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

by Christy Barritt

  I shook my head with enough force that Leonard should have no doubts. “I won’t believe that Jackson has been behind this.”

  “You should just think about it.”

  I needed to redirect this conversation on to something useful. “Are you sure you don’t know where my dad is?”

  The sparkle left his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I know it’s important to you.”

  The way he looked at me with that star-crossed look in his eyes made me desperate to set the record straight. “Leonard, I’m not Raven Remington.” Was that what this all boiled down to? He wanted to keep my alter ego alive?

  He grinned. “But you are, Joey. In more ways than one, you are. And you’re going to solve this mystery if it’s the last thing you do.”

  A weight formed in my gut. This very well could be the last thing I ever did.

  Leonard disappeared from my room. I should have probably called the authorities to get him, but I didn’t. I had too much on my mind. Too much to sort through.

  Jackson? One of the bad guys? I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it. It didn’t matter how upset I was with him, he was an honorable man.

  Where was my dad? Why was my mom here? What was EM Corporation? If my phone wasn’t void of service, I’d check and satisfy my curiosity.

  Finally, in the middle of the night, I managed to drift to sleep.

  But I was awakened by a sharp, nearly frantic knock on my door.

  I opened my eyes and glanced around. Everything came back to me. My reason for being here. The circus my life had turned into. The answers that haunted me, remaining just out of reach.

  But who was knocking at my door here at the bed-and-breakfast? Zane? Had he decided to put last night behind us?

  I forced an eye open, searching for the time. The digital clock on the nightstand was blank.

  Strange.

  I picked up my phone.

  I still didn’t have any service.

  After another frantic knock, I pulled myself out of bed. I didn’t have to get dressed, because I hadn’t brought a change of clothes. I’d fallen asleep in my jean shorts and T-shirt.

  I raked my hair out of my face and cracked the door open.

  The innkeeper stood there.

  She rubbed her hands together nervously. “Hello, I’m sorry to awaken you, but the island is under mandatory evacuation orders.”

  I blinked, certain I hadn’t heard her correctly. “Come again?”

  “That storm out in the Atlantic has turned around. It’s coming straight toward us now.”

  No! The island couldn’t be evacuated. I needed to get to the grocery store and see if my dad showed up.

  I glanced at my watch. It was 7:00 a.m. Did I have time to make it there before evacuating?

  “The ferry schedule has been amended,” the innkeeper continued. “The last one leaves at eleven. They’re sending over an extra ferry as well to make sure everyone gets off. The water is projected to get too rough to operate the ferry after that time.”

  I nodded, still in shock. Still processing. “Okay, thank you.”

  “Oh, and power on the entire island is out, as well as cell service.”

  Well, that explained that. “Good to know. Let me tell my friend.”

  I started toward his room—taking only one step—when the woman held out something.

  “I’m sorry. He left earlier, and he told me to give you this.” She handed me a note.

  I stared at it a moment, uncertain if I’d heard her correctly.

  Zane was gone?

  He’d left me?

  Had he taken my car?

  With a feeling of dread pooling in my stomach, I took the note and thanked her.

  I escaped into my room and unfolded the paper. Zane’s handwriting greeted me.

  “I’m sorry, Joey. I thought I could handle being around you, but I can’t. I’m hitching a ride back. I hope you find your dad and stay safe.”

  I lowered the note and let my head drop back. Zane had left me here? How could he do that?

  Maybe it was better this way. Life was simpler when I did it on my own anyway, right? I didn’t always need someone by my side. It was like all the events of my entire life had been working to show me that I needed to depend only on myself. I’d just been so dense that I hadn’t listened.

  Now I had no choice but to go forward on my own.

  Why did that thought seem so scary?

  Chapter Thirty

  I went into Swanner’s, the food mart I’d visited yesterday. I knew it was a long shot with the storm, but I had to see if my dad would come in today. I had just enough time—I hoped.

  “Haven’t seen him yet,” the clerk behind the desk—the one with the High Tider accent who’d been here yesterday—said as soon as I stepped inside and before I could even ask.

  He continued to count the money from his register, almost like he was closing down at the end of the day. Except it was only nine.

  “I see.” I stopped at the counter, feeling like I should inquire about more, but unsure what the questions should be.

  “We won’t be open long,” he continued, glancing at his watch. “We’re closing up shop. I stayed here once for a storm like this and vowed to never do it again.”

  That wasn’t comforting.

  “It gets pretty bad, huh?” I said.

  “I was stuck in my house on the second story for three days as I waited for the waters to go down,” he said. “That was Irene. She was a nasty one.”

  “But this isn’t a hurricane.”

  “I’ll tell you what.” He put his money into a thick bag with a lock on the top. “Nor’easters can do more damage at times. Those tidal surges they bring . . . they’re what can get to you. You run from the water and hide from the wind. I’m running. I suggest you do too.”

