Reign of Error (The Worst Detective Ever Book 2)

by Christy Barritt

  I shook my leg and shook it some more until the little crustacean flew off and skittered away. I scrambled backward, also desperate to put distance between myself and the future all-you-can-eat-buffet participant.

  When my heart slowed, I swallowed hard and dared to look at Jackson. “Overreaction?”

  He smiled and shook his head. Then he stood, brushed the sand from his jeans, and offered me his hand. “How about we get inside before anymore crabs come?”

  “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

  But another part of me—a big part of me—was seriously . . . crabby.

  Chapter Twenty

  My pulse throbbed in my ears as Jackson and I walked inside my house. What a day. I had so much to think about. But mostly what I’d be thinking about tonight was that look I’d seen in Jackson’s eyes on the beach. A moment of attraction. Of desire.

  “It’s been a fun day, Joey,” Jackson said. His voice sounded hoarse. “I wasn’t sure I should do this. Not today. But it’s been good. Thank you.”

  Warmth filled me. My voice came out a little too fast and high pitched when I asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

  He pressed his lips together. Stayed quiet a second. Released his breath and shook his head. “I would. But I can’t. I need to run home and get Ripley.”

  Ripley was his Australian shepherd. “Of course,” I said quickly.

  What had I been thinking? The invitation had just slipped out, and now he probably thought I was hitting on him.

  “Phoebe let him out for me earlier,” Jackson explained. “She does that a lot.”

  “She’s a good person.”

  “Speaking of which, I hear you’re going to her house Saturday.”

  That was right! I’d nearly forgotten about her invitation. And I was exceedingly grateful for the change in conversation. “Yes, I finally get to see where she lives. Hatteras Island. I can’t wait.”

  He shifted, and his gaze became hooded by his incredible eyelashes. “She did tell you that I’m going to be there also, didn’t she?”

  A shock wave raced through my heart—the good kind, the kind that activated all my warm fuzzies. But I had to play it cool. “Actually, she didn’t.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I can reschedule if you’d rather have time with her alone.”

  I stepped closer and lowered my voice, making sure I sounded ultraserious. “Just answer one question for me first.”

  “What’s that?” His eyes widened as he waited for my response.

  I paused dramatically and did the “soap take” face. “Are you bringing Ripley?”

  A smile cracked his face, followed by a deep laugh. He rubbed his chin as he wagged his head back and forth. “Joey, Joey, Joey. Yes, I plan on bringing Ripley.”

  I kept my dramatically serious expression intact. “Then you can come too.”

  He shook his head slowly again, as if either in disbelief or totally flabbergasted. “You really do like that dog, don’t you?”

  “What’s not to like about him? He’s furry and sweet and cuddly.”

  “And out of control, rambunctious, hairy.” His gaze caught on mine another moment, until he finally stepped back. “It’s been fun, Joey.”

  I nodded, wishing he would stay longer. But I had no excuse to keep him here, unless I wanted to feign being scared or needing a light bulb changed. “It has been fun.”

  We walked slowly toward the front door and paused. Jackson turned toward me. “You want to ride together Saturday?”

  “That would be nice.” Nicer than it should be. Why did I enjoy spending time with someone who was so . . . so . . . impossible?

  “I’ll pick you up at 10:30.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  As soon as I paced into my living room, part of me instantly felt lonely. Which was weird. Because Jackson and I were just friends. I had the feeling he wasn’t looking for a relationship any more than I was.

  I knew I should try to focus all my energy on trying to solve at least one of the mysteries going on in my life. That picture of my mom only added more unanswered questions to my already long list.

  But I couldn’t resist hanging out with Phoebe, Jackson, and Ripley. The people-loving, extroverted part of me craved interacting with people.

  My cell phone rang, and I saw the mayor’s number on my screen. If he was calling at nine at night, he must have something to say, so I answered.

  “I just finished my interview with Maria Salvatore,” he started, excitement tingling his lispy voice. “She said everything went great with your interview earlier. People will eat up this story like chilled potato salad on a hot day.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” It was certainly better than people eating up other things . . . like processed foods.

  His voice shifted to a business tone. “Listen, I’ve given my initial approval for you and Jackson to work together. You know, for your research. I think it’s a great angle, and it will do wonderful things for the area.”

  “Awesome.”

  “It might take a couple of weeks to get the paperwork processed though. We have some forms for you to fill out and some insurance stuff to go through. It’s more complicated than your average ride-along. That’s what the city attorney tells me, at least.”

  A couple of weeks? I couldn’t wait that long. I was so tired of waiting. I had to find information on both my dad and Douglas Murray/Max Anderson/Mark Hamill before that.

  I couldn’t sound ungrateful. “Thank you,” I told the mayor.

  “It’s been my pleasure,” he said. “You’re going to be the best thing to happen to this area. We’ve got plans for you, Joey Darling. Big plans.”

  I didn’t know if I liked the sound of that.

  I hung up and paced into the kitchen, suddenly craving some hummus. Something on the table caught my eye. A slip of paper. One that hadn’t been there before. I was certain.

