[Avery Shaw 11.0] Unwritten & Underwater

by Amanda M. Lee

  Unwritten & Underwater

  An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 11

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Copyright © 2016 by Amanda M. Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  30. Thirty

  31. Thirty-One

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Prologue

  Ten years ago

  “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to open the pool gate without making a lot of noise. That seems to be the opposite of what you’re doing.”

  Even though it was dark, the full moon offering brief bouts of illumination when clouds didn’t obliterate it, I fixed my cousin Derrick with a murderous look. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a complete and total whiner?”

  Derrick and I were nine months apart in age – a million in temperament – and had been raised to think of each other as siblings more than cousins. Our family has a codependent streak that’s not only hard to swallow, it’s difficult to evade. I believe in fighting to the death … unless I’m tired, there’s a possibility of snacks or it’s simply easier to give in. That’s how I felt tonight.

  “You’re the whiner,” Derrick shot back, muttering as he pushed open the gate that led to our grandparents’ oversized in-ground pool. It was summer – heat and humidity pressing down on Michigan and causing an unbearable sweaty mess – and while the rest of our classmates were playing basketball at the high school (we lived in a small town and there was very little to do), Derrick and I decided the best way to beat the summer boredom was by sneaking into the pool and cooling off. It was strictly forbidden to swim without permission – that was a rule the women in the family came up with, for the record, because they’re not happy unless they’re making others miserable – so we had to be quiet in an effort not to wake anyone.

  Our grandparents’ house was located in the middle of Michigan’s smallest town – one stoplight, no fast-food restaurants, no movie theater, no joke – so it was easy to walk to despite the late hour. The town was small enough that no one paid attention to curfews because trouble rarely found us. Sure, that was boring, but it was also a relief because I’m someone who likes to find trouble. Because I have zero impulse control, the town itself acts as the world’s most effective babysitter.

  No, really.

  “You’re definitely the whiner.” I shoved Derrick for good measure, causing him to snag his foot and almost trip into the deep end of the pool. “You’re the one who argued against doing this because it’s breaking the rules. If that’s not whiny … well … I don’t know what is.”

  Derrick scorched me with a dark look as he regained his balance. “I hate you sometimes. You know that, right?”

  He said it as if I should be bothered. “I want you to hate me most of the time.”

  “Even you don’t mean that.”

  He clearly didn’t know me very well, despite the fact that we’d spent the last eighteen years of our lives joined at the hip. That’s what happens when you grow up in a small town and you don’t like anyone but your cousin. Oh, wow, how sad is that?

  “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion,” I muttered, running a hand through my shoulder-length blond hair. “We’re supposed to be beating the heat by swimming. Why are we arguing?”

  “Because I’m starting to think this is a bad idea,” Derrick replied without hesitation. “What if we get caught?”

  “What do you think will happen if we’re caught?” I challenged. “Do you think Grandma will call the cops and have us dragged away in handcuffs?”

  “Yes. That actually sounds just like her.”

  He had a point. Grandma was big on teaching lessons the hard way – usually at the tip of a flyswatter. Grandpa was another story. He’d merely laugh, call us idiots and then embarrass us when the rest of the family was around to marvel at the acidic wit of his tongue. That’s our way. It’s kind of fun … as long as you’re not the one being embarrassed.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said after a beat, scanning the huge yard to make sure we weren’t being watched. Our grandparents’ yard was like a wonderland – especially in this area. It boasted a full tennis court and an extra-large trampoline, one that didn’t have those ridiculous nylon walls to keep people from falling overboard, as well as a nice patio area for barbecues and family cookouts. It was the best backyard in town. Of course, that wasn’t saying much. Two streets over, the MacIntosh family displayed a cement polar bear they had bought from one of the area restaurants when it was going out of business. It wore a top hat and boasted a tray with fake beer on top of it. Yeah, the town is really small. “What was I saying again?”

  “You were saying that you don’t care that we’re breaking the rules.” Derrick sounded exasperated. “We could get in big trouble.”

  He clearly didn’t understand the definition of “big trouble,” because, at worst we would be grounded. That’s hardly big trouble when there’s nowhere in town worth visiting. “You’re such a baby,” I muttered.

  “And you’re an idiot.”

  He wasn’t wrong. There were times I admired my own idiocy, as if it were a new pair of Converse and I couldn’t wait to display it for the masses. “Shut up. We’re not going to be here very long. We’ll take a quick swim and call it a night.”

