Can't Stop the Feeling: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 2)

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  Mairi shrugged, her long red hair shifting with the movement. “What else are we to call them? And he was left here by the boat crew. Isobel saw them while she was spying.”

  Isobel adopted her patented “haughty eldest sister” look—it helped take her mind off her shaking hands and the fear gnawing at her stomach. “I wasn’t spying. I was looking out of my window and saw them carry him off the boat and dump him here.”

  “You were looking out of your window with the aid of binoculars,” Mairi reminded her.

  She had a point. “What I don’t get is if these boat people are so keen on going unnoticed, then why are they dumping bodies on the beach?” Isobel said. “I mean, they only come in the dead of night. And we know they’re up to no good.”

  “Smuggling,” Mairi said with a decisive nod.

  Agnes walked around the prone man and looked back out at the choppy waters behind them, then up at the hill leading to town. “Do you think they meant for him to be swept out to sea? Or to be eaten by the crabs?”

  “If they wanted him to be swept out to sea, why not dump him out there in the first place?” Isobel said. “And I don’t think half a dozen crabs are enough to eat a full-grown body. At least not fast enough to get rid of the evidence.”

  “Even then,” Mairi said, “there would still be the bones.”

  They nodded in agreement, and Isobel couldn’t help but notice that her sisters were struggling to hide their shaking hands, just as she was doing.

  “I think we should call the police.” Seeing as Agnes wasn’t the most law-abiding member of the family, it said a lot that she was the one to suggest calling them in.

  “I can’t.” Isobel tugged at the sleeves of her oversized purple cardigan and wrapped her arms around herself. “They’ll find out that I sold the stuff I found, rather than reporting it to them in the first place.”

  “I told you, you shouldn’t have gone to the pawn shop in Campbeltown,” Mairi said. “Too many people know us there.”

  “I wanted rid of it fast.”

  Plus, she’d needed the money to pay off the loan shark who was hounding her over her ex-husband’s debt. Seeing as the man couldn’t find Robert, he’d decided to make Isobel pay in his stead, with cash or her body, making it clear that her family would suffer if she didn’t comply. That was the reason Isobel’s moral judgment had been silenced when she’d found the stolen goods on the path—the thought of handing over her body to pay her ex-husband’s debt made her ill. But she’d do it if she had to. She’d do just about anything to make sure her kids were safe.

  “Enough of this.” Agnes crouched down and turned the body over.

  He flopped onto his back, and the cause of death was instantly clear. There was a wide, gaping slit where his throat used to be.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Mairi covered her mouth and turned her back on the body, making gagging sounds as she did so.

  “Don’t,” Agnes ordered. “You know I’m a sympathetic puker. If you start vomiting, we’ll both be doing it.”

  Isobel ignored her sisters as she stared at the body. It was the most horrifying thing she’d ever seen. She swallowed hard. “You can’t accidentally slit your own throat, can you?”

  “No,” Agnes said firmly.

  Aye, that would have been too much to hope for.

  There was a scrambling noise from the bluff behind them. The women yelped and spun, to see their remaining sister coming down the rocky path.

  Isobel put her hand to her chest. Her heart was racing hard. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she told her sister.

  Donna rushed up to them, her blonde hair flying out behind her. “Sorry. What’s so urgent we had to meet in the dark on the beach? Did you find more bounty?”

  It was then she saw the body. The colour drained from her face, she turned and promptly vomited. Which, in turn, made Agnes vomit.

  Mairi started making gagging noises. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” She held one hand up, pressing the other to her stomach. “I can hold it.”

  “What a relief,” Isobel told her.

  Mairi shot her an irritated look. “I told you not to call Donna. She’s vegetarian.”

  “I didn’t expect her to eat him.” Isobel glared back at her.

  “That’s just gross,” Mairi said, and gagged again.

  Isobel threw her hands up in disgust. “Why did I bother calling any of you? You’re no use at all. We have a situation here and all you’re doing is being sick.”

  “It’s not like we can help it,” Agnes said, looking decidedly green.

  “Some warning would have been good.” Donna swayed in place. Her eyes were on the water instead of the man.

  “I did warn you when I called,” Isobel said through gritted teeth. “I said, come quick, there’s a dead body on the beach.”

  “I thought you were joking,” Donna said.

  “About a dead body?” Isobel practically shrieked.

