by Stella Bixby
“But Jordan was his best friend.”
“Like I said, he rode Alex’s coattails. He was just waiting for Alex to mess up so he could take the lead.”
“Do you think Jordan could have drugged Alex at that party?”
“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t him. It makes the most sense. If Alex got a positive drug test, he wouldn’t be able to play. Jordan would be up next.”
It did make the most sense.
“Do you have a theory on what happened to Jordan?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Jordan probably got drunk, stripped down, and decided to go running on the beach. I wouldn’t have put it past him.”
“I found him. He was naked except for his boxers. And his clothes were gone. The park was locked, and the beach is at least a mile from the nearest walk-in gate. We didn’t find any cars parked at any gates. It was below zero that night. How do you explain that?”
“I don’t have to explain anything. What’s done is done. If something happened, the police should investigate.”
They were. But so was I. And I knew I was getting close.
“Thank you for your time.”
Debbie watched me as I walked back across the field and between the stands toward the parking lot.
“Psst,” someone said from beneath the bleachers.
I twisted toward the sound. “Yeah?”
The mousy-haired girl with glasses took a step into the light. “I need to talk to you.” Her cheek was red where Debbie had slapped her, her eyes swollen—probably from crying.
I walked under the bleachers.
“I was with Alex the night he—”
“The night he was in the accident?” I asked.
She nodded.
“You were at the party?”
“I’m not invited to those parties. But he came to my house after he and his dad got into an argument.”
“Before he took the snowmobile,” I said.
“He didn’t hurt Jordan.”
“I didn’t figure he did.”
“But that’s what everyone thinks. And now he’s going to be remembered for murdering someone instead of—” she sobbed. “Of how amazing he was.”
I patted her on the back. “It’s okay. I’m going to figure this out.”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about that night?”
“Alex was upset when he showed up at my window. My bedroom is in the basement—”
I nodded. Alex had snuck in.
“He said his dad was going to disown him. He told him he didn’t want to play football anymore. That he was going to go to college with me.”
“So his dad was mad, and Alex was upset.”
“But it was more than that. He was so out of it. He was talking nonsense and stumbling all around. He told me he finally broke up with Debbie. She obviously took it badly. He wanted us to run away that night. We haven’t even graduated.”
“You said no.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “It’s my fault he got on that snowmobile. My fault. I should have stopped him.”
I grabbed both of her shoulders. “Listen to me,” I said. “This is not your fault. You were being sensible. Alex had been drugged.”
“I should have been able to tell.”
“Have you ever done drugs?”
She shook her head.
“Been around anyone doing drugs?”
“No.”
“Then how would you have known he was under the influence? He obviously drank regularly. And he was upset. Stop blaming yourself. The person to blame is whoever put drugs in his drink.”
She nodded. “But who did that?”
“I don’t know yet. But I have an idea,” I said not wanting to show too much of my hand.
“I think it was Debbie. She’s pure evil. She used to torture Alex.”
“As in physically torture?” I asked.
“Physically, emotionally, mentally. It took Alex forever to finally stand up to her. And once he did, she lost it.”
I was convinced it was Jordan. But Debbie was looking more and more like she might be responsible for Alex’s drug intake.
“Why would she give him drugs?”
“To get him kicked off the team. She had no idea how little football meant to him. No one did.”
“Except you.”
She stared off into the darkness behind me. “Except me.”
20
“I think I found a place for us,” Shayla said when we met for a drink Monday night. “It’s on the outskirts of Prairie City—close for both of us once I get the job on PCPD.”
“Sounds perfect. Is it relatively inexpensive?”
“Only $500 a month per person. We would each have a bedroom, but we’d have to share a bathroom.”
“What’s the catch? It seems too good to be true.”
This was significantly less expensive than the studio apartment.
“It’s not in the best area of town, that’s all. But we’ll be okay.” She didn’t make eye contact when she said this.
“Shayla?”
“Okay, it’s in a terrible part of town. But I’ll have a gun and you have pepper spray and it’ll be fine. We only have to sleep there.”
“I think I may have found a better option,” I said remembering what Marlene had offered. “Marlene owns several apartment buildings. She said she would be willing to give us a deal.”
“Really?” Shayla looked like she might hug me. “It’s just that there is nothing in our price range. It’s nuts. I can keep looking, but this is the best I’ve found.”
“It’s no problem. Let’s go look at the place Marlene has, and then we can make a decision.”
“Do you think that’ll be a conflict of interest or anything?” Shayla asked.
I thought about it for a minute. “We’re responsible, we’ll pay rent on time and take care of the apartment. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
“And maybe her studly son will make an appearance every once in a while?” Shayla wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
“Shayla!” I laughed. “We’re both in relationships.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t look every now and then.”
