A single tear spilled over. “I don’t feel so well.”
“Heart, it’s not him.” Jared was firm. “I’m going to run over there and make sure it’s not him, but I’m telling you, it’s not him. Hold it together.”
Harper scrubbed her cheek as she bent over at the waist. “I’m going to be sick.”
“You’re not going to be sick,” Jared instructed. “You’re making yourself sick, but this is all in your head. That is not Zander – I’m going to prove it very quickly – and we’re going to track him down and have breakfast with him. Just … you’re not sick.”
One of the security guards bending over the body straightened and looked in their direction, his brow furrowing. He immediately started walking toward them.
“Crap,” Jared muttered. “Harper, you need to pull it together for five minutes. I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this in that amount of time if you just … don’t look at me like that.” He wanted to wrap her in armor to protect her.
“Excuse me, folks,” the security guard said as he approached. “My name is Quinn Davenport. I’m head of security on The Bounding Storm. I’m going to have to ask you to go inside. We have a bit of a situation this morning, but we’ll have everything cleared up relatively quickly.”
He sounded calm, cool, and collected. That didn’t make Harper feel better.
“Who is that?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Is that a man? Does he have dark hair? Was he wearing a pink cardigan around his neck?”
“You need to go inside,” Quinn repeated.
“Just tell us who is over there,” Jared prodded, keeping one hand on Harper’s arm as he stared hard at the body. “Is it a man?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Quinn started.
“I’m definitely going to be sick,” Harper muttered, jerking away from Jared and tripping over one of the loungers to her right. Because of the placement of the piece of furniture, she put her hand on what she thought was a towel. It turned out to be a human, and at the exact moment she lost the coffee she drank in their room on the towel, Zander’s head popped out.
Bleary-eyed, confused, he glared at his best friend. “Oh, that is just … what did I miss?”
6
Six
Harper threw herself on Zander despite the fact that she’d just vomited on him.
“Oh, this is just disgusting,” Zander complained, trying to dislodge his weeping best friend. “I can’t believe you threw up on me, Harp. We’re having strong words about this later.”
“I thought you were dead,” she cried.
“You thought I was dead?” Confused, Zander flicked his eyes to Jared for an explanation. To his utter surprise, Jared threw his arms around Harper and embraced Zander with almost as much zeal. “Oh, not you, too.”
Zander made a face as Quinn watched the scene with a dispassionate gaze. “I don’t understand what’s happening here,” he complained.
For his part, Quinn merely shook his head. “I would say that you’re loved,” he said finally.
“Well, of course I’m loved.” Zander’s lip curled as he tried to push Harper and Jared back far enough to draw in a breath. “I’m a totally lovely guy, for crying out loud.”
Quinn managed a smirk, but it didn’t last long. Something occurred to him as he glanced between the body on the deck and the man who obviously spent the night sleeping on a lounger. “Were you here the entire night?”
Helpless, Zander held out his hands. “I guess. I don’t really remember.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean ... I don’t really remember. I was a bit drunk. Harp, knock that off.” Fed up, Zander finally grabbed Harper’s wrists and pushed her back. “You’re covered in puke, for crying out loud. What’s worse is I’m covered in puke.”
“Yeah, well, suck it up,” Jared snapped, keeping his arm around Harper’s waist so she couldn’t throw herself on top of her best friend a second time. “We thought you were dead. This is us showing how happy we are that you’re not dead. You should be happy.”
Harper’s gaze was accusatory when it landed on her fiancé. “You said I was making that up in my head, that he was perfectly fine and I was overreacting.”
“Oh, please.” Jared rolled his eyes. “If he wasn’t dead he would’ve been on us with the sun this morning and you know it.”
“So ... you were lying to me?”
“I was trying to protect you,” Jared clarified. “Don’t give me that look. I was trying to figure out how to create another Zander to make things better for you. I was thinking a robot might be fun.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed. “You were going to replace me with a robot?”
