On Shadow Beach

by Barbara Freethy

  “Yes, but I don’t know which of those photos Abby took, and they only publish ten percent of all the pictures taken. I went down to the high school today and spoke to Mrs. Weinstein, the yearbook teacher, who has all the pictures from the past twenty years in her back office. She said every staff photographer turned in an envelope with their printed photos once the yearbook went to press. How about that?”

  “Impressive. Do you have the pictures?”

  “No. She wouldn’t give them to me—some privacy concern. She told me to come back next week to talk to the principal, but I have a better idea.”

  Shane immediate shook his head, a warning look in his eyes. “I don’t want to hear it, Lauren.”

  “Yes you do, because it involves you.”

  “No way.”

  “Please, Shane.” She put her hands on his shoulders, shamelessly pressing her breasts against his chest.

  His hands remained firmly at his side. “I’m not that easy.”

  “Are you sure about that?” she asked as she slipped her hands under his T-shirt.

  He cleared his throat. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “Help me break into the high school tonight.”

  “Are you out of your mind? Why don’t you just talk to the principal next week? He’ll probably hand the envelope over to you.”

  Disappointed, she said, “Next week is too far away. I don’t even know if I’ll still be here, and he could say no.”

  “Then talk to the police. Get them to request the pictures.”

  “Jason Marlow works for the police department. I don’t want him to have access to those pictures until I see them. The photos are just sitting in a file drawer, Shane. We’re not stealing them, we’re just taking a look.” She stroked his back with her hands, her fingers kneading the tight muscles.

  “That’s quite a rationalization you’ve got going there.”

  “You didn’t used to be a chicken.”

  “Trash talk? You’re pulling out all the stops now. Do you really think calling me a coward will work?”

  “The boy I used to know never met a rule he didn’t want to break. And it’s not like I’m asking you to do something you haven’t done before—I know you’re the one who put the goat in Principal Calvin’s office.”

  “The girl I used to know was terrified to get into trouble. She never wanted to break the rules or even bend them.”

  “I’m not a girl anymore.” She looked into his eyes. “I need to find out who killed Abby, and so do you. You could clear your name once and for all. You’re going to help me in the end, so just say yes, and we can get on with it.”

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of enjoying your persuasive tactics. If you drop your hands a little lower, I’ll probably say yes to anything.”

  She stepped back, realizing by his grin that he’d been playing her, too. “You rat.”

  “I wanted to see how far you’d go to get what you want.”

  “I knew I wasn’t going to have to go far,” she told him. “You are that easy.”

  “Where you’re concerned, that seems to be true. I’ll get my jacket and a flashlight.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to get in?”

  “I have no idea. I’m guessing the school has improved its security in the last decade, but you never know.”

  “We’ll find a way,” she said confidently. It felt good to be taking some action. Maybe she was wrong and the pictures wouldn’t prove a damn thing, but at least she’d know for sure.

  SIXTEEN

  The high school sat on the edge of town, backed into a hillside and surrounded on three sides by tall, thick trees. Shane drove through the parking lot and down a narrow path that ran along the baseball field, stopping behind the shadow of the grandstand. If anyone came by, they wouldn’t be able to see the motorcycle from the street.

  Lauren slid off the bike and took off her helmet. There was a determined sparkle in her eyes tonight. She had changed, he realized. She wasn’t nearly as shy and intimidated as she’d once been. She’d come into her own. They walked past the gym, the cafeteria, and through the quad where they used to eat lunch.

  As he led her down a path behind the back of the school, she said, “This is spooky. Where are we going? The main building is over there.”

  “I’m hoping Ramon is still a creature of habit.”

  “The groundskeeper? Wasn’t he like a hundred years old when we were in high school?”

  “Probably close to that, but he’s still alive. I’ve seen him and his grandson at the Crab Shack.” He headed toward a small shed by the soccer field. There was a padlock on the door, and he handed the flashlight to Lauren while he twirled the lock. When it popped open, he felt a surge of relief. The shed was filled with gardening supplies and other maintenance items, and there was a battered old desk in one corner. Shane opened the bottom drawer on the left, dug through screwdrivers, wrenches, and pens to pull out a key ring with six keys attached. “Bingo.”

  “How did you know those were there?” Lauren asked in amazement.

  “Ramon always kept an extra set in his desk.”

  “And the combination to the padlock?” she asked as they left the shed, and he stopped to refasten the lock.

  “Ramon used his birthdate. A long time ago, we bonded over cigarettes and tequila. Let’s just hope they still work.” He headed back toward the main building and inserted a key into a side door. He tensed, hoping he hadn’t set off an alarm, but all was quiet. He walked in and quietly shut the door behind Lauren, who wasn’t looking nearly as cocky as she had when she’d first come up with the idea. “You all right?”

  “What if we get caught?”

  “It’s a little late to be worrying about that.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit from years ago. “True. Though if someone catches us, I’m sure they’ll think this was your idea, not mine.”

  He liked her smile. “Good point. Where’s the art room?”

  “Second floor.”

