Reign of Error (The Worst Detective Ever Book 2)

by Christy Barritt

  “My mom . . .” I remembered her picture. That had to be it. My temples began throbbing.

  “That’s my guess, though I didn’t realize that until I saw her picture when I was with you,” Jackson said. “I think we can safely assume he saw your mother while he was looking for the bad guys.”

  “So my mom is somehow involved in this?” It made no sense. She’d left to pursue modeling. She couldn’t be involved in an international crime ring.

  Jackson leaned with his elbows on his knees. “It’s all assumptions. We don’t really know at this point.”

  My gaze locked with his. “You really don’t know where my dad is?”

  “We don’t, Joey. We told him to a take a step back and clear his head. The last thing we wanted was someone who was emotionally involved. Then he disappeared, and no one has been able to find him since. We have people looking into it.”

  I turned to Charlotte. “Including your DEA peeps?”

  “Even my DEA peeps. Sorry.” She frowned.

  “Do you believe something happened to him? That these guys got hold of him? Is his body going to wash ashore like Anastasia’s did?” The words left a bitter, acidic taste in my mouth. I couldn’t even go there . . . yet I had no choice but to face that thought.

  “We don’t believe that, based on the chatter we heard,” Charlotte said.

  “And we believe that Max Anderson was hired by your father to keep an eye on you,” Jackson added.

  That was right. Max. Where all this had started.

  “Then why did he die?” I took a sip of my coffee, trying to appear normal even though I felt anything but.

  “We believe that this crime ring heard you were in town. We believe they perceived you as a threat and, therefore, were keeping an eye on you. Max Anderson picked up on this as he was watching you. He must have seen something that got him killed.”

  I wrapped my arms across my chest. “I don’t like where any of this is going.”

  “I can assure you that we’re working on it,” Charlotte said. “Detective Sullivan was legally sworn to not repeat any of this information. It’s all been highly classified, and the whole operation could have been ruined. You may not understand that now, but you will eventually. We’re going to keep trying to find the head of the organization. We believe they’re based out of this area.”

  I nodded. “What about Bert? Have you heard from him?”

  “They were holding him hostage,” Jackson said. “Our guys found him a couple of hours ago, and he’s doing okay.”

  “Why would they hold him hostage?”

  “From what I understand, after he talked to you that day in Fatty’s, he started to get suspicious and wondered if your dad’s disappearance had something to do with one of the international students. Specifically Anastasia. He went to Shipwreck Bay Seafood a couple of nights ago and asked too many questions. I suppose they would have killed him, but they decided to blackmail him instead. They wanted to use his storage sheds to help them remain undetected.”

  “I’m glad he’s okay. He seems like a genuinely nice man.” I tugged the blanket more tightly around me. “And by the way, I have a fan I need to give you.”

  “A fan?” Jackson asked.

  I nodded. “I found it in my father’s things. It’s an oriental folding fan, and it has some blood on it.”

  “And this is the first time you’re mentioning it?”

  “I thought it might be because Dizzy had something to do with this. She uses those things all the time. But it turns out she got it at the drugstore where Anastasia used to work. I’m sorry I kept it from you, but I had no idea it might be connected with someone else’s murder. I thought . . .” I shook my head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  When Charlotte excused herself, Jackson turned to me, dropping some of his professionalism. “Are you really okay, Joey?”

  I nodded, though barely. I’d really thought I was going to die out there tonight. “I guess. I don’t know what to think.”

  “I just got word from the chief that you’re going to be starting your ‘research’ with the department next week. I’m not sure if you heard, but the ABC News story ran during prime time today. The story about how you and I worked together to solve the murder of Simon Philips.”

  I tugged at my collar self-consciously “Those weren’t my words.”

  He nodded. “I know. The mayor loved it. I think you’ll like it too. The story made you sound somewhat legendary.”

  “I’ll . . . have to check it out online.” I paused, hating the tension stretching between me and Jackson. “That’s great to hear. For me, at least.”

  He lowered his gaze before slowly drawing his head up. “Listen, Joey, maybe we should start over.”

  Start over? Starting over sounded like a great idea. A smile feathered my lips. “You know what? That sounds wonderful. Let’s try to put the past behind us.”

  He extended his hand. “Deal.”

  Another jolt of electricity shot through me, and I quickly pulled my hand away.

  Jackson opened his mouth to say something, when a shadow came over us. I looked up and saw Zane there.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but, Joey, can we talk a minute?” he asked.

  Jackson nodded and rose. Was it my imagination, or did he almost look hesitant? It was probably my imagination.

  “Of course.” Jackson joined the others in the kitchen.

  Zane sat beside me. It was the first real chance I’d had to talk to him since this whole fiasco began. Before I could say anything, he pulled me into a long, warm hug.

  A hug that I needed. That I craved. That made me believe that someone actually cared about me as a person and not a means to an end.

  “Thank you,” I said. “How’d you know?”

  “I got home and went out to my balcony. I saw what was happening, and I knew I had to do something. I did what I do best: I hopped in the water.”

