Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3

by Laurie Larsen

  * * *

  Emma sat at her desk at work, staring at her computer screen. The cursor blinked at her, a mockery of her writer’s block. Go ahead, type something. You’ll just have to back up and delete it anyway. You suck.

  She smirked. Her vivid imagination was her best feature as a writer, but also her worst. She could easily outsmart herself and destroy her own confidence in her writing.

  She was working on the closing paragraph of her injured warrior assignment, a wonderful topic, one she felt extremely passionate about. Why did the beginning of this story literally flow off her fingertips onto the white screen, and yet the end was like slogging through the muck?

  Because she wanted to do justice to bringing this important story to an inspiring conclusion.

  She leaned back in her chair. Who was she kidding? She was blocked because of her relationship with Jeremy.

  She’d spent nearly every waking moment reliving in her mind that humiliating encounter with him. Was she wrong to show him how much she wanted him? Had he ever given her signs that he didn’t want a sexual relationship with her? Despite his heroic speech, could they ever recover from this and move on? Did she even want to date him knowing that she was crazed to throw him into bed at any opportunity, while he had some standard or timetable in his head that only he knew about?

  She didn’t like the sounds of that. On the other hand, the thought of walking away from him didn’t appeal to her either.

  Her endless mental rambles were interrupted when the cell phone in her desk drawer sounded. She pulled it open and glanced at the phone. “Hey, Mom.”

  Her voice was frantic, her tone wild. “He’s gone, Emma!”

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  “Your father. I got home a little early from work and there’s empty beer cans everywhere. He must’ve drank a least a dozen, maybe more.”

  “Oh my gosh, Mom. Where is he?” Adrenaline pounded through Emma’s veins, leaving her a little lightheaded.

  “He’s on a bender, I have no idea what caused it. But Emma, the car’s gone. He’s driving! It’s not safe.”

  Emma stood, grabbed her purse. “I’ll come get you, Mom. We’ll look for him together.”

  * * *

  Jeremy sat in his truck in the woods, waiting and waiting. Silence draped over the whole place, no human intervention, no traffic noise. But the longer he sat, through the open window, nature’s loud soundtrack emerged: birds chattering, insects chirping, long grass rustling.

  His phone rang. “Hello?”

  His dad’s voice filled his ear. “Jeremy, you free?”

  He looked around. Yes and no. “I’m waiting for a client so I can deliver an order.” In the background Jeremy heard raised voices, commotion, chaos. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “Marianne’s really worried. She’s misplaced Stella.”

  “What?”

  “Stella is missing. At least, we don’t know where she is. She’s not in her normal spots around the Inn and she doesn’t come when she’s called.”

  Jeremy pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. Two twenty. “Dad, I’ll be right there. Maybe I can help find her.”

  “Thanks, son.” The fact that his dad didn’t protest was not lost on Jeremy. Hank was all about work – servicing the customer, being productive. But when Jeremy offered to leave a client in the lurch to help look for Stella, he didn’t even blink.

  This must be serious.

  Jeremy started the truck and shifted to reverse. But before he took off, he really should call Joe Martin. If he was a legit customer, despite all the red flags, he at least deserved a call. Jeremy shifted back to park and placed the call.

  Two sounds had him moving his head to the right: a distant tinkle of a ring tone, and the arrival of a car pulling up right beside him. Mr. Martin. Good. He’d explain the family emergency and set up a new time for delivery of the furniture order.

  He cut the engine and jumped out of the truck, cell phone still in his hand. He circled the front of his truck and approached the car. “Mr. Martin. Glad to see you. I …”

  The man stumbled out of the front seat of the car, falling into the deep grass, then laughing – laughing – as he righted himself. Confused, Jeremy jogged over to help. When the man lifted his head, Jeremy gasped and froze in his tracks.

  The man’s phone, still in his hand, stopped ringing, most likely moving to voicemail. But this man, laboring on the ground to get to his feet, was not a new client, Joe Martin.

  This man was Emma’s father, Gary Slotky.

