“What is going on with these two?” I asked Sebastian. “I caught Mom arguing with Minnie too. Remember?”
One terse nod was all Sebastian offered in the way of acknowledgment.
“We asked him nicely to respect the ocean,” Dad said, pleading their case. “That rig shouldn’t come close to shore unless he’s docking. He runs the engine and sits a hundred yards off the beach, polluting the coastline and endangering the fish.” He and Mom spent most summers picketing some injustice on behalf of our local marine life.
My heart sank. They had motive, means and opportunity. I wrapped my arms around Dad’s neck.
“What did you mean about doll’s-eyes?” Dad rubbed a palm over my arm.
Sebastian stared into my eyes. It looked like he had the same question, but since I’d come from the hospital where the pathologist made the report, he probably knew the answer.
“Doesn’t matter.” Mom took Dad’s hand and pulled him up. “We need to shut down the Pony and gather our things. We’re innocent and this will all blow over. Fighting will only make us look guilty.”
Dad kissed my head and followed Mom to the back room.
Sebastian squatted before me. His pants clung to the muscles of his legs and the new position tested the buttons on his shirt. In defiance of FBI standard and in concession to island custom, he wore cross-trainers in lieu of shiny dress shoes. A hurricane of emotion rocked my insides. I wanted him to hold me and say he’d make things okay. I also wanted to yell at him for arresting my parents, for not coming to see me and for leaving our relationship unstated and uncertain.
“Can I take you home? Maybe back to the hospital?” He pressed his palm to my cheek and I leaned against the careful touch.
“Please don’t do this.” I hoped he heard the whisper on my lips. “Please. Don’t.”
Sebastian ran an arm around my back, another under my knees and lifted me from the bean bags. Tilting me against his chest, he rested his chin on my head. I savored the steady beat of his heart. Sebastian never fell apart. He was steady. Sure. Strong.
“Is she okay?” Mom’s voice tipped the panic scale.
“We’re taking her home on the way.”
“I’ll follow you in the cart, since you’re out of wheels again.” Dad jangled keys on his fingertip, as if they were headed out to dinner and not to jail.
Sebastian blew a breath across my hair. Not exactly protocol, letting suspects you brought in for questioning drive their own car, or cart.
Mom swung the door open and hit the final light switch inside their shop. Sebastian beeped his car unlocked and waited for Mom to open the back door. He set me inside and Mom climbed in behind me, scooting me over as she made room for her legs and flowing gauze skirt.
“You shouldn’t have left the hospital. We were on our way back again.” She pulled me against her side.
“Mom, you’re going to be arrested.” I leaned my head against her shoulder.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll read them their rights after we get to the station.” Sebastian caught my gaze in the rearview mirror.
We drove through town at a crawl. Mom hummed softly and vowed their innocence. She and Dad put more faith in the justice system than I did at the moment.
“We didn’t hurt anyone and we’ll be home in no time. Promise.”
Sebastian opened my door and helped me onto the sidewalk outside my apartment. The drive felt like teleportation. Even for a small island, the trip had blinked by.
Dad pulled the lavender and deep purple golf cart up behind Sebastian’s Range Rover.
Aaarooga! He beeped one last time, in case anyone missed the show. Me in a neck brace. My parents under arrest.
He hugged me before hopping in the back of Sebastian’s vehicle with Mom.
I unlocked the door to my apartment in utter defeat.
Sebastian led me to the couch and checked every room in my apartment for a serial killer, or Adrian. I needed to show him the note left on my door. I’d bet my collection of Meg Ryan movies the author of that note was the black-helmet-wearing lunatic who killed my Prius.
“All clear.”
“Thanks.” I settled into the couch, pulling my feet up and stuffing my little golden pillow under my head.
“You want to tell me how you knew he was poisoned?” Sebastian widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.
“No.”
His jaw worked side to side. “This wasn’t an accident.” He touched my neck brace with careful fingers, as if I might break. “Not when you were there questioning the EMTs or hospital staff, or whatever you were up to when it happened. Tell me you weren’t reading official reports.” His eyes widened a fraction.
“Give me a little credit.”
“Patience.” His expression softened. “If you’re in trouble, I need to know. Please don’t make me track your every step and work this case at the same time. If I’m spread too thin, I can’t do my best at either.”
“Well, first of all, don’t put yourself out by checking up on me or anything. Second of all, I can take care of myself.”
“Obviously not.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. Stupid neck brace.
Sebastian pulled his phone from one pocket and read the screen. “Fight at the national forest over eggs of some sort. Fargas has to go. I need to get your folks to the station. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay here and rest.” He raised his brows, daring me to argue.
I huffed. His lips twitched, fighting a smile. He kissed my cheek and locked the door before pulling it shut behind him. Outside my window he bounced down the steps grumbling about birders.
“Jeez. I thought he’d never leave.” Adrian peeked around the corner from my bedroom.
Medication in full affect, I laughed.
“Wow. Are you high? Did they drug you?”
“Yep.” The p popped on my lips and my head rolled against the cushion. “Today was not awesome.”
