Murder by the Seaside (18 page)

“I’ll walk over with you.” Sebastian offered me his elbow.

“You kids have fun. Take the love bus if you want.” Mom slid into the cart with Dad. He inched out into traffic, waving good-bye, then got stuck behind a string of minivans.

I turned a suspicious eye on Sebastian as we walked. “What? You aren’t insisting we drive everywhere now? Is it the traffic?”

“It’s the fact you’re in one piece, unlike that kayak. You saved the day, caught the dumpers and saved an undetermined amount of sea life. Now I can relax again. You, on the other hand, have a pile of messages on the counter near the old landline jack. Here.” He dug a BlackBerry from his pocket. “Carry this until you get the other replaced. Just in case.”

“Thanks. A pile, huh?”

He nodded. “Enough to keep you busy awhile.”

“And all is well just in time for you to go back to work.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to concentrate in Norfolk with you being shot at out here all day.”

I aimed my elbow into his ribs. “They didn’t shoot at me every day, and never for long. At least it’s over and you can stop worrying.”

Sebastian slowed his pace beside me. “That wasn’t the end of your problems, Patience.”

My feet pulled up short as we cut through a driveway onto Adrian’s street. Sheriff Murray’s car sat out front of Adrian’s home. His deputy leaned against the handrail to the stairs, writing in his notebook. His face brightened when he looked my way.

“That was good work you did last night. It was nice to have some good news this week. It’s been a tough road lately for the island. Two deaths in a row.” He shook his head. “We’re real glad you thought to sneak up on them at night like that.”

Sebastian elbowed me this time.

Deputy Fargas looked between us, fumbling for words. “I mean, it was dangerous and you should’ve let someone know what you were up to.” He didn’t suppress his smile. “But, hot damn, did one little kayak ruin their night.”

“If you give up these rights...” Sheriff Murray appeared, dragging Adrian around the wraparound porch and onto the stairs with us. He raised an eyebrow as he passed me by. Adrian wore shiny silver handcuffs.

“What are you doing?” My hands balled into fists at my sides. A pain shot through my temple and one eye twitched.

One hand on Adrian’s head, Sheriff Murray stuffed him into the backseat of the cruiser, finished his spiel and turned to me. “Do I understand correctly you were living here with a fugitive?”

“No. I was staying here as a house sitter.” I uncurled my fingers and locked palms against my hips, daring him to push me. I had no idea what I’d do or say, but seeing Adrian in handcuffs did something to me. My insides twisted until I wanted to spring at someone. If the sheriff wanted a piece of me, I was good and ready.

“What’d you arrest him for now? Someone else commit a crime you want a scapegoat for?” The minute the words were out, I regretted them. I hadn’t bucked authority like that, not in a decade. “The Coast Guard caught the dumpers. Why are you here?”

“The Coast Guard caught dumpers, not murderers, Miss Price. Do you have any evidence to connect a handful of ocean-contaminators with murder? Or do you think when one criminal goes to jail, another should be set free? No one has proven Mr. Davis innocent. He’s under arrest. He’ll need an attorney to get him off, not his girlfriend.”

Sebastian stiffened at my side.

The deputy waved a chipper good-bye and slid into the sheriff’s passenger seat. Adrian looked at us out the window like a kid being taken from his parents. It was the single most outrageous example of injustice ever. I wanted to stamp my foot and toss gravel at the cruiser. I had worked hard to clear Adrian’s name. I was shot at and car bombed. How did I not see this coming? I couldn’t tie the dumpers to the murders and neither could anyone else.

Strong arms pulled me to Sebastian’s chest. My arms hung loosely at my sides.

Just when I thought the nightmare was over, Adrian was still going to jail for murder.

Chapter Eighteen

I didn’t sleep. Sebastian kept me company late into the night, but my mind kept me up, running through scenarios where I might’ve done things differently. Even after I said good night and moved to my room, I sat in bed looking out the window Adrian had climbed through so many times. The moon lit a path over my sheets. I stretched my fingers out to catch it and then I hugged my knees to my chest. How could I have prevented Adrian’s arrest? No matter how many times I asked myself that question, I came up with nothing.

