Reign of Error (The Worst Detective Ever Book 2)

by Christy Barritt

  “You’re not fooling me.” She narrowed her eyes. “You need to stay away.”

  “Stay away from what?” Maybe I could get more information. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  “I know who you are.”

  I raised my chin. “Joey Darling. I’m just an actress. Perhaps you’re mistaking me for my alter ego.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Drop the airhead act, Joey. You don’t want to end up like Douglas Murray, do you?”

  On the positive side, she’d just admitted she knew who the dead guy was and that I was connected with him. I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. I just hoped an alien didn’t burst from her chest. Based on the look on her face right now, it was entirely possible.

  “That wasn’t his real name.”

  “You figured that out, huh?” She laughed, almost as if she couldn’t believe me.

  “He may have died because of me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “My picture was in his pocket. That wasn’t a mistake.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You really need to stay out of this.”

  “You keep saying that, but I have no idea why. None of this makes sense to me.”

  “It’s not supposed to make sense to you. You’re a bystander. You need to keep it that way by minding your own business. Not everyone is as nice as I am.”

  “Who are you?” The questions just kept escaping before I could stop them. She had information I wanted.

  “Again, none of your business. You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Men who have no regard for human life. Men who will kill you if you get too close.”

  “Who are they?”

  “The less you know, the better.”

  “How is my father involved?”

  “Who said he was involved? Think what you want, but assumptions don’t prove anything.”

  “He’s the connection between this investigation and Douglas—Max Anderson.”

  Military Woman shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

  “Why were you meeting Hal?”

  My question stopped her cold, but she quickly snapped out of her stupor. “We’re old friends.”

  I shook my head, another idea coming to me. “Hal was helping those hooligans with their burglary schemes, wasn’t he? Maybe even taking a cut from them. They stole that camera from Max’s condo, and it has evidence on it that could incriminate you.”

  Her bottom lip dropped open ever so slightly. Then she went back into GI Jane mode and gnarled at me. “I’m not going to warn you again. Stay out of this. Nothing good will come from your questions. Nothing.”

  With that, she gave me one last dirty look and walked away.

  And I did what any good investigator would do. I followed her.

  I lost Military Woman’s car as she zoomed back to Nags Head. She must have been going one hundred miles per hour. I couldn’t do that. I just couldn’t. It wasn’t my jam.

  I’d tried in vain to find her again. She was long gone, obviously more experienced at this kind of thing than I was. Go figure.

  I was getting closer to some answers. I knew I was.

  Instead of going home, I headed to Oh Buoy. It was a long shot that Alexa would be there, but I desperately needed to know why she’d interviewed my dad. If she was a part of this somehow, I felt 80 percent confident I could take her down.

  Sure enough, she was sitting in the corner with her notebook again. I marched right toward her and slid into the booth, sitting across from her without invitation.

  Her eyes widened when she looked up and saw me. Before I could get a word out, she said, “Yes, I interviewed your father.”

  That had been incredibly easy. I upped my chances to 90 percent. “About what?”

  “The book I’m writing has to do with dolphins. One of the characters does dolphin tours. That’s it. That’s why. I didn’t even know he was your father at the time. I was just doing research.”

  I tried to keep my expression neutral. “When did you do this interview with him?”

  She looked out the window, her eyes quickly traveling from left to right in thought. “Probably four months ago.”

  “Four months ago is when he disappeared,” I told her.

  She frowned and ran her hand across her leather notebook. “I heard.”

  I narrowed my eyes slightly, surprised. As far as I knew, the police had never officially opened an investigation on my father. There were no signs of foul play or illegal activity. So how did she know?

  “How did you hear that?” I asked.

  She swallowed hard, looking pale and slightly frightened. Did I really have that effect on her? I mentally patted myself on the back.

  “I went back to do follow-up questions, and the man he worked for told me he was gone. I asked when he’d be back, and his boss said he had no idea. I didn’t know your father well, but he didn’t seem like the type to take off like that.”

  She’d surmised correctly.

  “Did my dad say anything interesting during the interview?”

  “Oh, a lot of stuff about dolphins. It was really quite fascinating—”

  I didn’t have time to listen to a mini-documentary on dolphins right now. “About anything besides dolphins?”

  “He did ask me if I was writing a mystery novel.”

  “Why is that interesting?” I was trying to follow. I really was.

  “He said he could tell me some tales, if I ever wanted to change my genre. I’m writing happy ever afters—with zombies. Anyway, then he got a weird look in his eyes and got quiet.”

  My pulse spiked. “Did you ask him about it?”

  She shook her head, almost looking sad. “No, I could read him well enough to know he was done and didn’t want to talk about it.”

  I leveled my gaze with her. A Ravenism flashed in my mind. Going soft at the end will get you killed. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

  She shook her head. “There’s not. I promise.”

  I was going to have to take her word for that. Because I was plumb out of questions.

  I got back to my house just as the sun sank below the horizon. I had to admit that I missed having Zane around. I missed our routines. But it was better that he wasn’t home right now because I’d be tempted to spend time with him. Zane dating April changed everything.