  The noisy bell above the door chimed, and two people rushed inside. The man had to be the clerk’s son—he was his spitting image. I’d guess the woman with him was the son’s wife.

  “Get this, Dad. I heard that it’s not the storm,” the man said. “It’s the power grid that made us lose electricity.”

  “Slow down,” the clerk said. “What do you mean?”

  “I heard that there was an explosion at the power grid up north,” the man said. “There’s a rumor that there could be two down.”

  The power grid? I froze, something clicking in my head.

  That painting Crista had given me. Was that . . . of a power grid? The gray, the lines, the bursts of yellow. It all suddenly made sense.

  This had something to do with the Barracudas, didn’t it?

  I sucked in a breath. What was going on here? How did it tie in with Operation Make Waves? I wasn’t sure, but it all fit together somehow.

  “Honey, you look a little pale,” the clerk said, looking back at me. “Everything okay?”

  I hardly heard him.

  Instead, an episode of Relentless played in my mind, one about terrorists who targeted America’s powder grids. All it would take was a hundred strategic electrical stations going down to cause a domino effect that would eventually ruin the country.

  I was pretty sure Thomas Billings had been consulted about that fact.

  I pulled out my phone. I needed to call Jackson. But after I dialed his number, nothing happened.

  “The towers are out,” the clerk reminded me. “Happens every time a big storm goes through.”

  Anxiety surged in me.

  What was I going to do? I remembered Jackson’s words about how bad things got during storms here. I supposed he’d been right . . . again. The clerk had confirmed it.

  Maybe I should get off this island. I could always come back after the storm passed. I knew there was a chance my dad would no longer be here, but . . .

  “Thank you,” I said as I rushed toward the door.

  “Last ferry leaves at eleven,” he called.

  I glanced at my watch. I had less than two hours.

  I hurr
ied to my car, but my steps slowed when I saw a paper beneath my windshield wiper. With a touch of hesitation, I grabbed it and carefully opened the folds.

  All it said was 1802 Windswept Drive. Another address. This one was on Lantern Beach, if I had to guess.

  I stared at it. What should I do?

  What if Leonard had left it and this address contained another clue? After all, Leonard had been on the island, and he knew what I was doing here.

  I knew I couldn’t pass this up.

  But I was going to be quick. Really quick.

  I found the address. It was a three-story house surrounded on two sides by water. The ocean and the sound seemed to meet on the shoreline there, causing a weird mixture of currents around the place. I didn’t have time to study them now, not in this race against time.

  Rain pounded the air around me as I darted from my car to the front porch.

  Once I had shelter over my head, I paused and shivered. Paint peeled on every surface of the porch, and dried leaves from last fall still gathered in the creases and corners. I had a feeling no one lived here.

  Or had someone kept the house looking this way so people would think no one lived here?

  It would be a good place for someone to lie low. A good place for my dad to lie low.

  Was I hoping for too much?

  Leonard could have tracked my dad down, though, and left that clue for me. It sounded exactly like something he would do in an effort to revive Raven Remington.

  Except he said he hadn’t left that clue about the Hatteras house. Was he telling the truth? Because if he hadn’t left that clue, then who had?

  I pushed those thoughts aside for now. I didn’t have enough time to fully deal with them.

  A gust swept over the area, so strong that I feared it would blow me right off the porch. Puddles had already formed on the ground surrounding the house, and I doubted the water normally came up this high on the property.

  I opened the screen door and knocked on the black wooden door.

  No one answered.

  I knocked again.

  Again, nothing.

  The sound of the wind and rain prevented me from hearing anything happening inside—any telltale signs of life or telltale signs of danger either, for that matter.

  I nibbled my lip as I contemplated my options. Another smattering of rain assaulted me, blowing horizontal with the storm.

  I bit back a sigh. I hadn’t come this far for nothing. I had to know if my dad was inside.

  I twisted the handle.

  It was unlocked.

  With a shove, the door opened.

  I held my breath, hesitating for just a minute before stepping inside.

  An empty house greeted me. The floors—wooden—were painted maroon. Sheets covered the windows. The interior was an eerie gray color without electricity brightening the space.

  “Hello?” My voice echoed.

  Nothing. As expected.

  I stepped in and shut the door, a squall of nerves rushing through me.

  What was I doing here?

  Looking for my dad, I reminded myself. What if he needed me? If those clues had been a way of reaching out?

  Pushing down my anxiety, I took another tentative step forward.

  I decided to skirt the edge of the downstairs to start, another tip I’d learned from Raven Remington. When doing surveillance, you always had the advantage when you stood away from the center of activity.

  I stepped into what was probably the dining room at one time. It had that same maroon floor and sheets covering the windows. No furniture. No trash. Just a lone brass chandelier in the center of a plastered ceiling.

  I moved around the room, headed toward the doorway beyond it. The kitchen greeted me. I glanced around. Opened a cabinet.

  There wasn’t anything inside to eat. Not even canned goods.