  “Well, you may have very well saved my life.” I rubbed a hand along his arm. “I didn’t think you were going to be back yet from the wedding.”

  He shrugged. “I came back early.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  He twisted his lips. “April and I . . . we broke up.”

  I squeezed his arm. “Zane, I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who called things off.”

  “Why? I thought you really liked her.”

  His gaze locked with mine. “There was one small problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You were all I could think about when I was with her.”

  My heart pounded in my ears. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. I know you said you’re not ready to date, but . . . when you are, I’ll be there.”

  “I . . . I appreciate you telling me that.”

  He glanced at Jackson in the distance. “And one more thing. I guess I always have felt a little competitive with Jackson. But I want to put that behind me. I’m sorry I said what I did about him. He . . . he was good for Claire. He was there for her when she passed, and that says a lot.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for telling me that.”

  He squeezed my hand. “When all of this is over and you’ve recovered from today, I have some new adventures I want to tell you about. Hashtag: bucketlistsrock.”

  “Oh, do you?” I could only imagine what he was planning.

  “Yeah, you’re going to love them . . . especially the one involving the Goat Man.”

  “The goat man?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, he lives in the woods and only comes out at night when—”

  Before he could finish, another officer stepped inside the house. He had something white in his hands. A square piece of paper.

  My heart lurched. I knew exactly what that was. Everything else became silent around me as I listened to him read it to Jackson.

  “We’ve been way too easy on you. It’s time to get serious about your investigations. We’ll
be watching. Signed, your biggest fans.”

  My blood went cold. What did they have planned next? And why couldn’t I ever catch a break?

  Coming Next

  SAFETY IN BLUNDERS

  Available March 2017

  Click HERE to Preorder!

  My name is Joey Darling, and I’m a disgrace to imaginary detectives everywhere.

  When actress Joey Darling discovers a mermaid tail with drops of fresh blood on it while hiking in a remote nature preserve, she knows something suspicious is going on.

  As details surface, Joey realizes she’s dealing with a problem she has encountered one too many times: someone desperate for fame who falls victim to a predator. With the help of her neighbor Zane Oakley and the opposition of local detective Jackson Sullivan, Joey hunts for answers, unaware of the deadly net in which she’s about to entangle herself.

  Joey knows she’s a fish out of water when it comes to cracking cases, but can she use her talent—acting—to help find the missing woman? Or will Joey end up swimming with sharks?

  Preview: Safety in Blunders

  Chapter One

  Zane Oakley hooked his arm through mine as we walked down the path, and for a moment I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I wondered who that would make Zane? The Cowardly Lion? No, Zane was fearless. The brainless Scarecrow? The heartless Tin Man? None of them seemed to fit my thrill-seeking neighbor.

  We walked down a mix of gravel road and walking path through a nature preserve in Nags Head on one of his adventures. He was calling it The Goat Man Project and had chosen to record it using filmography similar to The Blaire Witch Project. He wore a Go Pro on his forehead, recording everything that happened on our daylong excursion.

  “We’re here with the GMRO—also known as the Goat Man Researchers Organization. Now, the Goat Man is known to only come out at night,” Zane said, whispering conspiracy-like. “So we probably won’t find him. We’re just looking for evidence of his existence.”

  “Hoofprints?” I suggested.

  “Yes, like hoofprints. Stray hair. A strange baaaing sound.”

  “Or maybe a cashmere sweater or some tasty cheese.” Zane cut me a confused look, and I shrugged. “What? That’s what I think about when I think of goats.”

  “You sound glib now, my friend, but that will all change soon. The Goat Man is no laughing, cashmere sweater–wearing matter. He likes to chase people through these woods.”

  “As long as he doesn’t kill them.”

  “He reserves that right for small woodland creatures.” Zane lowered his voice and swung his head my way. “Or so they say.”

  I shivered and moved a little closer to Zane as the path narrowed. “Okay, that is a little creepy . . . especially when you say it in that voice. And how long has the Goat Man been said to haunt these woods?”

  “Decades basically. Teens come out here all the time to search for him.”

  “Well, it really is pretty here.” I glanced around. With the exception of sand dunes, the Outer Banks was mostly flat. This nature preserve, however, must have been built on top of some centuries-old dunes. I nearly felt like I was in the mountains instead of a little stretch of islands off North Carolina’s coast.

  There were eight-foot drops on one side of the road and high hills on the other. In the distance, I could see where the foliage cleared and the Albemarle Sound began. I would have never imagined this area would be out here.

  The good news was that it was nice outside today. Unseasonably warm for March. Warm enough that I’d worn a tank top for our hike, and I could feel the promise of summer on its way.

  Zane crouched down as he walked, reminding me of a character from Scooby Doo, as he tried a little too hard to look sneaky. There was nothing to be sneaky about out here. We were the only ones hiking these lonely trails.

  “What was that?” Zane froze and grabbed my arm. “Did you hear that?”

  I halted, wishing I could say I wasn’t scared. But part of me was. Because it was kind of creepy out here. And something shuffled in the woods not terribly far away.

  My shoulders tightened. “A squirrel?”

  “Too big to be a squirrel.”

