Lines in the Sand (Crossing The Lines #0.5)

by Sc Montgomery

  Formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs

  Crossing The Line Series

  Lines in the Sand

  Two Blue Lines (Coming Soon)

  Blurred Lines (Coming 2015)

  Between the Lines (Coming Late 2015)

  For Mom.

  It’s always been yours.

  Finding Lettie

  My life changed forever this summer. And it wasn’t because I turned thirteen, or that we’d just survived our second hurricane. This will forever and always be the summer I touched my first dead body.

  Okay, not a whole dead body. A bone. But close enough.

  It started out like any other summer Saturday. I ate my bowl of Cap’n Crunch, caught a rerun of MythBusters, managed to avoid a shower after finishing my stupid chores. Then I finally talked Mom into letting me go meet my best buddy, Jonah, down by the pier.

  “Hey, Reed,” he called as I rolled up on my skateboard, the wind off the water whipping his too-long hair into his eyes. “What’s up?”

  I jumped off my board and popped it up into my hand, bypassing a seagull feasting on a trashed hamburger on the sandy ground. “Nothin’. Same ol’. Well, Isabelle was in my room stealing my anime books again.” My little sister was the bane of my existence. Brat.

  He nodded, commiserating, as we strolled the sand dunes, the rushing waves pounding in the background. He probably understood more than most, having five younger siblings and one older brother. “Yeah. Matthew, Mark, and John all ganged up on my video games yesterday.” Did I mention they all have Biblical names? Straight up Old Testament for the older two, New Testament for the babies. Except for the youngest, Esther. His parents said there were no good girl names in the New Testament. Weirdos.

  “Bummer. Sorry,” I said as we walked on in silence, the gusts of salty air rushing through our hair and stinging our eyes. But this was still our favorite place to hang out. Always had been, probably always would be. The girls in bikinis didn’t hurt either.

  We criss-crossed some old sand flats, walking farther than usual, until we finally stopped and plopped down. Jonah pulled a crumpled package of Wrigley’s from his pocket and offered me up a piece. “Seen Melissa’s tits lately? They’re getting big.” He held up a hand to indicate a nice handful—at least a ripe granny smith—though I think he was exaggerating.

  I grinned, forcing my gaze away. I couldn’t let him know how I felt about all that. I was an idiot, crushing on the hot girl. “Nah, dude. They’re not that big.” But I’d noticed too, cuz Melissa, well, she was Melissa. I noticed everything about her. Her long, brown hair the same color as Megan Fox’s. (Wowza.) And, if I got close enough, I could catch whiffs of her sweet shampoo. I’d also seen inside her locker . . . she liked the Misfits, anime, and horror movies. It didn’t get much more perfect than that. But it did. She also had the coolest brown eyes. Not brown, not black, but some dark, liquidy color in between. And, she was smart.

  Yeah, I’d noticed. Not that I’d had the guts to talk to her.

  “Whatever.” Jonah smacked his gum and flopped onto his back to stare up at the sky.

  I squinted and studied the flowing, murky blue water. “So, you coming over for dinner?”

  He shuffled his ratty tennis shoe deep into the sand, disrupting an old piece of plastic wrap, and a tumble of sand rolled down our small hill above the beach. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to. I knew the answer. “Sure. I guess.”

  Jonah came to dinner nearly every night. I didn’t think his parents knew or cared where he was—no, I knew they didn’t. All those Biblical names were just for show because the King family wasn’t all that Christian and caring. Not to their kids, anyway. And I think Mom knew more than she let on, because she barely let me go over to their house, and I heard her say something once about two-faced serpents . . . and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t talking about any snakes in the garden. But she didn’t mind Jonah coming over. It seemed sometimes like she loved him more than she loved me. But it was cool. Most of the time. He’d been my best friend since we were ten and my family moved to this little Texas refinery town for my dad’s job.

  “Sweet,” I said, eying a boat the size of a white marble in the distance. “I think she’s making pork chops tonight.”

