Second Nature (Crimson Cove Mysteries Book 2)

by Tara Brown

  “Dwelling on the summer isn’t healthy, Lain. Rachel got herself into trouble and dragged the rest of us with her. We all need to try to get on with life.” Sierra gave me a soft look before darting her eyes to Jake. “You agree, right?”

  He bit his lip, offering nothing.

  She shrugged. “You're both coming, so don't even.”

  “Oh, I’m coming. Mommy Dearest has already ensured I will be there.” I sighed as Jake snorted.

  Changing the subject, Sierra lowered her voice, “I just don't know anyone who throws their own welcome-to-town party. It’s tacky.”

  Jake stood up. “I’ll let you two get catty.” He walked over to a lounge chair and stretched out.

  I glanced back at Sierra and nodded. “It’s not something any of us would be allowed to do. Our mothers would forbid it even if we were ill-mannered enough to try.”

  “You don't like her either, do you?” Sierra’s eyes sparkled with delight and mischief.

  Mine narrowed as I contemplated my feelings for Rita, a girl I hardly knew. “I don't know her well enough to form an opinion. Her family seems more like new money, which is weird that our parents would want anything to do with that. And for new money, they don't seem to have a lot. Also weird.”

  “She’s kind of like someone else we all suffered through having as a friend. So if she keeps acting like that—”

  I chuckled bitterly. “Oh, she’s going to keep that up. She’s a total queen bee. She reminds me of my mom. And her mom and mine could be sisters.” That brought a shudder down my already cold spine. “There’s no way she wasn't the queen bee of her crowd in Manhattan.”

  “Yeah, dude, I agree.” Sierra nodded and brushed her red hair out of her face. “She and Rachel would have been quite the pair.” The words had no sooner left her lips than her father walked out onto the deck with Lindsey’s dad. They both wore Italian suits and shoes, looking far too formal for the crowd of bikini-clad teenagers. Even Vince was in a swimsuit.

  “What is he doing here?” Sierra’s eyes narrowed. She didn't fear her dad the way the rest of us did—well, the way I did. He was so serious and intense.

  He waved at Sierra but stopped in front of the loungers where Sage and Rita were plotting. As he was talking to the girls, Sage’s face dropped, paling to match her cornsilk-colored hair.

  “Oh snap. Whatever he is saying is bad. Sage looks upset.”

  “Yeah, she just lost all the color in her face.” I nodded, putting the Coke down and moving a little closer to Sierra, shivering and wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

  Sierra’s dad turned and waved for Lindsey to come to them. Lindsey’s dad shouted at her, “Lindsey, you have to come with Sage! Climb out!”

  Vincent was already stiff, but Lindsey looked confused as the fun and laughing faded from her. “Why? What’s going on?”

  Sierra’s dad walked toward the edge of the pool. His left eye twitched once as he spoke, “Everything is fine. The police just have some routine questions. I need to take you and Sage down to the station.”

  “His eye’s twitching,” I whispered.

  “Oh God.” Sierra gave me a slight sideways look.

  Lindsey froze for a moment before she nodded. “Okay. But why just us? Didn't they already ask the routine questions?”

  “It doesn't matter. Get dressed.” Her dad sounded impatient.

  Looking startled, she walked to the stairs, climbing out and shaking her hair onto the concrete.

  My feet moved forward, pulling me through the water to the stairs. I had to go with them. I had to know what was going on.

  Lindsey gave me a stare from the deck as Vincent climbed out behind her, looking irritated. His concerned or distressed face was also his angry one so I couldn’t be sure if he was mad or worried.

  “You can’t come.” Sierra’s dad shook his head at Vincent. “Just the two girls. The rest of us have to stay here.”

  “I’m driving her there. I’ll wait in the parking lot.” Vincent’s tone was not one you negotiated with. Lindsey’s dad smirked and folded his arms over his chest. He appeared to agree with Vince.

  Sierra’s dad conceded, “Fine, that's fine. But we have to go now.”

