The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

  Sharon, the owner, called hello when I walked in. Then she immediately came over to see Reef. Story of my life lately, and I loved it.

  Sharon had ever-changing hair color and multiple piercings all over her face, and she dressed with an edge—to put it lightly. But, despite her rough appearance, she was one of the kindest people I knew. Her niece Clarice even worked for Chad.

  After a few minutes of chitchat, I got down to business. “Sharon, did you see this guy in here a few days ago?”

  I’d gotten a picture of Patrick from his social media page—which he hadn’t updated in a week. I thought that was strange because, before that, he’d updated it several times a day. Something must have happened to make him stop.

  Anyway, I’d taken a screenshot on my phone so I could show it around.

  Sharon paused from washing some blenders and measuring cups and studied it a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’ve seen him in here before.”

  “Remember anything about him?”

  She dipped her hands into the soapy water of her deep, stainless-steel sink. “He was talking with some guy in the corner last time he was here.”

  “When was that?”

  “A couple of days ago.”

  “A couple of days ago? Like, literally a couple or figuratively?”

  She looked back and smiled. “Yes, two actual days. What’s going on? You sound like Gabby, asking all of these questions.”

  I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I’m doing some research for a friend of mine. Did this guy seem pretty normal while he was here?”

  She shrugged before rinsing the blender with steaming hot water. “I’d say so.”

  “Yet you remember it. All of the people who come in here, and you remember him?”

  “It wasn’t because of that I remembered him. It was because of what happened next.”

  “What happened?”

  She paused from cleaning the dishes and turned toward me, her apron blotched with water. “The first guy he was talking with left, and then someone else came in. It was very confrontational. The two of them raised their voices, and I had to ask them to leave, actually.”

  “Do you know what they were arguing about?”

  As if she couldn’t resist working, she took her rag and began wiping the countertops. “It sounded like money, but I can’t be sure. The other guy said something about a thousand bucks that was rightfully his.”

  “What did this guy look like?”

  “I can do better than describing him. I heard his name. I only remember because it was so strange.”

  “What was it?”

  Her eyes connected with mine. “Tag.”

  Chapter Nine

  I worked from home for a couple of hours before fixing vegetarian lasagna. Chad would be leaving the next day for his trip, so I wanted to make him something on the nicer side and not just soup, salad, or a sandwich.

  As soon as we finished eating, my phone rang again. I almost didn’t answer when I saw it was the jail. I knew what that meant: Mandee was calling again.

  “I’m going to ignore it,” I told Chad.

  “Don’t be silly. Answer.”

  I blinked at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.”

  I pushed aside my guilt over neglecting my family and scooted my chair out. “Excuse me a minute.” I walking toward the bedroom for some privacy and put the phone to my ear to accept the collect call. “Hello?”

  “Sierra? Can you come down to the jail? I need to talk with you. Please.”

  “Is this about your bail hearing?”

  “My what?”

  “I did some research online earlier, and, from what I understand, you should get a hearing within forty-eight hours of being booked. However, that’s going to bring you right up until Sunday, and I’m pretty sure Sundays are excluded from that. It could be as late as Monday.”

  “What does all of that mean?”

  I sighed. “Nothing. What are you calling about?”

  “I need to see you.”

  “About . . . ?”

  “I need to know what’s going on! I’m going crazy in here, Sierra. I feel like everyone has forgotten about me.”

  Compassion panged at my heart again. “No one has forgotten about you. In fact, I’ve been running around all day today trying to find information for you.”

  “Please, come here and tell me what you found out.”

  I glanced back at the table where Chad finished eating his dinner while cradling Reef. “We can do it over the phone.”

  “Please, Sierra. I really need to see a friendly face. I’ve never felt so alone in my life, and you’re the only one I can talk to.”

  I almost wanted to call her out on her constant demands, but I didn’t. She had enough on her mind without me reprimanding her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Everything was always urgent for Mandee. Although, in this case, she was in jail, so maybe it really was urgent.

  Guilt continued to pound at me as I made my way back toward the table. “I’m so sorry—”

  “Let me guess: She needs you?” Chad looked away from Reef long enough to watch my reaction.

  I nodded. “She sounds desperate.”

  “She probably is. Go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. We’ll be fine. Besides, it will be nice to spend some time with Reef before I leave. You know, father-and-son bonding. You can never get too much of that.”

  Relief filled me. “Thank you. I’ll make this up to you somehow.”

  “Don’t be silly. Just go. The sooner you get there, the sooner you can come home. Right?”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  In the little visiting area at the jail, with a piece of glass between us, I finished filling Mandee in on what I’d learned today. Then I had some questions for her.

  I got right to the point, determined not to let Mandee get me off track—again. “Did you know Patrick was in town?”

  Her eyes widened through the glass partition separating us. “No, he’s not.”

  “He is. I have eyewitnesses who not only spoke with him but who met with him.”

