Blooper Freak (The Worst Detective Ever Book 5)

by Christy Barritt

  But as I glanced beside me, I realized the metal was crumpled. This door wouldn’t open. At least not without a lot of force. That very force would rock the equilibrium of the car and most likely send it toppling into the water below. The back door on my side was pressed against the cement guardrail, so I doubted it would open either.

  I had to think of another way.

  I needed to break the glass, I realized.

  How did I do it without moving too much, and what tools did I have at my disposal?

  I thought back through all the random facts I’d ever tried to memorize. That was when one hit me.

  Without moving anything but my arms, I reached behind me. Feeling my way around, I managed to get the headrest off. I stared at the two metal prongs that had locked it into the seat. Theoretically, they should be able to crack the glass.

  I hoped.

  If this worked, I could thank whichever friend had shared the tip on Facebook. And I could thank Eric for beating me down enough that I didn’t want to leave the house, so I’d stared at social media instead.

  The car shifted again. The crowd around me gasped. Someone yelled.

  My stomach dropped as the vehicle rocked toward the water.

  My body shifted forward until all I could see was the turbulent waves beneath me.

  This wasn’t good.

  At that moment, I noticed that police lights flashed somewhere in the distance, mingling with the sad, urgent sound of a siren . . . or two.

  Then I heard his voice.

  Jackson’s. He was . . . beside my car, if I had to guess.

  “Joey, we’re going to get you out of there,” he said. “Just stay calm and don’t make any sudden moves.”

  I nodded, unable to find my voice.

  But I knew the truth. I had to break this glass if I even had a chance.

  With a deep breath, I shoved the prongs into the rubber seal around the window. Giving it everything I had, I wedged the metal into the space.

  A small crack appeared.

  I released the air in my lungs. Okay, at least it was semi-working.

  And the car didn’t shift again. That was a good sign.

  “A wrecker is on the way, Joey,” Jackson continued.

  I wanted to look at him, but I didn’t think I could stand to see even a touch of fear or concern in his eyes. I just needed to stay focused.

  I had to do this again.

  So I did.

  The glass cracked a little more this time.

  Third time’s a charm, right?

  I jammed the metal into the window one more time. This time it shattered.

  My muscles went limp with relief.

  But it was short lived.

  The car rocked again. I screamed, using every ounce of my strength not to lurch forward. If I did, my body weight would send the vehicle into the water below. I had no doubt about it.

  “Joey . . .” Jackson said.

  “My mom is a part of an international crime ring, Jackson,” I told him, just in case I didn’t make it out of this alive. “This guy, Currie, works for her. There’s someone else above her, but I don’t know who. They call him the Lux. They claim to be working for the greater good, whatever that means.”

  “Why don’t you tell me this once you’re out of the car?” Jackson said.

  “I’m telling you now, just in case I don’t make it.”

  “You’re going to make it, Joey.”

  “Currie killed Morty and Sydney. Abe helped him set up Zane and Billy. Billy is guilty of the whole skimmer scheme, but he didn’t kill Sydney.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about this later, Joey.”

  I felt woozy all over. The car was rocking, rocking, rocking. One gust of the wind. One wrong move by a spectator. One wrong move by me . . . and I was going over the edge.

  “Finish knocking the glass out of the window,” Jackson said. “Move slowly, carefully.”

  His words finally settled in my mind, and I nodded. Using the metal, I brushed the broken shards out of the way until the window was mostly cleared.

  “Joey, I’m going to reach for you. I need you to take my hand.”

  I liked the idea, but the execution was a whole ’nother story. It required moving and shifting, two things I wasn’t comfortable with. “I don’t know if I can do that, Jackson.”

  “Sure you can,” he said. “It’s going to be frightening. The car might fall. But I’m not going to let go of you, do you understand?”

  The thought sent terror rippling through me.

  The car swayed again.

  The crowd gasped.

  Finally, I nodded, realizing I didn’t have much time. “Okay.”

  “I’m reaching out my hand,” Jackson said.

  I turned my head. Saw him standing there. Saw his outstretched arm.

  All I had to do was grab it.

  But I knew when I shifted my weight, the car was going over the edge.

  “Take my hand, Joey,” Jackson pleaded, his voice calm and in control.

  The thought of moving froze me. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to live this out in my life. No, I wanted to wake up and discover this was all a nightmare.

  But I couldn’t.

  “You can do it,” Jackson continued. “That storm is stirring up some winds, Joey. We don’t know when the next gust might blow through. We don’t have much time.”

  Be brave. Be like Raven.

  I closed my eyes. Drew in a breath.

  But before I could move, the car groaned and began falling.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I held my breath, but things seemed to move in slow motion beside me.

  The car had fallen a good two feet probably, but it was still on the causeway.

  “Joey, you need to move,” Jackson said. “Now.”

  He was right. I had to do this. And I had to do it quickly and without hesitation.

  Currie groaned beside me, coming to.

  That was all the motivation I needed.

  I twisted and clutched Jackson’s arm with both my hands.