  They made their way upstairs and down the dark hall to Mrs. Weinstein’s classroom. Shane tried several keys in the door, finally finding one that unlocked it. There was a small office at the back stocked with six file cabinets. His heart sank. This could take a long time. He had no idea if anyone patrolled the school at night, or if a nightly cleaning crew would descend on the building.

  “You look through the cabinets. I’ll keep watch by the door.” He set the flashlight on the desk, pointing the beam toward the file cabinets. “And hurry.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she promised, reaching for the top drawer.

  He returned to the classroom and stood near the door. There was no way to lock it from the inside, so if anyone came by, they’d be able to get in. There was a small square window at the top of the door that he could look through, but the interior hallway was in deep shadow.

  The classroom was more like a workroom, with round tables and chairs, easels along one side, artwork dotting the walls, mobiles hanging from the ceiling. He’d never taken art while in school. He had absolutely no talent for anything creative, not like Lauren. He could still remember the cake she’d made for his nineteenth birthday. She’d somehow made it into a sailboat with her name on the side. She’d laughed and said if a boat could be called the Gabriella, why not the Lauren?

  They’d made love that night at the beach. He’d wanted her with a hunger and a desperation he could still remember. Even then, he’d known that whatever they had was going to be short-lived. She’d known it, too. Lying in his arms afterward, she’d asked him why he had to leave. He’d told her because he had to. She’d hated that answer, but he couldn’t give her a better one. When she’d started to ask him more questions, he’d cut her off with a kiss. He’d used his hands, his tongue, his whole body to make her forget about the future, to make himself forget that one day the night would only be a memory.

  A memory he still couldn’t forget.

  He started a
s a whistle broke the quiet, along with the sound of footsteps and something rolling down the hallway. He dashed into the back room, turned off the flashlight, and pulled Lauren down under the desk. She started to ask him something, but he put his hand against her lips.

  The whistling grew louder. A locker slammed. He heard muffled voices. A door opened and closed. It was probably a janitorial service. They had to get out before the cleaning crew got to this classroom.

  “Hurry,” he told Lauren. “I don’t think we have a lot of time.”

  Her eyes were big and worried. “Should we just go? There are a lot of files.”

  He didn’t want this trip to be for nothing. “Five more minutes,” he said, pulling her out from under the desk. He turned the flashlight back on, and they each pulled open a drawer. He rifled through the folders as fast as he could, shutting one drawer, then moving on to the next. Lauren worked just as quickly.

  Finally she pulled out a thick manila envelope. “Got it,” she said with relief. “There are stacks of photos inside.”

  “We’ll go through them somewhere else.”

  “If Mrs. Weinstein goes looking for it, she’ll know I took it,” Lauren said.

  “Hopefully that won’t happen before we get the information we need.” Shane grabbed the envelope out of her hand and stuffed it inside his jacket. “In case we get stopped,” he said at her inquiring look.

  “In which case I should be holding them. This was my idea.”

  And there was no way he would ever let her take the heat for this. “Do you want to argue, or do you want to get out of here?” He moved quickly toward the door and opened it a few inches. Two doors down across the hall, the lights were on.

  He stepped out, Lauren right on his heels. He relocked the door and they walked quickly toward the stairwell. They jogged down the stairs and opened the outside door as quietly as possible. Then they broke into a run, not stopping until they got back to the shed. He returned the keys to the desk and resecured the padlock.

  “I can’t believe we did that,” Lauren said, her hand creeping into his as they moved away from the shed. “I think my heart is about to jump out of my chest.”

  He didn’t reply. He wouldn’t take a real breath until they were on his bike and heading back to the marina.

  They were just crossing the road between the buildings and the baseball field when a car suddenly turned onto the property, the headlights catching them dead center.

  “Shit!” Shane could see the strobe lights on the roof of the car.

  “Oh, my God, it’s the police,” Lauren said, panic in her voice, her fingers squeezing the blood out of his hand.

  “Stay calm, and try not to act guilty.”

  “We are guilty.”

  “They don’t know that.” The car stopped a few feet away from them, and as the officer stepped out, Shane realized it was Jason Marlow. This might just be his lucky day. Jason and Kara were good friends, and he doubted Jason would want to arrest Kara’s big brother.

  “Who’s there?” Jason asked sharply. “Shane, is that you?”

  “It’s me, and Lauren Jamison,” Shane said as Jason moved forward. “You remember Lauren, don’t you, Jason?”

  “Lauren?” Jason repeated, his gaze settling on her face.

  “Jason?” Lauren echoed. “Jason Marlow?”

  “Right,” he said with a nod. “I heard you were back in town.” He gave them a considering look. “What are you two doing out here?”

  “Just taking a trip down memory lane,” Shane said.

  “It might be easier to see in the daylight,” Jason said, a note of suspicion in his voice.

  Shane couldn’t blame him. Jason wasn’t a stupid man, and they had no good reason to be on school property. He was still thinking of something to say when Lauren jumped in.

  “I’m glad we ran into you, Jason,” she said. “I recently learned that you were better friends with my sister, Abby, than I realized. I wanted to ask you some questions.”

  Jason straightened. “About what?”