  The refrigerator was also empty. But it was running, I noted.

  Why did this house have electricity? Perhaps there was an emergency generator hooked up. It was the only thing that made sense, and it would explain the noise I heard in the background over the storm.

  I frowned, deep inside hoping I’d find another expiration date on a milk carton. I needed something—anything—that might help. But I didn’t find it.

  Why was I here? Why had someone sent me to this address?

  I had more rooms to check before I got discouraged.

  Quickly I glanced at my watch. I still had an hour to get to that last ferry. I had to see if I could make it. Otherwise, the Barracudas wouldn’t be my greatest danger—this island would.

  I went through the rest of the downstairs, but I found nothing.

  As frustration pressed on me, I stopped at the base of the stairs and stared upward.

  I didn’t want to go to the second level. Upstairs seemed much scarier than downstairs.

  But I knew I’d kick myself if I didn’t check out the entire house. I had to venture up there.

  My throat totally dry, I grabbed the bannister. Sucked in a deep breath. Took the first step.

  The wood beneath my foot was firm and steady. That was good.

  I took another step. And another. And another. No incidents.

  When I reached the top, I released my breath. That part was done. Now I just needed to check these rooms.

  I wavered between wanting to check each room quickly so I could get out and hoping to find a ponder-worthy clue that would keep me here longer.

  There had to be something here. Right? Otherwise, why would someone have given me this address?

  I was being anxious and paranoid.

  I reached the first door. Opened it. Stepped inside.

  Everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I blinked at the darkness, unsure what had just happened. But I’d been handled. Moved to a new location in the house by someone with rough hands and stinky armpits.

  Something tightened around my midsection.

  I was being tied up. Again.

  Except this time, my wrists were still sore from my earlier CD-ROM cuts. Each time the rope tightened, more pain shot through me, until I moaned.

  Finally, the black bag over my head was jerked off. Light blinded me.

  I squinted until the person in front of me came into focus.

  Currie.

  I should have known.

  “You just can’t stay out of things, can you?” he growled, a disgruntled look on his face.

  I forced my chin up, trying to look tougher than I felt. “I just want to find my dad.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know what that meant, but it was something—a small factoid. If the Barracudas were looking for my dad, that meant he was alive and that the crime ring hadn’t killed him.

  “Why do you want to find my dad?”

  He sneered again. “It doesn’t matter. I really wish I could kill you. That’s what matters.”

  “But you can’t kill me?” It was such a strange conversation. I should be running for my life, but I couldn’t, so I might as well ask questions.

  “Not yet.” A satisfied look pinged in his eyes as he said the words. He was looking forward to the day he could finish me off. I’d call him a jerk, but that word wasn’t strong enough.

  “So what are you going to do with me?”

  He started pacing. “That’s the question, isn’t it? For now, you’re going to stay here.”

  I swallowed hard as the wind rocked the house again. As I remembered the rising waters. How the entire island could be cut off. “But there’s a storm coming.”

  “You should be okay. You’re on the second floor.”

  “But—”

  “You really have no choice here, so save your breath,” he barked.

  I licked my lips and drew in a deep breath. That line of questioning was getting me nowhere. I needed to redirect my questions.

  “You left me that note on my car, trying to lure me here, didn�
�t you?” I asked.

  “That’s right. I figured it would be better than snatching you from the street.” He rubbed his fist into his hand, as if he had a compulsive need to smash my face but was repressing the urge.

  Not comforting.

  “How long will you leave me here?”

  “I just need for you to stay out of my hair.”

  “You really don’t have that much hair.” There I went again, saying inappropriate things at the worst possible times. I clamped my mouth shut so I wouldn’t do it again.

  He sneered. “You know what, Smart Mouth? I can’t kill you, but I can do more than just leave you. I can leave you here to die.”

  With that, he stepped from the room and slammed the door.

  And I was alone. The house trembled in the storm around me, and water dripped down the wall outside the window.

  How was I going to get out of this one?

  As the silence of the room surrounded me, I closed my eyes.

  Think, Joey. Think.

  What would Raven do right now?

  I reviewed all those episodes. I knew my alter ego had been tied up before. But she’d also kept razor blades beneath her watch.

  I hadn’t done that.

  I totally should have. Maybe I should do it all the time, especially considering the way my life had been going lately. It would be like an asthmatic always having a life-saving inhaler on hand.

  I needed to think of something else besides the razor blade I didn’t have.

  I wiggled and wiggled and wiggled in the chair.

  The binds weren’t really loosening, but I was able to work them so that they moved upward. Or had the chair moved down? I wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter. As long as something was moving.

  My arms and back already ached. I glanced around and continued to think, to study. Unlike the downstairs, gray carpet stretched across the floor in this room. There was no bed or other furniture. There was one door and one window. A yellow stain graced one wall—probably from a water leak.

  The whole room smelled stale, like no one had used it for a while.

  None of those facts helped me, unfortunately.