Cassidy leaned closer, trying to look both impressed and smitten—like one of those women who followed cops around. Badge Bunnies were what people called them. “Like what? Are you allowed to tell me?”
He glanced around before turning back to her with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Not really. It’s all hush-hush.”
“All of it is? Or just part of it?”
He seemed to consider her question. “Well, I guess not all of it.”
“Can you share anything? Because I’m thinking about leaving this place, especially if there’s been another murder. I came here to Lantern Beach because I thought it was safe.”
“As long as you don’t hang around the wrong people, you should be okay.”
“But what about that man who died? I just bought some cucumbers from his stand two days ago. And now he might be dead!”
“We don’t think he’s dead,” he whispered, stealing another glance around them.
A sparkle of excitement ignited in Cassidy. “You don’t?”
He leaned closer. “No, that wasn’t his blood we found inside his place. It was someone else’s.”
Engage ditzy blonde persona . . . and, go! “No way! How do you even know that?”
He shrugged, a gleam of pride in his eyes. “We have our ways.”
He probably didn’t know—he was just reciting information the chief had told him, based on results the lab had sent in.
“So you mean to say that the produce guy isn’t a victim, but he might be a . . . killer?”
He shrugged and picked up a homemade chip. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t hear it from you.” Cassidy grinned at him. “You know just how to make a girl feel special, though. And I love feeling special.”
She might have actually thrown up in her mouth that time.
In order not to break her cover, Cassidy sat with Officer Quinton for the rest of lunch. It would look too suspicious for her to return to the table with her friends, and Quinton didn’t appear to have seen them come in together. If he did, he gave no indication.
Instead, she watched him scarf down a burger topped with Cajun shrimp and andouille sausage, devour the homemade chips, and even finish off a slice of chocolate and cayenne-pepper cake. She thought Quinton would never stop eating.
Finally, he got a call and stood. “I have a parking violation to attend to. But it’s been nice chatting with you, Miss . . . Miss . . .”
She resisted a scowl. He really didn’t know her name? “Livingston. But you can call me Cassidy.”
He grinned, that glob of ketchup still on his chin. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
“I’d like that.” How far would Cassidy go to make her new persona believable? Would she pretend to date someone in order to not blow her cover? The lines felt so murky. And she was a pretty square person. This lack of definites in her life was making her insane.
As soon as Quinton was out the door, she dropped her smile and made her way back over to her friends. They grinned as if they’d enjoyed watching the whole thing.
Since Skye had joined them and sat beside Ty, Cassidy slid in next to Mac and picked at her food—jalapeno popper soup with cod, which was now cold.
“Well?” everyone asked.
She shared what she’d learned, watching Skye’s expression carefully.
“If it wasn’t Buddy’s blood then . . .” Skye started.
Cassidy shook her head. “We don’t know. I don’t think the police know.”
“I wish I’d never argued with the man.” Skye hung her head. She was the creative type, the kind who was prone to highs and low. The kind who felt things deeply. This was definitely a low, and she was definitely feeling it deeply.
“The police certainly can’t think you’re a suspect anymore,” Ty said. “When you take into account the time the neighbor reported you to when the police arrived, you didn’t have time to do the crime. Besides, if Buddy wasn’t the victim, then you have no motive.”
“Besides, what were you doing before that?” Cassidy asked. “Do you have an alibi for the morning hours?”
Skye’s face darkened ever so slightly. What was that about?
“Of course I do,” she said. “I had a meeting.”
Something about the way she said it made Cassidy pause. “What kind of meeting?”
“It was a business thing. No big deal.”
Cassidy’s gaze met Ty’s. If it wasn’t a big deal, why was Skye being so elusive?
She didn’t know. And, to be honest, Cassidy wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
Skye told them she wanted to go back to her produce stand and check her inventory. And Ty’s father wanted to help him build some new shelves for the storage area beneath his house. All of that was fine with Cassidy because she really wanted a little time alone to process everything she’d learned.
After Ty drove her home, Cassidy walked back into her house, locked the door, and plopped on the couch.
So . . . someone else had obviously been in Buddy’s house. There had been some type of altercation, if Cassidy had to guess. But Buddy wasn’t the one injured—the other man had been hurt.
Both of them had disappeared. Skye had shown up, pushed through the door, and fallen into the pool of blood there. The neighbor across the street had reported it.
So far, Cassidy didn’t know who the victim was, what exactly had happened to thus-said victim, what a motive might have been, or any other details.
Talk about a strange investigation.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that Chief Bozeman probably wasn’t any further along than she was when it came to finding answers, and he had every advantage at his disposal.
The fact about her phone being taken did bother her, but Cassidy didn’t think anyone should be able to trace her. That was the good news. Thankfully, she wasn’t a selfie-taking queen or social media butterfly.
The whole produce-stand thing was strange, however. Why would Buddy put grocery store labels on produce when most people wanted things that were homegrown?
Maybe she’d pay the place another visit.
