Meet Me in Barefoot Bay

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Miles?”

  Her eyes flashed in warning, like a secret message to him.

  “He threatened to… you know.”

  No, he didn’t know. But he was starting to suspect. “Your husband threatened to hurt you?”

  She nodded.

  “And Jocelyn suggested you say he was having an affair with her so you could… what?”

  She swallowed hard. “Try and leave him.”

  “Try?” he asked furiously.

  “Shhh.” Her eyes darted again, fear radiating off her.

  “Why? Is he here?”

  “No, just the housekeeper.”

  “Who’s your friend, Coco?” The male voice boomed from inside, making her jump as a man appeared behind her.

  How long had the son of a bitch been back there?

  Unlike Coco, Miles Thayer looked every bit the movie star. Not very tall or broad, but he had the golden good looks and a phony smile that the camera loved. He held out a hand to Will. “I’m Miles. Have we met?”

  Will ignored the hand. “I’m not here to talk to you.”

  “Funny, this is my house. You’re on my property. You’re talking to my wife. Who the fuck are you?”

  “He’s a friend of Jocelyn’s.”

  Miles considered that, angling his head and scratching under long blond hair exactly the color of Coco’s. They were like a matched set, only Coco was so tiny and defenseless and her husband had nasty all over him.

  “And you’re just leaving, I take it,” Miles said.

  “I’m not leaving until one of you calls a press conference and tells everyone the truth.”

  “The truth’s out there, bud. I was boning the life coach.”

  Coco stared at the ground and Will’s fists tightened like a runner just shot off first to steal. Every cell in his body wanted to act. To throw a fist if not a ball. To shut this asshole up.

  “You got an issue with that?” Miles asked, using his shoulder to push Coco out of the way. “ ’Cause that’s our story. And we like it. Right, Co?”

  Instantly she looked up at Will, a plea in her blue eyes. “Don’t tell her he’s here, please. Just go.”

  “Good advice,” Miles said. “Get the hell out of here before I call the LAPD.”

  “Miles, plea—”

  “Get inside.” Miles grabbed her arm and practically dragged her into the house. “I’ll deal with our—”

  Will lunged, ripping the other man’s hand away. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

  They both froze and stared at him, Coco shaking her head a little but Miles breaking into a much more real grin. “Did you just touch me, dickhead?”

  Memories jolted through him with the same force he wanted to use on this bastard.

  You touching an officer of the law, young man?

  Will took a steadying breath, sizing up the competition.

  No gun this time and Will could take him. But to what end? Coco would run into the house and he’d lose any chance of getting her to help Jocelyn.

  “Just leave her alone,” Will said quietly. “I’d like to talk to her some more.”

  “Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  He looked at Coco, tiny, scared, and so powerless. And then he realized who she reminded him of: Mary Jo Bloom. The same expectant look of fear in the eyes of a victim. The same helpless hunch to her shoulders and downward tilt to her chin.

  Was that why Jocelyn had gone along with this idea, or even conceived it? Because she, too, wanted to make up for not helping someone in the past?

  Coco brushed back her hair, the move shifting her neckline enough for Will to see a deep purple bruise cutting across her flesh.

  His stomach lurched as the pictures of Jocelyn’s bruises fought for space in his brain, fury firing through his veins.

  “You son of a bitch,” he murmured to Miles.

  “Excuse me?” Miles stepped closer, giving his shoulders a shake. He wasn’t six feet tall and sure as hell hadn’t spent his life playing sports or swinging a dead-blow hammer. “What did you call me?”

  “Please,” Coco cried. “Please don’t fight. It’s my fault for taking him back. Will, just leave.”

  “Yeah, Will, just fucking leave or…” He lifted his hand but Will got the first swing in, a satisfying right hook that landed on the movie star’s jaw and knocked his head back.

  Coco screamed and lunged toward them just as Miles recovered from the blow. Miles spun around and shoved her into the house with so much force she fell backwards.

