“I can drive you.” He stood and stretched. “Let me just get ready first.”
“I’ll let Ripley outside,” I said. “I’ll be downstairs.”
With Ripley on my heels, I meandered down the stairs, still reeling from last night. Still extremely tired from staying up for most of the evening. Still dreaming about what it would be like to wake up to Jackson every day.
As soon as I reached the driveway beneath his house, I paused.
I felt someone’s gaze on me.
As I glanced across the grass, I saw Crista standing in her yard watering some . . . cacti? Ripley bounded toward her, and she patted his head.
My muscles instantly tensed, and then they tensed again when I realized she wasn’t just gazing at me. She was staring—possibly even scowling—at me.
I knew exactly how this looked. And explaining to her that I had a concussion and Jackson had helped me stay awake seemed complicated.
As had explaining my relationship with Jackson. And that was what got me into this whole situation: poor explanations.
To my surprise, Crista charged toward me.
“You could have just told me,” she spouted. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes were beady little orbs of accusation.
“This isn’t . . . what it looks like.” Wasn’t that what everyone said?
“Then what is it?”
And here I went. “I was at a restaurant last night, and this little girl threw a rock, and it hit me in the forehead. I had a concussion and—”
“You really expect me to believe that?” She stared at me like I was the village idiot.
I shrugged. “Um . . . yeah. Because it’s the truth.”
“I heard you guys laughing last night.” She said it as if laughing was scandalous.
“We do laugh together a lot. Is that a crime?” I heard the irritation in my voice and decided to regroup. “Look, I wasn’t trying to deceive you. Jackson and I like each other, but we’re not dating. It’s complicated, and I don’t feel like I need to explain myself anymore. But I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”
She nudged her chin up, seeming speechless, if only for a minute.
Before she could say anything, Jackson pounded down the steps. He smiled at Crista as he reached me. Droplets of shower water still clung to his hair, and he’d shaven, revealing smooth, touchable skin. Although I liked his scruff also.
Him looking like this probably only solidified Crista’s assumptions.
“Hey, Crista,” Jackson said. “Good morning.”
Instantly, all her bad vibes disappeared—including her venom-filled eyes and cobra-hood flaring nostrils. “Hey, Jackson. I just came over to say hello. Do you need me to watch Ripley for you today?”
“I’m not sure what’s going on today, but I’ll be in touch. Would that be okay?”
“Oh, of course. Any time you need me.” She waved her fingers in the air and smiled. “Okay, I’ll be seeing you around.”
What in the world did that interchange mean? Was she still flirting with Jackson? When I said we weren’t officially dating, did that mean she felt like she still had a chance?
More frustration pinched at me.
Jackson squeezed my arm. “You ready?”
I nodded, pushing the exchange out of my mind for now. “Let’s put Ripley back inside and go.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Thirty minutes later, Jackson and I sat on a wooden pew in the small, traditional church my father had attended.
I always felt close to my dad when I was in this sanctuary with its beautiful stained-glass windows and glossy wood trim. The connection my dad had with this place was the original reason I’d come here in the first place. I’d wanted to find out anything I could about my dad’s last days in this area before he disappeared.
But sitting on this pew took me back in time to my childhood. To my roots. To what was important.
And now I hated to miss a service. I loved the spirit of the people here. The sense of community. The wisdom and reminder of a higher purpose in life.
Halfway through the service, my phone buzzed. It took everything in me not to check it right then and there. But as soon as the last song was sung, I excused myself and checked my messages. Two older ladies caught Jackson and began chatting with him, giving me a moment of privacy.
It was from Annette. Another clue had been posted on the #JoeyRocks page.
I quickly clicked over to see it.
It was another rock with a similar color scheme to the first. The clue that had been left: Examine the 257.
What did that mean?
I closed my eyes, tired of these games. Yet I knew I couldn’t let this go. I punched in “257 + OuterBanks” into my search engine.
Wouldn’t you know, the Cape Hatteras lighthouse just happened to have 257 steps?
“What are you doing?” Jackson asked, joining me.
I showed him my phone screen.
“Another one, huh?”
I nodded. “I don’t know about you, but I know where I’m heading.”
Jackson and I found the rock hidden in the shadow of the lighthouse. As I examined this second rock, I hoped I might find more answers. But the lines and circles still meant nothing to me, nor did the location.
I glanced up at Jackson, but his expression was hard to read with his sunglasses on.
“What do you think this means?” I asked, stepping into the shade of some live oaks.
He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“It obviously has something to do with this investigation,” I mused aloud, moving aside so a large group of tourists could get by on the narrow path. “Blackbeard’s Pleasure was a location where Morty went last week. Maybe Morty came here also?”
“It’s a good guess. But even if he was here, the bigger question is why. What was he up to?”
I glanced around. “We found this near the lighthouse itself, but there are a lot of hiking trails here, as well as endless amounts of sand dunes. There are a lot of secluded, isolated places.”