  Jeremy stared, motionless, his mind whirling to put together the pieces, and coming up empty. Mr. Slotky finally clambered to his feet, still chuckling, and Jeremy gave him a hand to steady him. A gust of breath shot into Jeremy’s face and Jeremy recoiled.

  Mr. Slotky was drunk. Stinkin’, falling down, no brain capacity, drunk.

  Jeremy took a tight grip on Slotky’s arm and pulled him out of the deep grass. “Mr. Slotky, why don’t you get into my truck and I’ll drive you home? You’re in no condition to drive.”

  The man roared in the false bravado of the enraged intoxicated. “Don’t you touch me, you horse’s ass. You ruined my whole life. You’re the root of all my problems. I’ll never forgive you. How dare you think you can help me now? I’m goin’ to ruin you like you ruined me.”

  Apprehension trickled down Jeremy’s chest. He was starting to understand. Slotky showing up here at this moment was not a coincidence. Jeremy was here waiting, because Slotky had put him here. “What do you mean, you’re going to ruin me?”

  The older man snatched his arm from Jeremy’s now sagging grasp. He stepped over to the bed of Jeremy’s truck, perusing the furniture. “That the order you made, huh?”

  Jeremy narrowed his eyes as realization hit him. Joe Martin, his huge customer who’d called out of nowhere. There was no Joe Martin. “You placed the order, didn’t you?”

  “I sure did. And you fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Didn’t take much to fool you. You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, are ya, boy?”

  At this moment, Jeremy had to agree he wasn’t.

  “All I had to do was give you a big order and you were salivating, thinking about collecting all that money from some poor sap. Your overpriced goods. You have no training, no education in furniture building. Yet you charge huge prices. Just like a Harrison to rip off the little people, take advantage of them, for their own gain.”

  It wasn’t even necessary to say it, but the words came out anyway, “You never had any intention of paying me for this work.” In his head he started calculating how much more this ruse had cost him. How much more behind he was in his inventory, in addition to the vandalism at his house, and the fire at the Inn.

  Jeremy jerked his head up at the man. He had to know. Was it all him? Had Emma’s father been tracking him for weeks now, looking for opportunities to sabotage him?

  Mr. Slotky was fiddling in his pocket and now pulled out a weapon. He brandished it, then put a foot up on Jeremy’s bumper, preparing to hoist himself onto the bed. Jeremy sprang into action. He covered the distance between them in a few steps, grabbed the man, pulled him away from the truck and threw him on the ground. While the man rolled around, Jeremy grabbed the tool in his hand and held it up for a closer inspection.

  It was a chisel – he had at least a dozen in his own collection – purchased at a hardware store for twenty bucks or less. Curved wooden handle, solid metal blade, a woodworker’s tool to mold a piece into the shape he wanted.

  “Did you use this when you came over to my house and vandalized my furniture in the backyard?”

  “You bet I did. And I’d’ve done every single one, too, if I hadn’t heard you coming out the back door when I was there. I got away without you seeing me.” Slotky had come to a sit, and now was struggling to stand as he continued. “That was just two little pieces, though, works in progress. That wasn’t enough of an impact on your business. If I wanted to bring
the whole thing down, I needed to go where you stored all your finished stuff.” He came to his feet, tilting and wobbling.

  “How’d you figure out where I stored my finished stuff?”

  The question brought another angry roar from the drunk man. “You Harrisons, you’re all alike! You don’t think I have a brain in my head, do you? You think I’m ignorant just because I haven’t worked in a while. Well, no. It wasn’t too hard, actually. Everyone in Pawleys knows it’s your sister who owns the Seaside Inn. So I moseyed over there to see what’s what.”

  Slotky stumbled back in the direction of his car and Jeremy followed close behind, keeping a close eye on the lunatic. He’d already disarmed him of the chisel. What else did he have in his bag of tricks that could be dangerous?

  “I went into the Inn and what do I see, a display in the corner about your furniture business. I took a closer look, and there on the bookshelf was a photo catalogue. That’s how I knew exactly what to ask for when I placed my order. As Joe Martin.” He let loose a huge chortle, so pleased with himself. Half a minute in, he started hacking and coughing, then bent in two at the waist, resting his hands on his knees.