  He nodded and kept toeing the sand between us, now disrupting an old soda bottle as the waves lapped in the distance and a gull cawed loudly overhead. Cars began to trickle into the parking lot about a hundred yards away as vacationers started showing up with their chairs and umbrellas, staking their claims to small patches of sand on the beach.

  I kept my eyes peeled in case a hot girl in a bikini appeared so I could be the first to see her and call dibs . . . though the only girl I really wanted to see was Melissa Summers.

  Just as a potential hottie with long blond hair was walking from the family van to the water’s edge, my shoe was covered by a landslide of sand. “Hey! What’re you doin’, man?”

  Jonah rolled his head toward me from where he was still lying. “Sorry, dude. It just slid loose. Accident.” But his half-grin said he wasn’t that sorry.

  I stood to shake the sand off, aggravated that I could already feel the grit in my sock.

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, something caught my attention.

  I couldn’t say why, it wasn’t large, or shiny. But it drew me. About two feet from where Jonah had shifted the sand with his dumb foot, a tattered piece of fabric laid buried in the sand.

  I knelt down and examined it.

  Jonah sat up. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

  “I don’t know. Some cloth or something.” I inched closer and touched it, an eerie feeling sliding through my body.

  Jonah popped onto his knees and crawled over. “Lemme see . . .”

  “No!” I held out a hand to stop him. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want him to touch it. “I got it.” I gave the fabric a tug and a big piece yanked free to whip in my hand with the wind.

  We both looked it over. It was dingy, but it had obviously been white once with little yellow flowers.

  “What do you think it is?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” I said, but I somehow knew it was something. My heart began to pound as I handed the cloth to Jonah and raked my fingers through the sand looking for a bigger piece.

  We glanced over as someone on the beach gave a yell as they chased a Frisbee in the warming beach air. The surf continued to pound the beach, the gulls continued their mournful cries, the kids continued to build their castles. Someone’s barbeque scented the air.

  Jonah and I looked at each other. He felt it, too. He nodded, indicating that I should continue digging. It didn’t need to be spoken—this morning we were on a different journey. No more kid stuff.

  A couple minutes later, my fingertips grazed something hard. I froze.

  “What?” Jonah demanded. “You find something else?”

  I peered up at him where he sat still with the piece of fabric clutched in his hand like a lifeline. “Maybe?”

  “Well, dig it up.” He moved closer as excitement tinged his voice. He’d always been the adrenalin junkie, but not the one to get his hands dirty. How was that fair? I shot him a nasty look.

  I sifted my fingertips through the sand a second time. I felt it again. Firm. Cool. I gripped it and yanked.

  I came up with a long strip of leather. Like the cloth, it was weathered and old and it was hard to tell what it could’ve been.

  Though, as I touched the cracked strip, a rush of reverence washed over my heart. I glanced up as a cloud momentarily floated in front of the sun, blocking its rays.

  “Dude . . .” Jonah reached out and brus
hed his fingers across the leather, his tone quiet and respectful.

  I flipped it over and we both touched it again, realizing at the same time that letters were etched into the back side.

  “What’s it say?” Jonah glanced up into my eyes.

  I traced a capital ‘L,’ tried to sound out the other letters, which had faded over time.

  “Lettuce?”

  “No, stupid,” I thunked Jonah on the arm. I ran my fingers through the engraving again. “Lettie.”

  “Who’s Lettie?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Really?” I studied the things we had in our hands again. “Probably some old lady who lost her stuff at the beach.” Surely these were just parts of an old dress and some kind of purse or weird, hippy jewelry or something. I mean, who wore leather bands these days?

  “I guess you’re right.” His face dropped in disappointment. What, did he think it would be some hot chick’s stuff we’d get to return for a reward?

  “Of course I’m right.” But I was disappointed, too. I was sure there would be something more when I first saw that fabric poking out of the sand. Must’ve been too much Cap’n Crunch. Sugar rush. Mom was right.