  With a touch of trepidation, I picked it up and carefully unfolded the square. My throat tightened, as if my body knew what I’d find even though my mind was in denial.

  Familiar scrawl filled the white space.

  Maybe you should kick this investigation up a notch. Don’t make us spell everything out for you. Watch Episode 210. Signed, Your biggest fans.

  My blood went cold.

  They’d been in my house. Again.

  How were they coming and going? Were they still here?

  I swirled around as fear gripped me. These men hadn’t hurt me.

  Yet.

  But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Anyone who’d break in someone’s home like this should be feared.

  I backed up until I hit the kitchen counter. My gaze was still fixated on my house, still watching for any sign of movement. I saw nothing.

  Should I call Jackson?

  No, he would just think I was being irrational. Or not. But I wasn’t going to do it. I was going to be Raven Remington tough, which seemed like a silly resolution since my hands trembled like crazy.

  I attempted to push my fear aside, and I grabbed a butcher knife. In my gut, I knew these guys weren’t here. They’d only wanted to leave that note and send a message. But I was holding on to this knife, just in case.

  I fumbled with my phone and called my landlord. I had to change the code to get into this place. Too bad I couldn’t get one of those retinal scanners like they had on TV. But I wasn’t sure one of those would even make me feel better. Whatever was happening here, I didn’t like it.

  And I forgot about the hummus. Instead, I sat on the couch and found Episode 210.

  It was about . . . a bank heist? How in the world was that supposed to help me with this mystery involving Max Anderson? I hadn’t heard about any robberies in the area since I’d arrived. That would have definitely been front-page news around here. Maybe my biggest fans were trying to lead me astray? It just didn’t make any sense.

  Then again, a lot of things didn’t.

  I opened my desk drawer a
nd pulled out a picture of my father. My kind, kind father, whose gaze exuded compassion and grace. My father who’d begged me not to go to Hollywood. Who’d warned me about the pitfalls of chasing fame. Whose heart had been broken when he’d realized the person I’d become. A person in a violent marriage. Who’d started to drink. Who said and did things she deeply regretted.

  First my mom had run off, choosing her career over her family. Then I’d essentially done the same thing.

  How did my mom play into this? Why did he have a photo of her?

  I ran my finger down the side of his face and felt tears pop to my eyes.

  What kind of trouble had he gotten himself in?

  He’d always been there for me. Now I had to be there for him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next day, I pulled up to the marina where my father used to work. The business was based out of the fishing community of Wanchese, a small town located on Roanoke Island. The place was a true working man’s marina, full of fishermen and home to a thriving seafood industry. Nothing about the place was pretty, though the rugged authenticity of the docks and piers had a certain intrigue about them. The overcast, almost dreary day only added to the effect.

  My gut told me the answers could be found here. I’d even tucked my father’s photo into my pocket so I could remember exactly why I was doing this. Nothing was more important than my dad—not my career, not my love life, not my financial situation. I was going to find answers if it was the last thing I did.

  But seeing that picture of my mom had brought a certain somberness to me today. That somberness was somewhat of a buzzkill for me, dampening my ADHD-like thoughts. Where my life normally felt like a twisted rom com of sorts, today it felt like an aching complex saga that could end in tragedy.

  I meandered up to the little building, a shack really, that served as a base of operations for the dolphin-watching tours my father had conducted. Charlie McGowan owned the business, and he’d been a friend to my dad. During warm months, there was a little window that could be opened for ticket sales. Laminated signs indicating prices still hung there.

  I knocked before stepping inside. Charlie sat behind a rickety desk, looking over charts of some sort. He stood when he saw me, and a wide grin stretched across his wrinkled face.

  “If it isn’t Joey Darling. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  I smiled. I’d only met Charlie three times, but I liked the man. He was down to earth, pleasantly wrinkled, and treated me like a family member. Something about him reminded me of Andy Griffith, which was kind of weird considering he lived his final days on this very island.

  “Sorry to stop by unannounced.” I closed the door to ward away the cold and leaned in the frame.

  “Anytime.” He placed his elbows on the desk. “What brings you this way?”

  I rubbed my lips together, determined to dive into this completely. Being passive would get me nowhere. “I know it’s probably a long shot, but I was actually hoping to do a dolphin tour.”

  For research. My normal excuse. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  He frowned. “We don’t do them in the winter. Not enough interest, plus the cold drives people away.”

  My heart sank. I wasn’t sure what I’d hoped to achieve while on a tour except to possibly get a better feel for where my father went and where he might have seen my mom. If I could match the background from the photo to an area here on the water . . . It was a long shot, but it was worth considering.

  Charlie tapped his pen on the table and studied me. “I should say, I’m not doing any dolphin tours, but I was going to head out for a joy ride. You interested?”

  My heart lifted. “Yes.”

  “Did I mention it’s going to be cold?”

  “I’m okay with cold.” I mean, I hated it. But a girl had to do what a girl had to do. It was what it was, and so on and so forth.

  “Excellent. You’re going to want some coffee. Go ahead and get yourself a cup.”