  Her entire body seemed to slump toward the table in front of her. The poor girl already looked pale and had huge circles under her eyes after only one day here. This was going to be a rough ride for her.

  “He told me he was going to Costa Rica,” she said.

  “Is there any reason he would lie?”

  She thought about it and then shook her head. “No. I mean, why would he?” She seemed to realize how that might tie in with this murder investigation, and her eyes widened again. “Unless . . .”

  I raised a hand to halt her thoughts. “We don’t know anything yet. I just find it suspicious that Patrick is keeping some kind of secret.”

  She frowned, a hint of despair creeping into her gaze. “You’re not the only one.”

  “Tell me about Patrick,” I prodded.

  She let out a long sigh, her fingers nervously tousling each other atop the table. “Patrick . . . he’s—he’s great. He loves kayaking. And animals. And he wants to be a photographer. Those are his pictures on the walls at his apartment. He’s really good.”

  I’d seen the pictures, and I was prone to agree. He had an eye for visually pleasing images.

  “What’s he studying at school?” I asked.

  “Engineering.”

  “Was he working anywhere?”

  “Not that I know of. Then again, we were out of touch for a while,” Mandee said.

  “Do you realize that he supposedly won a contest on the back of a cereal box but there’s no cereal in his apartment?”

  “Maybe he threw them all out before I came.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. It just seems weird. I’ve never actually known anyone who’s won one of those ‘win a free trip’ things.”

  “I guess it was all a lie.” She shook her head and lowered her entire upper half toward the desk as if her burdens were
great. “I just don’t understand any of this. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit the person I know Patrick to be.”

  It doesn’t fit who you want him to be. I kept that thought silent. “Do you have his cell phone number?”

  “Of course.”

  As she said it aloud, I committed it to my memory. I’d had to deposit my phone and purse into a locker before coming in, so I had no other choice.

  “Why did he ask you to take care of his animals instead of someone else?”

  She shrugged, like she hadn’t given it a second thought. “Because he knows I’m an animal lover.”

  “And you only knew him for a few months?”

  “That’s correct. We met on the crew team.”

  I had the feeling she thought more of Patrick than he thought of her. Maybe he thought she’d be the perfect sucker or scapegoat or both. “And you remained in touch?”

  She nodded. “Kind of. I mean, we ran into each other at school a couple of weeks ago and kind of reconnected. I was surprised when he called me out of the blue to ask me if I’d stay over at his place. He said it was all last minute and that he knew I loved animals.”

  I nodded. I supposed the story could be valid. Still, Patrick remained on my radar. I didn’t trust him yet. “Do you know of any other friends of Patrick’s I could contact with questions?”

  She shrugged again. “I’m sure he has other friends. I just don’t know any of them.”

  “How about the other guys from the crew team?”

  “They all graduated, and I have no idea where they ended up. I definitely don’t have their contact info. Only Patrick’s.”

  I nodded, trying to remember each of these details so I could use them for future reference. My memory hadn’t been quite as good as it used to be. I was pretty sure Reef had stolen a good chunk of my brain cells. Before thus-said brain cells were stolen, I would have tried to intellectually explain my dilemma by saying something like: pregnancy hormones had primed and reshaped my brain. Now I just called it “Mommy Brain.” “Anything else you should tell me?”

  Mandee frowned, just not looking like the same Mandee in the drab jail garb. “I’m going to spend the best years of my life here, aren’t I?”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  Even though I felt like I was on a wild goose chase, I headed back to Patrick’s place. I had too many questions and not enough answers. It was my third time there today, but, thankfully, it was right down the street from mine. It was already nine o’clock, and I hoped to head home after this.

  What had started as doing something out of obligation for Mandee had turned into a quest for the truth.

  I found the extra key under the doormat and slid it into his lock before slipping inside. Somewhere in here there had to be answers. Why would Patrick be in town but tell Mandee that he wasn’t? What purpose could that serve?

  Unless he wanted her to look guilty for a crime she didn’t commit. Was Mandee’s friend really that desperate? Was he heartless enough to set her up?

  If there was any place to find answers, it was in his apartment—so that’s exactly what I planned on doing: looking through his things in order to find a clue.

  Had Patrick been back since he supposedly left? Was there any evidence that would show what he was really doing in town? Any correspondence that might indicate a rift between him and Tag?

  I stepped into the apartment, closed the door, and paused. Where did I even start?

  His desk, I decided.

  It was tucked into the corner of the living room, and going through the papers there should win me some kind of special honor. His desk was atrocious with papers piled high, as well as other clutter and trash. I had no idea what I might find under all of this. It could be something helpful or it could be something disgusting.

  I opened the first drawer. It was full of envelopes, stamps, paperclips, and pens. Nothing exciting.

  The next drawer contained old college assignments for his engineering classes.

  Again—nothing exciting.

  I went through three more drawers and still didn’t find anything. Was all this for nothing?

  I shoved some items on top of the desk out of the way. There were old food containers, dirty socks, and banana peels. Seriously gross.

