Swept Away: A Squeaky Clean Honeymoon Novella (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 12) (2 page)

Thump, thump, thump.

I tried to ignore it and enjoy this moment I’d been dreaming about for so long—being married to Riley. Being here. Being with him.

Maybe I’d been hearing things. Maybe it was a dream. After all, it was the middle of the night in the town without crime.

Thump, thump, thump.

The sound became more urgent, and I couldn’t pretend I was hearing things.

Somebody was pounding on the door to our beach house.

If I had to guess, this had something to do with the reality show next door. The ladies over there had partied hard until two in the morning, with music blaring and loud, loud talking. It had sounded like festivity central.

What could be happening now to pull me out of my slumber?

Option one: Someone didn’t get a dance card.

Option two: Someone had a clothing malfunction.

Option three: Someone found out Ricky the Gigolo was dating someone else.

Riley stirred beside me. “What is that . . . ?”

“I’m not sure. But I guess we should go check it out.”

He kissed my shoulder. “Do we have to?”

Just then, someone screamed in the distance, “Please. Help me!”

Riley and I threw off the soft down comforter and jumped out of bed. I grabbed a robe and quickly tied it around me as Riley and I rushed toward the sound. The scream sounded like more than
Looking for Love
gone bad. Someone sounded scared.

I glanced at the bedside clock. Four a.m.

At the front door, Riley pushed me behind him and finished pulling on his T-shirt. As he jerked the door open, tension crackled in the air. The ocean breeze drifted inside, deceitfully peaceful and balmy.

A woman stood there. Mascara streaked her cheeks, and sand clung to her itsy-bitsy black dress.

“You’ve got to help me. Please!” She tumbled inside and fell against Riley, heaving in deep gulps of air.

“What’s wrong?” Riley grasped her arms. If he let go, she’d surely slip to the ground.

She looked up at us, her eyes wide and tear-rimmed. “They took her.”

I touched her arm, concern ricocheting through me. Something had happened to traumatize the woman. Something bad.

I glanced outside beyond the woman and saw nothing but a dark beach. Nothing else was discernable through the blackness of the night. Just what was hiding out there in the nighttime?

“Took who?” Riley asked the woman.

“Vivian.” She sobbed again. “We were walking down on the beach when these men pulled up in a boat. They jumped out, grabbed Vivian, and took off. One of them started to come after me, but I got away. This was the first house I found. Please, you’ve got to do something!”

Riley and I exchanged a glance.

So much for a peaceful honeymoon.

R
iley darted
outside to check out things himself—a role I desperately wanted to take, but I restrained myself. Instead, I called 911 and started a pot of coffee—thankfully the owner had left some supplies—and I found a blanket to drape over the woman’s shoulders.

As I poured some coffee, I glanced over at her. She’d told me as I led her to the couch a few moments earlier that her name was Joey Hedges and she was originally from Wisconsin. She was a pretty woman—it was a prerequisite for being on these shows. She had flawless olive skin and lovely, dark hair that had just the right amount of gloss. A certain Midwest, girl-next-door charm emanated from her.

I walked toward her, noting how she gripped the soft, blue blanket around her shoulders. Her back was hunched; she clenched a rumpled tissue in her hands; and red rimmed her dark eyes. She was here with me, yet she wasn’t. Her mind looked a million miles away.

I quickly glanced out the windows before I reached her side. When would Riley be back? Had he found anything outside? Was he okay?

Please, Lord.

Just then, the door flew open, bringing with it the briny smell from outside. Riley stepped inside, stomping the sand from his feet. His shirt was already damp with humidity and salty air.

But he was okay. Thank goodness, he was okay.

“Anything?” I paused mid-step, my curiosity skyrocketing.

He shook his head, gently closing—and locking—the door behind him. “Nothing. Whoever was out there is now long gone. It’s hard to see anything else because of the dark, but I have a feeling the tide will wash away any evidence like footprints that may have been left.”

I tried to ignore it, but something started to sizzle in my blood at his words. A missing woman. An exotic locale. An intriguing mystery.

But I was on my honeymoon, I reminded myself. This was the perfect time to just focus on my relationship with Riley. To stay out of trouble. To mind my own business in the midst of the chaos around me.

But it was as if trouble called to me like a seagull crying out for the seashore. However, I was determined to learn the fine art of ignoring my crime-solving instincts, especially when other priorities beckoned. Like my marriage.

“The police are on their way,” I told Joey, who still looked forlorn on the couch as I handed her some coffee.