  Will shot forward in full attack mode, seizing the man by the shoulder, yanking him around and slamming another fist in his face.

  “You fucking—” Miles pushed back, barely getting decent force, but it was enough to knock Will off the step and make him stumble.

  Miles leaped out and jumped on Will, getting his own swing into Will’s face while the woman shrieked from the doorway. Using all his might, Will whipped Miles onto his back, thrust a knee into his chest, and pinned him down.

  With a yell, Miles fought back, but he had nothing on Will. Easily in control of the fight, Will raised his right fist, let the blood surge through his arm—and froze.

  Blood dribbled out of Miles’s nose, and his eyes squeezed shut as he braced for the impact. When Will didn’t swing, the other man whimpered like the coward he was.

  Will looked up at Coco, who rocked herself with two arms, also whimpering. For a moment, they held each other’s gaze as she, too, waited for his fist to make contact.

  But that wouldn’t make him any better than this asshole or Deputy Sheriff Guy Bloom or any other man who thought this was action.

  He narrowed his eyes at Coco. “You want to help him? You want to help yourself?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “Get in that car and let me get you out of here.”

  Under him, Miles squirmed. “Don’t even think about it, Coco!” Will nailed him with a knee into the chest and jerked his head toward the car.

  “Come on, Coco,” Will urged. “You can do this.”

  She took a breath, hanging on the edge, then shook her head. “I can’t,” she practically mouthed the words. “Jocelyn understands.”

  “Then do it for you, not her,” he insisted. “Get yourself out of jail. You don’t have to live like this.”

  “Fuck you!” Miles shouted, his movie-star looks contorted with anger. “You get in that fucking car and I’ll kill you, Coco. I am not kidding!”

  “Don’t give him the power,” Will said quietly. “You can stand up to him and you can make a difference to a whole lot of women.”

  She choked softly. “That’s exactly what Jocelyn said.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “I’m scared.” She shivered and backed away like a beaten dog.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Get what you need and get in the car. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “And then what?”

  Will just smiled at her. “Then you’ll be a real star.”

  “Move and you’re dead, Coco,” Miles growled.

  She stabbed her hair, dragging it back, revealing another bruise by her ear.

  “Stay and you’re dead, Coco,” Will said. “It’s just a matter of time.”

  He held Miles down long enough for her to make her decision.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Jocelyn fingered the embroidery thread, resting the hoop on her lap, the buzz of activity in the house fading into the background as the weight of loss pressed on her chest.

  The whole situation reminded her of the night of her mother’s funeral. Except Guy wasn’t dead. She hoped.

  Please, God, don’t let him be dead. I have to tell him—

  Zoe came up behind her, putting her hands on Jocelyn’s shoulders with a soft squeeze. “Nice gladiolas.”

  Jocelyn almost smiled and twisted the needle. “I want to finish this for him but I haven’t a clue how to do this kind of thing.”

  “I do.” Zoe reach
ed over and took the needle, twirling it like a mini-baton. “I know, who would think I had a crafty bone in my body? But you need to go in the kitchen now, sweetie.”

  “Why?”

  “Deputy Dawg wants to talk to you.”

  Jocelyn whipped around, the spool of embroidery thread tumbling to the floor. “Slade’s here? Did they…” Blood drained from her head instantly.

  “No news, I promise. He just wants to tell you what the plan is for the night.”

  The night. It had been dark for several hours now. After the initial scouring of town, then the streets that led out, the ragtag team of Lacey, Clay, Tessa, and Zoe, later joined by Lacey’s daughter, Ashley, had gathered at the house so the professionals could take over.

  But no one had seen him. A maid at the Fourway Motel thought she saw a man meeting his description wandering along the walkway behind the hotel, but a thorough search of the building turned up nothing. A tourist at the harbor was certain he saw an older man just like him fishing on the docks, but that lead took them nowhere as well.

  And, the worst of all, the UPS guy said he thought he’d seen an old man crossing the causeway. What if he’d fallen off the bridge? What if he was…

  Please, God, no.