  “What about the party?” Sage pulled her sundress on over her dry bathing suit and fixed her messy blonde bun. I wanted to slap her and scream that there would be no party. We had to prepare for whatever the killer was working on. If he had sent the picture of us standing around Rachel and Sage, we’d all be going in for questioning.

  “This won’t take long. They just have some extra questions about that night and about the scene.” Mr. Casey shook his head. “But it is urgent that we get going.” He looked at Sierra. “Go home and wait for me to call you there.”

  She swallowed hard, but I offered a faint smile. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’ll drive Sage and Linds to the police station. We’ll meet you there.” Vincent gave Mr. Casey a look.

  “Be fast.” He and Mr. Bueller turned and left the deck.

  “I think this is where I go home.” Jake winced. “Text me when you’re going to Rita’s.” His dark-blue eyes were focused on mine as he walked into the games room.

  Sage looked like she might cry but held it together until it was just us. “What the hell? Why just the two of us?”

  My brain immediately did a loop of the corkboard in my closet and repeated everything Mr. Casey had said. At the moment I arrived at the word “scene,” I knew the answer. Vincent turned and nodded at me. “What can you remember?”

  “The blood. Sierra’s dad said ‘the scene.’ The only reason he would have to ask Sage and Linds anything about the scene is the blood.”

  He looked defeated. “Oh shit.”

  “Sage and Linds, you both bled at the scene.” My eyes lowered to the red angry scar on Lindsey’s knee. “You were the only ones injured. And we left that out of our original statement to the FBI.”

  Lindsey’s eyes traveled south to the scar that was still so fresh. “Oh no.”

  “No. They wouldn't be able to test it against anything. None of us have offered a blood sample to rule it out against the DNA they would have collected.”

  Vincent gave Lindsey a look. “What if they got the blood type from the blood at the scene, and you girls are the only ones who match that type?”

  “I’m an A.” Lindsey looked at Sage who nodded. “Me too.”

  “I’m an O.”

  “That’s not how it’s done.” I scowled at Sierra and Vincent. “It doesn't matter. Out of the hundreds of kids at that party, why you two? That doesn't make sense. Unless they have our blood samples somehow. Which they don't. They think it’s us for another reason, and they’re trying to scare us.”

  “What can we do?” Lindsey appeared scared.

  Vince shrugged. “Tell them Sage was so drunk she decided to go for a pee in the woods. You tried to help her, tripped and fell, cutting your knee. Sage, you fell and hit your face because you were so drunk. We, and the police, know you were drugged.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “That doesn't work. We told the police we found Sage and Rita together, very drunk and sick. We took them inside Rachel’s and then to Sierra’s but neither of their dads were there. So we took them to Lindsey’s house. Her dad drove them to the hospital.”

  “Lain, we need a plan,” Vincent snapped.

  “I know.” I contemplated for a moment, processing it. I took a deep breath and recalled in exact detail what I had said was our original statement. “We got there late, meeting Rita at the party. She was there early to help Rachel. Rachel and Ashton broke up as we arrived. He left the party as Sage and Rach started fighting about it. Rita, you were with Sage the entire night. Rachel was being a dick as usual. Me, Sierra, and Lindsey ignored it and all partied together. We noticed later on that Sage and Rita weren’t feeling well. We brought them to Sierra’s house, but her dad wasn't home so we went to Lindsey’s. Lindsey’s
dad took them to the hospital while the rest of us went in the hot tub. We left the party around eleven. We saw Ashton leave before us. Vincent was there, still at the docks around eleven, and he was trashed. We didn't see anyone else we remember. Sage, you and Rita remember nothing, exactly the way you actually are.” I looked at them all, gulping my breath. “That's our original statement.”

  Vincent’s lips drew into a wry grin. “I can’t imagine how busy it is in that head of yours.”

  I pointed at Sage. “Sage was in the woods falling down drunk and gave herself a head injury. Lindsey, you went into the woods to pee and found her. Rita was with her, also trashed. We could say that's how we originally found them.”

  “Wait, so I peed in the forest?” Lindsey pulled back a bit. “Wouldn't the pee be there with the blood? Why wouldn't I pee in the pool house? Am I an animal?”

