A Life Less Extraordinary (Extraordinary Series Book 2)

by Mary Frame

  “What if they’re already here?”

  He shrugs. “Not much to do about it. The path is pretty clear, but it gets steep in spots and it’s better to be safe and seen than fall off a cliff.”

  I can’t argue with that logic.

  The park is small and a bit creepy in the dark. We pass a swing set, a metal merry-go-round with peeling paint, and a small jungle gym. We walk through a larger grassy area and to a small trail leading down the hill. It’s so steep, the path switches back and forth in a tight pattern down the slope.

  Jared wasn’t exaggerating. It does get pretty sketchy in spots and he has to help me so I don’t plunge down the hillside.

  It’s a relief when we finally reach flat ground. From what I can see in the meager glow of our flashlights, the entire clearing is littered with bits of rocks—pieces of the castle. To one side, near the cliff face, are the largest parts of what’s left: two large pillars of stone, old turrets perhaps. They’re about a hundred yards apart. I follow Jared and we huddle behind one of the large pillars, trying to stay out of the crisp, salt-flavored wind.

  Jared roots around in the backpack he brought, searching for something, and I take a moment to scan the area with my flashlight. No one is around. The only sounds are the distant crashing waves and the hum of the wind. Above us there’s a wide board spanning between the two turrets. Behind us, on the other side of the column of rocks shielding us, is the edge of the cliff.

  On the ground about twenty feet away, I catch a flash of something small and white, next to a rock. I don’t stop sweeping my flashlight over it and away. If it’s a clue I can use to continue the psychic charade, I’m going to have to take advantage of it.

  “What’s wrong?” Jared asks. Crap, I must have jerked the light after all.

  “I, uh, have to pee.” I move the flashlight around again, like I’m trying to find a place to go, but I avoid the area where I saw the flash of white.

  “The only bathrooms are back up at the parking lot. Can you hold it?”

  I grimace. “No. Will you turn around? I’ll go over . . . there.” I nod in the direction I intend to go.

  “Okay,” he says after a beat, and then he turns around.

  I pick my way through the rubble of the castle, glancing behind me to make sure Jared is facing away. When I find the flash of white I saw earlier—it’s a square napkin with writing on it—I creep around some more rocks until I’m an acceptable distance away. Then I pretend to pee.

  This is so ridiculous.

  I use the time to examine the napkin. It’s from Ben’s. I recognize the stamped imprint from his bar, the frog with the crown.

  I shove the square into my pocket.

  When I’m done fake-peeing I make my way back to Jared. It’s cold out here. Even though it’s nearly summer, the breeze coming in from the ocean is downright brisk.

  “Are you cold?” Jared asks. It’s better where we’re standing. The rocks help block some of the sea breeze.

  “I’m all right.”

  I should have grabbed a sweater, but it was so much warmer at Jared’s house and I wasn’t thinking of future comfort, I was thinking about being on a moonlit bluff alone with Jared and playing psychic detective.

  He yanks his lightweight sweater off over his head, and in the light of the moon I get a brief glimpse of his abs as his T-shirt pulls up.

  Dammit.

  He hands me the sweater and I pull it over my head, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

  Double dammit.

  I might not need the sweater after all. I’m rather flushed, actually.

  “Aren’t you going to be cold?” I feel mildly guilty for using his sweater. Only mildly because although I have residual guilt for taking his warmth, the little peep show was absolutely worth it.

  He waves me off. “I’m fine.”

  For a few minutes, we stand in the shelter of the crumbling rocks, waiting for . . . I don’t even know what.

  I can’t help but think about leaving. About never seeing Jared ever again. What will he think of me when I’m gone and the truth gets out?

  “Jared?” Maybe I should tell him the truth now. The thought whispers through my mind like a caress. It would be so nice to unburden myself.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done these past couple of days. For me and for Paige.” Who am I kidding? I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t risk losing her.

  “You’re welcome. Paige is a great kid.”

  “She is. She thinks you’re pretty great, too, by the way.” But maybe I can give him another truth. “She’s everything to me. She’s all I have left.”

  We’re silent for a minute except for the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks.

  “You never told me how you lost your parents,” he says.

  “Car accident.”

  “Huh. Mine too.” Car accidents kill over a million people a year. It’s really the best choice when making up fake death stories. But for Jared, it’s real. I squelch down the niggling guilt.

  “You don’t talk much about your parents, either.”

  “Not much to talk about. They were awesome parents. The best. Then they were gone. Drunk driver fell asleep and crossed into oncoming traffic.”

  I wince. Sorry is so inadequate. Especially when my own story is a lie. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re an only child?”

  “Yep. Sometimes I wish I had a sibling. Someone to share the memories.” He pauses. “And the pain.”

  “It’s hard to bear that on your own.”

  He nods.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t ask for any further clarification on the demise of my parents. I don’t know if I could stomach telling more lies in the face of his very real pain.

  A fleeting thought gives me pause: if he actually looked anything up about the real Ruby, he would find that her parents are alive and well and she doesn’t have a little sister.

