Deadly Summer (Darling Investigations Book 1)

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Fake clean?”

  “Stick to the point, Summer, and that is that you are a has-been, and we need to milk that well dry. And this look”—she waved her hand again—“is part of it. It’s your shtick. So wear a new dress tomorrow, and have a few on standby. We’ll let Karen tell you what to wear and when to wear it just like I’ll tell you what to say and when. Do you understand?”

  I was so exhausted I could literally lay my head down on the desk and fall asleep, so I was proud of myself for pulling it together and looking her in the eye. I was stuck, and we both knew it. I should have just agreed and been done with it, but Lauren was a bully. The first time you backed down to a bully, you set a precedent. I’d learned that lesson again and again from my own mother, yet I had no idea how to put my foot down now.

  “Do you understand?” she asked in a biting tone. “Do I need to remind you what the consequences of not following my direction could mean?” When I didn’t answer, she moved closer to my desk and sneered down at me. “Do you understand, Summer?”

  I cast a quick glance to at Dixie, who was watching our interaction in horror. I had to keep Dixie out of this. Nevertheless, I didn’t even have the energy to work up anything more than a spark of outrage. “Yes.”

  Triumph filled her eyes. “Good girl.” Then she spun around and headed to the back to talk to the film editors who had arrived the day before, during my staycation at the hospital.

  I had to get out of here.

  But a wave of dizziness hit me as soon as I got to my feet. Closing my eyes, I dropped my fingertips to the desktop to keep myself from falling over.

  “Summer,” Dixie whispered next to me, “let’s go.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and opened my eyes, horrified to see that everyone in the room was watching me with pity and concern.

  I hated all of it.

  Dixie reached for me, but I gently pushed her hand away. I needed to walk out of here on my own. Otherwise I’d never regain my dignity.

  Grabbing my purse from the drawer, I concentrated on walking to the door. Once I got there, I’d make a new plan.

  No one said anything as I left the office, but I heard them murmuring to each other as soon as I hit the sidewalk.

  “Summer,” Dixie said quietly into my ear, “I know you’re tired, but Maybelline has something to tell us. She says it has something to do with Otto.”

  “What?”

  “She refused to tell me. She insisted she’ll only tell you in person. I promised we’d stop by after we got done filmin’, but you look like death warmed over. We should talk to her tomorrow.”

  “When? Before our eight a.m. call time? She’ll be busy with the breakfast rush. We need to talk to her tonight.” I glanced behind us. “I thought Bill was supposed to be working with us.”

  “He’s gonna meet us there. Apparently he needs to sit through some crew meeting before he can leave. Then he has to borrow a camera.”

  “So it could be a while?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I’m taking a nap in the truck.”

  She grimaced.

  “Dixie, I kid you not, I’m about to pass out right where I’m standing. I need to sleep.”

  “Okay. But the truck?”

  “I don’t know where else to go, so this will work in a pinch.” Actually, a more tempting option did come to mind: the sofa in Luke’s office. That, however, would be tempting fate on multiple levels. It was one thing to take me to steal that broom, but another thing entirely to endorse me investigating Otto’s death without him. The presence of Bill—and a camera—would doubly put him off. There was no way he’d condone it, and I didn’t want to think of a story to explain why I didn’t just go home.

  Thankfully, my truck was parked in front of Maybelline’s diner, so Dixie went inside to wait while I settled in for a nap. I cracked the windows and then curled up on the seat, my head under the steering wheel. I was deep in a dreamless sleep when I woke up to Luke’s frantic voice—“Summer?”—and his fingertips on my neck.

  I groaned, feeling like I was underwater and trying to find the surface.

  “Summer.”

  I pried my eyes open. “Luke. What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doin’ here? What the hell are you doing passed out in your truck?”

  “I needed a nap.”

  “Why didn’t you just go home?”

  God, sometimes I hated when I was right.

  “Luke,” Dixie said in a breezy voice, opening the passenger door, “I see you found Summer.”

  “What in the everlovin’ hell’s goin’ on here, Dixie? Why didn’t you take her home?”

  “Because we’re gonna have a meeting with one of the cameramen at Maybelline’s. We’re waiting for him to show up, and Summer wanted to take a nap.”

  “She needs to be home. In bed.”

  “You could just take her home to yours,” Dixie said with a wink.

  “Dixie!” I croaked out as I struggled to sit up.

  Luke gently grabbed my arm and helped me to a sitting position. That was when I realized he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. It was the first time I’d seen him in street clothes since my return to Sweet Briar, and while he looked mighty fine in his uniform, he looked downright sinful in his light-blue T-shirt.

  But he was oblivious to my perusal.

  “Go home.” Then his eyes widened. “Jesus, you aren’t drivin’, are you?”

  “No. Dixie is. And I can’t go home. Not yet.”

  “Why are you meetin’ with a cameraman?”

  “We’re workin’ on a plan to get even with Lauren,” Dixie said. “Bill’s gonna help us.”

  Luke searched my face. “Don’t you think you have other things to worry about?”