“Agreed. How about this? I take you to my place and make you dinner. You can rest there and when you’re up to it, we can trade information on the case.”
“He arrested my parents.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Hey, they’ll be out in the morning. I called my attorney.” Adrian’s bright blue shirt intensified the color of his eyes.
“Thank you.”
His dimple sunk in, pulling a day’s worth of stubble with it. “Can I drive the golf cart?”
“Sure. What about guarding your sign?”
“I made a big show of installing a fake security camera in the window and pointing it at the sign. Can I use the horn on the cart?”
I laughed. “Yes. Especially outside the police station.”
“Deal.”
Adrian’s house was as suave and magazine-worthy as I remembered. I’d slept over once when he was on the lam for murder. I never had a chance to try his fancy ten million showerhead shower. He set pans on the stovetop and went to work. I crawled onto a stool at his massive granite island and leaned forward until my forehead rested on the cool surface. The fog of pain medication lifted slightly. Pain moved in to take its place.
“Do you have any Tylenol?”
“Sure.” Adrian placed a bottle beside my head with a full glass of water. I took three. “Why do you have so much fish and shrimp?”
“While you were at the hospital, I was at the harbor.”
I sat up and took the pills. “And?”
“And, I asked them who’d kill James Trent given the chance. No one admitted they were that upset with him. A few heard him argue with your parents. I told them your parents escort house spiders out the door on a little tissue. They aren’t killer material. A short guy buying scallops told me he heard from someone at the national park James had n
o idea why the sharks came in so close to the shoreline and wouldn’t leave.”
“No krill.” I repeated the words, unsure where I’d heard them today.
“Right. They ate the krill weeks ago, so why hang around?” Adrian worked his pan over a blue gas flame, tossing shrimp and chives in a sea of butter.
“You think someone fed people to the sharks all diced up like chum?”
“Maybe. What if a fisherman tried to lure in a larger catch with diced people and inadvertently drew the shark’s attention?” Not a fabulous theory, but Adrian was the eye candy. I was the brain and this was my brain on drugs.
“You think a fisherman is our serial killer?” Excitement tingled in my head. “That’s why he fought with some fishermen. James Trent knew they lured the sharks in and he called them on it. I bet the guilty guy killed him to keep his secret.”
“Still doesn’t prove he killed people whose bodies floated ashore in pieces.”
“Fishermen cut bait. Why couldn’t they cut people?”
Adrian stopped shuffling shrimp and set the pan aside. “Let me go with you to talk to them. I want to help.”
I lowered my eyelids in warning. There was a very thin line between Adrian wanting to help a friend and him wanting to help the helpless. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I wasn’t completely helpless. “Fine. You can come as a friend, but not as my babysitter.”
He shut off the stove and slid onto the stool beside me. “I hate to say this, but I’m with Sebastian.” He scrunched his nose. “Seb’s a good guy, kind of a Neanderthal, but good. He cares about you and he’s looking out for you when he says to leave this alone. Someone very bad is out there killing people and chopping them into bite-size chunks. Knowing someone like that might live on this island terrifies me. Look at what happened to you today. At least let me try to keep you safe. If you won’t let him protect you, let me.”
His pleading expression warmed my heart, although the fact he took Sebastian’s side confused and frustrated me. Hearing him call Sebastian Seb lifted my cheeks into a smile.
“Don’t talk to the fishermen alone. Please? Maybe talk to the pathologist. She was all over James Trent at First Friday and then he turned up dead. She’s trained to dissect things. She could easily cut him up.”
“I talked to her at the hospital. She didn’t cut him up. No one cut him up. He’s different. I wish I knew why. Is his murder connected to the body parts or not? Besides, what’s her motive?”
“Women are crazy?”
I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol to throw at him, and his blasted dimple stopped me. “Ha ha.”
He shrugged. “You ready for Shrimp à la Davis?”
“Butter and chives?”
Adrian shoveled a mound of steaming shrimp and sliced heirloom tomatoes onto my plate with a side of pesto. The smell erased my cares. Rich, earthy flavors burst on my tongue. If I cooked like that, I’d never leave home.
“If I can prove a fisherman killed James, then my parents can go free. They can’t stay in jail, Adrian. They’re too soft. You promise to help me?”
“Always.” The sincerity in his tone confirmed his words.
“Hang on.” I dug the phone from my pocket and found his name in my contacts. “I’m giving you a nickname. You are now double oh seven.”
“I thought that was your boyfriend’s name.”
“No. He’s a chameleon. You’re the one helping me solve this case. Cheers.” I lifted my glass to his.
“Cheers.”
“When Dad goes back to work, I’ll get you a double oh seven T-shirt.” I smiled. “Have you seen the amount of birding innuendo he’s sold lately?” I rolled my shoulders, unable to ease the stiffness in my neck. My eyelids drooped. “This is delicious.”
“I talked to at least a hundred people yesterday and no one’s missing. I hit up the gym, the Methodist church, Sandy Shores, a dozen shops on Main Street and my mom’s book club. I even asked Maple Shuster.”
I sighed in relief, then slumped over my dinner. Maple was a shameless gossip, but a well-respected source of island information. I suspected half the island reporters checked their facts with Maple first and Google second. “I can’t believe my parents are in jail.”
