I glanced at the time. It was only nine. This seemed early to wrap up an evening for a jet-setter like Rupert.
He didn’t even glance at us as he walked—yes, he walked. Not stumbled or teetered or any other indication he’d had too much to drink—over to his Mercedes. He climbed inside, slammed the door, and cranked the engine.
Mine was already cranked and ready to go.
I slowly crept out behind him, careful not to lose him. I eased onto the highway and stayed a safe distance behind. He pulled up to an abandoned storefront located just off the main highway. I sidled into an adjoining gas station parking lot and turned the car off.
“That’s the old laser-tag building,” Zane said. “My friends and I used to love going there, but it’s been closed for probably a decade.”
“Interesting.” I opened my door.
“What are you doing?” Zane asked.
“I’ve got to see what he’s up to.” Before Zane could argue with me, I hopped out. I’d been smart enough to wear all black so I could blend in. Zane, on the other hand, would stand out like sunshine on a cloudy day in his yellow sweatshirt.
He caught up with me in two strides.
“You don’t have to come,” I whispered, hurrying across the asphalt.
“Like I’m going to let you do this alone.”
I rushed over the grassy median between the gas station and abandoned laser-tag building. “You’re not really dressed for this job.”
He glanced down at his shirt. “Then I’ll be sure to stay out of sight.”
Zane stayed on my heels as I rushed toward the vinyl-encased building. Rupert had pulled up at the other side. Even from where I was, I could hear someone talking in the distance.
“This will be the perfect place to keep her,” a man said in the distance.
I exchanged a look with Zane.
Her? As in Cora?
“No, no one knows why I’m here,” the same voice said. “Of course. I’m smarter than that.”
Rupert must be talking on the phone, because I couldn’t hear any responses. I was thankful that the darkness concealed us. There were no overhead lights on this building.
“No, I promise,” he continued. “We’ll be good to go by next week. Everything will be taken care of.”
Everything will be taken care of? Was he going to kill Cora? What if she was in that building right now?
I heard something rattling and then a slam. Had he gone inside?
His voice disappeared.
Zane’s eyes met mine. “What do you want to do now?”
My fingers dug into the cool metal covering the building. It had turned surprisingly cold outdoors, and my leather jacket wasn’t cutting it. “I want to wait until he leaves. And then I want to check out that building.”
Zane rested a hand on my arm. “I don’t say this very often, but maybe we should call the police.”
His words snapped me out of my She-Ra stupor. Charging forward on my own would do no good right now. In fact, it would probably get someone hurt—either me or Cora. I didn’t want to put Cora at risk.
“You’re probably right. It would be the smart thing to do.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jackson’s number.
He didn’t answer. Strange. He always answered when I called. I hadn’t realized it, but I’d come to count on Jackson being available.
But I wouldn’t be deterred. I called Loose Lips Danny instead.
“Danny, it’s Joey Darling,” I whispered. “I may have found the missing girl, Cora Day.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
I told him.
“Lay low,” Danny said. “We’re on our way.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I want to see what he’s doing,” I whispered.
“We should wait for the police.”
Just then, something screeched. Metal. The door, I realized. Was Rupert coming back out?
Zane touched my arm, sending my nerves scrambling. “If he leaves, we have a better chance of helping Cora. We just have to be patient and not blow it.”
He was right. But it took every ounce of self-control to remain where I was.
Footsteps sounded. A car door opened and closed. An engine started.
Rupert was leaving.
“Hide!” I whispered, realizing he would come right past us.
We darted around the opposite corner and ducked behind an old trash can there. A moment later, Rupert pulled away. When he was out of sight, we rose. As we did, two police cars pulled up.
I hoped to see Jackson. But it was Danny and another officer. Duck Donuts.
“We think Cora is inside,” I told them.
“Why do you think that?” Danny rested his hand on his belt.
“Because that’s what it sounded like. This guy Rupert was talking on his phone to someone.” I recounted what he’d said.
Danny looked at Duck Donuts. “Do we need a warrant?”
“Maybe we should wait for Detective Harrison?” Duck Donuts said.
“Every minute counts here,” I told him, my muscles wound entirely too tightly.
“You’re right.” Loose Lips found a bolt cutter in his trunk and cut the padlock off the back door.
I held my breath as they pulled the door opened and went inside.
I knew I was supposed to stand down, but I couldn’t help but creep closer to the opening. I desperately wanted to know if Cora was inside.
Instead, I saw . . . a car?
“Cora’s not here.” Loose Lips stomped back outside.
“That can’t be right. Rupert said this would be the perfect place to keep her.” I’d been so sure he’d find her.
“He was talking about his cars,” Danny said. “I just made a call. He’s hoping to open a luxury car dealership here. He has to have the paperwork done by next week. He’s going to showcase his limited-edition Bugatti Veyron by Mansory Vivere.”
“His what?”
“His three-million-dollar car,” Danny said.
I wanted to bury my face. The one time I try to be responsible, and I only ended up humiliated. Wasn’t that just great?