  I knew what he was referring to—I risked losing the money to help pay off the banknote. “In this instance, it all works toward the same purpose.” But I wasn’t so sure about that. Lauren didn’t want the show to be canceled, but she might very well murder us if she found out we were investigating behind her back.

  “It’s not safe for you to be sleepin’ in your truck while it’s parked on the street, not to mention you scared the shit out of me. Again.”

  “Sorry I scared you, but Sweet Briar’s one of the safest places on earth.” Then I remembered everything that was going on. “Usually.”

  “That’s right. Usually. I’ve got two dead men, a mystery man, and a break-in at your house—and every single thing ties to you somehow. You need a damn bodyguard.”

  “Are you volunteering?” Dixie asked sweetly.

  “Dixie!” I protested, but Luke didn’t say a word. “I don’t need a doggone bodyguard. I’m fine.”

  Luke still didn’t say anything.

  “I have Teddy out at the farm,” I said. “And whenever I’m in town, I’m with someone almost every minute. I’ll be fine.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “I’m headin’ into Maybelline’s now to grab some dinner. Why don’t you ladies join me while you wait for the cameraman?” He pinned his gaze on me. “And I know for a fact you hardly ate anything at lunch. Let me make it up to you. I’ll buy both of your dinners. Or if you want to sleep more, I’ll take you to my office.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Dixie said.

  “Which one?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Either.”

  I groaned and pushed Dixie out of the way. “I hate you both,” I grumbled, but the words didn’t carry any heat. How was I supposed to explain any of this to Luke?

  If Maybelline had information about the mystery man, he needed to know. And yet I couldn’t deny that I wanted to prove I could solve a real case. I wasn’t a real PI—I was only playing one for TV, just like I’d done before—but I couldn’t deny that I liked questioning people for real. I liked looking for clues. My gut told me I could be good at this, that for the first time in my life I could do something that helped people and made me feel good about myself. I wanted to really give in
vestigating a chance.

  Right or wrong, I wanted to dig into what had happened to Otto Olson, and the odds were five to one that Luke would do everything he could to put a stop to that.

  But did I really want to withhold information from Luke?

  Maybe I’d just play it by ear.

  Dixie already had a table. She sat on one side of the booth, then gestured to the other. “I want to sit by Bill, so you two sit over there.”

  While I was beginning to believe she really did like Bill, I didn’t buy that as her reason for making us sit together.

  Luke motioned to the seat, and I slid in first, letting Luke play his alpha-male game. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t deny that part of me liked it.

  The part of me that couldn’t be trusted.

  His jeans-clad thigh brushed the bare skin of mine where my dress had hiked up, sending a wave of heat and lust through me.

  I grabbed Dixie’s water and took a big gulp.

  “Help yourself,” Dixie said with a laugh.

  Luke lifted a hand and flagged down a pretty waitress who looked like she was still in high school. Her face lit up when she realized he was calling her.

  “What can I do for you, Luke?” Her weight shifted to one side, and she batted her eyelashes, although I was positive it was all an involuntary reaction on her part.

  “Hey, Rachel, can we get a couple of waters and a refill on this one.” He turned to us. “Do you need more time to order?”

  “I know what I want,” Dixie said. “Shepherd’s pie and cornbread.”

  I waved my hand. “Just bread. Nothin’ else sounds good.”

  Luke gave me a questioning glance, then addressed the waitress, “Bring a meat-loaf plate and country-fried steak with green beans. And bring out some cornbread and Maybelline’s dinner rolls right away.”

  “Sure thing, Luke,” she said. Her face flushed, and she practically ran into the kitchen.

  “That girl has a thing for you,” I murmured, surprised that I was a tiny bit jealous.

  “Rachel? She’s a kid,” he said as though that dismissed the whole thing. “I want to know why you ordered bread. I know you didn’t do it because you’re on a diet, otherwise you would have ordered a salad.”

  “My stomach’s not right.”

  “Are you still nauseated?”

  “Off and on.”

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You need to let your head heal, Summer. Remember when I got that concussion the fall of my senior year in the homecoming football game?”

  I had been back in California at the time, filming Gotcha!, but the news had terrified me. “Yeah. How could I forget?”

  “I spent the weekend sleeping, then missed several days of school. You’re pushing yourself too hard. If you don’t rest, it’s gonna take longer for you to heal.”

  While he was undoubtedly right, my circumstances didn’t allow for such luxuries. “I’ll be fine.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Bill walked in the back door a few minutes after that, carrying his camera case, but when he saw Luke sitting next to me, he did a double take. Then he tried to hide the huge case behind his back.

  “Summer,” Luke said in a dry tone, “why’s your cameraman bringin’ his camera to your meeting?”

  Well, shit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “It’s like this,” Dixie started to say, but Luke held up his hand in warning.

  “I want Summer to explain this one, Ms. Smooth Talker.”

  I glanced from Dixie to Bill and then finally back to Luke, whose eyebrows had risen in anticipation of my answer.

  Double shit.

  My brain was still addled, and that’s probably what he was counting on. But then he’d known we were out at the lake looking for information about Otto—he didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on.

  Dammit.