Blaming Adrian was easier. Why did he go home? Then guilt set in. Was he looking for me? Had he heard about my ordeal the night before? Did he come back to make me breakfast again? Was he worried about me? About his kayak?

I knew he didn’t care about his kayak. My nose burned and my eyes ached to cry.

Adrian never cared about things. He loved people. The island. Me. Once upon a time anyway.

The moonlight softened as clouds passed overhead, still threatening the town with the storm that never came. Before I was ready, dim moonlight gave way to ashy hues and soon flickers of a new day replaced the night. I dozed off sometime after watching the sun rise. Basking in shards of amber and rose sunlight relaxed my shaky body into dreamland. How many times had Adrian and I stolen wine from my parents’ cabinet and sat on the roof making plans?

In the space of a heartbeat, I stood at the back of a church, dressed in white and facing a long canopy of lilies, baby’s breath and tulle. The wheezy old organ from the church on First Street blared out a tune, and I turned to find Dad at my side. It was hard to see through the gauzy material. I ran my fingertips over the veil. Daddy pulled me along, trampling rose petals and smiling proudly all the way, while I stumbled along, staring into curious faces.

Confusion seized my thoughts as we arrived at my final destination. The groom’s back faced me, his head tilted away, speaking quietly to the preacher. Who wanted to marry me? I stumbled back over my long satin train. I was downsized. Unemployed. Small chested. I liked the last part, but men didn’t share my enthusiasm. Probably because they never had to shop for a two-piece bathing suit.

“Dearly beloved,” the preacher began. I gasped when my dad tried to hand me off to the groom. His face was concealed in shadows only a dream could produce. When I started to protest the assumption I wanted to be tethered to one man for the rest of my life, Sheriff Murray appeared in place of the preacher and looked down his pointy nose at me. The sight didn’t derail my argument. I wanted assurance I didn’t have to change my name or cook or clean. My groom didn’t bother to look at me. What was his problem?

“Hey.” I shook my bouquet in my groom’s direction. “Look at me. We’re getting married here.”

Dad placed my hand in the groom’s, and the man turned to me. Stained-glass windows surrounded us and their reflected color flickered over his stunning white tuxedo. I was about to become Mrs....

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Sebastian knocked on my open door. My cheeks burned at the idea he might’ve heard my dream. He sauntered in, pausing at my bedside to make room for a tray. Sebastian wasn’t the kind of man I imagined fixing breakfast.

“I wasn’t sure what to make, so I prepared everything.”

He wasn’t joking. Mini-muffins, coffee, an apple, a banana, a bowl of dry cereal with a small cup of milk beside it. A bagel, butter, cream cheese and jelly.

“Good grief.” I groaned, inhaling the wonderful aroma. “I can’t eat all this.” I pulled my pillow over my eyes in protest.

“Just eat what you want.”

“I want to eat it all.” I peeled back a corner of the pillow and peeked at the tray of my favorite breakfast foods. “I’m a stress eater who has stress.”

Sebastian sighed. The mattress shifted under his weight, and I rolled toward him without meaning to. He set the tray on the bed beside my feet and leaned into me. One long finger trailed over my forehead, tucking a mess of wild bangs behind my ear and away from my face. He smiled, but the sentiment didn’t reach his eyes. For a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. Something bothered him, too.

“I have to head back to Norfolk today. I’ll be back tonight, but it might be late.”

Of course. I couldn’t keep him forever. “Is this about getting out of dinner with my parents?” When I smiled, his lips turned up with more sincerity. “Boy, you’ll do anything to avoid those two.”

“You’re not kidding. It’s awful being around such uptight, unaccepting posers.”

We laughed together and my heart thumped. While I’d been toiling with the mystery at hand, he’d been getting to know me. I didn’t let people do that, especially not men. My parents knew everyone on the island. Aside from Adrian, I’d never dated anyone from Chincoteague. After I left home, I never brought anyone back—not that there’d been anyone to bring home. Sebastian was the first outsider.

What did it mean to my parents that he came and stayed? I remembered my first impression of Sebastian. My parents had grounds to worry. I hoped dinner at their house would work out soon. They needed to get to know him.

“When will you be back?”

