“Am I catching you at a bad time?” he asked.
I wanted to tell Jackson that he could never catch me at a bad time. But then I’d be letting him off the hook too easily. He needed to at least think I was still irritated.
“This is as good a time as any,” I finally responded.
“I mostly wanted to stop by and check on you. Have you seen Leonard Shepherd anymore?”
I shook my head, realizing that I could at least count that as a blessing. “I haven’t.”
“Good.”
I frowned when I thought about all the crowds I’d been around today. “I suppose it’s good. The flip side is that I may not have seen him, but he may have been within sight.”
“Let’s hope not.”
I knew the truth. Jackson wasn’t a “hope not” kind of guy. He took precautions. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had officers driving past this condo complex every thirty minutes. He’d probably even put out an APB on the guy.
I cleared my throat. “By the way, Zane said someone was murdered in front of him in South Carolina.”
“He told me.”
Relief flushed through me. “You talked to him?”
“I did a follow-up interview today, and I already talked to the police down there. Nothing has been reported, but they’re going to keep their eyes open.”
“Good.”
I started to sit up some. As I did, Jackson pulled me closer. Instead of saying anything, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me toward him until my head was nestled under his chin.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he murmured.
You see? He said things like that, and I just couldn’t be mad over the fact that he was keeping professional secrets he’d sworn not to share.
Actually, I supposed I couldn’t be mad at him period for being ethical. But still. It was so annoying.
As was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him.
Because most of the time, I really wanted to kiss him. I wanted to remember what it felt like to feel his lips against mine. To smell his spicy scent. To feel his gentle stubble against my skin. To feel consumed by something other than my problems.
Before I could relax too much, my phone buzzed.
“I should get that,” I muttered.
“Expecting someone?”
“Waiting for a hot date.” I winked at him, just to let him know I was joking.
I glanced at the screen and saw I’d gotten a text message from Annette. I didn’t start this page, someone else did. Thought you should know. We’ll go live with our own page soon.
I clicked on the link that was attached, and it took me to a social media page someone had created. It was called #JoeyRocks.
“Hashtag JoeyRocks,” I said with a laugh and showed Jackson on my phone. “There’s this whole rock-painting craze—”
“I know.”
I stared at him. “You do?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“I guess I’ve been hiding under a . . .” I swallowed hard. “A rock.”
He chuckled. “That’s a good one.”
“I try. Tickets are available for my comedy show. It’s right here. Right now. You’re the only one invited, and you’re welcome.”
“You’re an original, that’s for sure.”
I continued to scroll through and saw that someone had decided to paint rocks with my hashtag on the back. Whoever the creator of the page was said that each design somehow related to actress Joey Darling.
My interest shifted slightly to concern.
“Look at the front of these rocks, Jackson.” I pointed to one that was painted red with little yellow lines and circles on it.
He took my phone and stared at the pictures before shifting uneasily.
Realization dawned on me, and I knew just what he was thinking. “It’s my super-stalker fan club. They’re handing me clues again, aren’t they? Probably something to do with either this current investigation or my father.”
His frown deepened. “I’d say that’s a great guess.”
I leaned back, feeling stunned as I tried to process this. How did this stalker-like fan club of mine get all this information? I could only think of one way: they had people on the inside. But on the inside of what? The Barracudas? The police? Who?
But what would motivate these guys to make it their life work to follow me? Didn’t they have jobs? Lives outside of doing this?
I had so many questions, so many things I didn’t understand.
But it was time for me to find answers. Maybe I was too much of a lightweight and needed to employ some tougher techniques. Was I really prepared for any of the answers I might find though?
Only if Jackson was by my side. And I had a feeling he wanted me to stay far away from this.
“I can’t believe this,” I finally muttered, lowering my phone.
“You should just leave these rocks alone and stay far away from these guys. But I know you’re not going to do that, are you?”
I glanced up at Jackson, wishing that none of this had ever happened. Wishing this strange fan club had never formed. That I’d never married Eric. That my dad was still here, and that I could just call him up and chat. I wished my life had simply continued on as normal.
But then I would have never met Jackson. Despite everything that had happened—all the hardships I’d faced—I felt my life was so much deeper now that everything I’d held close had been stripped away.
“How can I walk away from this, Jackson?” I honestly wanted to know. I couldn’t. I was in too far.
Jackson turned to face me, and his gaze latched on to mine with a ferocious intensity. “Promise me something.”
I swallowed hard. “What’s that?”
“When you go look for those rocks, you’ll take me with you.”
The thought of Jackson being at my side made me feel 100 percent better—like I could conquer anything. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Thank you.” He ran his thumb against my chin.
But I couldn’t get distracted by all the tingles running through my body. “Jackson?”
That mesmerizing look swirled in his eyes as he stared at me. “Yes?”
I swallowed hard, hating to break this moment. But I had something very important to tell him. “I’m going to look for those rocks.”
