Dead Ringers: Volumes 1-3

by Darlene Gardner

  Halfway to the ride, I spot Lacey Prescott leaving one of the concession booths. She’s with her mother, Hunter’s aunt. Lacey tears off a generous piece of blue and pink swirled cotton candy and stuffs it into her mouth. I nearly go into second-hand sugar shock.

  “Hey, Jade,” Lacey calls through lips stained blue. “Do you know when the Hurricane’s opening?”

  The ten-year-old who freaked in the funhouse is really asking when the carnival’s wooden roller coaster will be ready for business? “Hey, Lacey. In five or six days, I think. Why? You gonna take a spin?”

  “Lacey’s too young for the Hurricane.” Her mother is dressed in the same designer suit she wore this morning at the hospital. “You shouldn’t encourage her.”

  It takes all my will to keep smiling. “Hello, Mrs. Prescott. Good to see you again.”

  “Again? Have we met?”

  And people wonder why I have an insecurity problem.

  “I’m Jade Greene, a friend of Hunter’s.”

  “Now I remember you!” She points at my cheek, which I assume still carries Adair’s handprint. “The girl who was fighting with Adair.”

  “Adair was fighting with me.” Time to change the subject. “How’s Hunter?”

  “Coming along nicely.” She digs some cash from her purse and turns to her daughter. “Honey, why don’t you play the ring toss game while I have a chat with Jade?”

  Mrs. Prescott wants to talk to me?

  “Sure, Mom.” Lacey takes the money and heads for the game. I’m betting she won’t win a prize, not when she’s busy juggling the cotton candy.

  Mrs. Prescott steps out of the way of the stream of people deciding whether to blow their money on games, concessions or rides. I’ve got no choice but to join her.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’m at the carnival with Lacey while Hunter’s in the hospital,” Mrs. Prescott says.

  Actually, I was trying to figure out if she practiced her snotty voice in front of a mirror.

  “I didn’t have the heart to tell Lacey no when she asked to come,” she continues. “It is Saturday night. And it’s been hard on her with what’s going on with Hunter. Speaking of Hunter, do you know what’s going on with him?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, come now, Jade. No need to play the innocent. Adair told me you were eavesdropping on my husband and I.”

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping, exactly.” How to phrase this? “I was in the hall and overheard you talking.”

  Her features turn even more pinched than usual. “How much did you overhear?”

  Opportunities present themselves when you least expect them. No use letting this one pass by. “I know Hunter was poisoned.”

  “That information is confidential.” She emphasizes the word. “Who let you on the floor this morning, anyway? Only family can visit Hunter.”

  Maybe she won’t notice if I don’t give her a direct answer. “Adair’s not family.”

  “No, but Hunter and Adair are very close. Getting back to what we were discussing—”

  “So they’re back together, Hunter and Adair?”

  The question seems to throw her. “Did they break up?”

  “A few days ago. Adair was angry with him.” Someone needs to put a bug in her ear about Adair. Who better than the girl Adair bitch-slapped? “Have the police questioned her?”

  “Why would the police question her?”

  Time to try out my acting skills, although I don’t have half the talent of her nephew. Hunter blew everybody away senior year when he played the lead in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I cover my mouth and make my eyes go wide. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, tell me.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing.” To make myself sound more authentic, I suck in a breath through my teeth before continuing. “It’s just that I ran into Hunter last night at the carnival.”

  “What does that have to do with Adair?’

  “He was on his way to the concession stand to talk to her. It’s just that, well, if he ordered anything...” I let the words hang.

  Her eyes narrow and her brow creases. “Wait a minute. Is your last name Greene?”

  “Yeah.” Her question brings up one of my own. “Is yours Prescott? Your maiden name, I mean.”

  “Prescott’s my married name.” Her statement proves Hunter lied to me and Max about why he was going by the Prescott last name. I have no clue why he isn’t using his real last name, but Max might. “Hunter’s mentioned you, by the way.”