Sheepish, Jared shrugged. “I figured I could teach it ten catchphrases and call it a day.”
“Oh, you’re just a funny guy.” Zander moved to stand, but Quinn stopped him with a shake of his head.
“I have some questions for you first.”
Zander furrowed his brow. “Who are you?”
“Quinn Davenport, head of security.”
“Well, I don’t trust people named Quinn so you’re going to have to wait,” Zander said. “I have to shower and get the puke off me before I do anything. Seriously, what did you eat, Harp?”
“Just coffee.” Harper turned rueful. “And some gummy sharks I was hoarding.”
“You ate gummy sharks without me?” Jared shook his head. “I feel so unloved.”
“Yeah, well, no one will be eating gummy sharks for the foreseeable future,” Zander said, making a face. “I really need to shower or I’m going to puke on myself. Trust me when I say that nobody wants to see that.”
“I have questions for you,” Quinn pressed. “I need you to answer them.”
“Can’t they wait until I shower?” Zander wasn’t in the mood to play games. “I’m a sympathetic puker. If I don’t shower right now, I’m going to puke on you.”
Quinn didn’t crack a smile. “I’m willing to let you shower first if you answer one question for me.”
Frustration rolled through him but Zander managed to remain calm. “Okay. What’s the question?”
“Do you know that woman?” Quinn pointed at the body on the deck.
Zander tilted his head to the side and studied the brunette in question. Her body was at an odd angle so it took him a moment to absorb what he was seeing. When he finally did, a horrified realization washed over him. “Oh, geez.”
“Do you know her?” Jared asked, surprised.
Zander nodded. “I had drinks with her at the club last night. I ... can’t exactly remember what she said. We drank a lot of violet gin and told tales about people who annoyed us.”
“I bet I can guess where I landed on that list,” Harper muttered.
“I spent all my time complaining about Jared,” Zander countered, his eyes refusing to move from the woman’s pale face. “Tasha. Her name was Tasha Vale.”
“That’s helpful.” Quinn forced a tight-lipped smile. “Were you two romantic last evening?”
“Romantic?” Zander made a face. “I can guarantee that didn’t happen.”
“We’ll be checking her body, looking for DNA,” Quinn warned. “If you were intimate, now is the time to admit it.”
“Hold up.” Jared raised a hand and straightened. “Is he a suspect in a murder?”
“Nobody is a suspect right now,” Quinn replied. “The thing is, he was asleep mere feet from where our victim was found. That seems a little too coincidental to me. I understand it could’ve been an accident, perhaps things got out of control after some random sex. I need to know the facts, though.”
Zander was horrified. “I didn’t have sex with her.”
“He’s gay,” Jared added, flashing a quick look of apology in Zander’s direction. “I didn’t mean that as a bad thing, by the way. I’m just trying to help.”
Zander rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I didn’t kill her.”
“What do you remember?” Quinn asked.
“I d
on’t know.” Zander rubbed his chin. “We were at the bar. I was complaining about Jared and Harper abandoning me. I explained how this trip was supposed to be for Harper and me, but Jared invited himself and ruined everything.”
Jared balked. “I did not invite myself.”
“You did so.”
“I did not.”
“You did so.”
Quinn made a growling sound in the back of his throat to squelch the potential fight. “Gentlemen, you can argue about that later. I need to know about the dead woman on my deck. I’m guessing she was killed around three in the morning, but our medical team will have to confirm that. I need a timeline of events from last evening.”
“I don’t really know what time it was.” Zander rubbed his chin, frustrated. “Um ... it was late. We had a good time. She was complaining about the psychic. She said he told her she was going to die and she was frustrated.”
“Mark Brady?” Quinn asked, knitting his eyebrows. “The guy putting on the show in the main dining room last night?”
“I think that was the guy. I don’t really remember. All I know is that she was frustrated.”
“Did she tell you which group she was with?” Quinn asked. “Was she a ghost hunter?”