Chapter Seventeen
“We’ve got to figure out where this rock is,” I muttered.
Jackson and I almost knocked heads as we looked at the photo on my screen, trying to figure out our next plan of action. Not only was there a picture of the rock, a clue had been left as to where I could find it.
“The number of couples who get married in the Outer Banks each year,” I read aloud. “How am I supposed to know that?”
“Google it.”
“Well, that sounds awfully simple.” But I did it anyway. My eyes widened at the answer. “Twenty thousand?”
“Is that what it says?”
“Yep.” I glanced at Jackson. “And even if that’s the correct number, how does that help us?”
“What we should be asking is, how is twenty thousand significant to this area?” Jackson said. “Look up twenty thousand plus Outer Banks.”
“Really?” Like Google was all knowing or something.
He shrugged. “It’s a start.”
“Sure thing.” I typed it in. My eyes widened when I saw the response. “A restaurant here in the area had a twenty thousand–calorie challenge on Thanksgiving Day. They tried to encourage patrons to eat that much food in one day. The thought of that makes me want to throw up.”
“I say we go to that restaurant.”
I drew in a deep breath as excitement and fear collided inside me. “I say you’re right.”
We showed up at Blackbeard’s Pleasure, a pirate-themed all-you-could-eat restaurant. It was dark outside, which would make it harder to find this rock. But I didn’t want to let this go. Not at all.
While surrounded by the sc
ent of fried shrimp and Old Bay seasoning, I turned on the flashlight on my phone and swept the light over the sidewalk leading toward the front door. Hungry tourists chatted as they waited while heavy-metal music drifted from the inside.
The patrons waiting outside for a late-night meal stared at me very strangely, but I didn’t even care.
Even worse—what if someone else found it before I did?
“Mom, look what I found!” a tiny voice announced just as the thought raced through my mind.
I swung my head over and saw a little six- or seven-year-old girl holding up a rock she’d just found in a decorative pirate’s chest in the flower bed.
I squinted. It couldn’t be. Yet it was.
That was my rock.
I was thirty seconds too late.
“That’s great, sweetheart,” the mom said, practically ignoring her daughter and staring at her phone instead.
“I’ve always wanted to find a rock just like this. It’s so pretty.” The girl—a pretty little brunette with a dirty face and shirt—put the rock under her chin and practically hugged it.
And now it was my turn to ruin this girl’s dream. I leaned toward her and talked in the same voice I’d used when I did voice work for River of Magic, a Disney cartoon. “Could I see that rock, by chance?”
She pulled it closer to her. “But it’s my rock.”
“I just want to see it,” I continued.
The girl’s mom—who looked an awful lot like her daughter with a stain on her shirt and her short curly hair in her face—pulled her gaze away from her phone for long enough to jerk her daughter back, as if I were a kidnapper.
I could just see the headlines on this now. Joey Darling accused of attempted child abduction.
Sigh.
“It’s my rock!” the girl screamed. “And you can’t have it!”
I stepped back.
Okay, obviously this wasn’t working.
“Ma’am, I’m with the Nags Head Police, and we believe that rock may be connected with a crime in the area.” Jackson flashed his badge. “I’m going to have to ask you to let me see it.”
The woman still scowled. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Jackson held his badge closer, and an edge of annoyance crept into his voice. “Is this enough proof?”
She studied his badge before frowning. “I suppose. Katy, give this man your rock.”
“I don’t want to give this man my rock.” The child’s face turned red.
“It wasn’t a request, Katy Ann. It was an order.” The mom’s voice turned more stern, and she tapped a glittery fingernail against her arm, her patience obviously waning.
Along with mine.
“But I don’t wanna. It’s my rock. I found it.”
You had to be kidding me. What kind of kid got attached to a rock with a weird symbol on it? I might understand if there were a picture of a puppy on it, but there wasn’t. It was a gang symbol instead.
“Katy, give him the rock!” The mom’s voice was laced with frustration now.
“Here, take it!” Katy flung the rock.
The next thing I knew, I was on the ground . . . and stars were circling my very unstable surroundings.
Chapter Eighteen
“Joey? Can you hear me?” The voice above me seemed to echo and swirl and drift closer before speeding farther away.
The blackness was much easier to embrace. All I had to do was let myself go, and everything wouldn’t seem so confusing. The abyss around me was peaceful . . . and sleepiness beckoned for me to come into its folds and rest.
“Joey, talk to me,” the voice said again.
I wanted the voice to go away and quit interrupting my quiet time. But the speaker refused to hit Mute.
Against my better wishes, I pulled my eyes open.
The darkness disappeared, replaced with glaring streetlights. The zoom of vehicles in the background. A car alarm whining in the distance. Heavy-metal music in the background.