  “A deer?”

  “Sounded like a human to me. Maybe two of them.”

  The noise stopped. Instead of feeling better, the skin on my neck crawled even more. Was that a . . . moan?

  No. It was just the breeze. Or a bird.

  That was not the Goat Man. It wasn’t. Because he wasn’t real. Just like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster weren’t real.

  Zane glanced over at me, his expression ultraserious, which didn’t make me feel better. Then a smile cracked his face, and he elbowed me. “Just kidding. It was probably a deer.”

  I slapped his well-defined arm. “Not funny.”

  He snapped out of melodrama and pointed to a road in the distance. “My granddad used to have a cabin over there. Hashtag: ohhowtheyearsgoby.”

  “People used to live out there?”

  He sauntered at a normal pace now, dropping his act for a minute. “There used to be a village here, complete with schools, churches, and a store. Everyone headed out in the forties—probably because of the Goat Man. Then developers tried to turn this into another neighborhood during the boom of the 1970s. Then some local conservatory groups purchased it. The people who already had homes here were grandfathered in, however.”

  The forest seemed to close in even tighter, branches reaching for my arms. Algae-filled water crept closer, and roots felt like they were rising up. I’d always had a great imagination, which sometimes worked in my favor (e.g., acting) and sometimes didn’t (e.g., right now).

  “I don’t know how I would like living back here,” I said, glancing around for verification that something dangerous lurked close by. “I mean, I realize that we’re not that far away from civilization. Still, it feels so isolated, like I’ve been dropped into the middle of nowhere.”

  “That’s what some people like.”

  “I guess.”

  “The Goat Man likes it.” Zane made a ghastly expression, and he raised his hands like a supernatural being.

  “You said your granddad lived out here?”

  Zane dropped his act. For now. “Yep. He built a canal from his house all the way out to the sound. We’d take the boat out and go fishing.”

  I smiled as the image filled my mind. “That sounds really nice.”

  “When we weren’t doing that, we sat on the porch and just looked out over the water. I’d drink lemonade and listen to his tales about life as a fisherman in this area. That would last all of fifteen minutes, and then I’d get restless and try to figure out a way to rig a zipline from the house to the water.”

  “That sounds like you. Adventurous and out of the box, even as a young boy.”

  “After we got tired of fishing and ziplining, my granddad made up stories about buried treasure here. My brother and I would search everywhere hoping to find it.”

  “What little kid wouldn’t?”

  “That is, until I ran into the Goat Man.” His voice turned serious. “Then I never came out here to visit my granddad again.”

  I turned toward him sharply. “Really?”

  A grin cracked his face. “No, of course not.”

  I elbowed him. “Zane Oakley, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

  In response, he hooked his arm around my neck and pulled me toward him. He planted a friendly kiss on my forehead.

  That was right. Friendly. We were friends, even though he’d confessed that he liked me. I wasn’t quite ready to return the sentiment, although at times I was very tempted. When it came to Zane, what was there not to like? He had a lean beach body, curly hair that was neatly trimmed at the sides, a contagious smile, and he was up for anything.

  “Oh, Joey,” he muttered. “What did I ever do without you?”

  “I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d line up to go on one of these adventures with you.” Plenty of wome
n. I kept that silent. He had a steady stream of admirers.

  “But there’s no one like you.”

  “Flattery, my dear. I’m not supposed to like it . . . but I do. I really do.”

  “I know.” Zane picked me up over his shoulder and twirled me around.

  I chuckled, feeling nearly giddy. The familiar scent of surfboard wax, salt water, and coconut oil filled my senses. It was a pleasant combination that always made me want to drink in more.

  I hadn’t had this much fun since . . . well, since Zane took me go-carting. Or when he’d made me climb a lighthouse at sunset. Wherever Zane was, there was fun, and lots of it.

  He set me down, and our gazes caught. I saw the longing in his eyes. He wanted to kiss me.

  I’d seen the look plenty of times before.

  And it would be so easy to get lost in Zane. To forget about my problems. To pretend my ex-husband hadn’t crushed my self-worth. To imagine my father hadn’t disappeared, possibly at the hands of an international crime ring. To stop trying to figure out if my future was in Hollywood or somewhere else.

  But I couldn’t forget those things. I needed to deal with my issues instead of falling back into my normal MO of covering my pain with the highs of stardom or romance.

  To break the moment, I poked Zane in the stomach and made a funny face. “You’re a troublemaker. You know that, right?”

  He shrugged and turned away, acting like our exchange hadn’t affected him. And maybe it hadn’t. I still couldn’t read him at times. Part of me thought he was a womanizer. The other part thought maybe I could be the one to change him.

  And that was never a healthy thought.

  We began walking again. Searching for the Goat Man was one more thing on Zane’s bucket list. And he was paid to document all his adventures as part of an endorsement deal with Slick Ocean, a surfboard company. He lived their motto of “Life is an adventure.”

  He was living what he called “the good life.” He did a little realty work, a little licensed massage-therapy work, and a little of this and that also. Mostly he grabbed whatever opportunities he could to surf and have fun while still making enough money to live.