Yacht Girl

by Alison Claire Grey

  But he was in disbelief, even an hour after seeing her face on the screen. All this time and there she’d been.

  As he drove he switched from news station to news station. Most of them weren’t reporting on the incident, Ranger McCoy was a bit of an anonymous member of the McCoy family. All he’d ever done since Donovan had had the misfortune of knowing him is party around the world, spending his daddy’s money.

  Ranger had wanted to hurt Dee Beckett to prove to his family that he could be counted on. Alistair McCoy was getting older and Ranger wanted to make sure he was covered in the will. He’d had a reputation as the useless child, and it had been true. Ranger McCoy had been useless, in every way.

  Donovan was more glad than ever that he’d killed the fucker.

  Now that he was in the car and heading back toward the panhandle, his pragmatic instincts kicked in. I mean, what was he doing? Really? Was he supposed to show up at her house and say… what?

  It’s not like she might even remember who he was. Or even care to see him.

  And he was going back to the scene of the crime! Of all the dumb things he could be doing, it was this. Once a hit was done the number one rule was to get as far away from it as one could.

  But if Meg was there, that’s where he had to be.

  That’s all there was to it.

  In the little amount of reconnaissance he’d done before killing Ranger McCoy, he’d been able to easily deduce where Dee Beckett was staying. He’d known it was with her sister, he just hadn’t known Meg was her. He’d never seen her there. Somehow their paths hadn’t crossed.

  Five hours after leaving the Atlanta airport, he pulled up into the gravel driveway of the house on Derondo Street. He could see a Camry in the driveway and a bicycle carelessly discarded on the front lawn of part sand, part grass.

  He stared at the front door for a long time.

  Part of him knew he shouldn’t do this. What was the purpose other than possibly making her uncomfortable and getting himself noticed by people he didn’t want noticing him right now?

  At the same, this was what he wanted. He’d been thinking about her for over a decade, and here she was. On television she’d looked even more beautiful than he remembered her being.

  Fuck it. He decided to go for it.

  He walked slowly up the flagstone walkway and to the front steps of the flat-roofed concrete house.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked on the door.

  He could hear what sounded like a young girl yell, “I got it, Mom!”

  Mom. He knew Dee didn’t have any kids. Meg had a daughter?

  He didn’t have time to consider this possibility before the door was swung open, a lanky adolescent girl on the other side of it, a huge smile on her face.

  And eyes that looked exactly like his mother’s.

  Fifty-Five

  “Momma!”

  Meg about jumped out of her skin at the sound of Jessa’s hollering from the front door. She knew she shouldn’t have allowed her to answer it. Jessa was a sucker for a door-to-door salesman with a sob story.

  One time Meg had been forced to sit with a handsome pair of young Mormons in crisp white shirts for over an hour because Jessa had opened the door and invited them in, charmed by their looks and earnestness.

  Meg was in the kitchen, rolling raw cookie dough in her hands. Jessa needed cookies for her bake sale and, as usual, Meg was doing it last minute.

  “Who is it, Jessa?” Meg called back. “I’m indisposed at the moment. Tell them we’re not buying anything and Jesus saved us a long time ago!”

  “He says he knows you!”

  Meg’s stomach dropped. Was this where it ended? Was she about to get arrested in front of her daughter?

  No matter how convenient everything seemed to be when it came to the McCoys, she knew she’d never be totally out of the clear.

  They still had secrets buried, after all.

  “I’m coming,” Meg yelled. She looked around the kitchen for a towel, finally settling on the last remaining paper towels clinging to a pathetic cardboard roll that Dee had left out on the breakfast bar. They’d have to do.

  As she walked up to the door, she could hear Jessa laughing, which was a relief. Certainly a cop at the door wouldn’t be making her do that.

  “Can I help you?” the words left Meg’s mouth before she saw him.

  As soon as her eyes met his, she suddenly felt like the floor was moving under her unsteady feet.

