I pulled myself out of the water and peeled off my wet shirt, leaving my bra. The still hot air felt good on my skin, so I parked myself on the edge of the dock, and dangled my toes in the refreshing water.
I leaned back to look at the millions of stars.
So many stars. Just like the night of the social all those years ago.
That night hadn’t started out like a strange mixture of Jackass meets Gilligan’s Island. In fact, it had all started out so right.
A few weeks before the social, Grady and I had started to gravitate toward one another. He was a couple of years older, but, of course, I knew who he was … I just couldn’t conceive of a universe where he would notice me. Bonfires. Volleyball games. Lake parties. Didn’t matter what it was. If all the girls were getting thrown in the lake, Grady suddenly was the one throwing me. If a bunch of us were playing Ultimate Frisbee, more often than not, I’d find myself getting tackled by him. Then, out of nowhere, Freddie started getting invited to all the cool parties, and, of course, he brought me along. Freddie seemed to think it was because his greatness was finally being realized, but I had to wonder. It went on this way for a while. Grady flirting with all the sophistication of a not quite adult male—basically making lewd comments or throwing ice cubes down my shorts—and me pretending not to care even though it felt like my heart was being crushed every time I saw him.
Most of the town noticed and suspected we were an item, but we just hadn’t found the right opportunity to really make things click into place. We had definitely seemed to be on the path to … something.
Then came the social …
The Otter Lake Raspberry Social really amounted to just a bunch of tents filled with tables, a local rock country band, and lots of food, but the meagerness of the event didn’t stop anybody from going. The whole town just went—you just did—and that night it didn’t take me long to spot Grady.
God, he had looked so good under the tent’s twinkling lights in those jeans and that T-shirt. Physically he was at the beginning of being everything a man should be. So when Grady came up to me and said, I’m going swimming. Want to come?, well, let’s just say he didn’t have to ask me twice. Aside from all the obvious reasons, I also did not want to hang around for my mother’s performance.
We had walked a little while, away from the people and noise of the social, down to the dock at McAdams’s place. We sat on the edge of it, kind of like what I was doing right now, and just talked. I remember being surprised at how easy it was to be with him. We had never done that before. It felt different than I had expected … better. Like maybe there was more than just a superficial attraction between us. I don’t remember what exactly it was that he said but he was suddenly in the water, and he grabbed my hands, pulling me in after him.
If I had to pick one moment when things started to go wrong, well, what happened next would be it.
I was wearing a summer dress, and it’s hard to swim in a summer dress.
I do still remember what Grady had said as I tossed the heavy fabric on the dock.
Erica Bloom, I like the way you think.
And, boy oh boy, did I like the way he said that.
Before I knew it, his jeans and shirt were keeping my dress company on the dock.
For a long while after that, we just played around in the water.
Then it happened. First there was that smile, and then Grady said, Truth or dare?
Three little words.
I smiled. Truth.
When did you first realize you were madly in love with me?
I splashed water in his face.
That’s not an answer.
Because I’m not in love with you.
Uh-huh, he had said, swimming in a circle around me.
Your turn. Truth or dare?
He scrunched up his face in an exaggerated thinking expression. Dare … no, truth.
I backed away from him, but he edged closer. Why do you think every girl is in love with you?
Not every girl, just you.
I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes.
Truth or dare? he asked again, eyes serious.
Dare.
He swam closer still. Let’s skinny-dip for real.
No way!
I’ll go first. And before I knew it, Grady was tossing his boxers to the waiting pile of clothes.
Come on, Erica. You’re a lot of things, but I know you’re not a chicken.
A minute later the little I had left joined Grady’s clothes on the dock.
We circled each other some more. I could barely stomach everything I was feeling, the excitement, the terror, and the stupid, stupid happiness.
One more dare, he had said.
But it’s my turn!
He shrugged. One more and you win.
I didn’t have time to answer; Grady was already over at the dock jumping out of the water.
What are you doing?
He turned. Trust me!
Trust me. Two little words.
You know what comes after two little words? One … one little word that describes the Erica from that night perfectly.
Idiot.
Gah!
Stupid memories.
Back in the present, I struck my foot forward, meaning to kick out a spray of water. Instead, my foot connected with something solid and fleshy.
“Ow!” a voice yelled.
I screamed and yanked my feet up.
“What was that for?”
I peered over the last wooden plank into the water.
“Grady! What are you doing?”
“Swimming.”
“You’re swimming by my place in the dark.” I quickly covered my chest with my arms, suddenly remembering I was half-naked.
“I swim almost every night in the summer,” he answered, resting his forearms on the dock. “It’s good cardio.”
“Huh, well, off you go,” I said, making a shooing gesture. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Always so anxious to get rid of me,” he said. “Okay, fine, it isn’t just about the cardio. I wanted to make sure everything was all right here after what happened last night.”