“Oh, um ... huh.” Zander was even more confused now than when he started. “You know what’s weird? That never came up. I don’t know why it didn’t come up, but it didn’t. You would think that would’ve come up.”
“You would think,” Quinn said dryly, shaking his head. “Okay, we have work to do here. You can catch a shower and get something to eat. I’ll be tracking you down later for a more formal interview.”
Jared positioned himself between Quinn and Zander to make sure the security chief caught his gaze. “I’m going to suggest Zander not talk to you until he has a lawyer. It’s nothing personal but ... you’re not a police officer. You don’t have formal investigative training. I’m not going to let you railroad him.”
Quinn’s gaze was speculative as he looked Jared up and down. “And you have formal investigative training, right? Does the ghostbusting help with that?”
Jared’s gaze turned dark. “I’m a police detective in Michigan. I’m on vacation with my girlfriend.”
Quinn flicked his eyes to Harper. “That would mean you’re the ghost hunter, right?”
Harper was defiant. “I am ... and I agree about Zander having an attorney. I don’t like the way you’re talking to him.”
“Well, I don’t really care what you like either way,” Quinn said. “Your friend has every right to ask for an attorney. We have two on staff.”
“No way.” Jared vehemently shook his head. “There’s no way I’m going for that. They’re on your payroll and will say whatever you tell them to say.”
“That’s not how it works, but I understand your worry,” Quinn said. “The thing is, if your friend doesn’t answer questions, we have the right to lock him in a holding cell until we return to the mainland. Since he could very well be the only witness I have to a murder, I will do exactly that.”
“Wait just a minute.” Harper led with her fury as she scorched Quinn with the darkest look in her arsenal. “You can’t threaten him. In fact ... .”
Zander held up a hand to quiet his best friend. “I have nothing to hide. I’ll answer your questions. I just need a shower first.”
Quinn bobbed his head. “Great. I’ll track you down as soon as I have an opening in my schedule. Thank you for being so cooperative.”
“Thank you for biting me,” Harper muttered under her breath.
ROWAN FOUND QUINN IN THE dining room shortly before breakfast was due to roll over into lunch. He sat at a table, a mug of coffee in front of him, and a dour look on his face.
“That bad, huh?” She slid into the chair across from him and dug into the heaping mound of food on her plate. “I’m starving. Did you eat?”
Instead of reacting with annoyance, Quinn snickered. “Are you taking care of me?”
“I wouldn’t want to take care of anyone else.”
“That’s sweet.” He grabbed a slice of bacon from her plate. “I had some eggs and toast. I’m not up for much else right now.”
Rowan paused, a sausage link halfway to her mouth. “Maybe you should leave the gruesome details for later,” she suggested.
“She was strangled. It wasn’t exactly gruesome.”
“Oh, well ... .” Not knowing what to say, Rowan shoved the sausage into her mouth and thoughtfully chewed. “Any suspects?”
“There was a guy passed out on a lounger not far away from her. He knew the victim. They drank together in the bar until late into the night.”
“Maybe he wanted to hook up with her,” Rowan suggested. “Maybe she didn’t want to give in to his demands and they fought or something. I can see that happening.”
“He’s gay.”
“Oh.” Rowan wrinkled her forehead. “Well, that changes things. Are you sure he’s really gay? He could be lying about that to throw you off the trail.”
Quinn hit a few buttons on the tablet he’d been working on and turned it so Rowan could see the screen. “His name is Zander Pritchett. He lives in a place called Whisper Cove, Michigan. He runs a business called Ghost Hunters, Inc. with Harper Harlow, who’s his best friend from childhood. She’s the one who claims she can see ghosts and he does the accounting.”
Rowan stared at the Facebook profile Quinn showed her for a long beat. “I’m assuming that’s his boyfriend,” she said finally, gesturing toward the fourth figure standing in the photograph.