  Nevertheless, I gave him a saucy look and said, “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “Really?” he asked, looking amused. “I know you’re off your game, but I expected something better than that.”

  I blew out a breath. “I’m not sure we should talk about it here.”

  “If you weren’t gonna talk about it here, what were you goin’ to do?”

  “Interview someone.”

  “Summer!” Dixie protested.

  Bill hadn’t finished his approach to our table, and he looked liable to turn and run back out the door.

  “Have a seat, Bill,” Luke said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Bill set his case on the floor and slid into the seat, shooting Dixie an irritated look. “Officer Montgomery, I . . .”

  Luke leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “I’m not dressed in my uniform, so call me Luke.”

  Bill looked no less wary.

  Luke glanced around before turning back to the table. “I know what you’re up to.”

  Dixie and Bill glanced at each other.

  “Look,” Luke said, still speaking quietly enough that no one else could hear him, “as much as I hate to admit this, I approve of this”—he held up a hand and gave us a warning look—“within reason.”

  Dixie narrowed her eyes. “Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

  “I know you all were out at the lake because Summer was trying to figure out what had happened to Otto, and part of the reason was that y’all want to actually solve a case. So now you have a chance to do that and help Summer in the process.”

  They stared at him like he’d just proclaimed the second coming of Jesus was tonight.

  “I can’t take part. After our trip to the church this afternoon, I was reprimanded by the sheriff for interfering with their investigation. But a private investigator isn’t bound by their rules. You can investigate anything you want. All you need is a license . . . which you happen to have hanging on your office wall.” Despite having given me his blessing, he didn’t sound very happy about the aforementioned license.

  Dixie was the first one to speak, and she summed up my feelings quite well. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. This is a joke, right?”

  “I wish it were, and under any other circumstances, I would flat-out be against this. But Summer’s life is on the line. However . . .” He paused to make sure we were listening. “The key is that only a PI can do this or it could be construed as interfering. Since Summer’s the one who has the license, she has to take the lead on all the investigating.”

  “So?” Dixie asked.

  “So? She’s about to pass out at the table from head trauma. We’re talking about working eight-to ten-hour days for the show and then investigatin’ on the side. I’m not sure she’s up to it.”

  “Excuse me?” I demanded.

  A grim smile twisted his lips. “Let me rephrase that. Just because she’s stubborn enough to find the stamina to do this, it doesn’t mean she should. She’s only prolonging her recovery.” He sighed. “But unfortunately, you’re racing a ticking clock. You’ve only got a few days, to the end of the week, tops.”

  “No pressure,” Bill finally said.

  Rachel brought the food out, and when Bill started to order, I pushed my plate toward him. “Here, I’m not gonna eat this.”

  “Summer,” Dixie scolded.

  “I’m fine.”

  Luke glanced up at the young waitress. “Rachel, can I trouble you to bring a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy? And another set of silverware.”

  “Sure thing, Luke.”

  “So you have some leads?” Luke asked. “You said you were about to interview someone.”

  None of us answered.

  “No offense, Luke,” Dixie said. “But we don’t trust you for shit.”

  He sat up. “Hey. I’ve been nothing but supportive.”

  “Yeah, and it’s freakin’ me out.”

  Rachel took that exact moment to show up with the ma
shed potatoes.

  “Thanks, Rachel,” Luke said, taking the small bowl from her and sliding it in front of me. “You need to eat something other than bread if you’re gonna do this. But you need to eat some protein, so if you think of something you want, I’ll order it for you.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Montgomery,” I said, picking up the spoon the waitress had left.

  “There’s only one doctor in my family.”

  “Hey, how is Levi, by the way?” Dixie asked. “I haven’t seen him in ages. I bet he looks great in his lab coat. Does he have his name embroidered on it?”

  “Fine. He’s still in residency at LSU,” Luke said. “And y’all are good at this distraction game, but not good enough. Who are you interviewin’?”

  I glanced at my two cohorts and then said to Luke, “I think we need to do this on our own.”

  “Why?” He leaned forward again. “I can help.”

  “But you just said you can’t,” Dixie said. “And I think we all agree that it’s safer if you stay out of it.”

  “Two people are dead, Dixie,” he said in frustration. “Someone nearly killed Summer after purposely sending her into the woods, and last night they tried to break into her room. None of this is safe.” He sat back in his seat, looking like he wanted to take a couple of moments, then said, “Look, I get that you don’t trust me because of my job, but I’m here as Summer’s friend, and y’all are gonna be in over your heads.”

  “You just said we should do it!” Dixie protested.

  “With my supervision!” he bellowed.

  Dixie shot him a glare, and he cringed when he realized several people were looking over at us. “Sorry. I just want to know what you’re doin’ and when you’re doin’ it so I can come after you if things go south.” He set down his fork and shook his head. “On second thought, this is a bad idea. No. I can’t let you do it.”

  Dixie gasped. “Let us?”

  All of this arguing was adding to my headache. “Maybelline. We’re gonna talk to Maybelline.”

  “Summer!” Dixie snapped, and Bill gave me a disapproving frown.