I shook my head. Looking is exactly what got you into trouble. First it’s innocent looking, then it turns into flirting, then it turns into kissing . . .
Nope. Not good.
“Are you sure you don’t want to move in with Garrett?”
“I’m sure. We’re not exactly talking right now.” I fiddled with my phone. “I mean, we’ve texted a little bit, but . . .”
“What happened?” she asked.
“He got all protective and worried about me investigating these crimes. And then he said that I was basically just making a fool of myself because the cops can handle it and they don’t need my help.”
Shayla took a sip of her beer. “He’s right. About the cop thing,” she said slowly. “Partially, at least.”
My blood pressure was rising. Of course she would say that. She was almost a cop herself.
“But you’re not making a fool of yourself. Your instincts are on point. Even if Luke hasn’t said it, you’ve been incredibly helpful with the last two cases.”
I felt bad for getting angry.
“The first fight is hard, but you have to dust yourself off and work through it. Especially if you love each other.”
We did, right? I mean, we’d said it and everything.
“You’re right. I should talk to him.”
Shayla smiled.
“But even so, I’m not moving in with him.”
“Eventually you will, though.” She pushed her curly blonde hair behind her. “Like when he proposes or when you’re married or—”
“Whoa. Slow down there. What makes you think he’s going to propose? We’ve only just said we love each other.” Just the thought made my heart pound against my ribs.
“At your age, th
at’s the natural progression of things.”
“At my age? I’m only a few years older than you.”
“Yeah and Garrett’s a few years older than you. He’s definitely at that age.”
Oh my goodness. She was right.
“Are you okay? You look like you might puke.”
“It’s just—I’m not ready to get married.”
“Weren’t you engaged to your last boyfriend?” Shayla asked. “Maybe it’s just that you’re not ready to get married to Garrett.”
He couldn’t possibly be ready to propose. We’d only been together a few months. That wasn’t nearly enough time to decide you wanted to marry someone.
“Let’s talk about something else. Something less scary like murderers.”
“Murderers?” Shayla shook her head and took a drink of her beer.
“Alex died.”
“Of a heart attack,” Shayla said.
“I don’t know, Shay. It seems awfully convenient. Yesterday he was talking, smiling. And today he has a heart attack? He’s a teenager.”
“Who went through a terrible accident. His body may not have been able to withstand supporting itself.”
“If, hypothetically, I found out who put the drugs in his drink, would they be charged with murder?” I asked.
“Hypothetically?” She raised her eyebrows. “What do you know?”
“Nothing concrete yet. But I’m getting close, I can feel it.”
“They probably wouldn’t get charged with murder, but maybe involuntary manslaughter. Have you told Luke about this?”
“He’s got his hands full with Nikki. Plus this time, it’s not dangerous. They’re just a bunch of teenage kids.”
“Still, be careful,” Shayla said. “You never know what someone might do.”
“I’ll talk to Marlene and see when we can go visit the apartment,” I said.
“Perfect, I can’t wait to get out from under my mom’s thumb.”
A few weeks ago, I would have said the same thing, but part of me might actually miss my mom’s antics.
Sitting in my car, I stared down at my phone and the text message I’d typed out.
I need your help.
I knew the moment I pushed send Luke would put on his cape and come running. It was just the kind of guy he was. I also knew it would take him away from Nikki in her time of need.
I deleted the message and shut off my phone. It wasn’t that late, but they could be in bed.
I pulled out my phone again.
Can we talk?
I hit send before I could second guess myself.
Of course.
The message came back within seconds.
Garrett pulled me into a hug the minute I walked into the house. “I’m so sorry. I never should have said those things.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t communicate I would be late that night. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’ll do better in the future.”
“I guess it’s futile asking you to quit investigating these cases?”
I thought about that for a minute. “I don’t think I could agree to stop.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Can you agree to be careful?”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Now, how about I make dinner?”
He pulled back. “Are you sure you’re the Rylie I’m dating?”
“Oh hush.” I pushed his shoulder. “I make a mean spaghetti.”
When I’d offered to make spaghetti, I hadn’t considered how hard it would be to keep his kitchen in pristine condition while cooking something that was bound and determined to make a mess. It took almost an hour to make it and clean as I went.
“This looks amazing,” Garrett said when I set his plate down in front of him.
“Sorry it took so long.”
“It’s okay. I like eating dinner at ten o’clock at night.” He laughed.
“I think Shayla and I may have found an apartment,” I said after I sat down and began to eat.
“You know, the offer still stands for you to move in here.” He took a sip of the red wine he’d picked for dinner. “Then you could save money.”
It was so tempting to just give in and agree to move in with him. Then I remembered how hard it was to cook dinner in such a spotless kitchen.