She dragged her gaze toward me. “Thank you.”

“Do you want us to call the guys from the show?” Riley walked toward her, his voice low and compassionate.

She shook her head. “No. I want the police to handle this. I’m tired of the way Alastair handles things.”

“Alastair?” Riley questioned as he lowered himself into the white leather recliner across from her.

She frowned. Or was she pouting? “He’s the executive producer. He’ll do anything for ratings. He’ll probably even try to use this to make a few bucks. That’s the kind of person he is.”

“What happened out there exactly?” I crossed my legs and gripped my own cup of coffee. I tried to keep my voice light, knowing that my curiosity would only seem morbid and insensitive.

“Vivian wanted to talk to me,” she started, sniffling and gingerly wiping under her eyes with a French-tipped finger. “We’d had a lot of disagreements since the show started.”

“You didn’t know her before the show, right?” I tried to keep her talking and calm. Okay, okay—I also wanted more information and background. But
not
because I was investigating

She nodded, bouncing her head up and down at just the right cadence to be Emmy worthy. “That’s right. I didn’t know anyone. But, right from the start, neither of us liked each other.”

“Why was that?” Riley leaned forward, his elbows perched on his knees, as he listened carefully to her story.

Joey sniffled again. “We were both front runners, so there was a bit of competition between the two of us.”

I wondered just how far this competition went. Enough to make Joey a suspect? Though she was obviously upset, her archenemy had essentially just been eliminated. With no witnesses around, it was Joey’s word against . . . no one’s.

Not that I was speculating or forming theories.

“Are you allowed to leave the house while filming is going on?” Riley asked. “That’s not against any of the rules?”

His question seemed strange to me, especially since there were so many other things he could be asking. Why wouldn’t she be able to leave? It wasn’t like she was a prisoner there. Besides, I hadn’t realized he knew so much about reality TV.

“After all, it creates more drama if everyone is confined to a small space for an extended period of time,” Riley continued.

Her eyes lit. “Yes! You’re exactly right. Alastair is all about drama. But Vivian said she needed to talk to me without any cameras. I thought she might have something important to tell me.”

“Did she have anything to tell you?” I asked.

“She looked worried—beyond the normal does-Ricky-like-me-the-most-or-not worried. But we didn’t even have time to start talking, really, before things went south.”

“Do you have any ideas about why she wanted to talk?” Riley asked.

“No, not really. Maybe to apologize?”

“For what?” I questioned.

“She’d been hurling insults at me and trying to turn the other girls against me. Then she told Ricky how horrible she thought I was. She had the nerve to call me two-faced and said the person Ricky saw wasn’t the same one the girls in the house lived with.” Joey’s frown deepened.

“That had to hurt,” I said. Catty women weren’t my favorite people to be around. I’d never survive on a show like that.

She nodded. “Vivian was really the one who was two-faced. She acted all high-and-mighty in the house, like she was better than us. But with Ricky she tried to seem like she was a sweetheart without any enemies in the world. I wanted so desperately to tell Ricky that she still talked about her ex-boyfriend back at home.”

These women were seriously messed up. But I didn’t have the mental energy to go there right now. I had to stay focused.

“Weren’t you two worried about getting in trouble?” Riley asked. “Sneaking out could get you kicked off the show.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re only a week into the show, and at times I want to leave the show and get away from all the drama. I don’t really think that’s a possibility. I signed a contract . . . and then there’s Ricky. I think he likes me.”

“And you like him?” I asked, trying to grasp what she was saying.

“Of course. But all of this was too much for me. I don’t like sharing my men. It feels unnatural. And, after a while, it seems like it becomes more about winning than it does actually finding love. I mean, when Ricky kissed me for the first time, I thought I was falling in love. But it turns out he’s kissed six of us. It makes me feel . . . cheap.”

I could only imagine.
Harem
echoed in my head again. That was
not
the way dating should play out.

The old Waylon Jennings’ song that served as the show’s namesake played like a mental soundtrack in my mind. Which was strange since the tune talked about looking for love in the wrong places and people. Maybe the contestants should take heed of the lyrics and get the hint.

“What happened next on your walk with Vivian?” I asked.

“We were walking down the beach, talking about this stupid competition where we had to eat bugs in order to win a date with Ricky. Mary Ellen won. She’s a farm girl from Alabama and not Ricky’s type at all, but she was able to stomach those little creepy crawlies.” Joey shivered. “Anyway, I saw a boat pull up on the shore as we were talking about the competition, but I didn’t really think anything about it. I figured they were probably just night fishing or something.”