  “Fine,” Derrick grumbled. “But if we get caught I’m blaming you.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.” I moved to kick my shoes off, the wind briefly picking up and rattling through the trees. It was only then that I sensed we weren’t alone. I snapped my head to the left so I could scan the foliage that closed off the yard from the nearby street. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Derrick was distracted by his shirt as he attempted to tug it over his head. “If you’re trying to freak me out, it won’t work.”

  “I … .” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence – and it was going to come in the form of a world-class burn – because another voice joined our evening meeting of the minds.

  “The water is wet.”

  I stilled, the familiar voice filling me with dread.

  “What the … ?” Derrick’s eyes went unnaturally wide as he turned his attention to the trampoline. We’d barely spared it a glance when navigating the yard.

  I followed his gaze, swallowing hard when I made out the large pale lump resting on the stretched surface. I knew without hesitation who it was. “Grandpa. It’s a nic
e night for a swim.” I figured pretending we weren’t doing anything wrong was the best way to go. Grandpa admired moxie, something I had coming out of my pores thanks to the long stretch of sweaty days now gripping Michigan.

  “Grandpa?” Derrick’s voice was squeaky, and he took two long strides out of the pool area and toward the trampoline. “This was Avery’s idea. I’m innocent.”

  Instead of admonishing us, Grandpa chuckled. “Yes, I heard all about how it was her idea. The problem is, you were clearly up for breaking the rules until you got here.”

  “But I changed my mind at the last minute,” Derrick pointed out. “That should count for something, so … if you’re going to punish us … she should be the one punished.”

  “She doesn’t care about being punished.” Grandpa rolled to a sitting position, the moon bouncing off his large frame. It was only then – with the light hitting him in the exact right way – that I realized he was naked. Oh, criminy, I’m going blind! “She’s never cared about being punished. That’s why she’s going to be a force to be reckoned with when she gets older.”

  I swallowed hard as I averted my gaze. “Why are you naked?”

  “Naked?” Derrick narrowed his eyes and peered into the gloom. “He’s not … oh, he is! I see it.”

  “Don’t stare at it,” I hissed. “You’ll turn to stone.”

  Grandpa chuckled, unbothered by our repartee. He was something of a nudist. He always had been. When entering his house you always had to check to see if he was reading the newspaper naked in his favorite recliner. It was something we simply had to deal with while growing up, and I barely thought about it when it was happening. This was a new … conundrum … though.

  “Why are you naked?” I challenged. “You’re outside. You’re supposed to wear clothes when you’re outside.”

  “It’s after dark.”

  “You don’t care if it’s sunny out when you’re naked,” I pointed out. “Why even pretend otherwise?”

  “Okay, knowing that, why are you asking about being naked? It should be a given.” Grandpa groaned as he shifted his position a bit. “I’m always naked when it’s warm out. You know that.”

  “Yes, but … it’s the middle of the night,” I argued, refusing to back down despite the fact that Derrick seemed to have disappeared inside himself as he stared blankly at the sky. “Why are you naked in the middle of the night?”

  “Because it’s hot and I wanted to swim.”

  Realization smacked me upside the face like a wet towel, a towel Grandpa didn’t bother to bring for his evening skinny-dip, mind you. “Oh, gross.” I made a disgusted face that was completely lost on him. “If you’re skinny-dipping – which you’re too old to do, by the way – why are you on the trampoline?”

  “Because I need to dry off before going to bed.”

  “That’s what towels are for.”

  “Yes, but they’re not nearly as fun.” I was close enough to see that Grandpa’s smile resembled a leer.

  “Well, I hope you’re happy.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I’m traumatized for life. I’ll suffer through years of therapy to get over this.”

  Grandpa didn’t look as if he felt guilty in the slightest. “That will teach you to break the rules. Next time you think about doing something wrong you won’t be able to stop yourself from wondering if karma will pay you back with a naked grandfather.”

  That was a depressing thought. “Do you think that’s funny?”

  “I think it’s kind of funny,” Grandpa confirmed, grinning. “In fact, I’m having a grand time.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I blew out a sigh and risked a glance in Derrick’s direction. He seemed to be in a trance. “Aren’t you going to say ‘I told you so’ and do a little dance?”

  “I can’t hear you,” Derrick answered flatly. “You’re dead to me.”

  Oh, well, things were looking up. “Okay. Well, in that case, because I’m already in trouble and have dealt with the worst punishment ever, I’m going swimming.” I moved back toward the pool. “I refuse to let this night be a total downer.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Grandpa grinned as he reclined on his elbows. “Did I ever mention I can tell time with my own personal sundial?”