  The sight of Donovan on her doorstep was more shocking than the dead body of Ranger McCoy had ever been.

  “Donovan…” Meg was barely able to articulate his name. She could see Jessa’s confused expression from the corner of her eye.

  “So it’s you,” he said. “You’re Meg Beckett.”

  “And I’m her daughter, Jessa Beckett! I’m thirteen years old, believe it or not. Doesn’t my mom look too young to have a kid my age?” Jessa raised herself up on her naked toes, grinning. “And you look like a movie star. Are you looking for my aunt?”

  Donovan’s eyes were still on Meg, as if he’d just discovered something he’d been searching for his entire life. Which in a way, he had.

  “I’m not looking for your aunt,” he said, a smile on his face. “Thirteen, you say? That’s a good age.”

  Jessa looked back and forth between them, suddenly aware that this was clearly a meeting that had been a long time coming. Even a thirteen year old could gather that.

  “So, I think I’ll ride my bike down to Emily’s house,” Jessa said, touching her mother’s shoulder. Meg was in a daze.

  “Oh, sure,” Meg said, suddenly shaking herself out of her trance. “Don’t be out long though.”

  “I figured y’all should probably talk. Catch up,” Jessa said.

  Meg nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Be back by nine. And take your phone with you.”

  As soon as the door closed behind Jessa, Meg immediately started to cry. Donovan pulled her toward him, still finding it hard to believe this was happening, after all of this time.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve just… You were the last person I expected to show up again. Ever. Not that I didn’t want you to.”

  “I get it,” he said. “Here. Let’s sit down. Is that okay?”

  Meg held onto his arm as they stumbled over to the living room couch. Jessa’s homework was spread across it.

  “Sorry,” Meg said as she quickly gathered up Jessa’s crap. “Here, now there’s room.”

  They both sat across from each other for almost a full minute before he finally spoke.

  “My name is Donovan Lockwood,” he started. “I wish I’d told you that the night I met you. I suppose only knowing each other’s first names ended up being a bit messier than we thought it would be.”

  Meg nodded. “For so long I wished I’d known your whole name. I even tried to search for you on the Internet. That’s so strange to you, I’m sure.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “And I never connected the dots that the sister you were talking about that night was Delilah Goodacre.”

  “How did you find out?” Meg asked.

  “Television. I saw you in an interview about what happened at your motel. I’m so sorry about what happened,” he said, putting his hand on hers. “That must have been incredibly traumatic. Are you okay?”

  Meg shook her head. “Not really. I mean, it’s been a couple of days, but something like that sticks with you. I can’t believe you saw me on TV. What are the chances?”

  They made small talk for a bit, but it seemed like there was an enormous elephant in the room that they were both avoiding.

  “I have to ask you something,” he said, holding her hand in his again.

  “Okay,” Meg said, the same feeling washing over her that she’d felt the night Dee had called her about Room 223. She knew before the words even came out of his mouth.

  “Jessa… She’s my daughter. Isn’t she?”

  Fifty-Six

&nbs
p; Despite the shock of a lifetime, Meg still had work to do.

  All she wanted to do was stay home but— as usual— Meg had to be the responsible one.

  Besides, she needed time to think.

  There was no imminent rush, for now. Donovan was staying in town. He’d rented an AirBnB a couple of blocks away from their house on Derondo Street.

  Clearly, they had much more to discuss. Namely, what to do about breaking all of this to their daughter.

  How was she going to tell Jessa? She’d never lied to her about anything. She’d just been incredibly vague. It was her only choice, after all. Meg didn’t even know much about Donovan, and she’d always been ashamed of that.

  She didn’t regret anything, of course. She only wished she’d gotten the exact same outcome, but with more knowledge of who Jessa came from.

  She was worried about how she’d handle her news. So, she needed time to sort it out.

  Anyway, today was a big day at The Siesta.

  Meg had finally settled on her new hire for their morning front desk shift.

