Ready to Fumble (The Worst Detective Ever Book 1)

by Christy Barritt

  I shook my head. “No, I just play one on TV.”

  He squinted. “Raven Remington?”

  “The one and only.” Why not use it to my advantage when I could?

  “My wife loves you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Put your weapons down, everyone.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief. “Tell your wife thank you.” On more than one count.

  “Why’d you break into Simon Philips’s place?”

  “Someone is making threats against me, and I believe it’s connected to this case. Maybe. Kinda. Sorta.” Oh dear. Stop talking, Joey. Stop talking.

  “How’d you find him?”

  “By doing what any good detective would do: asking questions.” I glanced at the scowling men in the distance. “Can I ask what’s going on?”

  Just then, my worst nightmare showed up. Jackson Sullivan.

  The detective gave me his customary scowl as he walked into the room, then instantly transferred the dirty look to the other men surrounding me. None of them questioned Jackson’s appearance, so they must know him, which only served to further confuse me.

  “What’s going on, Manson?”

  “We caught these two trespassing on property under surveillance by US marshals,” Manson said. “You know them?”

  Jackson looked at us again. “I do.”

  “Do you want to press charges for trespassing?” Manson asked.

  “Listen—this isn’t her fault,” Zane said. “It was my idea to come inside, and the door was unlocked. If you blame anyone, blame me.”

  I stared at Zane. Why was he taking the responsibility for this? I couldn’t let him do that. But before I could say anything, Manson continued, “We could charge them with breaking and entering, for starters.”

  Jackson scowled again, his gaze flickering from me to Zane. “No, I know both of them. But this is their last warning. What were you doing here, Joey?”

  “We tracked down Simon to this location,” I quipped, wanting to get that out so at least Jackson would know I had some talent for tracking down clues. “I was trying to confirm this was truly where he was staying before I called you. I didn’t want to waste your time.”

  He looked at Deputy Marshal Manson. “Is that true? Was Simon Philips staying here?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Was he under investigation for some reason?”

  Manson let out a long breath. “It’s classified.”

  “Get those two out of here,” Jackson said. “I’ll deal with them later.”

  As we were led away, parts of the conversation drifted toward me.

  “I’ll tell you what I can,” Manson said. “We believe Simon Philips was visiting someone placed in witness protection. We believe he was in love with her and met here for a little secret rendezvous.”

  I slowed my steps, wanting to hear more.

  “We realized that Simon had been killed, and so we began searching for our witness, but she’s disappeared,” Manson said. “We’ve been keeping this house under surveillance in case she came back. We also believe that Simon’s girlfriend may have killed him before attempting to kill herself.”

  Lily? Would she have done that?

  I didn’t know. I didn’t know the woman well enough. But she had told me she thought Simon was suicidal. Had she only mentioned that in order to set up the crime to look like a suicide? Had Lily planned all of this down to the last detail?

  That said, I should be safe . . . right? This had nothing to do with me.

  Except it did. Someone had re-created my TV show.

  None of this made sense, and I had no idea what to do about it.

  “You didn’t have to take the blame,” I told Zane once we were in my car.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I mean, I was the one who found the key and went inside first.”

  He’d placed it back where he’d found it once we’d gotten downstairs. “Well . . . either way, thank you. It was nice of you.”

  “I’ve been told I’m a pretty nice guy.” He grinned, not quite selling his boy-next-door act, before glancing at his watch. “Listen—it’s only 4:55. Do you mind if we run to the top of the lighthouse?”

  I stared at Zane, certain I’d heard him incorrectly. He was really asking that after everything that had happened? “You’re serious?”

  “Totally.” He nodded like a puppy dog. “It’s on my bucket list.”

  “Going to a lighthouse?”

  “As the sun sets. With a pretty girl.”

  “What’s a pretty girl have to do with it?”

  “A pretty girl has everything to do with it. Always.” He winked.

  I had other things I should do. A lot of other things besides dealing with men who liked to wink and surf and made my insides feel like a warm gooey mess.

  But we were right here at the lighthouse. And I’d never been to the top of one. And . . . why not? At least I wouldn’t be investigating and getting in trouble. Better yet, maybe Jackson wouldn’t find me here and ream me out.

  I pulled into the parking lot. Zane hopped out, and I joined him. Before I realized what he was doing, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the building. “Come on. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  I didn’t have a chance to think. Zane pulled me along until we reached the ticket office. After he paid our admission, he pulled me to the lighthouse. Then he pulled me up the stairs.

  It was winter. There weren’t a lot of tourists here this time of year. So we had the place to ourselves.

  I was breathless as I got to the top. And I was cold. It was so utterly cold in here.

  But when I looked out the window, I sucked in a breath. The view was amazing. The sunset smeared beautiful, electric shades of pink and yellow and orange across the sky in the distance.

  From up here, I could see the sound. Which one was this? The Pamlico, I thought, but there were so many bodies of water in this area that I couldn’t be sure. Marsh grass swayed in the wind, and boats, bright with lights, glided like they had nothing better to do.