  Jonah stood. “Well, let’s get outta here. I’m hungry and bored.”

  “Okay.”

  He tossed down the tattered fabric and it floated above the sand in an eerie dance with the wind for a moment, as though hesitant to go anywhere. And, I had to admit, I didn’t want to let it go, even then. I stooped to pick it up with the leather band still gripped in my fist.

  And that’s when I saw it.

  I swallowed the lump that threatened to choke me as my heart began to pound viciously in my chest.

  I sank to my knees and blinked to clear my eyes.

  Oh, crap.

  I wanted to puke.

  How could we have missed that?

  There, right next to where I’d been digging, a small, white bone—about the size of a human finger—poked mockingly up from the sand.

  With shaking hands, I plucked it up and examined it. Yup. I’m no scientist, but it was definitely a bone.

  I looked at Jonah, whose eyes were about as big as half-dollars, and looked about ready to piss his pants. “Lettie?” he croaked.

  We weren’t sticking around to find out. We ran for home like hell hounds were after us.

  That afternoon, we made excuses to hang around my house the rest of the day, rushed through dinner, then locked ourselves away in my bedroom.

  Jonah flopped down onto my video game chair. “Man.” He finally looked me in the eye for probably the first time since we’d returned from our find at the beach. “What are we gonna do?”

  I shot a glance to my closet, where I’d hidden all the stuff we found—including the bone—in my grandpa’s old military ammo box. “What do you mean?”

  He sat forward and swallowed, his eyes darting around nervously. “Dude!” He lowered his voice in a stage whisper, “We found somebody’s bone.”

  “So what?”

  “So what? So what?” His face bloomed an interesting shade of pink. “Did it ever occur to you that people aren’t buried at the beach?”

  He tilted his head and waited as his question sunk in. Suddenly, the blood drained out of my brain, making me dizzy. “So . . .”

  “So, what if Lettie was . . . murdered?” He forced the last word out with a painful squeak.

  My eyes popped open. No way.

  But it was possible.

  “And,” he continued, “whoever killed her dumped her body at the beach.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed as the implication of this settled in. Poor woman. We needed to tell someone . . .

  “. . . we can’t tell a soul . . .”

  My head snapped up. “What? Why not?”

  “Man. Don’t you watch CSI? We have evidence from the crime scene all over us. In your bedroom.” He pointed to my closet. “They’ll think we had something to do with it, nimrod. And even if they don’t pin it on us, they’ll probably get us for tampering with evidence or obstruction of justice or something. It’s just better if we leave it alone.”

  My heart sank as my conscience gnawed at every fiber of my gut. He made sense, but could I let this go? Could I do that to Lettie, whoever she was?

  No. I couldn’t.

  “Well, what if we don’t go to the cops, but look for some clues by ourselves?” I suggested, hoping to tug on Jonah’s sense of adventure, if not his conscience.

  “Clues to what?” he asked, suspicion coloring his words. “I ain’t goin’ after no murderer.”

  I glanced at my closet door. “No. No murderer. How about we see if we can find out who Lettie was?”

  That seemed to spark some interest in him.

  Who knew? Maybe she was loved and missed by someone out there, and we could anonymously lead them to her. Then my conscience could be clear. End of story.

  The Witch

  Bright and early the next morning, Jonah and I set out for old man Gus’ store. It’d been beachside, selling food, gas, and last minute beach items to beachgoers practically forever. Surely Gus would know if a lady named Lettie had ever gone missing around here.

  We ambled in, cool and nonchalant like, and browsed the candy aisle. I picked up a package of Air Heads, Jonah a Starburst. We’d decided low key was the best way to play it, not calling any attention to ourselves. And definitely not saying anything about what we’d found. We trusted Gus, heck he was like the grandpa I never had, but there was no telling what he’d do if we told him we found a body on the beach. So mum was the word.

  Jonah and I exchanged a look and made our way to the soda display and perused the energy drinks. Thank goodness for summer chores, or we’d be broke ass.

