DEATH MATCH
A Coastal Suspense Series Book 2
Emma Rose Watts
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
A Plea
Newsletter
About the Author
Also by Emma Rose Watts
Copyright © 2018 by Emma Rose Watts
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Death Match: A Coastal Suspense Series Book 2 is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For my Family
Prologue
NEW YORK
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
The cringeworthy love song made her want to gag. Behind her, members of the U.S. Marshals and their spouses swayed to the rhythm as a glittering ball sent out rays of light across a dimly lit hall. A multitude of colors cast shadows against the walls, mixing with cheesy displays of affection. The Valentine’s party wasn’t going to plan. Skylar Reid sat by herself at the bar downing her third beer hoping to forget that her date had gone awry.
Davis Mansfield lumbered over in an inebriated state. He leaned against the counter eying her up with a bottle of Corona in his hand. His cigarette breath wafted over only making her night worse. Of course she wasn’t the only one who had shown up alone. There were others, though most of the smart singles had opted to stay at home rather than become the brunt of jokes. And, oh, she knew she was going to hear about this tomorrow.
“I’ve gotta say, Reid, you clean up real nice. Quite a change from the vest and Glock.” He made a sound of approval with his lips. “That whole devil’s outfit you’ve got going on tonight is really working for you. In fact you should really consider wearing it on the job.”
He leaned in closer trying to make his interest obvious.
She twisted on the barstool. “Huh, funny, I was actually thinking the same thing.” She jabbed her finger at him. “I could get quite a reputation on the streets — you know, busting into a house wearing this getup. It would probably shock the hell out of them but then I thought, nah, I don’t want to upstage you.”
He got a confused expression. “And by that you mean?”
She lifted her pinky finger and twitched it while taking another swig of her beer.
“Screw you, Reid,” he said before walking away. She chuckled and farther down the bar someone joined in. She cast a sideways glance towards Alex Smith. Short dark hair, tanned with almond eyes, and about two years older than her. He was a new addition to the task force and yet she’d already caught wind of his antics in the field. To say that he intrigued her would have been an understatement. He was on a different team yet she’d learned about him through Scot Wilson, one of the guys on the same task force.
“Nice,” he said.
“Guessing you saw the photo as well,” she muttered.
“Who hasn’t?” he said as his lip curled up. A photo had gone around the department of Mansfield’s family jewels. It seemed he thought a good approach to picking up women in the department was to send out dick shots. Unfortunately for him the gal he sent it to, shot it over to HR and that got him in a whole world of trouble. Plus, when she alerted them, she’d made sure to CC it out to everyone else, along with the message. That one incident nearly cost him his job but someone in the higher-ups had gone to bat for him and managed to ensure that he only got a suspension. Since then, he’d been the brunt of circulating penis jokes, and not the good kind.
Alex picked up his beer and scooted around to where she was.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Free country.” She took a sip of her beer and stared forward.
He stood there for a few minutes not saying anything until she broke the silence.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” she said without looking at him.
He slipped onto a stool beside her. “Hear what?”
“The pickup line.”
He blew out air. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re a man and every other single guy, including, I might add, a few married ones have already tried tonight.”
“Too bad. I’m afraid I’m all out of lines, but if you want to try one on me, I’m all ears.”
She smiled, liking his snappy comeback.
“So what happened to your date?” she asked.
“You mean the one from Tinder or the Ashley Madison hookup?”
“Ah, a man who gets around.”
He laughed. “Nah, I just get a lot of spam.” He took a hard swig from his bottle. “Turns out she didn’t have a thing for U.S Marshals. I think it’s something to do with the fact that her father had a warrant out for his arrest.”
Skylar nearly spat beer. “And I thought I was unlucky.”
He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some. What about you?”
She scooped up her phone to check her text messages. Still no response from him. “I think he had to get home to his wife and three children.”
“Oh so you’re one of those types.”
“Types?”
“A home wrecker.”
“Oh, yeah, I really wrecked his home.”
Skylar twisted her phone around and showed him the text message she’d sent to a guy name Colt Parsons. The message from her said: Don’t bother to show tonight. Above, it had an image of him alongside a woman in a grocery store while his three young kids ran rampant. Alex’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah, I guess he forgot to tell me about them,” she said. “I caught on after our first date. Found a photo in his wallet.”
“You snooped through the man’s personal belongings?”
“Damn right I did.”
He offered back an amused expression.
“You got trust issues,” he said. “I like that.”
“You’d be the first man who did.” She chuckled, downed her beer and turned in her seat. “So you want to get out of here?”
“Sorry, I don’t date co-workers,” he replied.
“Neither do I.”