“What is going through your head right now?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I couldn’t tell him that his house was too clean. Then he’d think I was a slob.
“Just tell me. I can see there’s something on your mind every time I bring up living together.” He smiled as if everything in the world was just peachy and perfect and I was the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Your house is just so . . .”
“So what?” He looked around trying to find clues as to what I was talking about.
“So clean. Not that I can’t be clean. I can. Obviously. I made dinner without making a mess at all. But your house is overly clean. It’s—”
“Rylie, stop.” Garrett laughed. “My house is clean because I have a housekeeper. Haven’t you met her?”
The only person I’d met claiming to be a housekeeper had been a woman who wanted to kill me.
I slowly shook my head.
“That’s probably because she comes when we’re working.” He patted Babbitt on the head and fed him a meatball. “Trust me, I am not the neat freak I seem to be.”
My head spun. Did this mean I should move in with him? That was really the only barrier. Or had it been an excuse?
“Is there another reason why we shouldn’t live together? Formally, I mean?”
“We’re not married,” the words popped out of my mouth before I could swallow them down.
Garrett leaned back in his chair and eyed me with a small smile on his lips.
“Not that I’m saying we should get married. We only just said we loved each other. And it’s too soon, right? It’s too—”
“Rylie. Shhhh. It’s okay. I know you weren’t proposing.” Garrett’s smile was warm and fuzzy. It made me want to snuggle up next to him.
“Good. I’m glad. Because I really don’t want to rush things.”
“Moving in together would be a huge step.”
“Very huge.” I moved to sit in his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me so passionately it made my toes tingle.
21
Opening the reservoir on a snowy day was both the most boring thing and the most beautiful thing I could imagine. The ice shimmered as the sun rose. The sun peeked through the clouds as snow fell from the sky like nature’s glitter.
I passed the time in the truck going over all of the possible scenarios that led to Alex’s death.
Reginald tapped on my truck window forcing me from the investigation. He was pulling a sled with all of his fishing tackle, tent, and heater in it. “Were you sleeping?”
His little dog—Polly—popped her head out from the neck of his jacket.
“No, I wasn’t sleeping,” I said. “I was thinking.”
“About what?” Reginald asked.
“Just all the stuff that’s been going on with these football players.”
He looked sad. “I heard one of them died.”
“And the other one is holding on by a thread,” I said. “I just wish I knew what happened.”
“It was probably over some girl, if I had to guess. Teenage boys are only motivated by two things their stomachs and their—”
“I get the picture,” I said stopping him.
“I went to North-Central High. I was a football player too. It’s hit the whole town hard.” He scratched his dog’s head. “If I could help, I would.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Be careful out there. And keep Polly in your coat. Technically dogs aren’t supposed to be out on the ice.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s a dumb rule. Dogs weigh less than humans.”
“It’s not because of how much they weigh. They don’t have the same reasoning skills. They might chase a bird onto
thin ice and fall through.”
“I’d save her if she did,” he said.
“And that’s exactly why we don’t allow dogs on the ice.” I laughed. “Because once the dog falls through, the owner goes after them. But dogs can usually get themselves out, whereas humans can’t. So the dog survives and the human dies.”
“Unless Super Ranger Rylie saves them,” he said with a smile.
“Just keep her in your jacket.”
Everyone let Reginald take his dog out with him. He had claimed it was an emotional support dog at some point and no one wanted to touch that.
“See you later,” Reginald said.
Antonio’s truck was in the ranger parking area when I closed up the plaza. I hadn’t seen him all shift, but that seemed about right considering the last few weeks.
“Ranger Seven, Ranger Five.”
“Go ahead,” his voice came through the mic.
“I’m locking up the Plaza. Do you mind setting the alarm when you’re done in the office?”
“Copy.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He could be so infuriating.
The gates were frozen, and I had to work at getting them closed. My hands were freezing. I couldn’t have been more done with the day.
Heaven forbid Antonio help me close up.
No, he just sat in the office doing who knows what.
“Ranger Five, Ranger Seven?”
“Go ahead,” I responded. I couldn’t keep the irritation from my voice. Not that I’d tried.
“We have reports of someone in the water in the back of Marina Cove. You have the Gumby suits in your truck, right?”
“Affirm. I’ll meet you there.”
“Copy. Clear,” he said.
I turned the truck around—nearly getting stuck in a snowdrift—and drove as fast as was safe back toward Marina Cove.
My heart pumped as quickly as the tires spun. I’d done many ice rescues between training and actual calls. I repeated the mantra—reach, throw, go—over and over in my head.
Antonio had gotten to the cove before me and stood next to a giant heap of a man. Reginald waved his arms frantically when he saw my headlights. Antonio placed a hand on his back, but I don’t know if Reginald even felt it.