by Lexi Hart
It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. There is only one person vindictive enough.
I don’t think I’ll understand the level of spite Carol Casey holds towards me. But the continued backstabbing has now reached unprecedented levels.
Placing a bunch of one-stars across all my books including one not even published was ridiculous, intentionally trying to cause me harm in my private life, is almost beyond belief.
Anger is building like a storm inside me, until I’m not sure I won’t stop myself from retaliating somehow.
I will never understand how some people can be so filled with spite. It takes so much energy to purposely sabotage another author. And what’s worse, I’ve gone out of my way to be kind to her.
Whatever it is she thinks I’ve done to slight her, I can only imagine as a figment of her warped imagination.
It defies belief she loathes me so much. Attacking my books, placing reviews is one thing, this goes beyond her unprofessionalism, this is hardcore stalker behavior.
Since she’s obviously in cahoots with Kent, and they both have decided to gang up on me like petty teenagers, I tap my toes in my heels as I wait for Kent to come back in.
The second he sits, Kate lawyer pulls out the new contract. “The revised proposed settlement. My client is agreeable to a seventy thirty split from the proceeds of the marital home. If you’d like more time—”
Kent looks me in the eye. “I don’t need more time. I’ll sign.”
My fingers are trembling so much, I have a false start before I scrawl my signature on the contract.
The second my name is on the agreement I look at Kate. “Are we done?”
She nods, and I look at Kent as I shoulder my bag. “Say hello to Carol for me. Tell her I really enjoyed her last book. Pity it was in the bargain bin.”
His mouth opens, but I stalk out of the room with as much dignity as I can muster.
It’s a cheap shot. It really is, and he probably won’t tell her anyway. But it makes me incrementally better knowing that while her books are languishing, mine at least are doing better than my love life.
I stumble down the corridor towards the elevators. I half expect Kent to show up to gloat, but he doesn’t appear as the elevator doors open.
I step inside, press the button and ignore the lump in my throat as I descend to the ground floor.
I’m about to pull my cell out to call Abbie when it chirps in my purse. I step out of the way of the foot traffic and press my spine against the exterior of the building.
Chloe’s name is up on the screen, and I almost don’t answer. I’m not sure I can take any teenage dramatics after today.
My voice comes out thick as I answer. “This isn’t a good time.”
She almost squeaks down the line. “Ah! Your castle! It’s on fire!”
I press the phone harder against my ear. “What on earth are you talking about?”
She’s so excited I can barely make out what she’s saying. “Chloe, slow down. I can’t understand you.”
She takes a deep breath. “The castle. There was an explosion or something. It’s on the news. Can you believe it? Someone planted a bomb and you were right there just a few days ago!”
My thoughts start to crush in one on top of the other as I shake my head. “A bomb? Was anyone hurt?”
Her breathing is still ragged. “They didn’t say. Just that the Bomb Squad were investing. This is so exciting! I mean, I’m so happy you weren’t there, but—”
The phone slips away from my ear, fingers curling around it as I try to think past the panic.
I lift a hand and hail a cab. I can’t even contemplate what is going on right now. I need to get back to my hotel and call Mary to check she’s okay.
When the cab pulls up at the curb, I throw myself inside, bark the address at the driver and dial Mary’s number the second I’ve shut the door.
Her phone switches immediately to voice mail making my panic increase. I tap out Abbie’s number and she picks up instantly. “Oh! I was going to call you! I wasn’t sure if you’d be finished with your lawyer.”
I wince. “What happened at the castle? Was anyone hurt?”
I grip my phone as the cab driver sends me curious looks.
“I just got off the phone from Mary. No one was hurt and they aren’t telling her much. But it looks like a bomb was placed in the Boathouse. She said the police are going to interview everyone who was there the week prior.”
I’m so stunned, I just lean against the door and can’t find a single word to say. “I’m a suspect?”
“More like a witness. Are you okay? I mean, how did everything go with Kent?”
I’m barely coherent as the cab pulls up at my hotel, I pay him, tip him far too much and stagger out.
“It’s fine. It’s done. I have to sell,” I say as I walk inside the lobby.
My thoughts are twisted in so many directions at once, I can’t keep them straight.
“Abbie, sorry. I need to go.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m just sorry this happened today. Thank God you were gone. It really makes you think, doesn’t it?”
It does make me think. But not about what she probably is. “Just so I know, where did you hear about the retreat from again?”
She pauses for far too long. “Don’t be angry but I ran into Carol and she mentioned it.”
That’s all she needs to say. “Carol told Kent I spent the weekend on the island alone with a Marine. I lost the house because of her.”
“A Marine? You didn’t tell me that. Was he the owner?”
I sigh deeply. “I think he’s one too, but no, they weren’t there. It was just me and the weekend caretaker. Carol saw him arrive, knew I was staying on and must have called Kent.”
“She’s such a bitch. I’m so sorry. This is my fault. If I’d been there like we planned...”
She lets her voice trail off and I can’t stay mad at her. “It’s not your fault Krista got sick. Carol hates me and I have no idea why but she seems to revel in my misfortune.”