His deep brown eyes pinned me to the bed. “When would you like me back?”

I opened my mouth to speak, and air caught in my throat, thickening it. My words mattered more than ever. Whatever I said would give me away. I couldn’t tell him what I wanted—for him to stay and protect me, like a little child.

I pulled my lips in over my teeth, angry at that thought. It wasn’t too late for me to get to the bottom of things. I could redeem the mess I’d made.

He waited for an answer.

“According to Sheriff Murray, there’s still a killer on the loose.” I glanced away from his face, cursing my transparency.
Stay.
I sent out a mental plea, unable to voice the word aloud.
Stay with me.
My ears burned with a blush. Were my suspicions correct? Could he see through me? This time, I hoped he could.

“It wouldn’t be prudent for me to stay away, then. If there’s a killer on the loose, I should come back as soon as I can.”

I nodded. He’d heard my plea.

When I walked him to the Range Rover after breakfast, saying good-bye was awkward. Half the island watched from somewhere. Careful to keep an appropriate distance, I stepped aside when he climbed in behind the wheel. His lips pressed tight. Mirrored glasses covered his eyes.

“I’ll be back soon, tonight sometime. Text me if you need anything. If I can’t be here, I’ll send someone.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t walk alone. Take the love bus. Lock your doors. Be vigilant.”

I forced a smile to show I accepted his advice. Darn skippy. Vigilant was my new middle name.

Unfortunately, the questions I still needed to ask were sure to get me extra-negative attention, and the killer remained at large. My protection was leaving. I’d be a sitting duck. The weight of it knocked the air from my lungs.

He’d let me go with him if I asked.

“Sebastian?”

He pulled his glasses away, revealing weary eyes. The set of his brow and clench of his jaw worried me. “Yeah?”

For what felt like an eternity, the words wrestled on my tongue. I had no idea what might come out of my mouth. “Be careful.”

He snorted.

The minute his taillights disappeared, I took the stairs two at a time and double dead-bolted the door behind me. I flopped onto my couch and pulled Claire’s pillow to my face. It smelled like Sebastian. The couch, the air, my world smelled of spice and musk and hair gel. Sitting tall, I took a long look around.

The boxes I’d stacked against the far wall were missing. Not taken by Sebastian, of course. Who would take my books and old movies? Not Adrian. Stories of the ghost who haunted my apartment popped in and out of my head. I stood and began to examine my place. The musty stink of the walls and carpeting had faded to nothing. I trailed my gaze over the room. A row of well-worn paperbacks lined the shelf above the window. My stack of Blu-Rays sat beside my portable DVD player on the television stand, right where nice audio-visual components I didn’t own were meant to go.

I flung open kitchen cupboards. Everything was arranged neatly behind doors that no longer squeaked. Food practically spilled out of the refrigerator. Fruit, cheeses, milk, water, greens. I couldn’t believe it. I went on to the next room. Linens filled the closet in my bathroom. I ran to the bedroom closet. Everything was hung or folded and meticulously organized. A black duffel sat near the inside wall beside rows of my shoes. I recognized it as Sebastian’s.

Had he left these things on purpose or forgotten them?

I turned in a small circle, taking it all in. Sebastian had unpacked and decorated my apartment.

Huh.

The fact needed probing, but something else pushed forward in my mind. He’d left a stack of messages near the old landline for me. I dashed to the kitchen and found several slips of scratch paper.

Hank stopped by to apologize and ask if I needed more help with the boathouse. He was one brave guy, or completely bonkers. Bad things happened at the boathouse.

Melissa bought a dog and wanted me to meet him. I took a minute to think about that. Melissa was the grocery store clerk. She made a good decision. Lost dogs rarely returned. If he did, there was always room for one more. I hoped.

Sam Fines wanted to golf with me. Golf? I didn’t golf. He must have something he wanted to talk about. Sam owned the pharmacy. I wondered what he needed help with. Hopefully he didn’t have a pill addiction because that wasn’t in my realm of experience.

The last slip had a funny face drawn on it. Mrs. Franks stopped by to apologize for vandalizing the golf cart. Then she asked Sebastian to warn me to stay away from her husband. Then she left her number so we could get together.