  I glanced over as the door chimed. My heart stumbled in my chest when Melissa walked in with two of her friends from school, all of them in bikini tops and denim shorts. Holy shit, maybe Jonah’d been right about those granny smiths. I obviously had no idea what she’d been hiding under those Misfits T-shirts. I gulped.

  The girls moved to the candy aisle we’d just been in and giggled, much like normal girls, and Melissa’s face lit up as she selected a bag of Twizzlers. Boy, she was pretty.

  My stomach dropped clear to my toes when her ultra-dark eyes met and pinned mine. Her smile widened and she waved shyly, acknowledging me and Jonah.

  Jonah waved back while I just stared, then he elbowed me in the ribs with a guffaw. “Told you. Hot. Why don’t you ask her for her number, Romeo?”

  My eyes never left her as the girls paid for their food and strolled out the glass door, the little bell above them chiming. “Shut up.”

  “Well, then maybe I will.”

  I lasered him with a glare. “You will not.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Nah. She’s not my type. I don’t like goth chicks.”

  “She’s not goth.” No, she wasn’t goth. She wasn’t anything but perfect. I wish I had the nerve to talk to her. Or that she’d talk to me.

  “Whatever.” He indicated our candy and sodas. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I nodded and we made our way up to Gus at the worn counter just as another customer left with her stack of lottery tickets. Glancing down, my eyes caught on the chips and pen marks that had marred his countertop as long as I could remember. A heart caught my eye, penned in blue ink, with ‘M+R’ in the middle. What were the chances . . . ?

  Gus cleared his throat as he wiped his hands on his round belly with a smile. “Hello, boys,” he said, his rosy cheeks shining in the fluorescent lighting.

  “Morning, Mr. Gus,” Jonah said as he placed our purchases on the counter.

  “Fine day for going to the beach,” Gus commented as he rang us up.

  I agreed half-heartedly and paid once he totaled up the price. Jonah glanced at me as Gus handed me the change.

  It was now or never.

  I swallowed and spit out the lie we’d concocted. “Hey, Gus? We thought we overheard something
about a lady named Lettie who might’ve gone missing from around here? It could’ve been a long time ago?” I chanced a look into Gus’ eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? We were just curious, is all. Not much happens around here, you know. We were bored, looking for a good story.” God, I hope that didn’t sound as wooden and fake as it felt rolling off my tongue.

  Gus didn’t flinch, so he must not have suspected anything. He leaned his meaty hands on the counter and stared off into space like he was thinking. The bell over the door chimed again as an old woman walked in. He waved as the lady made her way to the dairy section.

  “Hmmm . . . well, boys, Lettie, you say?”

  We nodded, silently begging him to remember something.

  “Maybe. Something about the name rings a bell.”

  “Really?” Jonah sounded excited. I shot him a look to cool it so we didn’t tip anyone off.

  I glanced over my shoulder as the woman made her way behind us with her gallon of milk. I wished Gus would hurry—I didn’t want anyone to overhear.

  Gus snapped his fingers. “I got it! I remember now. Wow. That was maybe thirty, forty-some-odd years ago. I can’t believe that’s come up again. Where’d you hear about her?”

  “Oh, you know, just around,” I him-hawed, trying to sidetrack him. “So, who was she?”

  His brows thundered down. “Lettie was a bad, bad woman, boys. You wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with her. There were mumblings around here that she was a witch, and anyone who came near her—who even touched her—would be cursed forever. I swear, if there were such things as witch trials and burnings, she would’ve been lit up, the people hated her so much. Especially after a little girl that lived down the street from her almost drowned in the ocean.

  “Then, one day, she just disappeared without a trace. To this day, nobody knows what happened to her.” He peered around quickly, then leaned in. “But, honestly, boys, I was glad she was gone. Our town was much more peaceful after she left and the curses stopped.”

  Jonah and I exchanged a horrified glance.