  I went to the little pot in the corner and did as I was told. I’d been often called a coffee snob, and as I took my first sip, I nearly spit the hot liquid out. This was military-grade coffee, the kind where the grounds and filter went unchanged for weeks at a time. In other words, it was awful. But I didn’t insult Charlie by telling him that. Instead, I gripped my Styrofoam cup and smiled. Acting 101.

  Charlie pulled on a knit hat before grabbing his keys and a thermos. “Let’s go. Any excuse to get on the water. So what brought this about?”

  I shrugged and followed behind him. We stepped outside and started toward a narrow pier lined with boat slips. “I miss my dad. I want to see what he used to do for a living. I’d always said the next time I came out to visit him, I would do this tour. Unfortunately, I never got the chance.”

  Even more unfortunately, we’d been in a huge fight and my last words to my father weren’t something I was proud of. I would take them back if I could. I would yell “Take two!” and start over again. Start over with all of it. Even my acting career. Especially my marriage to Eric.

  But I couldn’t do that, so I had to make the best of my past. I had to learn from my mistakes and correct whatever I could.

  “Your dad was great at this job.” Charlie took my hand to help me aboard a giant catamaran named Oh Charlie.

  I assumed in the summer the cabin of the vessel was open and exposed, but now a plastic liner had been pulled down over the edges to keep out the wind. Rows of benches stretched down the middle and lined the edges.

  “Holds forty-eight,” Charlie told me, pausing to look at the boat with a glint of pride in his eyes. “It’s quite the operation. Especially when you consider that I started with a little pontoon that held ten.”

  “Impressive. What kind of operations are run out of this marina?”

  “Well, there’s fishing, of course. Over there is Shipwreck Bay, one of the largest fishing companies on the East Coast. They process the catches in that building before they’re sent to restaurants from here to the Mississippi.”

  I glanced at the rusty building he pointed to, one lined with crates and wire pods and other equipment I didn’t recognize. Considering the business was so successful, it didn’t look all that impressive.

  “Over there is where they build world-class yachts.” He pointed to another aluminum-sided building on the other side of the harbor. “And that’s where Tony Simmons is based out of. He has his own show on Animal Planet. It’s our little slice of Hollywood.”

  “That’s right. My dad told me about that.” That fact had always delighted my dad. Maybe if I’d been a hostess on one of those shows, he would have actually been proud of me. Instead I’d compromised all the beliefs I’d grown up with in order to pursue my career goals.

  In my defense, I had instigated a morals clause, and I’d turned down offers by some naughty magazines. I’d still maintained some standards—standards as far as Hollywood was concerned. My dad on the other hand . . . he didn’t approve of my career, my marriage, or the fact that alcohol had become such a huge part of my lifestyle.

  My father didn’t know that I’d started to drink to numb the pain and emptiness inside me. To help me contend with the fact that my all-star husband was an abuser who liked to put me in my place as often as possible. To help me forget just how much I’d come to hate my life, despite the fact that people naively thought they wanted to be me.

  I grabbed a metal support to hold myself steady as Charlie guided the boat from the slip. I stared out over the water, trying to forget all those things. It almost felt like my life was three different acts at times. The first was my childhood, growing up with a single father in a small Virginia mountain town. The second was my life in Hollywood, living large and learning both the ins and outs of fame. The third was right now, trying to find myself again in this little beach community that seemed so far removed from either of my other lives.

  I supposed within a person’s lifetime, he or she lived many different live
s and played many different roles. I was no exception. But what I wasn’t sure about was how this portion of my timeline—this little beach movie—would end. Would it be a Shakespearean tragedy? A Hallmark-movie happy ending? Did happy endings actually exist in real life?

  My thoughts overwhelmed me, but at the moment I felt still. For most of my life, I felt restless. But being out here on this boat, gliding across the water, made me feel somehow at peace. Water seemed to have that effect on people, and that was why so many longed to have homes on lakes and oceans and rivers.

  “You said my father was good at this job, huh?” I asked Charlie over the roar of the motor.

  He nodded and pulled his hat down lower. Even with the windshield, it was still cold out here. “That’s right. People always requested him for their guide and came back year after year. He was good with people, kind of like you.”

  “I always thought of him as being quiet.”

  “He was. But he still loved people. And he was passionate about the water. He loved telling the tales of this area.”

  “That’s funny because growing up, I thought he was a mountain man who worked on the railroad. Never saw him as the coastal-living type.”

  “There’s a lot kids don’t realize about their parents until they’re adults.”

  I nodded. I wished I’d had the chance to find out. To really find out. But instead I’d been wrapped up in myself. “I’m glad he had the chance to do what he wanted.”

  Growing up, my dad’s world had revolved around me. He hadn’t dated or really had any life outside of working and being a father. As far as I knew, at least. I’d assumed he’d been happy like that. But apparently he’d harbored a secret dream of coming to this area and settling down.

  So what had happened to cause him to leave here? That was what didn’t make sense. My father wasn’t the type to do that. He was responsible to a fault. He’d once gone back to a grocery store because they’d given him fifty-two cents in change more than they were supposed to. I’d asked him if it was worth it to drive six miles to return fifty-two cents, and he’d told me that integrity started with the small things. I’d never forgotten that.