“Trina Sparkles.”
His words barreled through me like a cannonball. It was the last thing I wanted to hear. “So Trina arrived in Sugar Creek way before her appearance at the mansion?”
More static broke up his words as the boat swayed in the night and a bird cawed above. “ . . . her prints are also on the necklace.”
Sweat beaded on my forehead. “I’m having trouble hearing you. Trina’s prints? Whose?”
“ . . .Ballantine still thinks Reese is our killer.”
“No, Matt, listen.” I all but yelled into the phone, as if my volume could override the weak connection. “Why would Reese bury her own necklace? It doesn’t make sense. I don’t believe Reese left voluntarily, and I think she’s in danger.”
“I can’t hear you,” Matt’s voice sounded so far away. “Paisley?”
“Trina sold Reese’s song to Johnny Pikes, and then he let Jaz record it. Trina was furious and—” Silence filled my ear, and I checked my screen. “Matt? Matt?”
No bars. My service was as dead as my music career.
“Such bad reception out here.”
I turned at the voice behind me.
Just as Trina balled a fist and cold-cocked me in the jaw.
I hit the rail, then fell to the ground.
My phone skidded across the deck.
And into the lake.
“I suggest you stay down.” Trina pointed a gun right at my head. “Or else the next thing going overboard will be you.”
Chapter Forty-One
In my defense, I didn’t see it coming.
And I was practically wearing stilts. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gone down so easy.
Pain shot like lightning through my jaw, and I pushed through the haze of agony to regard my attacker.
Rubbing my face, I tasted blood and shook my head, trying to dislodge the stars floating before my eyes. “Trina.”
Her eyes were wide as life preservers and as wild as a lakeside storm. “You have no idea what you’ve done.” She looked toward heaven as if Jesus was into helping murderous pop singers. “I tried to warn you to stay out of this, but you wouldn’t let it go.”
“You were the one who pushed me down the stairs in the mansion, weren’t you?”
“You should’ve left this alone.”
“I could’ve broken my neck.” I furiously checked my surroundings . . . until Trina cocked her gun.
“Nobody’s coming for you, Paisley. They’re all pushed in there listening to their precious Jaz. That’s who they’re really here to see. Not us.”
Clearly, someone hadn’t exorcised all her bitterness. “It’s over. It’ll be no time before the police connect all the dots.”
“I don’t think so. It’s not like Reese is gonna be talking. And Johnny sure as heck won’t.”
She thought Reese was dead. “Why hurt Reese? Hadn’t you done enough?”
“I wasn’t going down for killing anyone.” Trina’s lips trembled as her eyes filled, her voice softening with despair. “I have a sister to raise. There’s no way she’s losing another family member to prison.”
Sister should probably get used to disappointment.
“You killed America.” It was still beyond comprehension, and saying the words aloud didn’t make it any more logical. “Why?”
She kept that shaking pistol trained on my face. “I came in early to talk to her. I thought if I explained my situation—that I was raising my sister—she’d find it in the goodness of her heart to walk away from Pop Sensation. I even offered her one of the original songs I’d pilfered from auditions. But she turned me down. I tried to explain to her that a TV show was beneath her talent, but she enjoyed my misery. She reveled in my pain.”
I shifted my tangle of legs, as one boot bit into my calf. “So, you killed America and set up Jaz to take the blame.”
“A two-for-one deal. I wanted Jaz to finally pay for all she’d done to me. And if I got my job back on the show, then even better. I’m sick of losing, Paisley. Everyone’s winning but me, and it was time to take matters into my own hands.”
“But the police never totally bought Jaz as the killer.” If I kept Trina talking, surely someone would wander along and find us.
Trina’s face pulled into a sneer. “Of course not! Because she’s Jaz, Miss Charmed-for-Life, Jaz. I hate that Reese now bears the blame, but we do what we must, right?”
“How did you know about Reese’s affair with Apollo?”