  The way she says it, I can tell Hunter hasn’t said anything good. “Is that right?”

  “Did Hunter tell you I’m a psychiatrist?”

  My throat gets so tight, all I can do is nod.

  She digs in her purse, pulls out a business card and hands it to me. “In case you need it.”

  That’s her exit line. My tongue feels thick and useless as she walks away. It’s not like she’ll believe me if I call after her insisting I’m sane, anyway. Adair probably told her the fight at the hospital was my fault. As though I’m in danger of erupting at the slightest provocation.

  “Jade! Jade!” My brother Julian holds a stuffed teddy bear almost as big as he is. He leaves his friend Tommy, who’s a couple grades ahead of him in school, in the ticket booth line and waddles toward me. “Look what I won!”

  The bear is the top prize at the carnival. The games are so stacked against the players that in my three summer I’ve seen maybe two leave the carnival. “Wow! How’d you do that?”

  “The color wheel! I won three times in a row!” Julian’s a typical twelve-year-old who likes sports and video games. The giant teddy bear doesn’t seem like his thing. “Do you think Mom will like it?”

  Now I get it. If I wasn’t so down on Mom, I’d think it was sweet that Julian wanted to please her. “Sure. What was your strategy? Did you pick your favorite colors?”

  “No, I...” He points toward the ticket booth, losing his train of thought. Another of his friends has joined Tommy in line. “Look, it’s Brandon! I’m gonna show him big teddy!”

  Julian walks awkwardly away, one arm wrapped around the stuffed bear’s thick neck.

  “Later,” I call after him, but he’s already done with me. I need to get to the swings and start my shift, anyway. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late and incur the wrath of Roxy. I take a shortcut between the Tilt-a-Wheel and the fresh lemonade stand, darting in front of the Drama Queen Twins, who are giggling rather than watching where they’re going.

  The look-alike former cheerleaders stop so suddenly, they almost fall off their wedged sandals.

  “Hey, watch it!” the taller, more dramatic one yells. Her name’s either Heather or Ashley. I never can keep the two of them straight.

  “Sorry.” I don’t slow down.

  “Did you hear the latest about her?” The shorter girl’s voice carries. “She’s trying to steal Hunter from Adair.”

  Really? That’s what Maia came up with after our conversation at the dentist’s office? Maia’s supposed to be my friend. I don’t get a little positive spin on the gossip?

  My route takes me past the concession stand where Max and Adair work. I’m not up to analyzing whether my subconscious has anything to do with that.

  “Hey, Jade,” Max calls from the window.

  I pretend not to hear him and speed up. I don’t need another lecture about how I should stay away from Hunter.

  “Hey, Jade.” Max’s voice again, behind me and getting closer. “Would you stop, please?’

  If I don’t, he’ll keep on following me. I whirl. The wind rustles his dark hair, making him look... touchable. Groan. He’s wearing that ugly orange T-shirt. He shouldn’t look so good. “What?”

  “Whoa. What’s with the evil eye? We’re supposed to be working together.”

  So he didn’t stop me to belabor that embarrassing cat fight at the hospital. “Sorry. It’s been one of those days.”

  “I hear you. But I’m on y
our side. Have been since Wilder Woods.”

  Except that’s not true. Max lied about why he was lurking around Adair’s cabin. He said because I was a stranger. It finally dawns on me what was off about his story: The timetable. By the time we’d met, he’d already been to Midway Beach and heard all about me.

  “Why did you pretend not to know who I was in Wilder Woods?” I shoot the question at him, like bullets from a gun.

  “Because I didn’t.”

  “You knew I’d gone missing.”

  “I knew Jade Greene had gone missing. You didn’t exactly introduce yourself. You were too busy threatening to gouge out my eyes with your car keys.”

  He’s got a point, but how much do I really know about him? The cops could be right about him having a drug problem. He could be high right now. Except the eyes of people on drugs aren’t so clear and pretty.

  Pretty? I hate myself sometimes.