  The ache in her heart as heavy as a lead ball, Jocelyn handed the embroidery hoop to Zoe, refusing to give voice to her dark thoughts. “You can do needlepoint?” At Zoe’s nod, Jocelyn just smiled. “You’re full of surprises.”

  “Aren’t I, though?” She pointed the needle toward the kitchen. “Go talk to the hot cop.”

  She started to walk out, but Zoe stopped her. “Speaking of hot, have you reached Will?”

  She hadn’t tried after that one call to verify that he’d gotten the reporter out of town, since Jocelyn had wondered if someone from the media had actually kidnapped Guy to get to her. But she hadn’t told Will they’d lost him. “He’d just be on the next plane back and miss his interview tomorrow morning. There’s nothing he can do.”

  “He could comfort you,” she said.

  Not anymore. Jocelyn just shook her head and left Zoe, turning the corner to face a kitchen full of people.

  Tessa and Lacey had coffee going and food on the table. Ashley was cleaning up. Clay and some other men were talking to Slade Garrison.

  “Do you have any news?” she asked the deputy as he shifted his attention to her.

  “We haven’t turned up a single person who’s seen him, except those I told you about. And, Jocelyn, time is critical. He has to be found in the first twenty-four hours or…”

  She waved her hand. “I know the statistics.”

  He stepped closer, his expression softening. Lacey and Tessa also joined the conversation, flanking Jocelyn in support.

  “Look, I realize your situation is a bit different than usual,” Slade said. “And out of respect for your privacy and the fact that our island location makes it hard to get too far, I’ve held off on the next step. But I have to issue a Silver Alert, Jocelyn. I have to. I’m sorry.”

  “What exactly is that?” Tessa asked.

  “It’s like an Amber Alert for missing teens, but this is for elderly dementia patients.”

  “Why wouldn’t you do that?” Lacey asked.

  “Because,” Jocelyn answered, “it’ll have media crawling all over this place by morning.”

  Slade nodded. “It will, but there’s no reason you have to be in the spotlight, Jocelyn. My office will handle media contact.”

  “But reporters will come here.”

  “Possibly,” he said. “But just as likely someone watching the local TV station will have seen him. That’s how it usually works, if we move fast. I normally wouldn’t even talk to the family first, but considering the situation and all…”

  “Do it,” she said without hesitation. “Do whatever you have to do to find him.”

  He nodded. “I will, Jocelyn. Go get some rest. We’ll be working all night.”

  “Please have your men consider this a base,” Lacey said. “We’ll keep coffee and food and whatever you need.”

  Lacey and Tessa’s arms tightened around Jocelyn for a quick hug, just as the front door popped open without a knock. Everyone turned expectantly, only to see Charity Grambling march in like she owned the place.

  “Did you find the old bastard yet?”

  Instantly Lacey stiffened. “Charity, don’t make this worse than it already is.”

  Charity ignored her and slid a gaze to Slade. “My niece told me you were here.”

  Slade didn’t look happy about that. “The best way for you to help is to stay at the Super Min, Charity. You can talk to every single customer and, frankly, that’s where he was last seen. We need you there, not here.”

  “Gloria’s there, as you well know. I’m here to help Jocelyn.”

  Lacey bristled again. “She doesn’t need you—”

  “Yes, I do,” Jocelyn said, stepping forward. Charity had saved her once and no matter what the woman thought of Jocelyn’s recent change of heart, she was always welcome. “Thank you for coming, Charity.”

  Jocelyn could feel Lacey’s glare on her, but she guided Charity toward the living room, where Zoe sat on the sofa doing needlepoint. Like bodyguards, Tessa and Lacey followed.

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee, Charity?” Jocelyn asked.

  The older woman stood in the middle of the room, her strawlike dye job sticking out in a few directions, a pair of khaki pants hanging loose on her hips. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and kept her gaze on Jocelyn. “I know you didn’t like what I had to tell you today, but you have to consider the possibility that it’s true.”