  I dropped my keys onto the foyer table, stripped my coat off, and went to take a long bath. When I finished, I dressed in my PJs and decided to go into my mystery closet. I updated the boards there and made a list of all my questions.

  Who killed Max Anderson and why? Was he connected to my father?

  Who is sending me those threats? Did they have an underground network of stalker fans?

  Who sent me the video loop? My stalkers or the killer? My bets were on the killer. Or what if they were one and the same?

  Were there links between all these crimes? There had to be.

  How had Dad gotten a picture of my mother? Did he take it himself?

  What did Jackson know that he wasn’t telling me?

  Where was my father? Where, where, where?

  I stared at the board and sighed. I’d gotten some answers, but not nearly enough. Did this go back to the marina? To that little beach where my mom’s picture had been taken?

  I turned the closet light off and closed the door behind me. I was ready to go to bed and forget everything. Maybe after I got some sleep, things would be clearer.

  I stepped into the hallway and flicked the light switch on. Nothing happened.

  Awesome. Had my light bulb burned out? I’d have to wade through the darkness to make it to my room. Maybe I should have had Jackson stay the other day and request he change some light bulbs after all. But he’d probably think my most important light bulb wasn’t fully screwed in—the one connected with my brilliant ideas.

  I headed down the hall anyway. Just as I crossed in front of a guest bedroom, a figure lunged from the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Four<
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  The man wrapped his hand over my mouth and pinned my arms to my side. I thrashed against him to no avail. He was too solid. Too strong. Too impenetrable.

  Cold, hard fear shot through me. Why was this man in my house? What was he planning?

  Someone had killed Max Anderson. They probably wouldn’t blink an eye at doing the same thing to me.

  But I couldn’t die. Not yet. I had to find my dad first.

  “Calm down, Joey,” the man whispered in my ear. Not in a reassuring way. No, in a threatening, menacing way. Like Darth Vader—only this man was real, not a product of George Lucas’s imagination.

  And I was certain that when a killer said calm down, that really meant Brace yourself while I prepare to murder you.

  I thrashed harder, but it was no use. This man easily overpowered me. I was going to have to use something other than brawn to win this battle.

  Knowing that, I went still and waited. My heart pounded in my ears, the sound nearly deafening. The only other thing I could hear was the man breathing in my ear.

  And he wasn’t breathing hard like he was nervous. No, he seemed calm. Too calm. Like he’d done this before.

  That realization didn’t make me feel better.

  “Good girl,” he crooned, his grip loosening ever so slightly. “I tried to warn you.”

  His face was beside mine, close enough that I could feel the rough knit of what I assumed to be a ski mask. I could feel a hint of his warm breath. I could feel his heart beating against my back. Slowly. Steadily.

  I was going to die, wasn’t I? A cry caught in my throat.

  “You didn’t listen,” he continued. “I have a feeling that’s one of your bad habits. One of many.”

  I wanted to say something, to beg for more answers, to confirm that I did indeed have many bad habits. But my lips were clamped together, and I was unable to speak. Or scream. Or barely breathe, for that matter.

  My life flashed before my eyes, and I had no idea what to do about it. So I waited. And I prayed that waiting wouldn’t get me killed. Waiting didn’t seem heroic or brave, but perhaps it was wise.

  Please let it be wise!

  “I tried to ignore your little on-camera threat, but I couldn’t,” he said. “So here I am. Manning up. Acting like a big boy.”

  Yeah, that hadn’t been my best move. If I survived this, I needed to remember never to do that again. Throw downs were a bad, bad idea.

  “You’re in over your head,” he continued. “Do you understand that? You need to leave this alone.”

  I nodded, my limbs trembling uncontrollably.

  “You’re just like your dad, you know,” he continued.

  My dad? His words spurred something inside me. I struggled against his hand as I tried to speak, to ask questions, to demand answers. It only made him hold on tighter. Tight enough that my teeth ached, as well as my arms from his clamp around them.

  “You want to say something?” he rasped.

  I nodded, fully realizing I could be making a terrible mistake.

  “Fine. I’m going to release you. If you scream, I’ll shoot. Do you understand?”

  I nodded again.

  His hand slipped away. As soon as it did, I darted to the wall across from us, trying to keep as much space between us as possible.

  Maybe I should run.

  But I couldn’t.

  Not only did I not stand a chance of escaping, but this man had answers. Answers I desperately needed to know. Answers that felt worth dying for.

  As I pressed myself into the plaster behind me, I glanced through the dark at the intruder. He wore a ski mask, and I could tell little else about him. Not even the color of his eyes. I just knew one thing: he was dangerous.

  “What do you know about my dad?” My voice cracked with emotion—fear, hope, curiosity.

  He leered in front of me. “Nothing I can tell you. I didn’t come here to offer you solace or advice.”

  I raised my chin. “What can you tell me?”

  “To be careful.”

  Too late for that. I was Joey the Thickheaded and Slightly Careless. “How about my dad? Is he okay? Do you know where he is?”