At that moment Cassidy’s phone rang. Her secret phone. She pulled it from the bottom of her purse and saw that it was Samuel. Did he have an update?
She quickly answered, anxious—and partially terrified—to hear why he was calling. “Samuel.”
“Cassidy, I looked into that murder that you asked me about—the unsolved one.”
“What did you find out?” She sat up straighter, waiting in anticipation.
“The police suspect DH-7 was involved, as you might have assumed. The woman was stabbed in the abdomen several times. There were no witnesses, and the police have no leads. However, they could tell a few things based on the angle from which she was stabbed.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that her assailant wasn’t tall or especially strong. She was possibly a woman.”
No, no, no, no.
“Is there a suspected motive?” Cassidy’s voice trembled, and she pulled a pillow in front of her.
“Probably a gang initiation.”
No, no, no, no.
“When do they suspect she died?” She held her breath as she waited for his answer. She wanted to know, yet she didn’t want to know.
“May 2,” he said.
The room began to spin. That was the same day Cassidy had woken up covered in blood.
What had she done?
Chapter 13
Cassidy lowered her head until it was between her knees, fearful that she might pass out.
What if she had killed that woman?
Cassidy didn’t know how flakka made her act. She’d never done any type of drugs before. But if it had the same effect on her that it had on others . . . she could have completely lost her sensibilities and control and . . .
She didn’t want to think about it.
Guilt pounded at her temples.
Spontaneous
ly, she jerked her head up. She needed to call Ryan. Though she’d agreed to be in contact only in case of an emergency, this was an emergency.
Was she going to tell him her theory? Maybe. He was a prosecuting attorney. He’d know how to handle this.
And she didn’t know who else she could talk to.
Before she lost her courage, she dialed his number and held her breath as she waited for him to answer.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
No answer.
Finally his voicemail picked up.
What? Ryan always answered his phone, unless he was in court or in a meeting. But still . . .
Cassidy hadn’t talked to him in three weeks.
But if something had happened to Ryan, Samuel would have told her.
She tried one more time, with no answer.
Quickly, she went to the computer and Googled his name. She held her breath, hoping as the results populated the screen, that there was no bad news.
As she scanned each of the news items, she released the air from her lungs. Ryan appeared to be okay. She clicked on several of the articles and paused, noticing a recurring theme in each.
Ryan had hired a new paralegal. A pretty, young thing with long blonde hair and a proclivity to wearing low-cut blouses.
Cassidy shook her head and looked away.
A pretty young paralegal didn’t mean anything.
Cassidy had never been the insecure type who got jealous or who stalked boyfriends, fearing unfaithfulness. Despite Cassidy’s reassurances to herself, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something going on she should know about.
Ty knocked on Cassidy’s door two hours later. Rain droplets coated the top of his hair and parka as he stepped inside. She shouldn’t feel this happy to see him, but she did. Ty’s presence calmed her in ways it shouldn’t—in ways that defied logic.
“Believe it or not, it’s letting up a little out there,” he said.
She shoved those thoughts aside and pulled her sweatshirt closer. The rain had brought with it unseasonably cool air. “That’s good news, especially since I have three inches of water beneath my house.”
“At high tide, that’s supposed to get worse, unfortunately.”
“Great.” Elsa might become an ice cream boat if she wasn’t careful.
Ty paused and seemed to remember his reason for coming. “My parents want to know if you want to eat with us. I’m cooking. I would have called but . . .”
“My phone is missing.” She frowned.
“Yep. That. You going to buy a new one?”
“Eventually. Maybe.” Cassidy paused, her heavy and unsettled thoughts bleeding into this situation as well. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell your parents the truth, Ty?”
His face tightened. “Do I? Yes, I do. And I’ve started to several times. Usually right about then my mom launches into a story about how happy she is I finally met a nice girl.”
Cassidy nibbled her bottom lip. “I see.”
He touched her arm. “Look, I totally understand if you’re done with this. I shouldn’t have pulled you in the middle of it. And, even if we are officially dating for just this week, there’s a part of my conscience that doesn’t feel right about this. I don’t make a habit of lying to people I care about.”
At least there was that.
“Listen, let’s give it a few more days.” Cassidy’s compassion won out over common sense. “But if the opportunity comes up to talk to them, maybe you should let them know that we’re not as serious as they might think. I mean, to some people hiding in a produce stand together might be a date. But to most people . . .”
Ty chuckled. “I don’t know. Run-of-the-mill dating isn’t that interesting. But cuddling under the counter . . .”
“We weren’t cuddling.”
He smiled. “We practically were.”
“No, you were just sitting incredibly close. You apparently have boundary issues.”
“It was a small space. What was I supposed to do?”
Cassidy smiled. “Well, our next date I want flowers and candlelight.”
He stepped closer, close enough to prove her boundary issue theory. “I like the way you think. Since we’re dating this week, I should take you up on that.”
She felt her cheeks heat as she stared up into Ty’s luminous brown eyes.
Cassidy was in trouble. Because she halfway liked the idea of going on an actual date, even though she knew the end result would only be disastrous.