  Come on, Sierra. Think! Somewhere in this place there’s evidence of where he is. There has to be. Everyone leaves some kind of paper trail.

  I paused when I found a camera beneath a coffee-stained T-shirt. A camera? What could be on here?

  I turned it on and began scrolling through pictures. Most of them were of wildlife. Birds and turtles and even a cottonmouth, all out in nature.

  Thirty or so pictures in, I paused at the photo of two guys posing beside a kayak. One of them was Patrick. I recognized him from his Facebook page.

  Kayaking? Mandee had said Patrick was on a crew team and that he enjoyed kayaking. I zoomed in on the picture until I could read the lapel of the guys’ shirts.

  Deepwater Kayaking.

  What kind of connection did Patrick have with the company? Did he work for them? That would be my guess based on his uniform.

  First thing tomorrow morning, I was going to find out.

  For now, I needed to be with my family.

  And to sleep. I couldn’t forget that.

  Chapter Ten

  “Do you have to go?” I couldn’t believe those words had just come out of my mouth. I usually wasn’t the clingy type. But the thought of not seeing Chad for two weeks did something to me. It made me . . . sad.

  Chad threw some toiletries into an oversized ziplock bag before plopping the whole thing into his suitcase. “You know I’d stay if I could. But this will be a good paycheck for us. It will go a long way toward saving money for that dream house we’ve been talking about finding.”

  “It’s hardly a dream house we’ve been talking about,” I reminded him, rubbing Reef’s back as he rested on my shoulder. We just wanted something larger. With a backyard. And a swing set. It was more a matter of function than fantasy.

  “I know. But it’s getting a little cramped here.”

  “You really think you can finish this in two weeks?” I asked, following him as he pulled his suitcase from the bed and started toward the front door.

  “I’m hoping I’ll be able to. It’s a big job. It will be a lot of work. But I have the rest of the crew meeting me there, plus I’m going to interview some subcontractors. That’s why I’m going early. Nate is anxious to get this off the ground.”

  Nate Reynolds was his friend in West Virginia who’d hired him. He’d either bought or inherited an old theme park—I couldn’t remember the exact details at the moment—but he was hoping to restore it as a resort destination where people could rent cabins and relive the old days.

  “You should come.” He paused by the door.

  I shrugged. “I would. But I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Bring it with you. There are advantages to being the boss, you know.”

  I nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it. It could be fun. We haven’t gotten away . . . in a long time.”

  Chad leaned toward me and planted a firm kiss on my lips. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too.”

  He kissed the top of Reef’s head. “I’ll miss this little guy too.”

  Reef cooed in response.

  “Try to stay out of trouble,” Chad reminded me. “I know you have a lot going on with Mandee. But pace yourself. Promise?”

  I nodded. “Promise.”

  “I love you.” He kissed me again.

  “I love you too. Be safe.”

  As promised, I went to Deepwater Kayaking, arriving just as they opened—I’d checked the time on their website. After putting Reef in my sling, I paused outside my car and observed the business a moment.

  It was located on a little inlet of water flowing from Back Bay. The building itself was built to look like a shack, even though it was new. Boa
rds had been purposely nailed crooked, and the shutters were painted a bright turquoise.

  Behind the building was a row of colorful kayaks, all lined up on end and leaning against an outdoor pavilion. Life jackets—orange, yellow, and blue—hung on a string between the main building and the pavilion.

  Beyond all of that, where the water met the land, there was a small pier surrounded by marsh grass.

  All in all, this looked like a lovely way to spend a day. Other people obviously thought so also, because customers were already here and being fitted for life jackets by the water.

  I took a step toward the main building. I’d dressed down in order to look more legit. I figured no one would take me seriously if I was wearing a business suit—not here, at least.

  I walked inside and scanned the faces there for Patrick. I didn’t see him—I’d figured it couldn’t be that easy. There was a counter at the back where two guys checked people in. A video ran on a TV overhead, advising people on kayaking and water safety instructions. On the walls were wetsuits and paddles and other equipment people could purchase.

  A guy who looked like he could be friends with Chad approached with a clipboard in his hands. He had shaggy hair and looked like he lived in his orange bathing suit and that he’d be naked without his tan.

  “Can I help you? I must say, we don’t do very many tours with babies.” He awkwardly peered into the baby carrier and frowned at Reef.

  I’d come up with a cover story on my way here. “Oh, I’m not here about a tour. Not a new tour, at least. I’m here about an old one I did, though. I was hoping you could help me.”

  “Sure thing. What do you need?” He shifted his clipboard from his right hand to his left side.

  “It’s my tour guide.”

  The man frowned, as if expecting bad news. “Uh oh.”

  “It’s not that. It’s that I forgot to tip him. I wanted to apologize to him.” The lie rolled off my lips so easily that I almost squirmed. I wasn’t in favor of lying, but I was desperate for answers—not that that should justify it.