“I didn’t.” Trina's laugh was small and pitiful. “The assistant and the husband? Oh, Jaz deserves that and more. I just took the necklace for insurance in case I needed a Plan B. How perfect that the ugly thing had such a scandalous history.”
I winced as one spiked heel continued to dig into my skin.
And that’s when I noticed the zipper of one boot was partially undone.
“But why kill America instead of Jaz?” I moved a mere inch, but stopped when Trina stepped closer, her gun leveled at my heart.
“Death wasn’t good enough for Jaz. I couldn’t wait to see her cuffed and hauled away, doomed to a lifetime of rotting in a prison cell. I wanted the press to descend on her like vultures on carrion and rip her to shreds, and I didn’t want them to stop until her career was ruined and her reputation was destroyed beyond repair. After that bus fiasco, was it really too hard for anyone to believe?”
Where was the Trina I’d practically grown up with? This woman was insane. “But all that stuff you told us when we were getting ready tonight. You said you were grateful for our time as a band. Electric Femmes forever?”
“The band was all I had. It’s who I was. When Jaz dropped us, I was left with nothing.”
I gave my boot zipper an infinitesimal tug. “You told us you’d invested all your money.”
“I didn’t say I invested well!”
“Trina, it’s not too late to make things right. This isn’t who you are.”
“Ever since that humiliating night the band broke up, Jaz moved on and got rich. What did I get? Nothing! Hit songs, TV deals—all of it ripped out from under me.”
“I can help you. I know how it feels to lose everything.”
“You magically inherited a business and got some movie happy ending.” Her voice dripped in sarcasm. “What do you know of loss? Everything I loved was stolen from me. America took my job. Jaz took my career, then had the nerve to record the song that would’ve brought me back to the top.”
It didn’t seem prudent to mention the song she’d lost was one she’d stolen in the first place.
“There’s more to life than the Electric Femmes, Trina.”
“For you, yeah. But me? Music is all I know.” She briefly looked toward the horizon, a picture of anguish. “And it’s gone, Paisley.” Her shoulders shook as she cried in earnest. “It’s all gone.”
“It’s not.” Though anything she had would have to be enjoyed from the view of prison bars. “I want you to put the gun down and slide it my way.”
She stared at the pistol in her hand, her lips quivering as she cried. “I never wanted it to end like this. Jaz should’ve been the one to pay.”
“Then why come after Reese?” Why wasn’t anyone missing me by now? Could I risk yelling for help?
“Reese told me last night she was going to the police over the song. Said she knew I’d stolen it. I never intended to hurt her, but when she mentioned the cops, I panicked. And I put that necklace to good use.” Trina sniffled. “Everything’s gotten so out of hand.”
“I know. You’ve always been such a good friend. Just put the gun down.”
“I love you. I do. When Jaz would get all uppity and crazy, it was always you and me.”
“Yep, we had to stick together. Just like now.” I prayed a desperate, fervent prayer. “That’s it. Lower that weapon and rest it on the floor. You got it. You’re doing great. I’m gonna get up nice and slow, okay?” At her watery nod, I started to rise.
“I’m sorry, Paisley.”
“I’m not leaving you. You hear me, Trina? I’m right here with you.”
The metal of the gun clinked as Trina placed her weapon down.
“Good.” I let my lungs fill with blessed air. “Now slide it over a bit.” I watched her shove it a mere three inches. “Maybe another good push.”
“I’m so sorry, Paisley.”
“I know you are.”
She lifted her head, and her red eyes met mine. “I mean I’m sorry I have to kill you.”
Trina stretched her body toward the gun as I leaped from the ground with a lunge. My body collapsed on top of hers, and I clawed for the weapon, yelling for help.
“I can’t let you rat me out,” Trina grunted and rammed her elbow into my ribs. “I have too much to lose!”
“Like your soul?”
I held on like a bull rider as Trina’s fingers inched toward the pistol. Yanking off my abomination of a boot, I clutched it like a knife and drove the heel spike into the space below her knuckles.