  “You’re still on board with helping me figure out this thing, right?’ He takes my hand, and I feel myself weakening.

  “Oh, my gawd! Look who she’s hitting on now.” It’s the shorter of the DQ Twins, the one with the loud voice.

  I try to slip my hand from Max’s, but he holds tight and pulls me toward him. I open my mouth to protest. He dips his head, shutting out my words with a kiss. His lips are soft and coaxing. I know there’s something I want to tell him, but I can’t dredge it up. Not when his hair smells of the candy apples from the concession stand, both sweet and addictive.

  He raises his head and smiles at me. My lips curve upward. A burst of gunfire fills the air, the toy guns with the fake ammunition from the shooting gallery. It jars me into remembering where we are. The DQ Twins are well past us, but both of their heads are swiveled so far over their shoulders they’re in danger of doing a 360. Because demonic possessions would really complete my day.

  “What did you do that for?” I’m not doing a very good job of sounding annoyed. “Those girls are almost as bad as Maia. They’ll tell everybody about that kiss.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” That gets my temper rolling. “You don’t think there’s enough gossip about me? Not only am I crazy, I’m trying to steal Hunter from Adair.”

  “You don’t want that getting around.”

  “No joke.”

  “Nobody will think you’re after Hunter if you hang out with me.” He still has hold of my hand. “Think of it as a perk of us working together.”

  A few days ago, I worried Hunter wouldn’t pay attention to me if he thought I had something going with another guy. That doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. I’m much more interested in saving face. If Max can help me do that, why not take him up on it?

  “I'm all about the perks,” I say.

  “Good.” His grin grows wider. “Let’s meet tomorrow on the beach. One p.m.”

  Did he really intend to treat me like a girlfriend?

  “To hang out?” I ask.

  “To compare notes.” He brushes a kiss over my lips before I can figure out whether I’m disappointed in his answer. Then he straightens and winks at me. “And to give me an excuse to see you in a bathing suit.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sun blazes from a sky free of clouds early Sunday afternoon. The glare off the sand is so blinding, I wouldn’t be able to tell that Becky is making her incredulous face without my sunglasses. I take off the glasses. It doesn’t help. I can still read Becky’s mind.

  “You’re in way over your head with Max,” Becky says.

  Yep, I’m right about what she’s thinking.

  Becky and I sit side by side on black beach blankets. Mine feature zombies, hers vampires. I rearrange myself, covering some rotting flesh. I should have bummed a ride from Max instead of calling Becky.

  This lack of wheels thing is getting me down.

  In the surf, Julian runs through ankle-deep water toward his friend Tommy. Mom ambushed me on the way out the door and practically ordered me to take Julian to the beach with us. Tommy’s mom sets up her beach chair nearby facing where the boys are playing.

  “I thought I needed somebody to take my mind off Hunter,” I say.

  “You do! But not somebody with baggage.”

  “My baggage is as heavy as Max’s baggage.” I’ll have to break the news to Becky about me and Max sometime. Might as well do it now. “We’re going out.”

  She thumps me on the arm. Hard. “Get outta here!”

  “It’s true.” Well, sort of true. But if I can get Becky to believe it, everybody else will. I shove aside the guilt that I’m not being completely honest with my best friend. “Adair’s back with Hunter, so why not?”

  “That’s not a good reason.”

  “How about this one?” I cast around for something Becky will buy. “Max is hot.”

  “Again, not a good reason.”

  “Isn’t that why you’re into Porter?”

  “Maybe I’m into Porter because he’s the strong, silent type.”

  I whistle softly. “He also looks damn good without his shirt.”

  “Porter’s here?” She practically shrieks.

  “Over there.” I nod to the emptiest part of the beach, which is still pretty full.

  Becky’s head whips around so fast her ponytail flies. “Wow! He looks great.”

  “So do you.”

  She’s wearing a canary yellow two-piece that highlights her tan and blond hair.