He shot her a sideways glance, studied her, then tossed a few dollars’ tip on the bar and they headed out. When they arrived at her apartment, she opened the door and he peered in. There was very little inside: one Ikea chair, a table, a few kitchen appliances and a bare-bones futon in the separate bedroom.
“You a minimalist?”
“I only make room for what I need.”
He stepped inside. “Just for the record, this isn’t a date.”
“Who said anything about dating?” she asked.
“It’s just that relationships are too messy.”
“Too complicated.”
“Too overdone,” he added.
“Too much pressure,” she shot back.
She headed over to the fridge and pulled out two beers and handed one off to him. He took his, screwed off the top, and they clinked the bottles.
Chapter 1
&n
bsp; CARRABELLE, FLORIDA
PRESENT DAY
The 50-foot catamaran bobbed gently in the Moorings of Carrabelle as Skylar bolted upright, sweating and gasping for air. It took her a few seconds to realize it was just a dream. Another one. The sting of Alex’s death still ached although seven months had passed. The memories of him now plagued her dreams at night and hung over her like a heavy cloud by day. She rolled out from underneath her cream-colored blanket still fully clothed from the previous night and staggered over to the cabinet to shake out a couple of Advil. She tossed them back with the dregs from a day-old bottle of beer. She winced at the taste. Flat. Her head was banging. One too many drinks. One too many late nights. It was all beginning to catch up with her. A warm band of sunlight bathed the inside of the boat as she opened the fridge and pulled out some pizza she’d bought a few days earlier. Unraveling it from its foil she stared around at her ramshackle abode. It was quiet, only the sound of a ticking clock on a side table and the lapping of water. It was missing something.
Her phone flashed with a few messages from Harvey, and one from her therapist Dr. Ben Walker. She made a mental note to get back to them, along with the multitude of to-do tasks that were vying for her attention.
Every day felt like she was spinning plates and getting nowhere fast.
Skylar glanced at the Valentine’s Day flyer on the counter that had arrived in the mail. It was from a local matchmaking company that had blitzed the area leading up to the so-called “Day of Love” on February the 14th. It was the one time of the year she hated. Christmas, she could handle, birthdays and Thanksgiving were a breeze but Valentine’s Day? It brought back too many memories. She looked down at the red and pink flyer covered in hearts, and every clichéd saying about love. On the front it had a photo of a cat holding a heart and the tagline: Let Us Help You Find That PURR-fect Someone. On the back was a cheesy-looking guy in a navy suit and red tie flashing pearly whites. Below that was a narcissistic bio about how he catered to all tastes. She snagged it up and twisted her face. Did people really buy into this crap? She crumpled it and tossed it into the garbage before getting ready for the day.
* * *
The bacon sizzled in the pan as Harvey Baker scraped it onto a plate full of egg, sausages, hash browns and toast. Everything had to be perfect. He was already in the doghouse for forgetting the event last year and well, the year before that he was working on a murder case. Elizabeth had been riding his tail and droppings hints for the entire month of January.
After he patted the bacon down with some paper towel to remove the grease, he headed over to the fridge, whistling to himself. Harvey leaned in and pulled out…
“…an empty carton of orange juice?” His mouth dropped as he shook it. “Hang on a minute, this was full yesterday.”
Michael his oldest child downed the remainder from his glass and leaned back looking satisfied. “It’s been in there for days. There was only a small amount left.”
“And you had it?”
He threw a hand up. “Waste not, want not.”
“That was meant to be for your mother. Now what am I supposed to give her?”
“Milk?” Payton said grinning.
“Milk?” He leaned against the breakfast counter and eyed both of them. “This was meant to be perfect. I had everything ready for her. I even told her to sleep in.” He removed the milk and closed the fridge. “Payton, did you get the roses?”
“Yeah, they’re in my room.”
“Good girl. Oh, and you guys know that we’re going to be out tonight. I have a nice restaurant already booked in town so I’m going to need you to head over to your aunt’s.”
“I think we’re old enough to look after ourselves.”
He rolled his eyes. There was no time for an argument. He hurried as he untied the apron around his waist and tossed it on the counter. As he got closer to Payton’s room down the end of the hall he glanced down and noticed several red petals leading out of her bedroom and ending in the living room. His pace slowed and his brow pinched as he pushed her door open and took in the horrific sight of a vase tipped over, a waterlogged carpet and the dismal remains of what had been an expensive batch of roses.
“Payton!”
“Yeah.”
“That damn dog of yours has devoured the flowers.”
She came strolling towards him chewing on a piece of toast. As soon as she saw it she burst into tears. “He’s going to be sick.”
“I told you to keep the flowers out of the way.”
