Flaw-Abiding Citizen (The Worst Detective Ever Book 6)

by Christy Barritt

  “I guess he mainly drives his other truck, but he takes out my dad’s every once in a while just to keep it running.”

  “That explains some of it. And the crocodile tooth?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” It just didn’t fit my dad.

  Jackson reached for me but dropped his hand again, shoving it into his pocket instead. “Is there anything I can do for you, Joey?”

  “Find my dad.”

  “I’m trying.” His voice sounded earnest.

  His kindness made me question everything—my hurt, my assumptions, my choices.

  I nodded stiffly, feeling numb inside. “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to check this for fingerprints. I don’t have much hope.”

  “Me neither.”

  Jackson dragged his gaze away and let out a sigh. “Well, I’ve got work to do. I’ll talk to you later.”

  As soon as he left, the tears came. Again. When would they stop? Why did I have to be such a basket case? And how did I stop this downward spiral?

  I had no idea. But that whole emotions-driving-the-car analogy? It wouldn’t get out of my head.

  I stepped out the door, almost ready to run after Jackson and force a conclusion to things. Instead, I ran into Phoebe as she approached my condo.

  “Phoebe?” I questioned, trying to get a grip on my breathing.

  “Joey?” She looked equally as confused even though she was the one who’d come to my house.

  “I . . . I wasn’t expecting to see you.” I shoved a hair behind my ear.

  “We had a coffee date set up. Remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.”

  She pointed her thumb behind her, a look of concern on her face. “I just ran into Jackson. What’s going on between you two?”

  I glanced inside at Zane and decided I didn’t want to have this conversation here. “It’s . . . a long story.”

  “Do you still want to go get that coffee? You look like you could use a listening ear.”

  Coffee with a friend? “You know what? That actually sounds really nice.”

  “You’re going to want to touch up your makeup before you go.” She frowned compassionately. “I don’t care, but I know you will.”

  Great. I knew what that meant. My face was red and blotchy again.

  Where was my makeup artist when I needed her?

  Chapter Eighteen

  “So what’s going on?” Phoebe took a sip of her latte as we sat at Sunrise Coffee Co.

  Sunrise was one of my favorite places, with its eclectic décor and soothing acoustic music. The staff knew me by name, and even the resident coffee shop dog had learned if he licked my hand, I’d share a piece of biscotti with him.

  I was such a sucker that even canines knew it.

  As the smell of vanilla and coffee curled around me, I told Phoebe about the case. About my dad. About everything that had happened.

  Phoebe had an interesting—and perhaps awkward—connection with Jackson. Claire—Jackson’s deceased wife—was her sister. Phoebe was still like a sister to Jackson, yet she was also one of my closest friends in this area.

  When I finished, she stared at me. “That’s all good to know, and I want to talk more about that later. But I was really asking about what’s happening between you and Jackson. I haven’t seen him look that upset in a long time.”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip for a minute, wondering how much to say. “We’re putting some space between us.”

  “Why?” She looked honestly confused.

  “Because . . . because he knows stuff, Phoebe. Stuff about my dad. Stuff that he’s not telling me.” I crossed my arms as hurt panged inside me. It was hard to encapsulate it in one sentence, but that would do for now.

  “And that surprises you?”

  My bottom lip parted from my top. “You mean it shouldn’t surprise me?”

  “He’s a cop. Of course he can’t share everything. That’s the nature of the job.”

  She made it sound so easy, so matter of fact. It felt anything but that to me. “But this is about my dad. This is about the hole that’s been in my heart since I learned he disappeared.”

  She shook her head, her hand gripping her mug. “No, this is about the investigation and doing what’s best to help find him. That’s what the priority has to be.”

  My bottom lip dropped further. If I’d wanted compassion from Phoebe, I wasn’t getting it. So much for some fun girlfriend time where I’d leave feeling better than I did when I arrived.

  “This is about my dad.” My voice trembled.

  She leaned closer. “Listen, Joey. You know I love you. But I don’t think you’re being fair. Jackson has a commitment to his job. That doesn’t mean he can break it just because he has personal reasons.”

  I leaned back in my chair, wishing I’d said no to coffee. “That may be true. But all I feel is betrayal.”

  “Well, you should get over that.”

  My cheeks heated. Then I remembered there was more to this. “Besides, Jackson and I . . . we’re two different people. I was a fool to think things would work between us.”

  “What does that mean, Joey?”

  It wasn’t like this conversation could get much worse, so I might as well spill it all. Zane’s words echoed in my head. “Maybe the two of us aren’t right for each other. We were living in a make-believe world where an actress from California and a small-town detective from coastal North Carolina could make things work long term. I’ve turned Jackson’s orderly life upside down. If it wasn’t for me, Ripley would have never been hurt. Jackson would be spending his days off fishing and relaxing instead of following my crazy whims. He deserves someone who’s more like him.”

  “I don’t think he wants someone like that. I think he wants you.”

  My cheeks warmed at the thought. I wanted to believe it. I did. But I couldn’t. I remembered that broken picture of Claire, a picture that seemed to symbolize the potential I had to shatter Jackson’s life.