Abbie snorts. “She’s just jealous. She had been ever since you won that award you were both up for. She’s a poisonous troll who belongs under a bridge.”
I’m too overwhelmed to laugh. “Maybe. But she’s still making my life miserable.”
Abbie sighs. “Well, misery loves company. She’s obviously a deeply sad person if she keeps targeting you. I know this sucks, but unless you plan on confronting her, what can you do?”
I screw up my face as I think about all the things I could do to get back at her. But Abbie is right; Carol must be a desperately unhappy person if she feels the need to tear others down to make herself feel better.
Not that it’s any consolation. I just lost my house because of her spitefulness.
“I guess I can’t do anything.”
“She’ll get hers. You’ll see.”
Feeling less than reassured, I end the call and decide Carol Casey doesn’t deserve any more space in my thoughts.
I toss my cell phone on my bed and fall face-first into the mattress as I force away thoughts I’d rather not be having.
If the police are going to interview me, that means they’ll be looking at the camera and see the footage of me and Luther together.
To smother my groan, I press my face into the linen and try to look on the bright side.
When I can’t see anything remotely bright, I give up, accept my life is a walking disaster, and decide to do something proactive.
I roll on my back, dial my lawyer and decide to see if I can pre-empt a visit from the police.
Chapter 10.
THREE DAYS LATER.
Luther
I open the door to two cops, one plain-clothed, and immediately know I’m screwed. If I hadn’t already guessed Jake was involved in something he shouldn’t be, this confirms it.
The detective shows me his badge. “Luther Beckett? We’d like to ask you a few questions regarding an incident on Hea
rt Island.”
My pulse speeds but I keep my voice level and my body language relaxed as I allow them entry. “What kind of an incident?”
The detective looks around my apartment before answering. “A bomb exploded. Don’t you watch the news?”
To cover the rising fear, I fold my arms over my chest. “No, I don’t. Anybody hurt?”
He shakes his head. “The damage was confined to the blast radius.”
I work my jaw, trying to figure out what’s going on before I answer. “Where was the bomb located?”
The detective doesn’t answer my question which causes even more unease to spread. “You’re in Jake and Mary Jensen’s employment on the island?”
Since he already knows I am, I nod and hope I don’t get arrested for tax evasion.
He pulls out his pad and jots something down. “And you spent the weekend working at the castle?”
I nod. “That’s right.”
He holds my stare for a few seconds then speaks in a monotone as if he’s bored. “According to Jake Jensen, you spent some time inside the Boathouse.”
My heart starts to jump around as I immediately think of the tape Jake asked me to look over.
“Do I need to call a lawyer?”
The detective shifts his weight. “We’re just making routine inquiries and confirming the information Jake and Mary Jensen have already given us.”
It’s a non-answer but a sure sign Jake told them he gave the footage to me. The detective is testing to see if I’m going to hide it. If I do, he can use it as probable cause to search for it.
It’ll look worse than bad to have to explain I was tampering with it. I know exactly how this is going to go down. With my skill set, with my knowledge, I’ll be the prime suspect.
Why the hell didn’t Jake call and warn me?
The detective squares his jaw and asks me what I know he’s really here for. “You’re a Marine Reconnaissance Man?”
It’s not even a question, it’s a statement, and I know what’s coming next. “I am.”
His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “And was bomb-making a requirement of your training?”
He’s either fishing or he thinks he has something on me. Either way, the footage I’ve asked Delta to screw with would have placed me in the location the bomb went off.
That I work off the books, tax-free gives him enough cause to doubt my integrity. Worse, I stayed in the Boathouse after Jake told me not to.
Blaire on camera is now the last thing I have to worry about. It’s me on camera, spending way too much time in the Boathouse when I wasn’t supposed to be that’s the issue. “No. It wasn’t.”
He lowers his voice. “But you do know how to assemble one?”
“Am I a suspect?”
He’s too professional to answer directly. “Like I said, just routine inquiries.”
Routine my ass. “Right. Then I refuse to answer until my lawyer is present.”
“Mr. Beckett—”
“Corporal Beckett,” I correct him.
A flash of anger appears before he pushes his notebook in his pocket. “We have a warrant to search the premises.”
He gestures to the cop beside him and all my muscles prime for a fight I shouldn’t even think about having.
“Corporal Beckett, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an—”
I don’t even listen as they read my Miranda rights and slap a set of handcuffs on me and haul me out the door to the waiting police car.
BLAIRE
Sitting outside a café, with a pot of tea, I’m waiting for Mary to arrive. I smother a yawn as watery sunlight creeps across the sky, making the smog turn a murky haze.
When I called Mary, I didn’t anticipate her already being in the city. But with the castle now a crime scene, she and her husband have been forced to stay in a hotel a few streets down from mine.
I check my email on my phone while I wait, hoping to see something from the realtor confirming the house is listed when a shadow falls over me.
I squint against the sun and find Mary smiling uncertainly at me. I put my phone away and gesture for her to sit down. “Thanks so much for agreeing to meet me. How are you?”