  I tilted my head to the side, considering. “What time is it?”

  “Don’t encourage him,” Derrick hissed. “If you keep him talking someone is bound to call the police and we’ll all get arrested for indecent exposure. Do you want that?”

  I’d spent my Saturdays in worse ways. “Whatever. Keep your sundial in your pants, Grandpa. I’ll go blind and insane if you don’t … and nobody wants that.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” Grandpa returned to his reclining position on the trampoline. “What a nice night. We should do this again sometime. It’s … refreshing.”

  Derrick slapped his hand to his forehead. “I hate this family. It’s just so … embarrassing. I will never live down the shame. I’m going to have nightmares forever. I will be haunted by this night until the day I die.”

  I could see that. “You really are a whiner.”

  “Preach,” Grandpa offered. “He acts as if this is the worst thing in the world that will ever happen. This is nothing like the end of the world. The end of the world is going to have nuclear war, mutant monsters and a shortage of Little Debbie snack cakes. Now that’s something to whine about.”

  Well, at least we agreed on something.

  1 One

  Present Day

  “Do you know my favorite thing about this time of year?”

  I arched an eyebrow and looked up from the trashy magazine, fixing my co-worker and friend Marvin Potts with an expression that spoke of polite interest despite the fact that I knew his question would have an annoying answer and I really had no interest in hearing him wax poetic about … whatever goofy thing he was about to say.

  “Nudity,” Marvin answered, refusing to give me a moment to form a question. “That’s why this is my favorite time of year.”

  His eyes sparkled as he stared out the front window of The Monitor, the Macomb County newspaper we both worked for. We were both essentially done for the day but couldn’t leave, which was both painful and exasperating. Our boss was holding us captive because he was going through one of his outdated efficiency phases. He believed making us stay at the office until the end of our shift – instead of leaving early if we finished all of our tasks – would actually make us purposely take on more work.

  Yeah, he’s an idiot.

  I love him, don’t get me wrong, but he’s an idiot. As far as bosses go he has a good heart and generally allows me to do whatever I want – within reason, of course, because if I’m not fettered with rules I tend to resemble something akin to a fraternity boy with an all-access pass to free beer and porn – but there are times I wonder if he was dropped on his head a few too many times as a child.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  I focused my attention on Marvin, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t agitated with his tone and bored with his choice of topics. In truth, Marvin is one of my best friends. I enjoy his antics on a normal day – that would be a day when I’m forced to stay in this building because I haven’t finished my work, mind you – but this was hardly a normal day. No, this was an abnormal day. This was the day before an extended weekend.

  Yes, that’s right. My name is Avery Shaw and I’m a reporter who is about to have three whole days off in a row. That’s essentially like being a unicorn. A reporter with more than two days off in a row? Yeah, that’s a mythical beast.

  What does that mean? It means I’ve finished my work and have several days off in a row to enjoy the Fourth of July holiday weekend. The last thing I want to do is spend any amount of time listening to Marvin’s various theories about life. So far this week I’d had to listen to diatribes about why only white men should be able to drive, a treatise on the fact that women say they want nice men but really want jerks – so he�
�s going to take a class that will allow him to unleash his inner jerk – and a painfully intricate conspiracy theory about how the government is watching him and that’s why the woman behind the counter at the Laundromat always gives him the evil eye when he stops in to pick up women before the weekend. The fact that those women might actually be teenagers – he’s bad at guessing ages – never entered his mind.

  “Am I listening to you?” I forced myself to remain calm. “You’ve spent the better part of an hour explaining how the Laundromat lady is actually a Russian spy … as if Russian spies are still a thing and they would work at a Laundromat. Why would anyone possibly go to the Laundromat in this day and age?”

  Marvin is one of my favorite people, but we fight as if we’re Kardashians and the people who try to keep the Kardashians from cameras … and occasionally free swag.

  “It’s not my fault that we’re stuck here for another thirty minutes,” Marvin hissed, narrowing his eyes. “If you would talk about something other than the fact that you just moved into a new house and your boyfriend is hunky and hot, I wouldn’t have to take up the conversational slack.”

  Oh, well, that was rich. “I’ve never used the word ‘hunky’ in my life.”

  “Hah!” Marvin made a loud barking sound and extended his finger in my direction. “I knew it!”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. “You knew what? By the way, if you say you know that the Laundromat lady was a spy because she put on a headband and talked into her hand again I’ll punch you. People really do use headsets for something other than pretending to be normal Americans. It’s not really a vast conspiracy that everyone knows about but never mentions.”