  “I mean, why does he even want the job?” Dee asked once Meg told her of her decision as they drove to the motel together that morning. “I thought he owned his own business?”

  Meg parked in her usual spot across the street. She could see a few families in the parking lot already, unpacking their SUVs and minivans. It was one of their few busy weeks of the slow-season. There was a soccer tournament in town and they would be hosting over 30 families for it.

  “He sold his stake in it,” Meg replied as the sisters slammed the doors shut to Meg’s Camry. “And he’s bored. He wants a job he doesn’t have to think about too much.”

  “But it’s Ryan Kidson!” Dee exclaimed as they ambled across the gravel parking lot. “Besides, it’s the slowest time of the year, we don’t really even need someone until close to March.”

  “But this way he’s already trained,” Meg pointed out as they walked through the glass doors of the front lobby, the door’s bell jingling in their wake. “Now, be nice.”

  At the sound of the doors opening, a man with floppy blonde hair peeked his head around the corner of the front office.

  “Meg! Dee!” Ryan Kidson called to them, an enormous grin on his face. “I was wondering when I’d get to see you two.”

  “Good morning, Ryan,” Meg said, and she elbowed her sister, a painful reminder to greet their new hire.

  “Ouch!” Dee glared at Meg. “Good morning, Ryan. Nice to see you.”

  Ryan walked out of the office and stood behind the front desk, a towering Corinthian column of a man, as their grandma used to say.

  Dee had forgotten how tall he was— around 6’5 from what she remembered. He wasn’t as skinny as he’d been when they were younger though. He was in good shape, she had to admit.

  Ryan Kidson wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever seen. He was panhandle hot, if anything.

  Still, Dee couldn’t help but remember the boy she’d always known. It was hard to allow people to change when you’d grown up with them.

  Even when they actually did change, they’d still forever be the same person they’d always been. Hometown memory was tricky like that.

  “I’m excited to be here,” Ryan replied. He was clearly a morning person, another thing about him that annoyed Dee.

  “Well, we’ve got twenty checkouts today, so it’ll be a tiny bit busy,” Dee pointed out. “And they’re mostly from the Price family reunion. We had to call the cops twice on them this week when a few of the husbands got in a fist fight over who was a better Bama coach, Nick Saban or Bear Bryant.”

  “Well, to be fair, that would be a heated debate just about anywhere,” Meg responded. “Which is why we didn’t evict them.”

  “They have a baby they named Tide,” Dee said. “That alone made it tempting.”

  Ryan’s eyes widened. “Wow. Sounds like this is going to be quite the place to work.”

  “You have no idea,” Meg replied, side-eyeing her sister, both of them stifling a laugh.

  If only Ryan Kidson knew what he was getting into.

  Around lunch time, they had another surprise visitor.

  Bonnie Rampkin, their father’s long-time lawyer and the executor of his estate, walked into The Siesta, her kitten heels click-clacking against the tiles of the lobby floor.

  “Hey, Bonnie,” Meg greeted her from behind the front desk. “I’m never sure if I’m happy to see you.”

  “Heard about the craziness,” Bonnie said, slapping a large manila envelope on the counter. “Sad. And they don’t know who killed the guy, huh?”

  “Nope,” Meg said. “No leads it seems. They’re thinking it was a drug thing.”

  “It always is in Florida,” Bonnie retorted. Her raspy voice gave away years of cigarettes and dealing with bullshit. Meg had always liked her. “Anyway, I came here to give you this.”

  “What is it?” Meg asked as she opened the top of it. “Another surprise?”

  “Pretty much,” Bonnie said. “I don’t know, your dad gave it to me a couple years ago. Told me to hand it over to you and your sister in the event of his death, but only if you were both back here together. And now you are. So here it is. My job is done.”

  Bonnie turned and walked right back out the lobby doors, leaving Meg completely befuddled in her wake.