  Hopefully, if he hasn’t searched yet, we should be in the clear.

  “Would you think it was . . .” He scrubs a hand through his hair and looks away. “Never mind.”

  “Would I think it was what? You can’t start a sentence like that and leave it.” I nudge him with my elbow.

  “Paige is important to you, right? You would do anything for her?”

  “Absolutely,” I say without hesitation.

  “She’s really bright, too. And you guys have a lot going on with the store and making ends meet. Wouldn’t it be great if she had some money set aside for college?”

  I have no idea where he’s going with this. “Well, yeah. That would be great.” He’s mirroring my thoughts from the other night when Paige mentioned veterinary school.

  He’s silent for a few long seconds. In the gentle glow of moonlight, his face is dark, his bright eyes searching for mine. “Would you let me put some money aside for her in a college fund?”

  I nearly fall over. “What?”

  “I want to give you some money for Paige. For college,” he repeats.

  “But I—”

  “I know you don’t like it when I help you,” he interrupts. “But hear me out. You’d really be doing me a favor.”

  I let out a startled laugh. “I’d be doing you a favor by taking some of your money? How much are we talking about here?”

  “I was thinking around thirty thousand.”

  “What?” I say again, this time loudly.

  “Maybe more?” he offers.

  “This is a joke, right?”

  “Not a joke. My parents left me more than the house when they died. I inherited a lot of money, Ruby, and the thing is . . . I can’t use it. In fact, I don’t use it. At all.”

  “What do you mean you can’t use it?” This all sounds like a hoax. Too good to be true. I know these scams. Nobody just gives someone money for nothing. But Jared isn’t a scammer. I know him too well at this point. He’s so far from a con artist it’s like com
paring the brightness of the sun to the darkness of a black hole. “Why would you give your money to Paige?”

  “Because it’s not mine. Well, it is mine, but I don’t want it. It would help me a lot if I could put it toward something good, like Paige. I already donate a bunch of the accrued interest but there’s a lot left.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t answer now.” He reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. “Promise you’ll think about it. For Paige.”

  I can’t do more than gape at him. Is he using my love for Paige against me? Just like my parents did? That doesn’t make any sense. He’s trying to give us something. Something I absolutely cannot accept.

  A few months ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about taking money from some stranger who was willing to hand it over.

  But now . . . Jared isn’t a stranger.

  I like him. I respect him. He cares about people. He cares about me.

  He’s like no one I’ve ever met.

  I can’t take his money and run. That would be . . . wrong.

  In fact, everything I’m doing here is wrong.

  I should tell him the truth. The whole truth. The thought whispers through my mind, more tantalizing than last time.

  I’m still staring at him when the sound of voices and laughter flits over us on the breeze.

  “Did you hear that?” He tenses and moves closer to me, close enough that his arm brushes mine.

  “I think I heard someone talking.”

  We wait in silence for a few more moments, and then the sound comes again. The breeze carries the sound past us, a laugh.

  “Someone’s over there,” he whispers, leaning in even closer. His breath is a gentle tickle on my cheek and I suppress a shiver.

  He grabs my hand and tugs me with him, creeping around the rocks. He stops and peers around the corner before jerking back against the rocks with me. “I think I saw someone. There was a flash of white over by the beach access.”

  “Should we go see?”

  He nods, then peeks around the corner again. “Let’s go.”

  My hand is still clasped in his. We run from behind the rocks to a large bush, where he stops again and tries to peer down the path.

  “Do you see anyone?”

  “No,” he whispers.

  The laughter reaches us on the wind again. “Someone’s definitely down there.”

  We come out from behind the tree and Jared leads me down another winding, steep path that brings us closer to the ocean. This one isn’t quite as sketchy as the last downhill route. There are stone stairs carved into the side of the mountain and a handrail to grab on to.

  The moon moves behind a cloud and then it’s too dark to see much, but the sound of voices is louder.

  Jared halts on the steps and I nearly run into his back. I stop just in time and hang on to his waist.

  “It sounds like kids maybe,” he says.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “Me either. Might have to turn on the light.”

  “What if they bolt?”

  “Unless they have a boat, they have nowhere to go except toward us or down the beach. Either way they’ll be in plain sight.”

  “Okay. Let’s turn on the lights then.”

  We click on our flashlights and aim them toward the beach below. There’s a shriek and I immediately wish we hadn’t turned the lights on.

  In the cone of light I get a flash of a big, hairy, white ass.

  “Oh my god.” I shut my eyes and lean my forehead against Jared’s back. “I’ve seen that ass before.” I laugh.

  His shoulders shake in time with my own. “Hey, Paul,” Jared calls out, “Sheila.”

  “Hey, Deputy. We were just, uh—”

  “Why are you guys always following us?” Sheila’s voice calls out over the sound of crashing waves.

  I have to peek out from behind Jared to see what’s happening. Paul is standing next to the circle of illumination from Jared’s flashlight, his hands over his junk. I can’t barely see Sheila, Jared is keeping her out of the direct light, but I can make out her glowing-white presence somewhere behind Paul.