She takes a seat and releases a breath. It’s obvious she’s been crying, and it looks like she hasn’t slept for a while.
“I’ll be fine. Now we know who was responsible.”
My eyes pop. “Oh? I thought they just had a suspect?”
A weak smile tugs her lips upwards. “Well, Jake is convinced, and I’m afraid I am also.”
She shakes her head and tears appear in her eyes. “I just can’t believe he’d do something like this.”
My stomach tightens as I pour her a cup of tea and push it towards her. “I’m sorry, but you know the person they have?”
She raises the tea to her lips and takes a sip before answering. “I thought he was a decent man.”
I shake my head even though I’m growing more certain I know who the police are holding to blame.
“You can’t mean your caretaker Luther?”
A tear spills down her cheek and she hastily swipes it away. “I’m so sorry. I never would have placed you in danger if I’d known what he was capable of.”
I flinch at the concern on her face. “But why would Luther destroy the Boathouse if he’s earning money from working for you?”
She shrugs. “Maybe he wanted to make more work for himself? I think he liked to keep busy. There were rumors about him before we hired him. Jake wasn’t worried, said we should give him a chance.”
I pick up my own teacup more to occupy my trembling fingers. “What kind of rumors?”
She blows out a breath and looks over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Jake will be here to pick me up soon we need to meet with the accountant.”
I nod. “I can imagine you must have a lot to sort out?”
She toys with the cup in her saucer. “Jake is taking care of most of it. Just like he was in charge of hiring.”
“Did he hire Luther?”
My eyebrows rise as she nods. “I’m not one for gossip, so I took him as I saw him. He did a good job, was gruff but never rude to me, but I never in a million years thought he’d hurt us this way. We’ve lost everything we worked so hard to build. It’s gone. All of it. The explosion damaged the structural integrity of the castle.”
She starts to cry just as a black car pulls up. I frown as Jake gets out, dressed in an expensive suit.
Jake’s shoulders are tense as he spots me staring and walks to our table. “Mare, we should be going.”
Mary sniffs alongside him and dabs at her eyes. “I’m sorry, Blaire. You were asking about Luther?”
A dark look appears on Jake’s face. “Mary. Go ask your sister to go around the block. Maybe go with her, clean up a bit.”
Mary meekly rises, her gait a little unsteady, making me think she’s been taking sedatives. “Apologies. I’m not myself.”
I manage what I hope is an encouraging smile as she wobbles towards the car.
I shift my gaze to Jake and find him almost glaring at me.
His voice comes out harsh. “Why are you asking about Luther? The man betrayed our trust, the police have the evidence and, it’s clear he tampered with the tape.”
He tampered with the tape? Oh shit. I’m due to meet the detective in charge of the case in a few minutes, is that going to come up?
Kate assured me they were just following procedure, but I’m beginning to think I might actually need her there just in case.
Guilt knots my stomach as I see Mary climb into the car. “Of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset her, I only saw him a few times but I never would have guessed he was capable of such malice.”
He sighs as though greatly perturbed by either me or our conversation. “I never would have hired him if I’d known how messed up he was. He’s one of the reasons I installed the camera, I wasn’t sure I could trust him.”
My eyebro
ws rise. One of the reasons. “Oh?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t suppose it matters now. It’s over.”
A faint grin appears on his face. “Maybe we’ll invest a little wiser this time around.”
I smile back at him, a nagging feeling growing that is overriding my caution.
“Mary said the bomb did damage to the structure of the castle?”
A slight twitch grows at the corner of his eye. “It did.”
I try to keep my tone light. “But the bomb was in the Boathouse, how could that weaken the structure when it was so far away?”
Something flickers over his face before he smiles widely. “I’m not an engineer. But I heard something about a shock wave.”
A niggle starts to grow. “Oh, I see. Are you planning on fixing the castle?
He snorts. “No. The damage was too extensive; it’s already starting to sink. It’s not even safe to enter.”
My brow knots as a dozen other questions bubble up, but he’s already walking away.
When he’s almost at the car, he turns and gives me an odd smile. “You can sleep easy now he’s locked up.”
The gnawing feeling only grows as I catch sight of Mary’s washed-out face as they speed away.
Why on earth would he say that about sleeping easier?
The question is still nagging at me when I enter the police station. I follow the instructions given to me, growing more nervous as I wait for the detective to interview me.
He arrives, smiling warmly and extending his hand. “Sorry to keep you. And don’t worry, this is just a couple of questions to confirm what we already know.”
I follow him to his office, vaguely wondering if all the interviews have been as casual.
He gestures to the chair as he sits behind his desk. “This is an informal interview. You’re free to leave at any time, and at this time, I won’t be taking any record. This is just to speed along our inquiries.”
I release a breath and prepare to evade, avoid and do my best not to confuse the matter any further.
My resolve lasts until he asks his first informal question. “We’re trying to pin down Luther Beckett’s movements over the weekend and up until the arrival. There was a tape, but Jake Jensen believes it to have been tampered with.”