  “Shhhh.” I waved a hand at her as I rehashed details in my head. “No. That doesn't work anyway. What if we say we saw Sage and Rita very drunk and sloppy? The reason we were worried was because they were near the forest. So we followed them.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “But Linds, you were with Vincent on the docks, you're his alibi, so it has to be me and Sierra that found them. Sierra came and found you with Vincent and asked you to help us with Sage and Rita.”

  “Lain?” Sage said my name as if she were confused about my ranting and contemplating.

  I opened my eyes as the story pieced together with the facts. “Sierra and I were dancing. We noticed Sage and Rita were crazy drunk and walking up the hill. We took them to the edge of the forest because, Sage, you felt like you were going to throw up and didn't want anyone to see. You tripped and fell, hitting your face, right where the scar on your lip is. Sierra went and got Linds from the docks and while I was alone, struggling to get Sage up, Linds, you fell and cut your knee. Rachel wasn't there yet, not that it matters—as far as anyone else knows we never saw Rachel’s body and don't know where her body was put. If they don't know about the blood, this will answer that question for them.”

  “I can repeat it for them in the car.” Vincent nodded and muttered, “That works. Let’s go.”

  “Okay.” Lindsey pulled on her terry-cloth dress and followed Vincent back into the house. She looked back at me as she walked through the doors. I could tell she was completely unsure of the story. I was too. I was stressed and confused about the night. My memories faded after we left Rachel. They had become fuzzy, likely from stress and shock.

  Sierra nudged me. “Let’s go to my house. I don't want to be here alone with Louisa. She gives me the creeps.”

  Rita gave us both a look. “Or we can go to my house and start getting ready, since Sage was supposed to help set up for the party.”

  “Sure.” Sierra’s voice was strained, but she smiled. Rita hopped up, still somehow excited about the celebration. “I’ll grab my stuff.” She darted into the pool house.

  Sierra gave me a side-glance and whispered, “What the hell do the maids do in her house? Why do we have to set up?”

  “Like I said, I don't know that her family has the money everyone thinks they do.”

  “I could loan her some.” Sierra sighed and climbed out of the pool. “And maybe a bathing suit that covers her ass.”

  Rita’s thong bikini was obviously bothering more than just me. It was weird to see Sierra slut shame another girl, considering her stance on all things immoral. I would have expected them to be like old friends, but instead I was starting to think she saw Rita as competition.

  Chapter Five

  Rita’s slave camp

  When we reached Rita’s house on the beach, which was just like the rest of ours but a little farther down the shore, we started to work on the party straightaway.

  She lived where the new builds were going in as part of Phase Three. The mansions were a little smaller but just as fancy. Although they had a little less waterfront, they were on better beaches. The lots were narrower and longer, but the sand was fine and white.

  The houses next door on either side weren’t finished yet, something I imagined Rita’s mother hated. My mother would have hated it. She couldn't even stand the minor renovations going on at our house. And they were pretty similar women.

  I blew up another silver balloon and tied it off. My manicure was a little long so tying the stupid knot wasn't easy. I had let my nails grow out and my eyebrows were getting unruly with all the plotting and planning and figuring out going on. I needed a spa day, but it had been low on the totem pole of important things in my life. Not that it mattered, my mom would notice any day and book me in.

  “Jake just messaged me. He’s bringing Andrew and they’re going to come and help too. Andrew didn't want to leave earlier ‘cause he was with his mom, but he’s cool to come now.” Sierra lifted her bright-blue eyes from her phone.

  “Andrew?” Rita puzzled, her gray eyes narrowing.

  “The guy who lost his dad,” Sierra added.

  I wanted to remind her he wasn't lost. He was murdered and dumped in my yard, in a way I would never forget. He was positioned exactly the same way Rachel had been, all broken and twisted into a strange shape.

  “I know. It’s just—I mean—is he all right?” Rita cocked a dark eyebrow. “I mean, he won’t be a buzzkill on the party, right?”

  Sierra’s nose wrinkled. “His dad just died. I think we can pretend to not notice any bad behavior on his part.” It was smart and weird for Sierra to be the one saying it. It was more of a Lindsey statement.