Trina shrieked in pain, and I rolled off of her and flung the gun away, watching it slide across the deck.
I sprang to my feet, only to find Trina had done the same.
“I could’ve made this painless for you, Paisley.” She panted as she advanced.
I threw a punch, and pain reverberated up my arm as my fist connected to Trina’s jaw. Her head snapped, but when her eyes found mine, they were filled with rage and a renewed energy. She advanced, her sturdy arms swinging. When she landed a solid punch to my stomach, I doubled over, nausea nearly sending me to the floor.
In a move straight from the Girl Fight Playbook, Trina grabbed my hair and pulled ’til I saw stars. With a Hulk-like force, she yanked me toward her. I gasped for air as her hands clasped around my throat. My hands struck out blindly but to no avail.
What was it Beau once showed me? Not to try and remove her hands, but to simply duck beneath one of her arms?
Fire coiled in my lungs, as I dipped my head, lowered my body, and slid beneath her right elbow.
Freedom. I had freedom! I rejoiced as I faced the rail, spun back to face her and—
Trina’s fist connected with my face again, then I felt my body lifted up like a sack of potatoes.
“No!” I heard myself cry.
I became a wiggling, flailing mass of arms and legs in her grip, desperate to get my feet back on the ground. She carried me to the railing.
My landscape shifted as I felt the cold metal against my back, my feet dangling over the dark water below. “No!” I yelled again.
With a guttural yell, she pushed me over the edge.
My hands slapped out and caught a railing that was thick as salami.
I must not look down. Do not look down!
I pulled my gaze back to the deck as my body seemed to double in weight. Where was Trina? I couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Help me!” I screamed again.
A strong gust of wind rocked against me, and I clenched the rail even tighter.
“No one’s coming to help you.” Trina reappeared, looming above, the gun back in her hands.
My shoulders were numb. I had seconds of strength remaining. “Trina, help me. Please don’t do this.”
She swiped at her dripping nose. “You’ll never know how sorry I am. Please forgive me.”
With both hands on the handle, Trina lined me up in her sights, then—
“Paisley!”
A blur of a body shot from my peripheral, hollering like a banshee as she barreled toward my captor.
Mom?
“No!” I cried.
But Ellen Sutton was a force in motion. She threw her sweater-set clad body against Trina with a loud grunt. Down they went, smacking to the ground. I watched what I could beneath the slats of the rails, but time and gravity were not on my side. My skin burned like fire, and my sweaty hands slipped as I struggled to reattach.
“Take that!” My dainty mother used Trina's shock to her advantage and landed a stunning right hook.
My left hand fell, and I dangled like a Christmas ornament. “Help!”
Mom dug into her pants pocket, pulled out good old-fashioned mace, and gave it a squeeze. “Take that, you awful, awful woman.”
Tears filled my eyes as I fought to hold on. My right arm tingled. I was losing all sensation.
This was it. I’d fall into the black depths and hope for the best.
Please, God, let me come back up.
My mom raced toward me. I saw her panicked face draw nearer. I could hear the roar of the boat’s engines. Voices raised in alarm from below.
“Paisley.” She reached out for me.
But it was too late. “I love you, Mom.”
My thumb and two fingers slipped.
Then my body fell into the inky night.
“I love you, Beau!” I called out the three words with my last remaining strength. If I died, let the final syllables I uttered be the ones I meant the most.
I fell like Alice in Wonderland. The world spun and tilted, as my body cartwheeled toward the water, a screaming missile of terrible clothes and big hair.
The water rose up to meet me. It consumed me whole, filling my ears, my mouth, flooding my brain.
Down, down I went, a trajectory of speed I couldn’t stop.
I was too young to die. I had too much to live for. So many events to plan, and a life to build. I wanted more time with Beau. I wanted to hug my grandmother one more time. I wanted to hear my dad tell me he was proud.
My limbs went slack, and I opened my eyes as everything slowed.