“Places that are perfect for crimes.” Jackson sighed. “Let me see if I can find a park ranger to speak with. I have a couple of friends who work here.”
He called someone, and a few minutes later, Ranger Grayson met us. He was in his thirties with dark hair and a beard. He and Jackson did one of those man-hug things.
Before the conversation could start, a strong wind swept across the area, nearly blowing the ranger’s hat off.
“Forecasters said that a hurricane might be headed this way,” Grayson said, looking up at the branches around us. “It’s growing stronger every day, and the red flags are up.”
“People still going out in the surf?” Jackson asked.
“Of course. We’ve already had three rescues this week since the current started to grow stronger. We can’t seem to drill it into people’s heads that these waters are dangerous.” He tugged at his hat again as the wind continued to blow. “But that’s not what you came to talk about, is it?”
“Unfortunately, it’s not,” Jackson said.
“What can I do for you? I assume this isn’t a social visit—though I would love to go fishing with you again sometime.”
“I wish it was a fun visit.” Jackson shifted toward me. “By the way, I haven’t introduced you yet. This is Joey Darling.”
I extended my hand and watched as recognition rolled across his features.
“You’re the actress I’ve heard so much about,” Grayson said. “My little sister would flip out right now if she knew I was talking to you.”
“Would she? That’s so sweet. But tell her I’m not really that exciting in real life.”
“Are you kidding? And let her down like that?” Grayson swung his head back and forth.
“Joey’s life is actually a little bigger than the movies, so don’t listen to her,” Jackson teased.
Grayson smiled. “She’s a huge fan. She’s been plotting ways she might run into you even.”
“Plot no more,” I said. “I’m sure we can arrange something. I’ll share my info before we leave.”
“That would be awesome.” He turned back to Jackson. “There we go getting sidetracked again. What can I do for you?”
“We’re following a lead on some suspicious activities that have been going on up in Nags Head.” Jackson held up the rock. “It involves these.”
Grayson examined it and let out a little grunt. “Never seen it before.”
“We suspect this might have something to do with a murder investigation,” Jackson explained.
Grayson looked up, curiosity in his gaze. “That body that was found buried in the sand? I heard about that.”
“Has there been anything going on around here that’s out of the ordinary?” I asked.
“Besides some online ‘stars’ trying to do stunts on the lighthouse for their YouTube channel?” He sighed. “We had some reports of some suspicious men meeting in the woods near the Buxton trails.”
“What kind of suspicious men?” Jackson asked.
“It’s hard to say because we never caught any of them,” he said. “They weren’t there for long—but long enough for some visitors to spot them.”
“Any idea what they were doing?”
“My best guess is a drug deal of some sort. I have no idea why they would meet here as opposed to maybe at their home, where no one would see them. But I don’t give these guys advice. Let them do their business out in the open. It’s easier to catch them and stop them that way.”
“Good to know,” Jackson said. “If you discover anything else, would you let me know?”
“No problem.”
I smiled at him. “And I’ll be in touch.”
Jackson was called into work, so I decided to go to Willie Wahoo’s. Maybe I could discover something there. I just needed to stay on the down low, I reminded myself as I walked inside.
“If it isn’t Joey Darling?”
“Hey, Joey, my girl.”
“Can I have your autograph?”
Okay, so maybe Willie Wahoo’s on the down low wouldn’t be happening this afternoon. Wouldn’t you know that this just so happened to be the one day that I knew several people who were hanging out there?
I smiled, trying to be gracious, and then I sat at the bar and ordered seltzer water with cucumber and mint. I didn’t do alcohol, mostly because it made me into someone I didn’t want to be. I hadn’t touched the stuff in more than a year.
At once, memories of being here with Zane flooded my thoughts. He was my first friend when I arrived in town. He’d tagged along on my first case and had brought me to this very place in a quest for answers.
I smiled as I remembered him pulling me up onto the bar so we could sing karaoke to “Summer Loving” from Grease. It had been fun and freeing and had solidified our friendship. Then he’d kissed me, and confusion had set in. Despite that, we’d pressed on as friends. He’d even gone to LA with me for my Family Secrets movie premiere.
Now he was behind bars and accused of murder. I was surprised the National Instigator hadn’t caught wind of it. Or maybe they had. I wasn’t going to check.
I pressed my lips together. This wasn’t the way I wanted things to turn out. I wanted a happy ending, but that was seeming less likely all the time.
I closed my eyes a minute and listened to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” playing on the overhead. I listened to the chatter of patrons. At the click of wood hitting balls on the pool table.
Once I felt like my mind was more focused, I forced my eyes open, determined not to waste a single opportunity.
My gaze drifted around the restaurant. Billy Corbina was behind the bar. He was about my age, with a shaved head that sported a scar of some sort at his temple. He thought he was all that and a bag of . . . well, chips seemed too tame. A bag of “I’m special” cards.