  Jeremy turned away, disgusted. The man had bested him. He’d destroyed his furniture, he’d placed a huge fake order that he never intended to pay for, he’d put his whole family in danger. Although the man was in no condition to drive, Jeremy decided then and there, it wasn’t his problem. Let the man drive drunk and take the consequences, as long as he was done with Jeremy and his family.

  And as for Emma … as much as it pained him, in light of their recent non-contact, maybe God was telling him to move on without her.

  He wasn’t prepared for the stab of pain in his heart at that revelation. But how else could it be? Emma’s father hated him so much, he’d go to this extreme level to ruin him? Of course, Slotky thought that Jeremy had ruined him, years ago, and this was payback. Although Jeremy could point at a number of actions in this revenge plot that were illegal, he wouldn’t call the police and report him. He’d try to reason with the man. Convince him it was over now. He got his revenge. If he left Jeremy and Jeremy’s family alone, Jeremy would leave the Slotkys alone. Period.

  His mind made up, Jeremy turned back to Mr. Slotky. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement in the man’s backseat. What was back there? It had moved of its own accord, so it was alive. Had he brought a pet along with him? Had a wild animal settled back there?

  His investigation stopped short, though, with Slotky’s next words. “And the Inn is where I met your little niece.”

  Jeremy froze, a buzzing taking up residence in his ears. Stella. He gave his head a shake, stalked to Slotky, grabbed hold of his shirt and jerked him so mightily, he practically lifted him off his feet. “Stella? You met Stella?” A terrible dawning settled over Jeremy. What had this jerk done? How far had he gone? Just how crazy was he?

  He shook, the older man’s head rattling back and forth on his spine. “What have you done with Stella?”

  The crazy man didn’t answer, he just laughed, that drunken, crazy sound, now maniacal. Then it hit Jeremy: Grandpa Joe. “You gave Stella that necklace, didn’t you? The necklace with the pink sparkly stone. You gave it to her so she’d befriend you.”

  He dropped the man in a heap. He raced back to Slotky’s car, searching in the windows for any sign. Movement, something she’d left behind. The crazy son of a bitch – had he kidnapped Stella?

  “You stole my little girl, took her away from me. She loves you; God knows why. I can’t seem to do anything about that, but I can steal the little girl close to your heart. I sure can do that.”

  Jeremy searched the car. Within seconds, he frantically scoured the driver’s seat and the driver’s side back seat and found nothing. He raced around the vehicle and peered into the back seat. Then a door slammed and the car rolled away. The drunk had gotten back in the car and started the engine. As it passed, he pounded on the car and caught a glimpse of pink in the front passenger seat.

  Pink, pink. Stella’s favorite Myrtle Beach Pelicans baseball cap?

  He raced for his truck, jumped in and shoved it into gear. Slotky was right in front of him and he had no trouble catching up to him. They had gone off the gravel path now, and they jumped and bounced in their vehicles across the uneven terrain.

  That lunatic had Stella in that car! Driving under the influence! It wasn’t enough to chase him, he had to apprehend him, force him to come to a stop.

  Jeremy floored the accelerator and the powerful truck roared. He steered to the left, planning to pass him, then come to a fast stop in front, forcing Slotky to stop. But he drove into a trench and his truck momentarily grinded to a stop, spinning its tires as Slotky raced away.

  Jeremy rocked the truck out of the decline, reversing inches, forward inches, back and forth until he freed it from the ditch’s confines. He sped off.

  He drove down the gravel road he’d come in on. Hopefully he could catch Slotky before he turned on the highway, so he could follow close behind him. Then, once he hit the open road, he’d pull him over.

  Minutes passed with Jeremy’s heart in his throat. An unconscious prayer passed through his mind, “Help us, God, be with us, keep us safe. Let us get Stella back,” a string of thoughts on repeat through his head over and over.