  “Dee!” Meg called to her sister who was in the office trying to teach Ryan how to run audit reports in case he ever worked the night shift. “Come here one sec?”

  Dee sauntered into the lobby, clearly exasperated at her current predicament.

  “He just keeps telling me I smell good,” Dee said. “I can’t believe you hired my ex-boyfriend. He’s like a panting puppy dog.”

  “How terrible to be so adored,” Meg replied. “Anyway, Bonnie just stopped by. She dropped off this.” Meg held up the envelope. “It’s from dad, for both of us.”

  Dee instantly forgot about Ryan.

  Meg opened it up and pulled out two things— a yellowed piece of paper, and a set of keys.

  “Those look like keys to a safe deposit box,” Dee said, taking them from Meg’s hands.

  “You would be correct,” Meg said as she pulled out an additional piece of paper. “Bank of the Panhandle. And it says this is the key to box number twenty-seven.”

  They both looked at the larger, yellowed piece of paper.

  “That looks like a treasure map,” Dee laughed. “What on earth?”

  They both stared at it and instantly recognized where it was.

  “It’s a map of Carrabelle,” Meg said. “And I’m assuming Dad has circled… that’s weird. He’s drawn a circle around our trailer park. But it looks like when this map was made, it hadn’t been built yet? Why would he give us this?”

  “I have no idea,” Dee answered, glancing in the envelope and turning it upside down to see if anything else fell out of it. “Maybe we’ll understand more when we open the safe deposit box.”

  “Dad and his after-death games are starting to piss me off,” Meg retorted, placing the map back in the envelope along with the keys and slip of paper with the bank information on it.

  “You know he’d enjoy knowing that,” Dee grinned, playfully shoving her sister. “But I agree. He’s a real pain in the ass sometimes. But at least… Well. At least it brought us back together.”

  Meg nodded. That was true. She supposed that had been the whole point.

  She wasn’t sure what would happen next. But she was glad, that no matter what happened, this time the Beckett girls would be in it together.

  Thank you for reading YACHT GIRL, the first book in the Murder On the Redneck Riviera Series. To find out what happens next in the Beckett sisters’ story, preorder TRAILER PARK TREASURE now on Amazon.

  Otherwise, feel free to sign up for the Alison Claire Grey mailing list and get the domestic suspense novel, CAN’T LET GO, for free, as a thank you for reading YACHT GIRL.

  Also by Alison Claire Grey

&nb
sp; TRAILER PARK TREASURE

  FLORIDA MAN

  THE INFLUENCER

  Sign up for the Alison Claire Grey mailing list and get the domestic suspense novel, CAN’T LET GO, for free!

  About the Author

  Alison Claire Grey is a writer of mysteries and domestic suspense.

  She's fascinated by sociopaths, secrets, and southerners. She loves when all three of those things exist in a book.

  Alison lives in her dream city, Charleston, South Carolina with her sons and her amazing husband who is her first reader and true love. Bless him.

  You can find her spending too much time on Instagram (@AlisonClaireGrey) or tucked away in a library downtown writing stuff she makes up in her head.

  She'd love to hear from you!

  Acknowledgments

  Nothing happens without Greg Perry. I must have been an incredible human in many past lives to be lucky enough to be on this life journey with you. I will love you until the end of time.

  I also have to give special thanks to my incredible friends who have been so supportive when it came to me finally publishing this book and this series.

  Linsey Hall and Annabel Chase— you are my Dianas, my sisters, and so much more. I love both of you so much. I can’t thank you enough for simply existing.

  Anya Monroe, what would I do without you? I don’t even want to think about it. I am so fortunate to call you a friend and confidante. We’ve been in this business so long together and yet I feel like we’re just getting started. I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

  Caethes Faron, you are truly a gift. I love that I can text you any time of day or night about the most ridiculous topics and I can always count on a reply that is always brilliant, or funny, and often both. You are a special person and I am so lucky to call you a friend.