  As I did, the car pitched again.

  I clung to Jackson with all my might.

  He yelled something and let out a grunt.

  And then the world fell from around me.

  I screamed. Closed my eyes. Heard a terrible noise. I waited for an impact.

  But there was none.

  Instead, my body launched into the air. I hit something soft. Semi-soft, at least.

  I forced my eyes open, clueless about what I’d see. If I’d crossed into the afterlife. If I was delusional and surrounded by a watery grave.

  No, I was on top of Jackson. His strong arms encircled me. His plan had worked.

  He’d been able to heave me out of the car. The impact had propelled us both back and onto the causeway.

  Jackson tightened his embrace as the crowd around us cheered.

  “Are you okay?” he murmured.

  I went limp with relief and then with delirium at the fact that I’d actually survived. I’d actually survived!

  But what about Currie? He’d gone down with the car. Could he survive a fall like that? It was doubtful.

  I released my breath and remembered Jackson’s question. “Yeah, I’m okay. But I really could have used a stunt double back there.”

  The TV in the corner of the police department’s break room drew my attention. Jimmy Fallon was on, and he was showing blooper clips from Family Secrets, all set to the song “Eternal Flame.” It was hilarious.

  I hugged my coffee mug and listened as he came on afterward. “I know Joey Darling, and you know what’s so great about her? She’s relatable. She’s real. She even admits to being a klutz.”

  The clip cut to video reel of my earlier accident. “We just heard a report that a taxi driver who was transporting Joey nearly ran off the bridge. Look at that dramatic footage. We’re just glad she’s okay.”

  I glanced at Jackson. “They didn’t waste an
y time.”

  He shook his head and cut the TV off. “No, there are wannabe reporters everywhere.”

  I sighed. “Tell me about it.”

  Jackson heaved in a deep breath and leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “So your mom is a part of Barracuda?”

  I nodded.

  “And she said they’re working for a greater good?”

  “That’s what she said. I have no idea what it means.” I’d been thinking about it ever since my thoughts started to clear.

  “And your mom knows about your dad?” Jackson asked.

  He’d removed himself from this investigation, citing personal involvement, and this was the first real chance we’d had to talk.

  I nodded and took another sip of my coffee. “She doesn’t appear to know where my dad is. But he apparently saw her, and that was the start of his trouble. That’s my impression, at least.”

  Jackson wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Joey.”

  I nodded. “Me too.”

  “But I’m so glad you’re okay. You gave me a good scare back there.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “Officer Sanders saw you leave with someone. He knew something was up. He had a description of the car. I put out an APB and then went through forty-five minutes of anguish trying to find you until someone reported that accident on the causeway.”

  I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed back. “I really don’t want you staying alone until we know what’s going on. For all we know, there could be a hit out on you.”

  “You really think so?”

  “We don’t know. But obviously everyone in the Barracudas doesn’t listen to your mom. There’s someone else higher up who’s calling the shots. You could have died today.” His voice caught.

  “But I didn’t.”

  “You must have some guardian angel.”

  I turned toward him. “Maybe that’s you.”

  He closed his eyes and pressed his lips into my hand. I could see the deep-seated emotion in him, the inspiring self-control, and again I could read just how much he cared for me. Seeing that meant the world to me.

  “By the way, I talked to Crista the other day,” he started, visibly pulling himself from the moment. “I asked her if she knew Winston Corbina.”

  I swallowed hard. “How did she react?”

  “With a little confusion. But I tried to sound casual and just mentioned that you had seen her over there. I told her that I didn’t realize the two of them knew each other.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she met him at the rock-painting event,” Jackson said.

  Winston had been there? That seemed suspicious within itself.

  “He mentioned he might be interested in making a donation for some school supplies,” Jackson said. “They were meeting to talk about some fundraising possibilities.”

  “At ten at night?”

  Jackson shrugged. “That’s what she said.”

  If Winston wanted to donate money, he could easily write a check. He didn’t need to meet with an up-and-coming teacher about it. But still, Crista and Winston’s relationship was the least of my worries at the moment.

  “There’s good news also,” Jackson said.

  “I’m ready for some good news.”

  He nodded toward the door. As he did, Zane stepped through. All my worries seemed to dissolve with a whoosh of air through my lungs.

  “I’ll give you two a minute.” Jackson stepped from the room.

  As soon as he was gone, I crossed the room and threw my arms around Zane, who didn’t smell anything like Zane anymore. No, he smelled like stale clothes and generic shampoo. But I didn’t care.

  “They let me go,” Zane said. “Thanks to you.”

  “I’m glad the truth finally came out,” I said, clutching his arms. He’d been a good friend to me, and I’d missed him lately—despite our history. “This guy—Currie—he’s the one who killed both Morty Savage and Sydney Becker. Abe helped him set you and Billy up.”

  “Did they ever find him? Or his body?” Zane dropped onto the couch, still looking unusually melancholy.

  “They’re still searching.”

  Zane frowned.

