A wail sounded from the upstairs bedroom. Marshall didn’t seem to even notice. Eliza was at a loss for words. Her husband always left all of the child rearing duties to her, and it annoyed her to no end. It was almost as if he forgot from time to time that Zachary even existed. She left her husband to his surveillance to rescue their son from his crib.

  “Ooh, there they are,” Marshall called to her as he watched the family walk toward their driveway.

  Lindsey, who was dressed for work and heading out, was trying to settle the two kids down. They were determined to play with a soccer ball they had all the way to the car.

  “Stop it!” he heard their mother say to them. “Give me that ball.”

  As Lindsey reached for the ball, the little girl kicked it to her brother and laughed. It went over his head and right into the bushes near the Porters’ front porch. All three turned to see where it landed, as Marshall watched.

  “Now go get it,” Marshall heard Lindsey say as he jumped up and ran to the front door.

  Marshall opened it just as the little boy, not more than 7 or 8 years old, arrived to retrieve his ball. But Marshall was faster. He picked up the ball and held it out in front of him.

  “Did you have trouble sleeping last night?” Marshall asked the boy, staring him straight in the eyes.

  “I don’t know.” The boy looked down at his feet.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Xander.”

  “Well, Xander, little boys that don’t mind their own business can get themselves into a lot of trouble. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is that all you can say?” Marshall asked him, still holding the ball.

  “Xander, come on! I’ve got to get to work,” his mother yelled from her car. She waved when Marshall looked up at her.

  “Can I have my ball back, Mister?” Xander asked him.

  “Of course. But I want to say one thing first.” Marshall leaned toward the boy to make sure his mother couldn’t hear what he was about to say. Whispering, he continued, “What happens at my house is my business. If you tell anyone anything that you see me doing, bad things can happen. Understand?”

  Xander backed up a step and shrugged his shoulders. Marshall couldn’t read his face. He had no idea if that was an acknowledgment from the boy that he had been watching, or just meant that the kid had no idea what he was talking about.

  “I’m watching you.” Marshall resisted the urge to point at Xander as he said it, and looked up at Lindsey, who smiled his way.

  Marshall tossed the ball back to the boy. He caught it easily enough and ran back to his mother. The trio drove away as Marshall watched. The boy’s eyes never left Marshall until they turned the corner, out of sight.

  Chapter 2

  Tim Carmichael cleared dishes from the tables out on the deck of the Wildflower Cafe. It was late afternoon by then and the setting sun was glimmering off the water. Though it was way past the normal bright daylight of the afternoon summer sun on the beach, he squinted. He seemed to be much more sensitive to light than he normally was and reached into his pocket to pull out his sunglasses. He had a rule against employees that worked at the cafe wearing sunglasses. He thought it made them look like they were hiding something and not easily accessible to their patrons. Tim didn’t care at that moment and put the sunglasses on. He needed to do something about the oncoming migraine.

  Tim hadn’t been feeling well, but showed up to work anyway. If the boss doesn’t show up to work, things don’t get done right. He knew that. The staff knew that. So, regardless of his own ailments, there he was, clearing dishes
and waiting on customers.

  “Dad, come with us to the ferry. Lola’s getting ready to go,” his daughter, Mary, told him. “We’re all going. Come on.”

  Tim put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders as he spoke. “Oh sweetheart, I’m very sorry, but I just can’t. I’ve got a lot of work to do here and I feel like I’m going to pass out as it is. I’ll never make the walk.” Tim put his other hand on a table to steady himself.

  “You should go see the doctor,” Mary replied. “You don’t look good.”

  “Oh, it’s just a touch of the flu. I’ll be fine.” Tim smiled down at his daughters, his blue eyes dulled by illness. He barely had the strength to smile at them.

  “You always say you are sick when you don’t want to do something,” Piper complained, placing her fists on her hips as she spoke.

  Piper and Mary were identical twins. At 15 years old, with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, the two of them could certainly be a handful sometimes. Identical twins or not, Tim could always tell the difference. Well, almost always. Occasionally he would be fooled, but not often. Piper was the more outgoing one. The one with all the opinions. The one that wasn’t afraid to tell those opinions to others.

  Mary was very different than her sister. She was more reserved. She was the type to sit back and see how things played out before rendering her verdict. She never jumped into anything without serious forethought. That certainly wasn’t Piper.