Gayle Roper - Shadows on the Sand: A Seaside Mystery

Gayle Ropers mysteries get deeper and develop more tangled threads with each book. The characters and setting are so real I wanted to run out and help them. Happily ever after was in serious doubt. Very well done.

L AURAINE S NELLING , author of the Daughters of Blessing Series and the Red River of the North Series

Theres nothing quite like a long-awaited vacation, especially when its served up with a Gayle Roper novel. Shadows on the Sand, a tale of faith, forgiveness, and fresh starts all wrapped in a captivating mystery, was just what I needed to return to the real world refreshed and inspired.

T AMARA L EIGH , author of Nowhere, Carolina and Restless in Carolina

With vivid, realistic characters and a tightly woven plot, Shadows on the Sand is a novel I couldnt put down. The emotional ride stayed with me long after the last page. Highly recommend!

R OBIN C AROLL , author of In the Shadow of Evil

Shadows on the Sand is a rare mix of love story, spiritual warfare, and crime drama all rolled into one fabulous tale. Gayle Roper has once again created fascinating characters and a rich story that kept me up well into the night.

M ARK M YNHEIR , homicide detective and author of The Corruptible

S HADOWS ON THE S AND
P UBLISHED BY M ULTNOMAH B OOKS
12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200
Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921

Scripture quotations or paraphrases are taken from the following versions: The Holy Bible, New International Version. NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. Copyright 1991, 1992, 1995 by American Bible Society. Used by permission. The King James Version.

The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Gayle Roper

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.

M ULTNOMAH and its mountain colophon are registered trademarks of Random House Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Roper, Gayle G.
Shadows on the sand : a seaside mystery / Gayle Roper. 1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-1-60142-306-1
1. City and town lifeNew JerseyFiction. 2. Missing personsInvestigationFiction. I. Title.
PS3568.O68S53 2011
813.54dc22
2011003832

v3.1

In memory of Chuck.
They dont come any better.

S o Bill punched him in the nose, Carrie! Andi Mueller swung an arm to demonstrate and nearly clipped me. He was wonderful!

I leaned back and held up a hand for protection. Easy, kiddo. I smiled at the girl and her enthusiasm.

Andi giggled like the smitten sixteen-year-old she was. Sorry.

Mmm. I rested my elbows on the pink marble counter that ran along one wall of Carries Caf, located two blocks from the boardwalk in the center of Seaside, New Jersey. I was the Carrie of the cafs name, and Andi was one of my servers, in fact, my only server at the moment. Shed been with me almost two months now, taking up the slack when the summer kids left to go back to college or on to real jobs.

Let me get this straight, I said. On Saturday night Bill, who is your true soul mate, punched Jase, our Jase, for paying too much attention to you at a party. I didnt think my voice was too wry, but soul mates at sixteen made me both cynical and scared, teen hormones being what they were.

Andi just grinned with delight of the even-mentioning-his-name-gives-me-the-vapors kind and nodded as she sat on a stool at the counter. Isnt it romantic?

I was hearing this tale today, Monday, because now that the season was over, Carries was closed on Sundays. My staff and I had earned our day of rest over a very busy and marginally profitable summer. We might be able to stay open for another year if nothing awful happened, like the roof leaking or the dishwasher breaking.

Listening to Andi made me feel ancient. I was only thirty-three, but had I ever been as young as she? Given the trauma of my growing-up years, I probably hadnt. I was glad that whatever her history, and there was a history, she could giggle.

How do you expect to continue working with Jase after this encounter? I was very interested in her answer. Jase was one of three part-time dishwashers at the caf. All three were students at the local community college and set their schedules around classes. Jase worked Tuesdays and Saturdays from six in the morning until three, and the last thing I wanted was contention in the kitchen between Andi and him.

Andi looked confused. Why should I have trouble with Jase? I didnt punch him. Besides hes an old She cut herself off.

I wanted to pursue her half-thought, but the door of the caf opened, and Greg Barnes walked in, all scruffy good looks and shadowed eyes. His black hair was mussed as if he hadnt combed it, and he had a two-day stubble. He should have looked grubby, but somehow he didnt. He looked wonderful.

All thoughts of Bill and Jase fled as my heart did the little stuttery Snoopy dance it always did at the sight of Greg. Before he could read anything in my face, assuming he noticed me as someone other than the person who fed him, I looked down at the basket of fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon-swirl muffins I was arranging.

Andi glanced from me to him and, much too quick and clever, smiled with a knowing look. I held my breath. She wasnt long on tact, and the last thing I wanted was for her to make some leading remark. I felt I could breathe again when all she did was wink at me. Safe for the moment, at least.

Greg came to the counter and slid onto his favorite stool, empty now that the receding flood of summer tourists left it high and dry this third week in October, a vinyl-covered Ararat postdeluge.

The usual? I asked, my voice oh-so-casual.

He gave a nod, barely glancing my way, and opened his copy of The Philadelphia Inquirer. The Press of Atlantic City waited.

I turned to place his order, but there was no need. Lindsay, my sister, partner, and the cafs baker, had been listening to Andis story through the serving window. She waved her acknowledgment before I said a word. She passed the order to Ricky, our short-order cook, who had stayed with us longer than I expected, long enough that he had become almost as much of an asset to Carries as Lindsay was.

My sister gave me a sly smile, then called, Hi, Greg.

He looked up from his paper and gave Lindsay a very nice smile, far nicer than he ever gave me.

The sticky buns are all gone, he said in mild accusation, nodding toward the glass case where we kept Lindsays masterpieces.