  My life was a mess. I didn’t want to make a mess of Jackson’s life too.

  “You know what I think?” Phoebe continued.

  She was going to tell me what she thought, regardless of how I answered that question, so I shrugged.

  “I think you’re scared.” Her blue eyes met mine, unwavering.

  I raised my chin. “Scared of what?”

  “Relationships. I think you were so badly burned with that jerky ex of yours that you’re looking for any excuse possible as to why things won’t work out with Jackson.”

  I opened my mouth and then shut it again, unsure what to say. I wanted to argue, but could I? Our past experiences did shape us, whether we wanted them to or not.

  Finally, I cleared my throat. I needed an argument. Not just an argument—a valid one. So I said the first thing that came to mind. “Well, Zane raised some really good points earlier—”

  She interrupted me with a snort. “Zane? You need to consider the source, Joey. Of course he would ‘raise some good points.’ Anyone can look at Zane and tell that he’s totally in love with you. He sees an opportunity, and he’s moving in.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.” Seriously, the thought was appalling on so many levels.

  “He would. Believe me—he would.” She crossed her arms and leaned back, the picture of stubbornness.

  I flinched yet again. If I’d wanted the brutal truth, Phoebe was giving it to me. “Why would he do that? Zane’s obviously not in love with me. He knows that Jackson and I—”

  “He would love nothing more than to see the two of you not work out. More specifically, he would love to see Jackson not get the girl this time.”

  She locked gazes with me again, the laid-back beach girl suddenly not so laid back.

  Her words left me stunned. Sure, Jackson had dated—and later married—Claire, but Claire and Zane had broken up before that. “You really think that?”

  Phoebe nodded. “I don’t think it. I know
that.”

  My thoughts swirled inside my head. The truth blended with my opinions and my hopes and my expectations, leaving a nasty aftermath. “But . . . Zane’s my friend. He wouldn’t do that . . . right?”

  “He’s also a man with an ego.”

  I leaned back. I truly didn’t haven’t anything to say now, but I certainly had a lot to think about. More than I wanted.

  “As for your father’s case, it sounds to me like he’s been leaving you clues,” Phoebe said.

  I jerked my thoughts from Zane to Jackson and back to Phoebe’s newest proclamation. “What?”

  She nodded. “The message, the photo, the tooth . . . do they mean anything?”

  I thought about it a minute. I’d need more than a minute on this. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, if I were you, that’s where I would start. Because to me it sounds like he’s laying out breadcrumbs for someone.”

  Phoebe had to leave and get back to work at her pet walking and boarding business, but I remained at Sunrise. Her words wouldn’t leave my mind, and there was so much to digest.

  She was right. Probably. On more than one level. Probably.

  And as much as I wanted to dwell on the Jackson level, what I really needed to concentrate on right now was the breadcrumb level.

  Phoebe had made an excellent point. What if my dad was leaving clues? As I sipped on my coffee, I let the notion turn over and over in my head. I could figure this out. I had to.

  An idea teased my thoughts.

  It was a little crazy. But when I was a child, my dad would stage these present hunts for me. He’d give me clues and send me all over the house and yard in search of another clue. Eventually, those clues would lead me to find my gift.

  Partly my dad had done it for fun. But he’d also loved to teach me life lessons in the process. How to think for myself. Delayed gratification. Working to get what you wanted in life.

  That photo I’d found of myself at the Hatteras house? I was standing next to a beach cruiser I’d been gifted for my sixteenth birthday. Of course, there had been a treasure hunt for it, as well. Since I’d been sixteen, that hunt had led me not only around my house and yard, but he’d expanded it around town. The bike had ended up being at my best friend’s house. There had also been a surprise party for me there.

  I smiled at the memories, but my feelings were so bittersweet. I longed for those days. I hadn’t realized how carefree they were. I hadn’t thought so at the time. No, I’d been caught up in angst over boys and decisions about my future.

  Maybe things weren’t that different now, after all. I was still feeling angst over Jackson, wasn’t I? And I had no idea where I should go from here career-wise. I should be beyond this by now.

  My thoughts snapped back to those treasure hunts—and to the clues my dad had left me.

  I really wanted to ask Jackson about this new theory that had trickled into my mind, but instead—and perhaps against my better instincts—I called Zane.

  “You know your friend at the police station?” I couldn’t remember his actual name since I just called him Officer Loose Lips because of his propensity for sharing too much.

  “Danny?”

  “Yes, he’s the one.” MaryAnn was his mom. “Would you be willing to ask him for a favor?”

  “After all you’ve done for me, I’d have a hard time not doing that.”

  I’d been banking on that. “Could you call him and ask him a question?”

  “Sure, I guess. What is it?” He munched on something. He said jail food had made him want to eat only healthy forever . . . on my dime, apparently.

  I leaned back in my seat, patted Java—the golden doodle—and prepared myself for how weird these words would sound as they left my lips. “I need you to ask him what kind of meat was found rotting in that house down in Hatteras.”

  “What?” Surprise tinged Zane’s voice.

  “I know it seems strange, but it’s important. I’m guessing the police sent it off for analysis. I’ll explain how it’s significant once I know the answer.”