“That’s … nice.” Suddenly I made a grab for my shirt. “Don’t want to leave this lying around,” I said with a chuckle. “Never know who might take it.”
He wagged a finger at me and looked like he was about to say something, when I flung a hand up.
He nodded. “Right. You don’t want to talk about the social.”
I dropped my hand and looked up to the stars once more.
A moment of silence passed.
Grady broke first. “So, how is the insurance lady? I called but—” He suddenly stopped speaking. I rolled my gaze back down to his face. His eyes were moving up and down my barely covered body. I splashed some water at him. He smiled, then dragged his gaze back up to mine.
“She’s fine,” I said.
“Good. Good,” he replied with a nod. “And you haven’t been talking to anyone about anything, right?”
“Right. Sure. That would be a terrible idea,” I said, mumbling over the corner of the thumbnail I was chewing.
“Erica,” Grady said with warning.
“Seriously. It’s all good. And my mother is trying to get a hold of my uncle.”
He nodded. “Good.”
Another moment passed. This was good. This was a normal conversation. So what if my heart was thudding painfully in my chest as I watched the play of moonlight on his face? At least I hadn’t done anything that would lead anywhere embarrassing.
“Grady, why are you here?” I asked suddenly. Shoot. I knew I spoke, or rather, thought too soon. “I mean aside from investigating me for murder or seeing if I’m being murdered, why are you here?”
He smiled. “What? That’s not enough?”
I shook my head. “No, I mean, I keep trying to avoid you, and you keep showing up … like … like … a stray cat that you feed just once and—”
“Please, no more
animal metaphors,” he interrupted. “And, Erica, you might want to brace yourself for this, but it turns out that I don’t want to avoid you. I’ve been trying to talk to you since you got home.”
I crooked an eyebrow.
He dropped his head and sighed heavily, hands planted on either side of me on the dock. “Aren’t you tired of all this dancing around?” he asked, looking up at me from under his brows.
“What are you talking about?”
He sighed again. “I always regretted waiting for the perfect moment with you … and then it was too late.” Suddenly Grady shot up from the water and his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into the lake.
I flailed in the water, spluttering, trying to catch my breath.
When I could see again, I found myself pinned between the dock and Grady’s chest. I had to grab his arms to stop myself from drowning.
I looked up into his face, inches above mine. He was still smiling. “Now, that’s better. Perfect in fact.”
“I’m thinking I’m having some déjà vu,” I said, suddenly finding it difficult to remember all the mechanics of speaking.
“Me too.”
A heavy moment passed.
Finally, even though I could feel my heart beating in my throat, I managed to say, “What is this? What are we doing?” I shook my head. “We barely know each other.”
“Not true,” he rebutted quickly. “I’ve known you most of my life.”
“You know what I mean. It’s been a long time. People change, and—”
“You’re right. People do change. But I think I still have a pretty good idea of who you are … and I think you still know me, but”—I watched him lick his lips—“we could always stand to get to know one another better. Unless, of course, you are the killer. Then this is probably a bad idea.”
I closed my eyes. “Grady…”
“Yes?”
“Why are you so … you’re always so … why do you always have to be saying things?”
I could feel his body float even closer to mine. “What things am I saying, Erica?” he asked softly. I could also feel his eyes calling mine to look back into them, but I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. Too dangerous.
“You know, things … horrible things. Things that do other things to me.”
He chuckled. “You have no idea how easy it would be for you to shut me up.”
I peeked one eye open. His lips hovered inches from mine.
It occurred to me—and not for the first time—that I had never actually kissed Grady Forrester. Some part of my brain knew this was a terrible idea … nitro … glycerin … people issues … probably some trust ones too … but still I closed my eyes again, tilted my head, and—
—a boat engine roared behind us.
Grady looked over his shoulder and pivoted to tread water beside me.
I grabbed the dock with one hand and shielded my eyes against the lights of the boat with the other.
“Candace?” Grady called out. “What are you doing out here?”
Candace.
The name sounded like it should be four letters long.
“Oh, sugar!” she called out. “I thought I saw someone fall off the dock!”
Oh, sugar? My eyelids fluttered momentarily closed.
Candace killed the engine to her boat before settling her eyes on Grady. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. There have been enough accidents around here lately.”
“Nope. We’re fine. I was just asking Erica some questions and she, uh, tripped.”
My eyes bugged. I had done what now?
“But what you doing here?” Grady asked again. I tried to read the expression on his face, looking for any signs of guilt, but he was giving nothing away.
“Bad day. Couldn’t settle in, so I decided to go for a ride. Don’t worry, Sheriff,” she said, raising her hand cutely in the air. “I’m going slow. Don’t want to hit any turtles.”
Nobody said anything for a second.
Well, this was awkward.
I cleared my throat, trying to muster an interested voice, “Why such a bad day, Candace?”