  “I know it’s strange not knowing what happened to him, if he somehow managed to survive or if the current simply dragged him out to sea.”

  “I don’t know what his fate was. I just know that I don’t like any of this.”

  I squeezed his arm. “The important thing is that you’ve been released.”

  “But my reputation has already been tarnished.”

  “Once people hear that you’re innocent, they’ll change their tune.”

  He frowned again. “No one wants a Realtor who’s been locked up for murder.”

  My heart panged with grief for him. “Opinions can change. Believe me. Just give it some time.”

  He jerked his gaze up to meet mine. “I need a favor, Joey.”

  Whenever someone said that, all of my muscles wanted to tighten like Scarlet O’Hara’s corset. I almost never came out on the winning side of things. “What is it?”

  “Could I crash at your place for a while?”

  My throat tightened. “At my place?”

  “You have three bedrooms, right?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t want to move in with my friends. I know where that will lead. I just need a little while to get back on my feet.”

  Even though Jackson and I weren’t officially dating, I wondered what he would think of that. He probably wouldn’t like it. Although he had mentioned me not staying by myself . . .

  How could I throw Zane out there by himself when he needed someone? He was right—if he stayed with his old crowd, it would only lead to trouble.

  What kind of friend would I be if I refused to help him?

  Yet it seemed so complicated.

  “Please, Joey.” His eyes pleaded with me. “You know I wouldn’t ask unless I had nowhere else to turn. I promise—I won’t do anything inappropriate.”

  My compassion won out over my good sense. I hoped I didn’t regret it. “Okay. You can stay—but only for a month. And we’re strictly roommates.”

  He nodded. “Of course. I know you and Jackson have a thing going on.”

  “I don’t want any of your friends over,” I continued.

  “Okay.”

  “And at the first sign of trouble, you’ll have to get out. No drugs. No drinking. No partying.”

  “I can do that.”

  I swallowed hard. “Okay then.”

  But even as I said the words, I realized this was a horrible idea.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Four days later, I stood on a small little stage at the park down the street, surrounded by rock-painting enthusiasts.

  As I waited for my turn, I reviewed everything that had happened over the past week.

  Leonard was locked up for stalking and sending threats.

  Billy was locked up for buying and distributing skimmers.

  Currie’s body had never been found.

  Mom was long gone.

  Zane and I were doing okay with our temporary arrangement.

  Jackson had been working really hard on wrapping up his cases.

  No decision had been made about my future. I’d managed to talk Rutherford into buying me some time to make a choice on some scripts.

  The part about tennis bracelet hadn’t been cut from Celebrity Truth or Dare—but a jeweler had offered an endorsement deal for a new line of . . . what else? Tennis bracelets.

  “And now I’d like to present you with Joey Darling,” Annette said.

  The crowd clapped. I looked out and saw Jackson standing there, keeping an eye on me. Like always. I sent him a smile. And then I launched into my spiel.

  “When Annette told me about this project and her goal for raising all this money, I was immediately intrig
ued,” I said. “I know a good cause when I see it.”

  I paused and gathered myself as my heart pounded furiously in my ears.

  “I’d like to dedicate my money for the We Can Fight Cancer Fund to Claire Sullivan,” I said. “I didn’t know Claire. I never had the chance to get to know her. But I know her sister, who’s a wonderful person, and I’ve gotta think Claire was like that too—that the two were cut from the same cloth.”

  My gaze found Jackson. I offered him what I hoped was a kind smile. I really hoped I wasn’t overstepping my bounds.

  I sucked in a deep breath before continuing.

  “And I also know a very special man who loved her,” I said. “And if he loved her, then I know she was an extraordinary woman because he is an extraordinary man. So I dedicate this project to Claire Sullivan.”

  I handed my check to Annette. She hugged me as everyone applauded.

  This was all to raise awareness, I reminded myself. Not to put the spotlight on myself. The lines felt so blurry and uncertain at times.

  I glanced at Jackson again.

  He was still staring at me with an unreadable look in his eyes.

  I’d overstepped, I decided. He was a private person. I should have asked him first before I brought up Claire. What if he thought I was trying to get publicity for myself from her death?

  Unease grew in my stomach.

  Despite that, I stood there for the rest of the ceremony. As soon as it was over, I said a few words to Annette. Then I slipped offstage and walked toward the back to compose myself. Later, I’d need to sign some autographs and mingle.

  But for right now, there was only one thing I could think about: How was I going to make this right?

  Just then, I felt a hand on my bicep. I turned around and saw Jackson standing there. His gaze reminded me of deep waters. But was the depth full of gratitude? Or were they calm depths with unseen turbulence beneath?

  I licked my lips. “Jackson,” I started. “Maybe I should have—”

  He stepped toward me and lowered his voice. “Can I say something first?”

  The lump in my throat grew larger, but I nodded. “Of course.”

  He rubbed his lips together, his gaze still intense. I knew whatever he was about to say, it wasn’t something he was taking lightly. I tried to brace myself. Had this been my biggest blooper yet?