  “That what’s true?” Zoe asked, either completely oblivious to the strange dynamics in the room or at least pretending to be.

  “He’s faking Alzheimer’s,” Charity said.

  Tessa and Lacey sucked in a soft breath, but Zoe just pulled a long green strand of embroidery yarn through the pattern. “That’s what I thought.”

  “You did?” Tessa asked.

  “What do you think?” Lacey asked Jocelyn. “You know him better than anyone.”

  “I don’t think he’s faking it,” she said. “He’s always been… unstable.”

  Charity snorted. “He’s a fucking criminal!”

  The women stared at her, but Jocelyn held up her hands. “That’s not true—“

  “How can you say that?” Charity practically stomped her sneakered foot. “He damn near killed you.”

  “What?”

  The question came from all three women at once. They stared at her with a mix of horror, shock, and genuine sadness. Jocelyn turned to the kitchen, catching Ashley in the doorway. “Honey, please. Don’t.”

  “Give us a minute, Ash,” Lacey said quickly to her daughter, who obeyed by pivoting and disappearing.

  “Why didn’t you tell us, Joss?” The crack in Tessa’s question almost tore Jocelyn’s heart out.

  “You didn’t need to know the details. And, honestly, he didn’t…” Yes, he did. “It was a long…” That didn’t matter. “I’ve tried to forget it.”

  “Well, I haven’t.” Charity practically spit the words. “And, frankly, if he fell off the causeway it wouldn’t be good enough for him.”

  “Charity, please.” Jocelyn reached for her. “I know how you feel. And I know you think that my forgiving him is some kind of personal affront, or not—not showing gratitude for what you did, but—”

  “What did she do?” Lacey asked, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice. Of course, Lacey, like every lifetime resident of Mimosa Key, knew Charity as a nasty, mean-spirited gossipmonger. And last year, that mean spirit went to new and personal heights when she tried to stop Casa Blanca from ever getting built.

  “I saved her life.”

  Again, every eye in the living room was on her. Zoe’s needlepointing fingers stilled and Lacey just looked positively wretched at this turn of events. And Tessa, the woman who hated secrets the most, was clearly
on the verge of tears.

  Jocelyn dropped onto the edge of the sofa with a sigh. “I never wanted to tell you guys this.”

  Zoe put the needlepoint hoop on the table and reached for her. “We kinda knew.”

  “Not really.” Jocelyn looked up at Charity. “Not the extent of it. Not how bad it was.”

  “I’ll show them.” Charity reached into her back pocket. “You don’t think I was dumb enough to give you the only copies of the pictures, do you?”

  “No!” Jocelyn jumped up, but Charity flung the pictures on the table like she was folding her poker cards, an array of bruises, blood, and brutality instantly spread before them.

  Oh, God. She couldn’t even look—not through the eyes of her friends. Sharp daggers of shame pierced her heart and stung her eyes as she choked on a sob. She had to get out of here. She had to get out of here.

  “Holy hell,” Zoe said. “He did almost kill you.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Jocelyn demanded of Charity. “Why betray me? I trusted you.”

  “Her?” Lacey almost spit. “Why would you trust her?”

  “Because she picked me up off the street when I was running away.” Charity had been the right person at the right time. “She helped me.”

  Charity waved her off. “I’m no Good Samaritan, believe me. I just hate abusers. I hate men who hit.” She touched her face as if she could still feel the pain of a fist there. “And I hate Guy Bloom and couldn’t care less if he is dead.”

  Jocelyn closed her eyes. “But I care.” She put up her hands in surrender, needing the conversation and the pitiful looks and the hurt for not sharing to stop. As fast as she could without actually running, she left the room, headed down the hall, and darted into Guy’s bedroom, fighting the urge to slam the door just to get rid of some of the emotion surging through her.

  Dropping on the bed, she let the sobs escape.

  Now they knew everything. Just like Will, they’d never look at her the same. They’d never look at Guy the same and, at one time, that wouldn’t have mattered, but now it did.