  “Okay . . . yeah, I can do that. I guess.”

  I patted Java’s head again, almost neurotically. So much so that the pooch decided to leave me, as if he sensed he could be getting a headache soon. “Can you call me right back?”

  “Let me see what he says. Stand by.”

  I ended the call, finished my coffee, and then I waited. And waited.

  I recited the words to The Brady Bunch theme song, seeing if I could still remember them. Then I started on Gilligan’s Island before moving on to The Jeffersons. Many of them were before my time, but I’d watched them on reruns and loved every minute of them.

  That was back when TV was still fun and you didn’t have to hold your breath with expectation of what might fill the screen.

  If there was one thing about Relentless, it was pretty clean. Many called it good fun. I’d been proud to be a part of it.

  I was getting distracted here.

  A treasure hunt. Crocodile tooth. The message carved onto the wall. Put that together and you had . . .

  My phone rang. It was Zane.

  “Okay, this is weird,” he started. “The meat? Apparently, it was bear meat.”

  Bear meat? Surprising.

  I remembered the words carved behind the dresser.

  That only led me back to one other thought.

  But I needed to do some research first.

  “Zane, I need to call you back. Are you available for a mission . . . er, an outing?” I’d been thinking too much about Relentless.

  “Always. Just let me know when and where.”

  “Stay tuned.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Where the tail end of the creek and the trail meet. Those clues echoed in my head as I thrust some coffee into Zane’s hand after he slipped into my car outside my condo. As soon as he closed his door, I immediately started driving again.

  Not only was I in a hurry, but I didn’t want Jackson’s guy to follow me again.

  Zane raised his coffee—no doubt it was sloshing inside the cup—and quickly pulled his seat belt on. “What are you thinking?”

  Thinking. Oh yes, I’d been doing plenty of thinking. And I had a crazy but possibly brilliant idea that I really hoped paid off instead of making me look foolish. That was always a gamble, though. Kind of like the results of a live on-air ambush interview.

  “So I think my dad has been leaving me clues,” I started, one hand on the steering wheel and the other flying through the air to drive home each point. “Actually, Phoebe gave me that idea. First there was the message: ‘where the tail end of the creek and the trail meet.’ Then there was that photo of me with my bike—a bike that I’d had to follow clues to find. There was also the crocodile tooth—or maybe it was an alligator tooth.”

  “Okay . . .” His voice still held an edge of skepticism mingled with confusion.

  “Then you said that the meat in the sink was from a bear. That clearly indicates only one place.” Excitement warmed my blood and sent a burst of adrenaline through me.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge.” I sounded giddy as I said the words. “They’re known for their large population of bears—and alligators, of course!”

  “Okay . . . not thinking that sounds like too much fun to me. Being some wild animal’s dinner?” He took a sip of his coffee. “No, thank you.”

  “The clue my dad left behind the dresser . . . I wonder if that’s pinpointing a certain location at the refuge. He said, ‘where the tail end of the trail and creek meet.’” It was the only thing that made sense. “However, it’s still unclear what that location might be.”

  “Maybe we won’t know until we get there,” Zane said. “But still, what do you think we’ll find? Why would your dad go to all this trouble?”

  That was a great question—but I’d thought it through, a fact that surprised even me. “What if my dad had collected some informa
tion? What if he hid it, just in case something happened to him? Then he left the clues, hoping someone would figure it out?”

  Was the idea crazy? Maybe. But what if it wasn’t?

  “That seems . . . outlandish.” Zane stared out the window as we headed down the highway toward Mann’s Harbor.

  I nibbled my bottom lip, knowing that if Zane thought it was crazy, then it very well might be. “It does seem outlandish. But Zane, I’m out of ideas. And my dad left everything else at that house in Hatteras nice and tidy. Why else would he leave meat out? And bear meat, at that?”

  “And where did he get bear meat?”

  “I guess they open up the season once a year for people to hunt them because there are so many in the area.” I’d looked it up on my phone before I left the coffeehouse, thank you very much!

  Zane continued to stare out the windshield and drink his coffee. “Was your dad a hunter?”

  “No, he mostly liked to fish. But a friend could have given him the meat. I really have no idea.” I’d wondered that myself until concluding it wasn’t that important.

  Finally, Zane shrugged and wiped some dust from my dashboard. “It seems like a long shot, but I’m game. You’ll never know unless you try. Besides, wrestling an alligator is on my bucket list.”

  I wouldn’t be joining him for that. Not on purpose.

  After we crossed two bridges, we entered a lonely stretch of highway that was in a protected wildlife area. My anticipation grew as we inched closer to possible answers—answers I’d been searching for too long to find.

  Could this really be it? Would everything finally make sense?

  A girl could only hope.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and frowned.

  “What are you looking at?” Zane glanced over his shoulder.

  “I think Jackson has someone following me.” I eyeballed the black sedan behind me. It had been there for the past ten minutes. Coincidence? Probably.

  But maybe not.

  “That sounds creepy.”

  “It’s a cop. I know he’s been sitting outside the condo, but I’ve noticed a car behind me yesterday and today.”