I shrugged. “At least I called.”
“That’s quite the article you have in the Instigator,” Dizzy said the next morning at work.
“What do you mean?” I didn’t even want to ask. The Instigator had published some horrible stuff about me. Ninety-five percent of it wasn’t true, and the five percent that was true was mostly about my cellulite.
And right now I had an audience at Beach Combers. Dizzy’s friends MaryAnn, Geraldine, and Maxine had stopped by for a quick visit. The place was officially closed for lunch, so the ladies had brought cupcakes, of all things. I loved cupcakes, but they weren’t on my diet unless they were made with coconut flour and stevia.
Of course I couldn’t resist eating one though.
I grabbed the one with the tallest pile of creamy icing, swiped a glop of chocolate buttercream onto my finger, and indulged for a moment in the ooey, gooey goodness.
“You haven’t seen it yet?” Maxine asked.
“I probably don’t want to.” I had to learn to ignore what the Instigator said and to stop reading those headlines. They only served to mess up my mental space.
Despite my words, Dizzy plopped the rag mag into my lap. There on the cover was a picture of me. Two pictures of me, for that matter. One with Zane and the other with Jackson.
I suddenly forgot about my cupcake. I set it on my station and picked up the publication. The picture of Zane and me showed us laughing together. I was giggling so hard I’d thrown my head back. His hand was at my waist, and we both stood on the beach, looking like the picture of happiness.
The next picture was of me with Jackson. We were at the photo shoot with Andre. I was wearing that mermaid costume, and Jackson had helped me up after my face-plant into the sand. Helping me up was a little bit of an understatement. His very capable arms were beneath my knees and shoulders. My arms were around his n
eck.
From the outside looking in, we appeared like we’d been caught in a romantic moment. Little did people know that Jackson was only minutes away from grilling me about investigating Cora’s disappearance on my own.
However, both pictures were taken totally out of context.
The headline below read: Joey Darling Juggles Two Hunks. Whom Will She Choose?
I closed my eyes. Jackson was going to love that. And that was sarcasm, in case you were wondering.
On the other hand, Zane really might love it. And that wasn’t sarcasm, in case you were wondering.
How had the paparazzi gotten these pictures? I hadn’t even seen anyone out there on either of those days. Was I that oblivious to both my stalkers and the paparazzi? Absolutely.
“It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Maxine said.
I sighed and pulled my gaze away from the pictures. “Not really. I’m not dating either. We’re just friends.”
She held up another copy of the Instigator. “Could have fooled us.”
I leaned back and decided to give my full attention to the cupcake again. After all, cupcakes had never broken my heart. They’d never published lies about me. They’d never hurt me—unless body fat counted. “Like I said, we’re just friends. But this is what I don’t understand. Should you be with someone who’s just like you or be with someone who’s your opposite?” I glanced around. “All of you have been married. What do you think?”
“Opposite, for sure.”
“Just like you, definitely.”
“In between, if you ask me.”
“There’s no easy answer.”
I wanted to bury my head. They all had different responses. Of course.
When I’d been married to Eric, I’d thought he was my opposite. He was suave and sophisticated, and he understood the acting business. He’d already made films and developed connections and seemed to have a handle on both his money and his fame.
But after we were married, I’d realized that none of that was real. He was uneven and temperamental and brooding. Our moments of happiness were really happy, but our low moments were really low. And it seemed like the low moments kept coming more and more frequently until that was all we had together. Low eventually morphed into violence.
I’d never before doubted my abilities with men so much. I’d also began to doubt my own instincts. I’d gotten it totally wrong with Eric. I wouldn’t do that again.
“No offense, but y’all are no help,” I said apologetically.
“You can’t choose between the two of them?” MaryAnn asked.
“It’s not that Zane or Jackson is asking me to choose. But if I had to, I have no idea what I’d do. Do I choose the thrill-seeking adventurer? The one whom life would never be boring with? The one who’s like the waves he loves so much? Or do I choose the steady one who makes me feel safe? Who’s always been noble and pure? The rock?”
“The wave or the rock,” Dizzy repeated. “That is a dilemma. We should test that theory out with the Romeos.”
“Who are the Romeos?” I asked.
Dizzy grinned. “You’ll have to meet them sometime. It stands for Retired Old Men Eating Out. We like to get together sometimes. While eating out. Of course.”
I had so many questions about this, but before I could ask, my phone rang. It was Jackson.
I quickly excused myself as the ladies hooted and hollered in the background like a bunch of middle school students.
“Listen, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I need to unwind,” he said. “I’m taking the boat out fishing. You want to come along?”
“Really?” I’d thought he’d want to wipe his hands clean of me. “When?”
“This afternoon around three or so. The weather is good, the water is good, and I need a break.”
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you at your place?”
“I’ll see you then.”
Chapter Seventeen
“All right, are you ready for this?” Jackson asked, standing at the pier with Ripley on one side of him and his boat bobbing on the other side.
“Am I ever.” I held up a cooler as I approached him on the long stretch of plank. “I even brought dinner.”