  “Right.” Agnes held up her hands. “Everybody calm down. This isn’t helping. It’s getting light, and we need to deal with the body. It’s not like people use this beach, but if someone did come down here, they’d call the police.” She looked at Isobel. “And seeing as your house is the closest, you’d be first on their list to interview.”

  “That wouldn’t go well,” Mairi said. “Your whole face goes red when you lie, and you start stuttering.”

  “Then you just blab the truth and apologise for trying to lie,” Donna added.

  “Which means you’d get arrested for fencing stolen goods.” Agnes nodded. “Something we’re trying to avoid.”

  “Are you all about done?” Isobel put her hands on her hips and glared at them. Was this really the time to bring up every single one of her flaws? “The kids will be awake soon. We need to deal with this now.”

  They all stared at the man.

  “I’ve never seen a dead body before,” Mairi said. “They look so lifeless.”

  “Idiot.” Agnes smacked Mairi on the back of the head.

  “What was that for?” Mairi rubbed her head.

  “For being an idiot,” Agnes said. “Now focus. Do we leave him here? Cover him and come back later to bury him? Bury him now? Or move him somewhere else while we think things over?”

  “I think we need to move him. It would be too hard to bury him here, and we couldn’t guarantee the tide wouldn’t unearth him later.” Isobel felt weary. She was sick of the stress in her life. Sick of dealing with other people’s messes. Sick of struggling every single day just to survive. “Whatever we do, we need to do it fast, before the kids wake up. Either way, I want him off the beach. Jack sometimes comes down here with his friends after school, and I wouldn’t want them to find the body.”

  “You could put him in the freezer in your garage,” Donna said. “It still works, doesn’t it?”

  “Aye, but it’s old, full of rust and smelly,” Isobel said.

  “I don’t think he’ll care,” Donna said.

  “What do we do with him once he’s in the freezer? We can’t leave him there forever.” Isobel gnawed at her bottom lip and wondered how her life had come to this point.

  She was a single mother of two, with two failed relationships behind her, a mountain of debt she hadn’t personally accumulated, a minimum-wage job in the village shop and an ever-growing list of crimes under her belt. It was not how she’d imagined life would be at the grand old age of thirty-two.

  “We need advice. We need someone who knows what to do with a dead body,” Agnes said. “We need an expert.”

  “I’m not calling the police,” Isobel said adamantly. She was the only stability her kids had. She couldn’t even think of risking it.

  “I wasn’t thinking of the police,” Agnes said. “I was thinking of an outlaw.”

  “Yes!” Mairi clapped her hands and grinned. “Great idea, Aggie.”

  “No.” Isobel shook her head. “No. Just no.”

  Donna placed her hand on Isobel’s
arm. “Don’t dismiss this idea just because you fancy the man. He used to be in the army. He’s bound to have seen dead bodies during conflict. He must have an idea what to do with them.”

  “I-I don’t f-fancy him,” Isobel protested, but nobody was listening. No, she just dreamed about him every blooming night. What was it with her and bad boys? Hadn’t she learned her lesson by now? Why couldn’t she find a nice six-stone weakling of an accountant to fall in love with?

  “It’s well known he’s dangerous,” Agnes said. “Old man McKay used to tell everyone that his grandson was deadly. He was in the Special Forces. He knows about dead bodies.”

  “Plus,” Mairi said, “there’s a security company watching him—covertly.” She whispered the last word as though it had special powers. “That must mean he’s on the other side of the law now, which means he won’t report us to the cops.”

  “I didn’t know he was being watched.” Donna’s eyes went wide. “Maybe talking to him isn’t such a good idea.”

  “I spoke to the woman who was setting up cameras,” Isobel said. Of course she was going to grill a stranger who was setting up CCTV in the street, in the dark. “She showed me her ID and said he wasn’t dangerous to the town. He isn’t a criminal. She said he’s only dangerous to bad guys.” And then the blue-haired woman had laughed. It wasn’t reassuring. Neither was the fact she was wearing a Wonder Woman T-shirt and a pair of pink, glittery Doc Marten boots. “She gave me her business card, in case I was ever worried about anything.”

  “Maybe we should call the security company instead?” Mairi said. “We can ask them what to do.”

  Agnes groaned. “I can just imagine that conversation— ‘Hello, we have the body of a stranger in our freezer and we’re looking for suggestions on what to do with it.’ Aye, that would go well.”

  “It was only an idea.” Mairi frowned at Agnes.