  “There is one other part of my bucket list.” Zane leaned toward me.

  Or maybe he didn’t. The space up here was tight. Kind of like my Miata.

  “What’s that? Doing a bottle flip? The mannequin challenge?”

  “Kissing a pretty girl.”

  I crossed my arms. “You didn’t say that earlier.”

  “I’m pretty sure I did.” His eyes sparkled.

  I’d always been such a sucker for sparkling eyes. “Are you dying or something? What’s with this bucket list?”

  “It’s about seizing the day, the opportunity. Making the most of life while we’ve got it.” He dramatically made a fist and held it in the air, like this was his moment, his soliloquy in an epic motion picture.

  I was sure this shtick worked with most women who were charmed by his laid-back good looks. But I wasn’t most women. I’d been burned. I’d been burned badly.

  He smiled. “So what do you say? Just one little kiss? Nothing that would make you blush. More like a stage kiss, one that you’d do in front of the cameras.”

  “For real?” I had done plenty of those. So many that I’d learned to be nearly robotic about it.

  Joey, you look too stiff. Joey, I need you to tilt your head in a way that will totally feel unnatural. Joey, we need to take two. Three. Four. Five.

  Stage kisses were the worst. There was nothing romantic about them, especially when the directors got all technical. Which they always did.

  The more romantic a kiss looked on screen, the less romantic it was to film.

  “That was different. I got paid to kiss people.” As soon as the words left my lips, I blanched. “That makes me sound so cheap and tawdry.”

  “Cheap and tawdry.” Zane chuckled. “You’re so funny.”

  But was I?

  Zane raised his eyebrows, not dropping the subject. “So . . .”

  I sighed. “You can kiss me, but it has to be like you’d kiss your sister.”<
br />
  “I don’t have a sister.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He grinned again. “Works for me.”

  His hand slipped around my waist, and he leaned into me. Everything happened a little more slowly than I thought it should.

  You’re Raven Remington, and this is a scene in your TV show.

  Zane’s gaze went to my lips. My neck. My ear.

  My heart sped.

  My heart sped? Why in the world was it doing that?

  I was so not interested in Zane. In anyone.

  But as I inhaled his beach scent, my heart rate quickened even more.

  What in the world was going on? Had I lost my ever-loving mind?

  Then his lips met mine. Pressed against me.

  Caused every other thought to disappear as pure, gooey goodness filled me.

  Then it was over.

  I hadn’t expected to feel anything. But I’d definitely felt a jolt.

  I stared at Zane a moment, trying to read his expression.

  He opened his eyes, and a grin slowly spread over his affable face. “We did it.”

  I cleared my throat and stepped back. “We did.”

  “Just in time too. The sun is gone, and that lady down there who’s walking this way? She’s going to tell us to leave.”

  I peered outside and saw the ranger coming toward us. “We should probably do that then.”

  “You’re a good sport, Joey.”

  “And if you kiss your sister like that, I’m calling in help.”

  He laughed. A laugh that went all the way to my gut and filled me with warmth. A laugh that promised wherever Zane was, there would be adventure and fun.

  Maybe that was just what I needed right now in my life.

  Or maybe it wasn’t.

  My dad had always told me that I was in love with love. I’d denied it for years. But he was right. I always had been in love with love.

  I’d had six boyfriends while I was in high school. Six. And I’d fallen fast and hard for each of them. And at the first sign of trouble, of my happily ever after disappearing, I disappeared.

  I loved tingles and flutters and racing hearts.

  I hated reality. I hated fighting. Disagreeing. Bad breath.

  Then I’d met Eric, and he’d swept me off my feet. I was only twenty-four, and he was thirty-two. He’d been in a few movies before we met—his most prominent one when he’d starred as superhero Captain Gorgeous. It was supposed to catapult him to the top, but instead the movie flopped and was panned by both critics and viewers. Despite that, I’d been starstruck to get to work alongside him when he guest-starred on Relentless.

  Two months later, he’d proposed. Before any of the warm fuzzies of early love could wear off, we were committed for a lifetime. And when the warm fuzzies wore off, they dropped like a rock and left me with the realization that I didn’t even like Eric Lauderdale.

  I took one last glance down at the landscape around me, wanting to soak in the beauty a little more. Beauty that reminded me of just how far away from Eric Lauderdale I was. Not only was I miles away from his presence, but also an entire continent away from all the emotional and financial turmoil that had accompanied our relationship. We were done.

  And that recognition filled me with peace.

  But I stopped cold.

  A man stood at the bottom of the lighthouse. With a camera. Aimed up at us.

  I was sure that wasn’t unusual in itself. Lots of people took pictures of the lighthouse.

  But I’d seen him before.

  He was Leonard Shepherd, the man I had a restraining order against in California.

  And somehow now he was here in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

  Fourteen

  I lay in bed, thinking about everything. Mostly I thought about seeing Leonard outside the lighthouse though.

  He’d never come into my home when I lived in California. But here, and being alone, I kept thinking I heard him. Every creak and squeak made me jump. To make matters worse, it was windy outside, and the breeze caused sand to lambast the house. Caused the shutters to rattle. Caused all kinds of other noises.