  “You’re so full of questions, aren’t you? I can’t give you any answers. I’m just here to give you a warning.” He paused, his gaze studying me. “They told me to kill you, you know. But I won’t do that. Not yet. If you’re smart, you’ll listen.”

  “Why would someone want to kill me? What did I do? Why was Max Anderson watching me?”

  He let out a chuckle. Did I recognize that chuckle? I wasn’t sure. I wanted to recognize it. Desperately.

  But his laugh faded, and the atmosphere changed. In an instant, he lunged toward me. Before I could escape, he grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind me.

  Then I saw something glint. A gun.

  “I should kill you,” he said. “It would make this easier.”

  “Killing is for wimps,” I said. “You’re not a wimp, are you?”

  It was a line from Raven. I was going to roll with it. Mostly because I couldn’t come up with anything better. My mind was blitzing out on me.

  “Real men face their problems,” I continued. “Shooting me would only prove you’re scared. Are you scared? Like a little boy?”

  “Shut up!” He tugged me down the hall.

  Fear shot through me again. “What are you doing? I thought we were just having a conversation. We’re practically BFFs at this point.”

  “I’m making sure you get my point.” He pulled me into the spare bedroom, opened the closet door, and tossed me inside like a rag doll.

  I hit the wall, and pain rippled through me. I’d deal with that later.

  “Don’t do this!” I yelled, desperate to get through to the man.

  “Too late.” He slammed the door.

  “I’m going to go all backwoods crazy in here!” I yelled. “And you’re going to regret this. My dad always said when I got as mad as a hornet, someone ended up in the hospital with an emotional case of anaphylactic shock.”

  Oh, it was the southerner in me again.

  “I’ll give you some time in here to think this through,” the man muttered on the other side of the door. “The only person you’re capable of hurting in there is yourself. Have at it.”

  There’s no lock on the door, Dummy.

  Then something scraped outside.

  The dresser, I realized. The entirely way-too-heavy dresser was being shoved in front of the door.

  I reached for my pocket. I didn’t have a cell phone with me. I’d left it on the charger on my nightstand.

  How was I going to get out of here?

  At least I was alive, I decided. But being locked in a closet without food and water would be an awful way to die.

  I wasn’t sure what time it was. Or how much time had passed. I didn’t have my phone, which also served as my watch. There were no windows, and the shades in the spare bedroom were closed, not allowing any sunlight in. That meant I had no way of knowing if it was still night or if morning had come.

  I’d tried to figure out how long it would take for someone to figure out I was locked in here. Zane would get back from the wedding tomorrow. That was a long time not to have a bathroom, however.

  Dizzy would also notice I was gone on Monday.

  But . . . I was supposed to meet Jackson today. Would he think I was just being a jerk when I didn’t show up? Or would he suspect something was wrong?

  I curled up in a ball on the floor. I’d found a blanket on one of the shelves, but otherwise, it was empty in here. Somehow, I’d managed to get a little bit of shut-eye.

  I’d tried several times to shove the door open, and now my shoulder hurt. I wasn’t going to be able to move that dresser away. The carpet had locked it in place, it appeared.

  I stood again and began pacing like a caged lion. Okay, I did have to go to the bathroom. Like, now. Like, bad.

  I slumped against the wall, and tears again pressed to my eyes. How h
ad my life turned out like this? My childhood had been relatively normal. Then my time in Hollywood felt almost like a blurry dream. And now this felt like a nightmare.

  What I craved was the ordinary. Would I ever get it? Could I die in here? Alone? Without anyone who truly loved me?

  Fame and recognition wouldn’t keep me alive. It wouldn’t help me experience true love. It definitely didn’t make me feel safe and secure.

  It made me feel like my whole life boiled down to this closet, which felt similar to a padded room at an insane asylum. I’d worked so hard, only to build my life on . . . nothing. Nothing that would last, at least.

  I curled my arms up beneath me and lay down on the floor again, there in the corner, wishing I felt lighthearted and fun. Wishing I could compare this experience to Panic Room with Jodie Foster. But I couldn’t.

  Finally, at some point in the mindless, timeless pit I was in, I heard something downstairs.

  “Joey?”

  I sat up straight, suddenly forgetting about my pity party.

  Who was that? It didn’t matter. Someone was in my house!

  I pounded on the wall. “I’m in here!”

  “Joey?” The voice sounded closer.

  I beat on the wall and the door and then the wall again, desperate to make as much noise as I could. “I’m in here! I can’t get out.”

  I kept pounding, afraid whoever was here hadn’t heard me. After all, shouldn’t he be here by now?

  “Please, help me!” I shouted.

  A moment later, I heard scraping outside the door.

  “I’m going to get you out,” a deep voice said.

  Then in a glorious moment, the door opened. It opened! I stumbled out and nearly fell right into . . . Jackson’s arms.

  “Joey? What . . .” He glanced behind me, as if trying to figure out what happened.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. And I’ll tell you all about it. But I’ve got to run to the bathroom first!”

  I scrambled past him and into the hallway bathroom, only to emerge a few minutes later. Jackson waited in the hallway, his hands on his hips and an expression of concern on his face.