Slowly, my vision cleared and Jackson’s face came into view, as well as a crowd of strangers who stared at me like aliens examining their first human life form. If they tried to probe a needle into my eye, I was going to go redneck crazy on them.
It was in me, buried deep down inside. But it was still there.
“Joey?” Jackson repeated, kneeling beside me. Even through my haziness, I could see the concern on his face.
I tried to remember what had happened, but a throbbing pain in my head made thinking hurt. Yes, it actually hurt.
“I hear you. I think.” I rubbed my forehead. “Is this real?”
“This is real,” Jackson told me. “The rock hit you square in the forehead.”
“Please don’t press charges,” Katy’s mom said above me, wringing her hands together and frowning frantically. “Please.”
“Is that Joey Darling?” Someone else took a picture.
The flash caused another round of throbbing through my lobes, and I winced.
Why did these things always happen to me?
“Put the phone away,” Jackson growled. “And give the woman some space.”
The crowds must have heard the authority in Jackson’s voice, because they backed away, thus ending their close encounter of the third kind.
I drew in a deep breath and pushed myself up. My head pounded, and the gravel beneath me dug into my hands. Jackson stretched his arm around me to help me sit up.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I muttered, both loving and hating that he was fussing over me. “Really.”
“We should take you to the hospital.” Jackson frowned again and glanced at my hair.
Or maybe it was my forehead. That was throbbing. Could he see it throbbing?
I touched it and felt a huge knot there.
Great.
I was going to look like a mutant polka-dotted unicorn, wasn’t I?
Katy’s mom gasped. “If you go to the hospital, then you’d have to file a police report, right? My daughter is a good girl. I promise. I don’t know why she acted out like that. It’s not like her.”
I’d bet it was very much like Katy to act like this. But what I really needed was for this woman to be quiet. Her voice was grating on my nerves.
“I’m not pressing any charges,” I muttered, touching the knot again and flinching at the shot of pain that rushed through me.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you!” She seemed to think twice and hurried inside the restaurant before I changed my mind.
I didn’t even care. I just wanted her gone. And I wanted this headache to go away.
And I needed to know . . . “Did you get the rock, Jackson?”
“Of course that’s what you would think of.” Jackson reached beside me and grabbed something. “But since you asked, it’s right here. I told you this was a bad idea.”
“Really? This isn’t the best time to prove that you’re always right.”
He frowned. “Not my most sensitive moment. I apologize. But this has trouble written all over it.”
“There you go again.” The pounding in my head made me want to scream.
He extended his hand and helped me to my feet. “Is your vision okay? You’re not seeing double or anything?”
“No, I don’t think so. But have you always had three eyes?”
His eyes narrowed. All three of them. “Are you being funny?”
I flashed a grin. “I’m here all night, folks. Tickets, however, are nonrefundable.”
“Still doing the stand-up comedy routine, I see. At least you’re acting like yourself.” He led me away from the crowd. “There’s a message on the back of the rock, Joey.”
My silliness disappeared. “What does it say?”
“Look for answers here.” He looked back at Blackbeard’s Pleasure. “I’m not sure what this restaurant has to do with anything that’s been going on.”
“There’s only one way to find out. Let’s go in.”
He examined my face again. “I’m still worr
ied about your head.”
“I’m always worried about my head. That I’m not right in it.”
“That could be true.” He slipped his arm around me to help keep me steady.
Before we could make another move, a familiar face caught my eye.
It was Leonard Shepherd.
And he was watching us from across the parking lot.
Jackson took off toward Leonard.
I wanted to run also, but I knew I couldn’t. I felt too unsteady on my feet, and I knew I’d just get in the way.
I held my breath as I saw Leonard dart onto the busy highway. Cars slammed on brakes. Drivers honked. People yelled things from their windows. I felt as if I was doing a press junket in New York City.
I strained my neck, trying to see what was going on.
Was Jackson okay?
Please let him be okay.
I stepped closer to the hedge of shrubs that separated the parking lot from the street. I desperately wanted a glance. And I wanted answers. And I wanted my head to stop hurting.
Finally, Jackson emerged from the bushes. I darted toward him, pausing only when my head began to spin. He gripped my arms, as if he could sense my unsteadiness.
“What happened?” I rushed, wanting to skip the normal “Are you okay?” questions. If I had a nickel for every time sometime asked me that . . .
“Traffic. He got across and got away before I could catch him.”
I frowned, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I. Believe me.” He examined my face again. “Maybe you should reconsider going to the ER, Joey.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” It would be a waste of time because the doctor there would tell me the same thing. I knew the drill.
Someone stepped up from behind me—an older gentleman with white hair and glasses. “I saw what happened, and I’m a doctor. If you’re not going to be checked out, do you mind if I take a look?”
Jackson and I exchanged a glance, and I finally shrugged. “I guess.”
What could it hurt? Maybe it would make Jackson feel better.
Blooper Freak (The Worst Detective Ever Book 5) Page 9