I rubbed my forehead. This wasn’t the island practice I’d had in mind.

A floorboard creaked. A flash of red caught my eye. I placed the notes back on the counter and opened a cupboard door, removing one solid serving plate. With a white-knuckled grip, I whipped around, plate held high. Mrs. Davis screamed and made the sign of the cross over her chest.

“How did you get in here?” My arms shook over my head.

She bent forward, grabbing her knees and huffing for air.

“Where have you been?” I asked. Who disappears after a car bombing then breaks in? Jeez. I didn’t know if I wanted to hug her or smack her.

“I was staying at Adrian’s until you showed up. Then I had to sleep in the crappy art studio downstairs. You know what cold cement does to a woman my age?” She flipped upright, holding her back. “Get me some water.”

I obeyed without thinking. Mrs. Davis sat on the couch and waited for me. “You didn’t have to leave when I went to Adrian’s house. I never got to thank you for calling me an ambulance. Why’d you hide after that?”

“I didn’t know if I was spotted out there. The van pulled up, blocked the view of your car for a minute, then it drove right past me. From where I stood, I could see a blinking light on the ground under your car. Then you came running like the devil was chasing you. I called nine-one-one and took off. I didn’t want to be a crime witness some maniac set his sights on getting rid of.”

Oh. I couldn’t blame her. “I wish I’d have known you were okay. It was scary when you disappeared like that.”

SPLAT.

A
pop
sounded against my window. Only a foot over Mrs. Davis’s head, a shadow appeared.

She dove for the floor, but I knew that sound. I flung open the door. Mrs. Franks wielded a carton of eggs in the road outside.

“Hey!” I threw my hands in the air and marched onto my stoop. “Stop it. What are you doing? You know how hard it is to get egg off of stuff? Especially after it bakes in this heat.”

Her eyes stretched wide at the sight of me, and she shoved the carton behind her back. “Sorry.”

I chewed my lips to keep from announcing her husband was a patient like her. I did not want to sleep with Hank Franks. I had enough problematic men in my life. One was in jail because of me. Another was thoroughly confused—also my fault. Plus, somewhere nearby a third man wanted to kill me.

“Can we get together next week?” she yelled up the steps.

“Call me.”

I ducked back inside, locked the door and pulled the shades. Now that she was calmer, Mrs. Davis’s drawn expression reeked of distaste. I’d let her down, and she wanted to make sure I knew it. Long red fingernails tapped the sides of her sweaty glass. Purple creases weighed beneath her eyes. Her extreme tan had faded to a normal healthy glow. Thick black eyeliner rimmed her lids into cat eyes. The look fit.

“Well?” She screeched when I didn’t speak.

“What?” I couldn’t very well explain the strange exchange with Mrs. Franks, if that’s what she meant.

“Well, what are you going to do now? You’re supposed to keep my boy out of prison, not sign his arrest warrant. What good were the all those days of hiding out, freezing cold nights and going hungry, if he winds up doing life for a crime he didn’t commit anyway?” Her eyes glistened. I hadn’t thought of how Adrian got his hands on food or stayed warm. Adrian was a survivor. I assumed he had his meals somewhere people didn’t know he was wanted for murder, maybe on the mainland. But how could he get money? They probably watched his bank accounts. He had friends everywhere, I’d assumed...

Sadness flattened me to the wall, and a weight settled on my chest. I’d failed big-time. At everything. I’d wasted an entire week with Sebastian, and I wasn’t any closer to finding Brady’s killer than the day he arrived. I’d failed Adrian. Now he was in jail and I was alone. The killer only had to make a move and I was toast. With any luck, Sebastian left a weapon I knew how to use in his black duffel. The odds weren’t great. The only weapon I’d wielded lately was a laptop. His government-issued handgun was secure in the holster when he headed home. What was in his duffel?

“Well?” She smacked her glass onto the coffee table and glared. “I asked one thing of you. One.” Her voice cracked. A tear fell. “I don’t understand. They arrested someone. I saw the lights and commotion. They had the guy. You found him.” Emotion spilled from her tough shell, setting me back. I’d seen her laugh. I’d seen her yell and command. I’d never seen her cry.