Quinn nodded. “If he’s lying about being gay, he started putting this plan in action when he was a kid. He’s not in the closet and has never hidden his orientation, as far as I can tell. The blonde is his best friend. This man here, his name is Jared Monroe. He’s a police detective and Harper’s boyfriend.”
Rowan widened her eyes. “Ah, well, that sounds like a sticky situation. You said they were from Michigan?”
He nodded. “Whisper Cove. Do you know anything about it?”
“I know that it’s a really small town north of Detroit. I think it has like one stoplight. Although ... something about Ghost Hunters, Inc. rings a bell. I can’t really remember, though.”
“Well, their little operation has been in the news of late. Apparently Harper had a boyfriend named Quinn Jackson — Zander mentioned he didn’t like men named Quinn, by the way — and he was thought to have died five years ago. A few weeks ago he came back from the dead ... and promptly tried to kill his former girlfriend.”
“Really?” Rowan was officially intrigued. “Do you think this Zander guy had something to do with our victim’s death?”
“Tasha Vale,” Quinn volunteered. “That was her name. She was twenty-five and here with a group of paranormal shop owners. As far as I can tell, she never claimed to have psychic abilities. Everything with her was a marketing endeavor.”
“There’s nothing technically wrong with that.”
“No,” Quinn agreed. “I have to interview the group she was with, but before that, I need to track down Mark Brady.”
The name jarred something in Rowan’s memory. “I ... why is that name familiar?”
“He was the psychic last evening.”
“The one who claimed everybody was going to die?”
He nodded. “The one and only.”
“Huh.” Rowan wasn’t sure what to make of that. “What do you think he’s going to say?”
“I have no idea, but I intend to find out.” He placed his palms on the table before leaning forward to give her a kiss. “I’ll be in touch. Be careful when you’re out taking photographs. There’s no telling what these people are capable of.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’d better be.”
THE PSYCHIC TO THE STARS was nursing a rather large hangover when he opened his door to Quinn’s abrasive knock.
“Can I help you?” he asked irritably.
“I certain
ly hope so.” Quinn introduced himself, calm and collected, and then immediately launched into his reason for visiting. He was not inclined to sugarcoat things. “One of the women you informed was going to die last night was found on the deck this morning. She was deceased.”
Mark merely blinked. “I told her it was going to happen.”
“Yes, well ... .”
“I can tell you’re a nonbeliever,” Mark continued, barreling forward. “I have the gift, though. I can predict death.”
“Uh-huh.” Quinn wasn’t in the mood for theatrics. “I need you to account for your whereabouts last night between the hours of ten and four.”
Mark’s mouth dropped. “Excuse me?”
“Your whereabouts,” Quinn repeated. “I need you to account for them.”
“Surely I can’t be a suspect.” Even though he was clearly slow on the uptake this morning thanks to his hangover, Mark was enough of a showman to put everything he had behind the false insult he managed to project to perfection. “I’m the psychic to the stars.”
“I’ve heard that,” Quinn said. “That doesn’t change the fact that you told our victim she would die last night ... and now she’s dead. That seems a little coincidental.”
“But ... I don’t even know which woman you’re talking about.”
“Tasha Vale.”
“I ... .” Mark’s eyes flitted back and forth as he absorbed the name. His reaction was enough to prove to Quinn that there was something else going on.
“You don’t remember her, do you?” Quinn pressed.
“The stars are sluggish this morning.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the tequila you drank last night didn’t help with that,” Quinn drawled. “I’m guessing that you told quite a few people they were dying last night and managed to turn the tide for them by taking whatever curse they suffered under off for a nominal fee.”
Mark’s eyes filled with fire. “I don’t believe I like what you’re insinuating. I’m the real deal.”
“If you say so.” Quinn pursed his lips and waited. After a moment, when Mark didn’t say anything, he decided to press harder. “Mr. Brady, I need to know where you were between ten last night and four this morning.”
Ghostly Seas Page 6