  Rita’s olive skin flushed with rosy color. “I just mean—he’s not going to make it—I mean—I don't want it to be hard for him to be here and see everyone having fun.” She smiled wide like she had us both fooled into believing her intentions were good. Watching her stumble over her words made me rethink her whole queen bee status. “I don't want him to be sad because everyone else is having fun.”

  Sierra clenched her jaw, obviously fighting whatever she wanted to say.

  “Of course not.” I smiled and spoke softly, “But he’s been out of commission for a month. I’m sure he wouldn't come if he didn't want to.”

  “Unless Jake is dragging him out of the house.”

  “I guess.” I narrowed my gaze at Sierra, trying to tell her to stop before she started getting annoyed out loud.

  “Okay.” Rita shrugged and went back to putting out chairs around the pool. She moved them to create conversation pits of four or six chairs in each spot. It was an act I’d only ever seen done once by a girl our age. And that girl was gone, also lost.

  Rita surrounded the massive brick fireplace with many of the smaller patio chairs to make a spot for a dozen people to sit around the fire.

  I looked away, trying not to constantly compare her to Rachel, though it was weird they were so alike, for girls who hardly knew one another.

  Instead of thinking too much, I moved the rectangular tables until they were alongside the pool house as Rita had asked me to, and covered them with pale blue linens. It was so weird we were doing the work and not the staff. But there was an obvious lack of man and womanpower in their home. In my house several people moved in the shadows at all times. The kitchen was bustling with cooks and cleaners. Everything was always alive. This was eerily silent, similar to Lindsey’s house with just a butler, a maid, and a cook.

  “So has anyone heard from Ashton?” Rita asked after a few minutes.

  “No. My dad said the police and feds are looking for him. Tom has a PI tracking him. It’s bad.” Sierra placed the last row of drinking glasses next to the spot where the punch would be.

  “A PI? Damn, he must be good at hiding.”

  “Or being held somewhere,” Sierra added. She was full of random things today. My brain hadn’t gone to the “held against his will” place. Mine had stopped exactly on a terrible thought, one I couldn't imagine, and yet my brain could still whisper it. What if he’s dead?

  I didn't say it aloud, but I shuddered nevertheless.

  For
the record, he had fled. That record was my corkboard and not a police file. Lindsey had found a crumpled threat from the killer, in Ashton’s wastebasket, telling him to leave and he did. The last time he was seen by anyone, he stole Rachel’s car and drove off.

  The corkboard stayed with me through all things. It haunted my dreams and plagued my imaginations. I roamed it in my mind all day and all night, trying to find the answer. But the one thing I refused to put on the board—the one thing I didn't need to pin there as my mind was already obsessed with it—was his death.

  Ashton was alive, and I would find him.

  Thinking about the corkboard brought back a lead I had wanted to explore. I gave Sierra a look. “Where did you get the dress you wore the night of the party at Rachel’s?”

  “Rach.” She looked confused but answered plainly.

  “Rachel gave you that dress?”

  “She loaned it to me. She said it didn't look as good on her. Her boobs were too small for it.” Her lips turned up into an evil grin. “Why, you wanna undo the tape on your boobs and borrow it?”

  A grimace crossed my face. “No. Wasn’t the dress burned with the rest of our clothes?”

  “Oh yeah.” Her smirk dropped away and it was her turn to flush with color. “I forgot.”

  “Where did Rachel get it?”

  “The silver one from the party, that you were wearing?” Rita crossed the deck to us.

  “Yeah.” Sierra nodded.

  “She got it in New York. I was with her, last April. We went to a crappy fashion show for an up-and-coming designer, a random label. Rachel seemed really into the guy. He was young and more like a villager than a designer. Hipster.” Rita’s nose wrinkled.

  “What was his name?”

  Rita tapped a red fingernail to her plump lip. “Shuster something.”

  “Shuster Helmut?” The name popped from my lips before the memory of Rachel discussing him did. I hadn’t been part of the conversation, but I had overheard her discussing the line. The name was ridiculous.