  “If you want to join us you just have to ask,” Sheila adds. “We’re going skinny-dipping.”

  “We’ll have to decline, but thanks for the offer,” Jared says.

  “Have you guys seen anyone else out here tonight? Or any other night in the recent past?” I call out before hiding behind Jared’s back again. I can’t stand here and look at their naked bodies with a straight face.

  “Not sure we would notice if there were,” Paul answers.

  “Thanks a lot. We’ll be leaving now.”

  Jared turns toward me, chuckling as he nudges me back up the steps.

  Mr. Newsome stops us before we make it very far. “You’re not going to cite us for indecent exposure or anything?”

  “Paul!” Sheila hisses.

  “Nope,” Jared calls over his shoulder.

  “You’re not going to make us leave?” Paul asks.

  “It’s fine. Just watch the undertow and don’t leave any litter behind.”

  “Well ain’t that something,” Paul says before his voice is completely muffled by the ocean and wind as we walk away.

  I manage to make it back to flat ground before collapsing on the grass and completely losing it. “Why do we always find them naked?”

  Jared laughs, too. He sits down next to me, his flashlight pointed at the ground between us. “It’s easier than you might think.”

  I lie back on the grass, the cool blades tickling my neck. “Apparently. How many times have you come across them while you were working?”

  “At least half a dozen now.” His teeth flash in the darkness.

  “No way.”

  He lies back next to me, his head turned in my direction. “The worst time was when they broke into Dr. Pritchett’s office.”

  “What were they doing in a doctor’s office?”

  “It’s not something I like to remember, but to give you an idea, Sheila was the nurse.”

  “No!”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  We stare at each other, sitting under the stars in the darkness for a few long, tense moments. His eyes drop to my lips and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me here, under the stars.

  I want it so badly. I remember the taste of him on my tongue and my mouth waters.

  But then he turns away, breaking the moment. He pauses for a few long seconds, his back to me before he rolls to his feet.

  He brushes his hands off on his pants before holding his hand out to help me up. When he speaks his voice is quiet, almost disappointed. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A couple of days pass without incident. Paige and I fall into a routine with Jared. An entirely too comfortable routine.

  I don’t bring up going back to Tabby’s, even though she’s home, and no one else mentions it either.

  There have been a few moments since the bluffs when I thought Jared wanted to kiss me, but something is holding him back. He always turns away or changes the subject. Even though I’ve been the one to halt things when they get too intense, his deliberate rejection still stings. I know he’s doing it because he thinks it’s what I want, but the more time I spend in his company, the more I’m not sure about . . . anything.

  I installed a camera at the general store, and I’ve viewed a few hours of tapes here and there, but so far no glimpses of our parents or anyone familiar that might be connected to them.

  I also don’t get any more little love notes or calls from them, so . . . small mercies.

  The napkin I found on the bluff isn’t anything special, just a normal bar napkin from Ben’s. I guess anyone could have left it out there or dropped it or something. It’s weird though; those little cocktail skewers were also found at Mr. Godfrey’s. Is there a connection? I don’t know what it could be. Maybe the intruder goes to Ben’s for drinks before breaking and entering? That wouldn’t n
arrow down the suspect list very much. Everyone goes to Ben’s.

  It’s a sunny Friday morning, with only a week before school ends and our great escape—a thought I have been avoiding with increasing frequency—when Jared gets a call.

  “When? Last night?” he asks the person on the other end.

  We’re sitting at the table in the dining room, eating bagels and fruit. I watch him and listen to the one-sided conversation until he hangs up. “Another one?”

  “Yep. Mrs. Newsome.” He gulps his orange juice and stands.

  I fold the newspaper I was reading and set it down. “I’m coming with you.”

  Sheila Newsome lives in a small house north of the boardwalk. Her lawn is small but well maintained with small, colorful pinwheels spinning in the flower beds near the porch. I also spy a couple of garden gnomes placed in compromising positions on our way to the front door.

  The house itself is small—no more than two bedrooms, but it has ocean views from the windows in her living room.

  “Did you hear any noises while you were sleeping?” Jared asks.

  Today, she’s much more dressed than the last time I saw her—thank the lord—in a long T-shirt and zebra-striped leggings. Jared and I sit on the couch, and she sits in a chair across from us.

  “I heard the door shut and then it sounded like someone walking around in the kitchen. There’s a few creaky boards in there. So I got up to see what it was, but no one was there.”

  “Was anyone else home with you?” I ask.

  “No,” she answers quickly. Too quickly.

  “Mr. Newsome wasn’t here?” I try again.

  She presses her lips into a thin line. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “Now, come on, Sheila,” Jared cajoles. “You know we have to ask these questions. If he was here, he might have seen or heard something you didn’t.”

  “Fine. He was here. But he slept through the whole thing. That man snores louder than a chainsaw in winter.”

  That doesn’t make any sense to me, but whatever.

  “What happened next?” Jared asks.

  “After I couldn’t find anyone in the kitchen, I went to check the front door, and it was unlocked.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t forget to lock it the night before?” I ask.