He paused from rolling up a rope. “You made something?”
I did a half snort, half laugh. “Of course not. I picked it up from the sandwich shop.”
“That works too.”
I glanced at the boat. “So this is Escape?”
“That’s right. It’s usually only when I’m out here on the water that I feel like I can get away.”
The boat wasn’t small or large. It could probably hold six people. It had a bench at the back and a seat at the console, where Jackson would steer the boat. Jackson hopped on board, and Ripley followed behind him.
Jackson seemed so laid back right now. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt and a baseball cap. The weather was balmy, and I’d donned my favorite hoodie—it was bright pink—and jeans.
He reached out his hand toward me. “I’ll help you on.”
I took his hand, ignoring the volt of electricity I felt. Again, I was acting as nervous as Bambi during hunting season. Why was I always so nervous around him?
I mean, I wasn’t like this around Zane. I always felt comfortable around him. I felt like I could be myself. There was a lot to be said for that.
On the other hand, Jackson always left me feeling unbalanced.
I stepped into the boat. Once I had my footing, I lowered myself onto the little bench at the back, noting the fishing poles and tackle box.
For a moment, I was transported back to my childhood. I remembered doing stuff like this with my dad. The simple days. I missed them. I wanted them. But life didn’t work like that. I was a living and breathing testament to that fact.
“I heard you had some excitement last night,” Jackson said, easing the boat away from the dock. Ripley ran toward the bow and took his place there, looking like he’d done this a million times before.
“False excitement.” I frowned, remembering how everything had unfolded.
I might have felt embarrassed, but I was focusing too much on the realization that Jackson hadn’t been there. And that seemed unusual. In fact, it had been bothering me ever since then. Which was silly.
Just because he was a detective didn’t mean he had to be on call all the time. Certainly he liked to shut his phone off and have a life outside of police work sometimes. Maybe he’d even had plans on a Friday night.
After a few minutes of silence, I said, “You should be proud. I tried to call you.”
“I was proud. Good job, Joey.”
We cruised deeper into the sound. Finally Jackson slowed, anchoring the boat, and grabbed a fishing rod.
Er . . . he still wasn’t offering any details. And that was a crying shame.
“I guess you don’t work twenty-four seven like I thought,” I said, practicing my fishing skills by angling for answers.
He handed me a pole. “I guess I do have a few surprises up my sleeve.”
“I’m trying to figure out what you might have been doing if not working. Let me guess: taxes.”
He smiled ever so slightly. “Nope.”
Was he enjoying this?
“Playing cards?” I continued, unable to drop this.
“Not really my thing.”
“Taking a moonlight walk with Ripley?”
“Nope. And you have no faith that I’m capable of doing things beyond taxes and moonlit walks?”
“I didn’t mean that . . .” Only I had. Kind of. I’d made him sound like he could be one of the Romeos. “Fine, I’m done.”
He chuckled. “I thought you’d be more persistent than that.”
“Well, even I know my limits.”
He finished prepping his fishing rod, and I fiddled with mine as well, making sure the line was wound and threaded correctly.
“I was actually out on a date,” Jackson said.
My heartbeat was sudde
nly localized to my ears. A date? Why did that bother me? It shouldn’t bother me. Not one bit. But no wonder the man didn’t answer his phone. The last thing he’d want would be to hear from me while romancing someone else.
“Someone at church fixed me up,” Jackson continued.
“Well, that sounds like a nice evening then.”
He shrugged. “Not really. I’m not actually that great at dating.”
“But you’ve been married before.”
“With Claire it came easy. We didn’t really date. We just hit it off and knew that we were supposed to be together.”
“That’s very sweet.” I shifted. “Does that mean there won’t be a second date?”
“It’s very unlikely.”
“I’m sure you’re better at dating than you think you are.”
“I’m not so sure about that. The kicker came when she took my phone from me.”
My eyes widened, but I tried to conceal it by grabbing a worm from the tub and placing it on the hook. “Your date took your cell phone? On your first date?”
He nodded. “Yeah, she said she’d had some bad experiences on first dates before and hated feeling second fiddle to technology.”
I resisted the urge to snort. “Did you ask for it back?”
“Of course. She refused. I decided to play along—but only for an hour. Then if I had to go into her purse myself, I would.”
I pictured the scene taking place and felt halfway amused and halfway horrified. With the image of someone snatching Jackson’s phone still firmly in my mind, I stared out at the water, glad I was fishing and not dealing with dating drama.
“I think I’m finally getting the hang of this.” I cast my line into the water again.
“Don’t get too cocky.”
“Never.” I let out a contented sigh and watched as the sun set in the background. “It feels so serene out here.”
Jackson followed my gaze. “Doesn’t it, though? I could sit out here watching every sunset every night and be perfectly satisfied.”
“I think I have something!” I began reeling my line in, excited to see if I’d actually caught a fish.
Jackson reached around me, helping me.
Safety in Blunders (The Worst Detective Ever Book 3) Page 11