“What happened next?” I asked.

“The next thing I knew, these men in black had surrounded us. I guess they came from the boat. It was so dark out there, and I hadn’t really thought anything about it. They grabbed Vivian. She was screaming and kicking, but she couldn’t get away.”

“How many of them were there?” I asked.

“I think four.”

“They left you alone during this?” Riley narrowed his eyes in thought.

Joey’s chin trembled. “One man tried to grab me, but I ran as fast as I could. After a few minutes, they seemed to forget about me, and they carried Vivian into the water. To their boat, I assume. I couldn’t look back. I feel so bad. I left her. How could I have done that? She was kicking and screaming and scared. She was a nasty woman, but I would have never wanted this.”

“There was probably nothing you could do to help,” I told her.

“They had guns. They seemed militant, you know? I can’t put my finger on why exactly. I just felt like these guys were professionals or something.”

Interesting observation.

“Was there anything they said to give any indication of who they were or why they took Vivian?” I asked, pondering everything she’d told me. “Accents, tattoos, strange scents even?”

She shook her head. “No, they were quiet. They pretty much just did their job and then left. That was it.”

Did their job.
That was an odd way to phrase it.

Just then, someone knocked at the door. I looked out the window and saw the flashing police lights. It was time to hand this over to the professionals.

That’s exactly what I planned on doing.

No involvement-o from Gabby-o. That-o was my motto.

* * *

A
n hour later
, Joey was in the capable hands of the Crystal Key Police Department. Three police officers had shown up. An older man, probably in his early sixties, with a slight build and wrinkle-lined eyes, had talked to us while the rest of his crew went to the beach to look for evidence. Apparently, the chief was out of town and due to arrive back early the next morning.

That meant Riley and I were free to go on with our day.

It was six-thirty now, and Riley and I were wide-awake. And we were on a beautiful island in Florida with nothing to do but relax. That was exactly what I planned on doing.

It always seemed strange to me to continue on with life as if nothing had happened while other people faced tragedies. That was partly why I never did just that. I could help people find answers, heal, and get closure. Why wouldn’t I want to do that?

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. How about we go and grab some breakfast?” Riley pulled me close as we stood in the living room, both still a little shocked from the surprising turn of events.

“Sure thing. But where?”

“There are a few restaurants and shops located within walking distance. I’m sure one of them serves breakfast. I’d offer to cook, but we have no food here yet. We never did make that grocery store run after we got here yesterday.”

I nodded, figuring anything I did with Riley would make me happy, especially solving a mystery—I meant, having breakfast together. “Let’s go explore.”

I donned some white linen pants and a blue T-shirt, along with my favorite flip-flops. I’d bought a new pair just for this trip, so it was a good thing we’d gone somewhere warm where I could wear them. Although, if we’d gone to Alaska, I would have probably worn them anyway. I had this thing for flip-flops. I loved them.

We stepped out into the warm, early morning sunshine. It was already humid outside, and, I couldn’t be positive, but I thought I spotted a mosquito swarming around me. In October?

Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Virginia anymore.

Riley’s fingers interlaced with mine as we headed toward the sandy, sidewalk-lined street. Palm trees bordered it, as well as other tropical-looking plants that I didn’t often see in Virginia. We weren’t in the Caribbean, but part of me felt like we were.

And I had to admit that I liked it.

“What a start to our stay, huh?” Riley said.

“I’d say.”

I threw one glance over my shoulder at the massive beach house in the distance. Police cars remained there, and a flurry of activity surrounded the place. Officers came and went. Women huddled together. Cameramen filmed it all.

I cleared my throat and ignored my surge of curiosity. “So, who owns this house where we’re staying?”

“One of the law partners in the DC office. Mel Murphy.”

“That’s nice of him to let us use it.”

Riley shrugged. “He said there’s no reason for it to sit empty. He plans to retire down here.”

As soon as we reached the end of the residential street, a row of shops appeared. Most of them were located along the water, and a quaint little boardwalk/pier lined the businesses. Boats were docked along the edges, and waves gently lapped the bulkhead.

The familiar scent of salt water air, mixed with fish and seaweed, carried toward us with the breeze. Early risers walked or jogged on the neat waterfront boardwalk, and several people were already out in boats, kayaks, and paddleboats, enjoying the cooler early morning hours. A few men fished from a pier.

We walked past a bait and tackle shop, a gift store, and a general market. Next we came to Erma’s, and, based on the scent of bacon that floated from its open windows, this place served breakfast.