“Ah, they’re resilient. They’ll be out in no time and your dad will be back at the Pony making those great shirts.” Adrian stopped chewing. His stormy eyes twinkled.
“He makes crude shirts and you know it.”
He dropped his head back and laughed. I envied that move. My head was propped up by a sweaty pillow. Quiet was easy with Adrian. No one rushed to make conversation. I filled my tummy with seafood and fought the drowsiness taking over.
“You want to lay down a little while? You look beat.”
“No. I want my bed.” I slid onto my feet.
“Stay. I’ll call Sebastian and tell him you’re here. Someone hit you with a car today. How do you know they won’t bother you at your apartment? If I let you leave and something happens to you, I won’t forgive myself. Stay. For me.” Adrian stopped me at the front door and crowded my space. The buttons on his shirt rubbed mine. His too-familiar cologne tickled my nose and made my mouth water. Darn traitorous mouth. He was too dashing and congenial. I couldn’t trust him. He left me for college once—wisely, but still. What if he thought of another grand thing to leave me for? I’d hate myself for missing the obvious twice in one lifetime.
“I want my bed. My shower. You understand.” I hated my bed and my shower. If I ever made enough money to cover rent, food and something extra, I needed a comfortable bed and a new apartment. “See you tomorrow?”
I started the golf cart’s engine and backed down Adrian’s drive. He stood in the doorway until I turned off his street. A middle-aged woman in spandex and a terry cloth headband jogged up beside me.
“Patience?” She waved and tilted her head like she wasn’t sure what she saw.
I returned the wave and kept my eyes on the road. Getting a ticket for driving under the influence of something from an IV plus three Tylenols sounded like the perfect ending to my terrible day.
“I’m Margie Walker. I live on Pony Parkway. I jog at this time every evening. The sun sets and the island comes to life, you know?”
“Yeah.” I can’t talk. I’m drugged. I pressed the little pedal deeper and she matched the pace. My head swam against pain killers and fatigue.
“I have a food addiction. I exercise more than anyone I know, but I never lose weight. I’m a destined chubster, I guess. I exercise to burn calories, then I’m so hungry I eat everything I can find. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“I understand.”
“I knew you would.”
Hey. I dropped my gaze, double checking my figure, but the neck brace was relentless. I couldn’t see anything below my nose. How much shrimp did I eat?
“Maybe keep a food journal. Or learn to say no once a day. Any amount of calories you turn away in a day adds up. Skipping one soda a day is like losing a pound every two weeks. Every effort counts.” I made it to my apartment and stopped at the curb.
“Thanks, Patience. You’re right. I knew you’d help.” She shot me a wide toothy smile and jogged across the street to the Tasty Cream.
“You’re a local inspiration, Patience Price.” I mumbled my way up the steps to my apartment. “A real guide for the people.”
Chapter Ten
Sebastian appeared at my bedside sometime during the night. I didn’t ask how he got in or fixate on the fact someone else probably could as well. Sebastian was the closest thing to a ninja I’d ever met. Probably no one else could get in, except Adrian. The day’s events and weeks without rest won the battle over my restless mind and I slept through most of his visit. He pulled a chair into the bedroom and worked at my bedside for what seemed like hours. The sof
t blue glow from my laptop screen and scent of warm musk changed my nightmares into dreams of a summer swim. In an ocean where body parts didn’t lurk beneath the surface.
I woke to a dark, empty apartment. A fresh water bottle, a pair of Tylenol capsules and my laptop sat on my nightstand. The scrolling screensaver read, “Glad you’re okay. Take it easy today. Stay in bed. See you soon, S.”
Stay in bed? Nope.
My neck was tender, but I’d slept for twelve hours. Six in the morning never looked so exciting. By six-fifteen I had wet hair in a clip and a blue T-shirt dress covering my freshly speed-showered business. I grabbed my bag, coffee and keys and headed for the harbor.
Freud met me on the stoop. He stretched his fuzzy gray paws in my direction when I stepped out. His yawn revealed a line of sharp white teeth.
“I’m going to the harbor to see some fishermen. Maybe I’ll bring you something. What are you doing today?”
He rolled on his back then over. I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t the best pet owner. Not that he was my pet. Or that I owned him. “See ya.”
I groaned at the sight of my new wheels. The Purple Pony mobile. Light purple exterior, dark purple upholstery. Silhouettes of horses on the hood. Store logo running down the side. No matter. Today was a new day. I inhaled the fresh morning air, letting hope from a sleep-filled night fuel me.
Tooling through town at ten till seven was nice. Birders weren’t blocking my way and the sun blazed fierce orange on the horizon. I pulled into a customer space at the fish market and walked to the line of fishermen coming off the pier from a long night of work. They all looked like evil versions of the guy on the front of my frozen fish sticks box. The fish stick guy wore all yellow and a big smile. These guys had black coats and waders with no smiles. One, however, had a black eye.
“Hi there,” I said. No time to waste. My parents were rotting in jail.
Black Eye looked skeptical as I approached, scanning the area behind me for something.
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