Dinner had been lovely, as had dessert—some kind of trifle with chocolate cake, pudding, whipped cream, and toffee. Ty really was an excellent cook, and the freshly caught tuna was top restaurant quality.
After dessert, they’d moved to the deck for coffee. The rain had cleared for a little while, and pockets of smeared pastels from the sunset-filled the sky. Cassidy and Ty leaned against the railing, Kujo beside them, as Ty’s family reminisced.
“It’s a good thing Frank had his camera ready,” Del said. “Because that seagull swooped down and snatched the fish right from our line. And it was at least thirty inches! Biggest red drum I’ve ever seen.”
Ty shrugged. “No other fishing experience has quite lived up to that one.”
Cassidy chuckled. “I can imagine.”
Abruptly, Del stood and held up her phone. “Speaking of pictures, I need to get a picture of you two together for my mantel.”
Cassidy forced a smile before giving a look to Ty. He looked just as reluctant as she felt. Despite that, they squeezed together. Just one picture couldn’t hurt.
“Oh, that’s just beautiful,” Del said, snapping a photo with her phone. “With the sun setting behind you like that, it could be a magazine cover. But now I need a real picture.”
“What do you mean?” Ty tensed beside her.
“Act like you like each other.” Del motioned for them to scoot closer together.
“Of course we like each other.” Cassidy offered a falsely cheerful smile again.
“No, act like you really like each other. Give her a kiss.”
Panic swirled through Cassidy. A kiss? No way, no thanks, no how. That was not part of this deal.
“She’s a little shy,” Ty said, poking her in the ribs.
“I’m not shy,” Cassidy insisted.
Why had she said that? It was the perfect excuse for not showing any PDA.
“Then let’s see a kiss.” Del wagged her eyebrows. “Make this old woman happy.”
Okay, smarty pants. What’s your excuse now? Should have stuck with being shy.
“Just one picture . . .” Del waited patiently.
Cassidy looked up at Ty, waiting for him to make an excuse. His gaze met hers, a surprising—and jolting—look there. Before she realized what was happening, Ty’s hand slipped around her waist and he pulled her closer.
“One little kiss couldn’t hurt . . .” he murmured.
What had he just said? Before Cassidy could let the thought settle, Ty’s lips met hers. Gently yet firmly. Soft yet somehow loaded.
The jolt of electricity that swept through Cassidy curled her toes.
Her toes curled? Did that really happen in real life? She thought it was just on TV and in books.
Because when she’d kissed Ryan, she’d never felt such a flash of intensity or longing.
As soon as the kiss started, it was over.
Cassidy tried not to stumble as Ty stepped back. Definitely tried not to make eye contact with Ty. Because her whole world felt as if it had been rocked . . . and she didn’t know what to think about that. Kisses . . . well, kisses shouldn’t make her feel that way.
“Oh, that’s just perfect!” Del stared at her camera, a wide grin across her face. “The storm cleared for just long enough to smear some pretty pinks and yellows and blues in the background. You’re going to want to frame this one.”
Cassidy hardly heard her. Her mind felt close to short-circuiting.
She’d just kissed Ty. No, he�
�d kissed her. Maybe they’d kissed each other. She didn’t know. But she did know that she was dating Ryan.
But she was also undercover and trying not to blow her new identity.
The conflicting thoughts nearly made her head spin. Life shouldn’t be this complicated. Most people’s weren’t.
Perhaps Cassidy wouldn’t feel so guilty if she hadn’t enjoyed it so much. It seemed so beyond the realm of possibility, especially since she and Ty could hardly stand each other . . . right?
“I’ll send you both a copy,” Del said, punching something in on her phone.
She’d gotten Cassidy’s phone number earlier.
But . . .
“I actually lost my phone,” Cassidy said.
If whoever had taken Cassidy’s phone saw that picture pop up on her home screen, he’d know who’d been in the produce stand. All of her texts showed up as push notifications first, no password needed.
“Oh, well.” Del shrugged and slid her phone into her pocket. “I just sent it! Hopefully you’ll find your phone soon because I’d hate for you to miss out on that picture.”
Cassidy’s stomach clenched again. Finally, she stole a look at Ty. His pensive expression reflected her own feelings.
This wasn’t good—on so many levels.
Chapter 14
Cassidy tried to catch her breath as she pointed behind her. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts. And she couldn’t do that around Ty right now.
“You know, I should probably run home and check on my friend who’s staying with me,” she said, her cheeks still flushed. “I hate to be rude, but . . .”
Del waved a hand in the air. “You’re not being rude at all, Cassidy. Go on and go. I don’t believe in shackling the people I love. I want them to have freedom.”
Had Del just said that she loved Cassidy? Certainly she’d misspoken. She hardly even knew Cassidy.
Cassidy’s parents had only told her they’d loved her twice in her memory. Once was when she’d been in the hospital with pneumonia at nine years old. The doctors were afraid she wouldn’t make it. Her nanny had brought her in, and Cassidy wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours before her parents finally arrived.
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