  “Whatever,” Agnes said. “I think our best bet is the outlaw. You said he’s huge and there are weapons lying around in his house. He’s obviously used to dangerous situations. I bet he’d know what to do with the body. You need to ask him for help.”

  “No.”

  Isobel had been delivering groceries to Callum McKay’s house for almost four months, and she’d only seen the man three times. All three times, he’d scared the life out of her. Rage covered him like a shroud. But there was also something about him that made her heart ache. Maybe it was the utter desolation in his eyes, or the fact that the only people she’d seen near him had been from a security company that was hiding in the dark. She’d never met someone so completely alone. And so brutally raw. He was the embodiment of her own personal weakness—the tortured bad boy, with muscles like Thor. She didn’t have to be massively self-aware to realise that he was the last person she should approach for help. No, for the sake of her sanity, it was best to keep far, far away from the man.

  “Honey,” Agnes said, “we don’t have a lot of options here. Either you get help from someone who knows what to do with a body, or you keep the guy frozen in your old chest freezer for the foreseeable future.”

  “Aye,” Donna said. “And what if this is just the beginning? What if the boat people dump more bodies? We need a plan. We need advice.”

  “Or we need to start our own crematorium business,” Mairi said.

  “Think of your kids,” Agnes said. “This is getting worse every month. We’re in way over our heads. We need help. If this guy can help, then great. If not, we’ll try something else.”

  Isobel’s heart sank. Agnes was right. They were out of options. Staying away from Callum McKay had become a luxury she couldn’t afford. And it wasn’t as if she wanted to start a relationship with him. No, she just wanted advice on what to do with the dead stranger who’d been dumped on her beach.

  “You can do it,” Donna said softly. “We have your back.”

  Isobel blinked back tears, as love for her sisters overwhelmed her. She didn’t know how she’d survive without them. She needed to talk to Callum for their sakes. This situation with the mysterious boat was well past the point of being dangerous, and they were getting in deeper every month. No, they weren’t—she was. And she was dragging her sisters down with her.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

  “You’ll be okay, honey,” Agnes said.

  “Just keep your hands off him,” Mairi said. “Maybe you could call him instead of talking to him face to face.”

  That caused Agnes to smack her again. “She isn’t going to jump the man, idiot.”

  There was a pause as all three sisters gave her speculative looks. Isobel threw up her hands in disgust. “So I have a type. So what? It’s not like I’m going to throw myself at him and offer to sleep with him in return for his help.”

  There was a shuffling of feet as her sisters cast sideward glances at each other.

  “Thanks a lot,” Isobel said. “Good to know you have so much faith in me.”

  “You tend to get physical without thinking it through,” Donna said gently.

  “I only did that once,” Isobel protested. And ended up pregnant and alone at seventeen because of it.

  Her sisters stared at her.

  “Fine. Twice.” And she had the ex-husband from hell to show for that little slip in self-control.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Mairi said, “I’ve totally learned from your mistakes.”

  “No. It’s no consolation. Now do you three think you could stop analysing my past mistakes long enough to help me get this body off the beach?” She looked at the sliver of light on the horizon. “Sun’s coming. We need to get him to the garage and into the freezer before the kids wake up.”

  “This is going to be gross,” Mairi said. “I’ll need to burn my clothes after this.”

  “I might vomit again,” Donna said.

  “Get a grip,” Agnes snapped, “and take an arm or a leg each.”

  With each of them clutching a limb, the four sisters carried the dead man up the hill to Isobel’s house. Donna and Agnes were only sick twice.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I grew up in Scotland, but after I met my Dutch husband in America we decided to move to New Zealand and that's where we've settled. We bought a patch of land that we've filled with other people's unwanted animals—we didn't advertise for them, they found us! So far, we have three miniature horses (we took in two and were surprised eleven months later when a third appeared—yep, we know nothing about horses), three anti-social alpacas, a grumpy cow, one pet sheep who wants to live in the house, a crazy goat who keeps eating my manuscripts and an escape artist chicken who breaks into our house through the cat flap. And that's just the pets who live outside the house—don't even get me started on the demented, farting dog who keeps burying my shoes! On top of this I have two small girls, one DIY obsessed husband (I said "obsessed" not "skilled") and a 92-year-old neighbour who thinks she lives with us.

  You can use this contact form to get in touch or email me at janet@janetelizabethhenderson.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Janet Kortlever

  ISBN 978-0-473-41082-7

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful privacy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior permission can be obtained by contacting the author through her website. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

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