  “About your relationship with her. Lisa said that she and Abby hung out with you a few times, including two nights before Abby was killed. Lisa didn’t mention it before because she didn’t want to get in trouble for leaving her house. But I don’t remember you coming forward and sharing that information.”

  Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing to come forward about. I drove them around. We checked out a party and listened to music in my car. Then they went back to Lisa’s house. That was it.”

  “Did you like Abby? Did she like you?”

  “We were friends.”

  “Close friends?” Lauren persisted.

  “Not particularly. I assume these questions are coming up because you’ve spoken to Mark Devlin about his movie. I wouldn’t put much credence in what he says. He’s making things up as he goes along.” Jason paused. “What are you two really up to out here?”

  “Like Shane said, I just wanted to drive around town, relive some old memories,” Lauren replied.

  “We used to make out behind the grandstand,” Shane added.

  “Don’t tell him that,” Lauren protested.

  He was happy she was playing along. “And behind the gym, under the bleachers, by the tennis courts—”

  “Enough! You’re embarrassing me. We should go—my father is probably wondering where I am.”

  “Lauren, our department is working on your sister’s case,” Jason said. “If anything was missed, we’re going to find it.”

  “I appreciate that. If there is anything that you knew about Abby that you didn’t tell anyone, I hope you’ll reconsider. She deserves justice. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “I wish I could help,” Jason replied. “But I’m sure you knew your sister better than anyone.” He walked back to his patrol car and got behind the wheel.

  “He’s not leaving,” Lauren muttered as they returned to the motorcycle. “He’s watching us.”

  “And he’ll see us go,” Shane said as they strapped on their helmets, then sped down the road.

  Jason’s patrol car followed them back downtown and veered off as Shane pulled into the harbor parking lot. They walked quickly down the docks and onto his boat.

  Shane followed Lauren down the stairs, turning on the interior cabin lights and shutting the door behind them.

  Her cheeks were red, her hair mussed from the helmet and the wind, and there was a bright gleam in her eyes.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “That was terrifying and strangely exhilarating.”

  Shane smiled. “Life in the fast lane, baby.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before, not even when we were in high school. You got into trouble without me. You never took me along.”

  “I never wanted you to be in trouble.”

  “And you were going to take the blame for me tonight. That’s why you put the envelope in your jacket.”

  “Nah. I just didn’t want you to drop the damn pictures, after all the effort it took to get them.”

  She leaned into him, planting a hot kiss on his mouth. “Thank you for protecting me.”

  His mouth was still tingling when she pulled away.

  “I can’t believe Jason Marlow caught us,” she said. “His name keeps popping up every time I turn around. You talked to him like you know him.”

  “I do know him. He’s been friends with Kara and Colin for years. Jason’s been by her side a lot since Colin’s injury, so I’ve run into him a few times. I’ve never had a deep conversation with him, but Kara likes him, and she’s a good judge of character.”

  “Lisa implied that Jason had a thing for Kara.”

  “Maybe so, but she married his best friend. I’m glad he’s the one who caught us. I figured his relationship with Kara would keep him from dragging us down to the police station for questioning.”

  “He was suspicious.”

  “But you cleverly threw him off by putting him on the defensive. I think
he was as eager to get away from you as you were to get away from him.”

  “I wonder why, if he has nothing to hide,” Lauren mused.

  Shane unzipped his jacket and pulled out the envelope. “Hopefully we’ll find out. Let’s see how many times Jason popped up in front of Abby’s camera.” He dumped the pictures onto the middle of the bed. Some were rubber-banded together with sticky notes detailing the date and the event, others were loose, but there had to be at least a hundred.

  Lauren sat on one side of the bed and stared at the photographs. “I’m almost afraid to look.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. I can’t back away, but I also can’t jump. I’m afraid of what I’ll find, yet I’m scared I won’t find anything at all, and this will have been a big waste of time.”

  “Not knowing is harder than knowing—whatever the truth may be.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true.”

  He wasn’t sure, either. Some secrets were better left untouched. But he knew Lauren would drive herself crazy if she didn’t finish what she’d started. “Let’s find out.” He settled on the bed across from her. “How do you want to attack this?”

  “I guess we should start piles for people whose pictures repeat. We don’t need any posed pictures of sports teams or clubs. Let’s concentrate on the candids.”

  They worked quietly for about ten minutes. Shane knew a lot of the kids in the photographs, most of whom he hadn’t seen in years. He was surprised by some of the couples featured in the pictures. He’d been so caught up in his own problems in high school, he’d tuned out the rest of the world. He’d had hook-ups, not relationships. And once he quit playing sports, he’d had little in common with his male friends. He’d spent most of his time on his bike or on his dad’s boat, dreaming of sailing off into the horizon. He’d wanted to be anywhere but Angel’s Bay—until he’d met Lauren. The year that Abby died he hadn’t been in school; he’d been working for his father.

  “All I’ve learned so far is that Pamela Baines was a big slut,” Lauren announced. “Five pictures with her tongue in a different guy’s mouth.”

  Shane cleared his throat. Lauren gave him a quick glance.