  Sleep was futile.

  At ten o’clock, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, though the area code told me it was local.

  “Hello?”

  Static hit the receiver. Or was that the wind?

  “Joey?” someone said.

  “Jackson?” He must be calling about the case. It wasn’t the number he’d called from before, but I figured he had more than one number—cell, work, home, work cell even.

  “Meet me. Down at. The police station.”

  I’d been halfway expecting this phone call. I figured he’d want to chew me out after I showed up at Simon Philips’s house. I just hadn’t been sure if he would come over to my place to ream me out or what. It seemed better for him if I was inconvenienced to go to the station, which I totally understood.

  Raven had always gotten in trouble. But she didn’t care. No, not as long as she got answers.

  I was not Raven. I was the type who hated conflict and who tried to make peace whenever possible. I was an actress. I didn’t mind attention. I just liked for it to be positive.

  “I’ll be right there,” I told him. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

  I threw on some clothes and grabbed my keys. I hadn’t really loved being at the house by myself anyway, especially not after spotting Leonard.

  After I’d seen him, I’d questioned myself. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. That was it. Leonard wouldn’t have followed me here all the way from California . . . right?

  Zane and I had rushed down the spiral stairway of the lighthouse, trying to reach the bottom before he got away. But we both knew that was a long shot.

  The man, whoever he was, disappeared more quickly than the Lost Colony of Roanoke Island.

  A shiver rushed down my spine when I stepped outside.

  Why couldn’t you ask me to meet you in the morning?

  At least we were meeting at the police station. If it had been a deserted beach or empty parking lot, maybe I would have second thoughts. I couldn’t let my paranoia take over my life.

  The police station was only five minutes away. It was located in a building with other city offices, and the parking lot was almost deserted, which made sense considering the time of day.

  Just to be sure, I glanced around the lot and spotted Jackson’s car.

  Sure enough, he was here.

  I locked my car and hurried into the building. It was my first time stepping inside since I’d come to town. Many times I’d played with the idea of coming here to report my father’s disappearance, but I hadn’t done it. I needed to keep those details close to me for now.

  I stepped inside a small lobby and glanced around. To the left, I saw a door marked Nags Head PD. I took a step that way, when someone called from the opposite hallway.

  “I’m over here, Joey,” a deep voice said.

  There must be more than one way into the station, especially after hours. I turned to the right instead and stepped into a dark hallway.

  “Jackson?”

  “Down here!”

  Okay, this was strange. But maybe he was wrapped up in something and couldn’t greet me. Had all of my years on Raven Remington programmed me to think the worst in every situation?

  Jackson’s car was out front. I was in a police station.

  There was nothing to be concerned about.

  Raven Remington would not be a shrinking violet right now, and I shouldn’t be either.

  I walked farther into the darkness, the door at the end of the hallway serving as my end goal. It was cracked open, and a light shone out. It made sense that Jackson was in there.

  Three steps later, someone grabbed me from behind. Before I could scream, a hand pressed into my mouth, and I was pulled into darkness.

  Fifteen

  I froze.

  But the man didn’t. A doo
r closed behind me, and the darkness only grew stronger.

  “There, there, Joey. It’s okay.”

  My gut clenched at the sound of his voice. The man behind me didn’t smell like Jackson, and sadly enough, yes, I did know what Jackson smelled like already. Jackson had not called me. Someone else had lured me here.

  Leonard?

  I could hardly breathe.

  Think, Joey. Think!

  But my logic evaporated like the mist on a warm day. The only place my mind went was the future. The terrifying future.

  What was going to happen to me? What was this man planning? And even worse, would anyone miss me? I had my doubts.

  Think, Joey. Look at your surroundings. Formulate a plan. Don’t act like an ice cube!

  I glanced around, but darkness surrounded me. I couldn’t see anything. Nothing at all.

  Where had the man pulled me?

  A closet, I realized. A cleaning closet. I could smell the pungent odor of bleach and Pine-Sol.

  All my other senses hit me at once. The feel of the man’s leather glove across my mouth. His arms that locked my own arms in place. They weren’t especially muscular, but they were strong enough.

  He had bad breath, like gingivitis and onions had a party in his mouth. He breathed fast. He must be nervous.

  I had to get away from him. He could have a gun. A knife.

  I had no idea what this man was planning!

  My life force seemed to return to me, and I squirmed, kicked, and wiggled. Any and everything I could think of. I even tried my baloney move, but I didn’t have enough space.

  The man’s grip was too strong.

  “Listen to me,” he whispered.

  I didn’t want to listen. I thrashed more instead.

  He squeezed me tighter.

  “You’ve always been feisty, Joey. I like that. But I need you to listen.”

  Always been feisty? His words brought a chill over me.

  But I stopped struggling for a minute.

  “The killer is still in town,” he continued.

  That chill that had been turning my body into a winter landscape? It went arctic.

  I wanted to ask questions. I couldn’t. His hand covered my mouth.

  “You can find him. We know you can do it. We believe in you.”