  As he hoped, he caught up with Slotky’s car just as he was turning left on the highway. Jeremy turned and accelerated to pass him. But as he was beginning to apprehend the car, the back driver’s side door of the car flew open and flapped in the wind. Stella! Was she back there? Would she fall out? Was he pushing her out?

  Jeremy floored his gas pedal, passed the car easily and swerved in front. He squealed to a stop and braced himself. Slotky’s car slammed into his truck, broadside. The screeching sound of metal hitting metal filled the air, and the collision jolted the truck. Jeremy held on tight. Then, silence.

  He flung his door open and jumped down from the cab. He ran as fast as he could towards the car. In passing he saw that the wooden furniture had taken a major hit in the crash, random pieces of finished wood splintered everywhere. He reached the car. Slotky slumped unconscious in the driver’s seat, head on the wheel, blood flowing from a gash in his forehead. He ran right by him. He went first to the open back door and looked inside.

  No Stella. He raced around to the passenger side. He flung open the front door and in slow motion, he reached in and picked up the little girl’s baseball cap.

  * * *

  Within an hour, a small army had gathered to search for Stella. Marianne and Tom, Hank and Leslie, a bunch of the Seaside Inn guests who adored Stella. Jeremy called the police and they immediately came out, taking over the search and organizing the volunteers. Total strangers, trained in Search and Rescue, flocked around them, ready to lend a hand. From surrounding towns, as well as local Pawleys Island searchers, everyone wanted to find the precious little girl.

  The search area spanned from the broken down cabin where Jeremy first saw the flash of movement in the back seat of the car, all the way out to the crash site. Although Jeremy hadn’t seen her roll out of the car in motion, they weren’t going to rule it out. They would find her.

  Jeremy was assigned to the original site outside the cabin. He’d broken in through the cracked window, climbed in and unlocked the front door. He and his dad searched every inch of the place, small as it was, and didn’t find a trace of her.

  But that’s okay. He and Hank worked well as a team, always had. As long as they were working, sweating, doing the absolute best they could, they didn’t dwell on the reality. Stella was missing. She was alone. Kidnapped from the safety of her own home by a crazy man.

  Finished with the cabin, they circled around the back, planning to walk in circumference, widening their diameter as they went. Jeremy heard his dad say, “Jeremy.”

  Jeremy’s head went up and he joined Hank. He was studying the rusty metal door of a storm cellar in the overgrown backy
ard of the cabin. They glanced at each other for a second, then went to work on the door. After some pounding, hoisting and pulling, the door sprung open with a groan.

  “Hold on,” Hank said, and he went to his truck, returning with two flashlights. He tossed one to Jeremy. They ventured down the short stairwell to the concrete floor, sweeping the lights back and forth at their feet. Once down in the cellar, they had to bend at the waist and walk leaning over. They took time to inspect every centimeter of the place.

  Nothing here. Certainly not Stella.

  Relief flooded Jeremy that they hadn’t found her here in this dark, moldy place. Then reality. If she wasn’t here, then where?

  He followed his dad back up the cement steps and heard his voice say, “Oh, hello there.” Jeremy emerged a second later and saw Emma.

  He had no idea what to do or say, no idea at all what she was thinking, or where they were at in their so-called relationship. He was clueless, but fortunately, she knew exactly what to do. She stepped right up to him and wrapped him in her strong arms. She patted her hands on his back and his shoulders and she whispered into his chest. He couldn’t detect what she was saying, or maybe she was just shushing, a comforting sound, to calm him like a mother would to her child. All he knew was, she was here, she was holding him and she knew exactly what he needed.

  Eventually, she pulled back and placed her hands on his cheeks. He said, “Your father …”

  She said in an urgent tone, “I know. I know everything. My father went crazy and caused all this chaos. My mom and I met his ambulance at the hospital. He was driving drunk, totally fell off the wagon. I’m so sorry, Jeremy. So, so sorry for what he did to you and your family.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and her voice choked. All he could think to say was, “Stella …”

  Another surge of anger strengthened Emma. “He kidnapped your precious little niece. He put her in the car and put her in danger. I will never forgive him for this. Neither will my mom. Let’s search together. I want to help you find her.”