“I did, they were on the side table. I guess he’s able to jump up. Anyway, it’s not my fault. You should have gone out and got them this morning.”
“And I guess I should have bought orange juice while I was at it, right?”
“If you say so,” she said hurrying down the corridor calling out the dog’s name.
“Kato!”
The only reason he’d agreed to the dog was on the basis that Payton took responsibility for it by feeding it, walking it and cleaning up its business but since getting it the only one doing it was him. Harvey shook his head as he followed the trail into the living room. There in the middle of the floor the dog sat with a devilish grin on his face. His tail wagged as Payton cuddled him.
“He looks fine but I think we should get him checked out.”
“Oh you do, do you? And let me guess who’s going to pay for that?”
All the commotion had brought Elizabeth out of their bedroom to see what was going on.
“Harvey?”
He spotted her and double-timed it down the hallway. “Head on back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.” She got this wide-eyed look and went back inside the room. Harvey scooped up the plate of breakfast and a glass of milk and tried to remain positive about it all. He’d give her breakfast and then swing back in a couple of hours and drop off the flowers. He could do this. This could still work out. A few bumps in the road and well… as he entered the room he smiled at Elizabeth and had only taken about five steps when he stepped on something really hard. A shot of pain went up his leg. The tray of food went in the air, and the milk with it. He tripped and landed hard only to feel the empty tray land on his back. He groaned as he rose discovering it was the dog’s bone he’d stepped on. He cursed under his breath. Sitting upright in bed, Elizabeth pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. Milk dripped off her forehead. The entire contents of the glass had gone over her.
He grimaced. “Oops.”
“Oops indeed,” Elizabeth replied, her eyes narrowing as her fingers tapped out a beat on the tablet she’d been reading. It was soaked.
“Happy… Valentine’s?” he said before stifling a laugh. She didn’t find it amusing. The entire bedspread was covered with greasy breakfast and then to top it off, the dog came in and ate the few slices of bacon that had hit the floor.
“Harvey!”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
He crawled his way over and gave his best “I’m sorry” eyes and she smiled. “What should I do with you?”
He puckered his lips, closed his eyes and felt her place a finger on them.
“I was thinking of trading up to husband 2.0.”
He popped an eyelid open in time to see her grin then she leaned in and gave him a kiss. “At least you tried.”
The phone in his pocket began to vibrate and at first he ignored it but it continued.
“Don’t you go anywhere,” he said as he pulled the phone and answered it. It was Skylar. He nodded a few times, “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and looked back at her.
“Let me guess, Valentine’s is canceled?” Elizabeth said swinging back the covers and padding across the room to get a towel.
“No, you have my word. We are going to have dinner tonight. No matter what.”
“Uh-huh,” she said in a disbelieving tone while she wiped the dregs of milk away.
“A promise is a promise.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the n
ext. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Gotta go!”
* * *
There were four Carrabelle police cruisers on scene when they arrived at the three-story bungalow apartments on US Highway 98. It was cordoned off with yellow tape and a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered. A line of media vans with antennas on the top were clogging up what little space remained. Harvey put the truck in park and blew out his cheeks.
“You should have seen her face, Reid.”
“I can imagine,” she said hopping out.
“I’m telling you that dog has to go. I swear, since it’s arrived we have had nothing but bad luck. He’s chewed the couch legs, taken holes out of the drywall and devoured half a toilet paper roll.”
“So what did you do?”
“Took him to the vet’s. And get this. The vet can’t find any of it on the X-ray. I swear, it’s not even a dog. I don’t dare get it wet just in case it starts to sprout.”
“Sprout?” she said eyeing the crowd.
“Yeah, you know, like the Gremlins. It’s all cuddly and cute-looking until you get water on it. But I’m not being fooled. Elizabeth and Payton might think it’s the cutest thing since… well you know… but I swear it’s the devil incarnate.”
They made their way over and slipped under the tape.
“The devil? C’mon on, Harv, you think if he decided to make an appearance, he’d show up as a chihuahua?”
“Angel of light, my friend, he can mask as anything.”
“You need to stay off the weed.” She pretended to be puffing on a spliff.
“Oh I’m very clear-headed. I’ve just gotta make sure that Elizabeth is clear about that as I think she has her doubts.”
“Do you blame her, Harv?”
“It’s not my fault I got dragged into overtime last year.”
“That’s why I don’t deal with Valentine’s.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Oh yeah. It’s all hogwash. It sets up expectations that no one can meet and well… it’s over-commercialized crap that exists only to sell you and me on a dream of a perfect relationship but there is no perfection, just a lot of heartache.”
Death Match Page 1