  “Go over there and get him. This is your chance, Becks.”

  Her muscles bunch like she’s about to spring to her feet, but she doesn’t move. “You already know I’m holding out until Porter puts the moves on me.”

  “Because of the you chase him until he catches you thing? Where’d you hear that?” There’s only one logical answer. “Your mom, right?”

  “She knows what she’s talking about. That’s how she got Dad to fall for her.”

  “Back in the nineties,” I point out.

  “It’s worth a try,” Becky argues. “Porter’s not just any guy. He’s the guy.”

  “So make him notice you. Strut your stuff. If he doesn’t look up from his book, kick some sand his way by accident.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “It’s a great idea.”

  “Okay.” Becky leaps to her feet. “Wish me luck.”

  “Always.”

  Becky’s not bad at strutting her stuff. If the strip of sand between me and Porter was a runway, people would applaud. Porter doesn’t even glance up. He must be reading one damn good book. Like The Haunting of Hill House. Or The Amityville Horror.

  Now I can appreciate good scenery, like the tall guy in sunglasses walking past Hunter’s blanket. His chest is impressive for someone so thin, all lean muscle and not too much hair. He’s got a good walk, too. Confident but not cocky. Sort of like Max’s walk. I slip my sunglasses back on to get a better look.

  It is Max. My heart rate speeds up.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Max calls from a few steps away.

  I like the sound of that gorgeous too much to let it go. “You don’t have to say stuff like that. I’m already on board with your plan.”

  He drops a rolled-up beach towel on the sand and sits down next to me on one of the zombies. “Still need to sell it.”

  His lips close over mine in a soft, sweet kiss. Before I can summon the will to draw away, he does. His smile is as bright as the blast of sunlight that spells doom for vampires in the movies.

  “What’s with the grin?”

  “I thought you’d stand me up.”

  “We’re putting our heads together, remember?”

  He leans closer to me, like he’s coming in for another kiss. This time I do muster the will to draw back. “Not that close together.”

  He laughs. “I should have offered to pick you up. How’d you get here?”

  “Becky.” I nod toward her. She’s flirting like mad, but with a boy I’ve never seen before, probably a tourist. Becky smiles, laug
hs and peeks at Porter. He keeps on turning the pages.

  “Did you tell Becky about me?” Max asks.

  “Well, yeah. She’s my best friend.”

  “Then she knows I lost time, too?”

  “She knows you were a missing person.”

  “You didn’t tell her the rest.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Why not?”

  “Becky doesn’t even believe I was missing, okay? And she doesn’t trust you.”

  “Neither do you.” He stretches his long legs in front of him. His skin isn’t quite as pale as when I first met him, but he could still use a few days in the sun. “You called the Greensboro police.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “My mom. She’s always phoning the police about their progress on the case, not that there ever is any. She called yesterday right after you did.”

  While I think of how much to admit, I search the beach for Julian. He’s not around, but neither is Tommy. Tommy’s mom lounges in her chair, reading a magazine. If she’s that chill, the boys are probably under the pier. It’s a gathering spot for Julian’s crowd during the day.

  “If you thought I’d take your word that you were a missing person,” I finally tell Max, “you’re crazy.”

  “Neither of us is crazy, but we’re wasting time checking up on each other. We’re not the bad guys.”

  The woman closest to us, who’s either pregnant or suffering from excess belly fat, is listening to an iPod. I lower my voice to a whisper, anyway. “Who is?”

  “Maybe whoever dumped Constance Hightower’s body.”

  “Seriously?” This preoccupation with the Black Widow is becoming a problem. “I get that it’s an interesting case. It’ll probably wind up in those supermarket tabloids. But what does Constance Hightower have to do with us?”

  “Maybe nothing, maybe everything,” he says. “There’s not a lot of crime in Midway Beach. The same people who killed her could have abducted us.”

  “Midway Beach isn’t Gotham City. How big and bad do you think these people are? By your logic, they poisoned Hunter, too.”