Darkness all around. I couldn’t see a thing. Fear was a spike to my senses, and I sucked in water as I cried in panic.
Which way was up?
I prayed. I pled.
Then I began to swim. I didn’t know if I was headed in the right direction, but I pushed through the cold water and kicked my aching legs.
Was this up?
Air.
I needed air—and quick.
Commanding my arms to move faster, stronger, I swam.
I needed a miracle.
I needed a. . . .
Was that a light?
If this was my Maker coming to get me, it was disappointingly cliché.
But I swam toward it anyway.
As I got closer, the light got stronger, wider.
It was a spotlight!
My chest felt like it could explode, but I had to keep going. Sweet air was just ahead.
Eternities passed as I swam.
My side cramped just as the dizziness hit.
Black splotches danced before my eyes like a school of fish. My lids fluttered closed, and I longed to close them and just sleep. So tired. And cold.
And tired.
I slowed my strokes.
Ceased kicking my legs.
Shut my eyes.
And slept.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Boy was that a close one!”
“I thought she was a goner for sure.”
“He just dove right in and came back up with her like she was a prize-winning trout.”
“He’s a fisherman and former Special Forces. What did you expect?”
My eyelids fluttered open at the voices around me talking entirely too loudly. My head ached so badly I wanted to request an amputation, and my limbs felt like day-old spaghetti. “Am I alive?”
“Oh, Paisley, thank God!” My mom collapsed on top of me, and I awkwardly patted her head.
Glancing about, I was pleased to discover I wasn’t coming to consciousness at the Pearly Gates. No, I was stretched out like a cadaver on a gurney in the marina parking lot, surrounded by my nearest and dearest.
“Pull it together. She’s fine.” Sylvie pushed my mom away but kept a gentle arm around her shoulders. “Hot Medic, get this lady some water. Paisley, do you want a drink?”
I licked my tingling lips. “Had all I want, thanks.”
Frannie ran her fingers over my dripping hair.
“You gave us quite the scare, AquaGirl.”
Beau sidestepped an EMT taking vitals and grabbed my hand. He placed a kiss in the center of my palm. “Hey, you.”
“You saved me, didn’t you?”
He lifted one wet shoulder. “We all saw you fall. I dove in as fast as I could.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Frannie said. “It was like a scene out of a movie where the hot hero jumps in after the plucky heroine. Kind of reminded me of one of my missions. Except Beau lived.” She caught the eye of the EMT. “Hon, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. Would you mind checking my heart?”
The twenty-something nodded his blond head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you need my pants off or just my shirt?”
“Neither!” We yelled in unison.
The smiling medic shone a light in my eyes, then monitored my pulse. “How do you feel, Ms. Sutton?”
“Lucky.” I looked into Beau’s worried eyes. “Very, very lucky.”
The emergency room smelled like bleach and off-brand pine cleaner.
Two hours later, I sat in dry clothes on the exam table, waiting for the doctor to return and give me the all-clear to go home.
“I’m fine,” I told Beau for the tenth time. He’d chased everyone but my mother away a half-hour ago, and now it was just the three of us.
“I think you should let them admit you,” Mom said.
“I’m not staying in the hospital.” We’d already had this discussion.
“Your father wants to airlift you to his doctor in Seattle.”
“Definitely not.” I held the ice pack to my jaw and winced at the sharp cold. “But tell Dad, thank you.”
Mom inched her way past Beau and ran her hand through my tangled hair. “Tonight was absolutely frightening. I can’t believe Trina, of all people, murdered America and that poor Reese Riggins.”
While I was swimming with the catfish, the police had arrived like cavalry in speed boats and arrested Trina. They’d found Reese exactly where Trina said—in the trunk of her car. Trina had knocked her out, then administered a lethal dose of fentanyl. According to my last text, Jaz was absolutely distraught and seeking solace in the arms of Little Tee Pee. And probably searching for a manager who didn’t rip off uncredited songwriters.
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