“It’s all these accidents!” she said. “I know I have no business feeling sorry for myself given what happened to Dickie, and now Harry, but there’s this rumor going around the lake that we—the developers—have hired some sort of hit man to off citizens of Otter Lake so that we can buy up all their property.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. At least I wasn’t the only suspect.
“I know! It’s ridiculous! A hit man,” she said, shaking her head. “All over some crazy accidents.”
Grady and I exchanged a glance.
“Oh, no,” she said. “No. No. No. Grady, tell me they’re just accidents.”
“I am not at liberty to answer that question.”
“You’re not at liberty?” she asked. “So they weren’t accidents. Because if they were, you would be at liberty to say.”
Wow. Cute and clever.
“First the snapping turtles, and now a murderer on the loose,” she said, shaking her blond head. “That will look great on the brochure.”
“You look like you could use a drink,” Grady said with his stupid smile. The stupid smile that I somehow thought was reserved just for me! What the hell was happening here?
“Or two,” she said, smiling back. “Want to come?”
Oh … my … God! This was … this couldn’t be …
“Might as well,” he said, swimming over to her boat.
“What about you, Erica?” Candace asked. “You want to come along?”
“Um, no!” I said with a little too much incredulity. “I mean, I—”
“Nah, Erica doesn’t want to come,” he said, without looking at me. “I’m always saying horrible things to her.”
What?!
I couldn’t do anything but stupidly look back and forth between the two of them as Grady pulled himself up into her boat.
Was he trying to make me jealous?
Or was he trying to make Candace jealous?
Oh my God! He was probably trying to make both of us jealous!
“Okay then,” Candace said, turning the key on the ignition. “See you, Erica.”
Disbelief prevented me from moving or saying anything in return.
“Yup, later, Erica.”
Waves smacked me once again in the face as the boat tore off into the moonlight.
* * *
“Freddie, I know who the murderer is … actually murderers,” I corrected, putting emphasis on the plural. “I know who the murderers are.”
“Erica?”
“Of course it’s Erica. Who else are you solving murders with?” I had filled Freddie in on my find at Tommy’s yesterday, but we hadn’t spoken since.
“It’s six forty-five in the morning.”
“I know. I’ve been waiting the last two hours to call you.”
“Um…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said quickly. “You’re welcome.”
Part of me was aware that I might be sounding crazy, but I had been up most of the night thinking, and now I needed to share.
After Grady and Candace left the night before, I went back up to the retreat to face the women. Luckily, I found them discussing their favorite mystery novels, so I didn’t have to contribute all that much. Then I went to bed and thought about Grady and Candace—all while keeping a close eye on my bedroom window.
And somewhere in those late-night, early-morning hours, everything had become very clear.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who are the murderers?”
“Grady and Candace,” I said, really feeling the moment of gravity.
Silence.
“Freddie, you there?”
“Yup, yup, I’m still here.” He paused. “Erica, are you okay?”
I yanked roughly at my sheets. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did something happen last night?”
“You mean other tha
n my solving the case?” I pulled the phone back to look at it skeptically. Jeez, what was wrong with Freddie?
“I’m simply wondering if this is your emotionally stunted way of telling me that you need to talk about Grady again,” Freddie said. “Not that I want to talk about Grady again because frankly—”
“Pfft.”
“Oh, no, something did happen,” Freddie said, suddenly sounding a little too much like Madame F for my liking.
“It all makes sense!”
“How? How does it all make sense? Tell me.”
“Okay, well first, there were no murders in Otter Lake before Candace came to town, and now there are.” The words came out really quickly. Was I talking quickly?
“Huh. You do realize, the same could be said about you.”
“Yes, but I know I didn’t do it,” I said, slapping my chest. “God, Freddie, keep up.”
“All right. What else do you got?”
“The development.”
“Right. What about the development?”
“Developments are always evil.”
“Always evil? Or just always evil in movies about the mafia?”
“I can’t even begin to express how much you’re disappointing me right now,” I muttered.
“Well, I’m sorry,” he said. “But you’re sounding a little crazy. Whatever is happening around this lake is going to make Candace’s job harder. I—”
“It’s always poor Candace. ‘You look like you could use a drink, Candace,’” I said in my most mature voice. “Why is everybody always so worried about her?”
“Actually, right now, I’m worried about you,” he said. “What about Grady? Why would Grady kill his cousin’s friends?”
“Because he’s a sociopath.”
“That’s it?” Freddie paused a half second. “He’s a sociopath?”
“Yes, a sociopath who likes dimples.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.” Freddie paused before adding, “Grady is single. He’s allowed to date.”
“I know that,” I snapped. “But he’s not allowed to be confusing!”
“Okay … okay … I know it’s three days away, but … do you need me to come over? I was planning to come by after work because I have another idea for a lead, but if you need me to come now—”
“No,” I said, suddenly feeling deflated. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go at all.
Skinny Dipping with Murder Page 11