I watched him, interested in seeing if he acted like he was in mourning. From what I could tell, he was acting the same—unfazed by the tragedy one of his friends had endured. He laughed. Served alcohol. Winked at a pretty girl who passed.
Wasn’t that interesting?
I watched as a man I’d never seen before—that was nothing unusual, especially considering it was tourist season—walked over to Billy. The two chatted, leaning their heads close.
Interesting.
The other man looked sketchy. I mean, I tried not to judge and everything. But when you were tatted up and down your arms and neck, when you sagged your jeans, and when you had a shady gaze, people drew conclusions.
I made a mental note of the man, just in case I needed to reference him later. Could he possibly be the man Morty had met with at Blackbeard’s Pleasure?
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?” I looked over and saw Morty’s friend Evan slide up beside me.
“It’s a free country,” I finally said. It seemed lame, like a line from TV. Actually, it was a line from television. “Who’s the guy Billy is talking to?”
His face went a little paler, and he shrugged. “Beats me.”
I didn’t believe him.
“Weren’t you friends with Morty?” I continued.
He shrugged again. “Maybe.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, I am too. He was a good guy. He had some problems, but don’t we all?”
“What do you think happened?” It was amazing the answers I got when I asked that simple question.
“I don’t know. And if you’re smart, you’ll stop asking that question.”
It wasn’t the response I’d hoped for. “I’m surprised you’re not the one out there asking questions. You were his friend.”
“I know who you are.” He scowled and downed another gulp of his beer. “You’re Zane’s friend.”
“You know Zane?”
“Of course I know Zane. We all hang together.”
“Do you think he did it?” I asked.
He snorted. “Beats me. Not really. But do you ever really know people?”
I turned toward him. “What was in the package Morty tried to give Zane before he died?”
His face grew even paler. “What package?”
“You know the package I’m talking about.”
He glanced at Billy and rubbed his throat. “No, I don’t.”
He was spooked. But why?
Billy glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting I can’t miss.”
Billy was leaving? During prime business hours? That seemed unlike him. Just who was he meeting?
Billy grabbed his keys and started toward the back exit.
This conversation was getting me nowhere. But maybe following Billy would.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’d followed Billy, hoping to get some type of clue. Instead, I discovered what kind of grocery store he liked to shop at. I’d given up after thirty minutes.
It was just as well because I’d totally forgotten that I’d told Dizzy we could have coffee together today. We met at my favorite joint, Sunrise Coffee Co., and I told her about my day thus far, ending with my conversation with Evan and me following Billy.
“We should go to Billy’s house,” Dizzy said. “It seems like the only obvious thing.”
“I don’t even know where he lives.” I’d gone to a party he’d hosted once, but I was pretty sure he’d rented that beachfront mansion just for the occasion.
“I do.”
I stared at her. “How do you know that?”
“Because I cut his housekeeper’s hair. She told me.” She paused. “You want me to bring the Hot Chicks?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to bring Dizzy. I loved her, but the woman was like a heat-seeking missile when it came to drawing attention to herself.
“No, just you and me would be great.”
She stood. “Let’s go then.”
“Um . . . okay then.” I was used to being the one with the foolhardy, impulsive ide
as. Being pressured into doing something dumb by someone else left me feeling off balance.
A few minutes later, we were in my car, and Dizzy was staring at her phone and spouting out directions. Several turns later, we pulled up to a house in the Colington community of the Outer Banks. According to Dizzy, mostly locals lived in this area since it was off the beaten path from the ocean.
I parked on the street, several spaces down from Billy’s place. The sky had grown dark—partly because it was getting late and partly because we were supposed to have thunderstorms anytime now. The wind had already picked up, sending stray leaves running for their lives across the asphalt.
Which was exactly what Dizzy and I should be doing also.
I’d seen a car in the driveway as I passed, and I knew it was Billy’s. He was here. So now what did we do? Staring at the car and house didn’t seem productive.
“Let’s go see what he’s doing.” Dizzy opened the car door.
“Wait, wait, wait.” I grabbed her arm. Was this what Jackson felt like with me all the time? God bless his soul for putting up with this and not wringing my neck. “What are we going to do? The house is on stilts. We can’t even peek inside.”
She nodded at the foliage surrounding the place. “But it’s got some nice-sized trees around it. You can just climb one of those.”
“Oh, I can just climb one, huh? That sounds . . . productive.” And dangerous. Especially with my track record for accidents.
“You did that one time on Relentless.”
“Correction: Raven did it on Relentless. I was actually sitting three feet from the ground, but special effects are a wonderful thing.”
“You can do it.”
If only everyone had that much confidence in me.
“Okay, let’s give this the old college try.” I climbed out, resigned to the fact that I had no better ideas.
Staying out of sight was going to be difficult considering that Dizzy was wearing a bright-purple caftan that would look close to an orb out in the woods. But at least it was getting darker. As long as it didn’t start lightning and the bolts didn’t illuminate us, maybe we could remain hidden.
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