“Izzy?” he called out, standing up and brushing the sand from the back of his faded blue surf shorts.
The author’s head snapped up, and she stared at her former beau as though he were a mirage.
“Spencer,” she murmured, color flooding her face.
“Hi,” he raised a hand and gave her a smile, trotting down the beach toward her. “How’s your book coming along?”
“Oh, umm… I… well, it’s… fine,” she stammered, caught entirely off guard, and trying not to stare at the toned, tanned man in front of her. “Uh, how are you?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. He couldn’t put up a front with Izzy. It wouldn’t feel right.
“Is everything okay? They didn’t draft you back into that awful secret program again, did they?” Her eyes went wide. She might not be able to be with him, but she certainly didn’t want him to be in harm’s way.
“No, and that may be part of the problem,” he shrugged, joining her at the water’s edge.
“What do you mean?” she was finding it difficult to meet his eyes.
“I’m just finding it hard to accept that I no longer have Command watching my every move and waiting to send me into some war zone. It’s great, but it strangely feels like something’s missing. Weird, huh?”
Izzy shook her head and they walked side by side in the water. “Not so weird. It’s kind of like part of your purpose… part of who you are, just drifted away. I believe I’m in touch with that feeling,” she looked down, biting her lip.
“Are you okay, Izzy?” Spencer asked, stopping and placing a hand on her arm.
She looked up into his cobalt eyes, hyper aware of his touch, and looked away quickly, so that he wouldn’t see her eyes pooling with tears.
“Uh, yep. I’m great,” she said with out-of-place enthusiasm. “In fact… do you have the time? I wanted to get home by three. I have plans this evening,” she plastered a fake smile on her face, hoping that he’d be fooled by it.
The Marine glanced at his black, waterproof watch. “It’s just after two right now,” he looked at her closely and she returned her gaze to the water. “Are you seeing someone?” he asked quietly, tactfully leaving off the “already” that he wanted to put at the end of that sentence.
“Yes, I’m dating,” she replied stiffly. It was the truth. There was no one special in her life, but she was indeed, dating. “Are you?”
Spencer paused. “Well… I’m not really ready to date just yet. I need to get my own head on straight before I even think about that possibility.”
“That’s a smart approach,” Izzy kept her voice steady through sheer force of will. “Well, if it’s after two already, I really should be going,” she turned to walk back in the direction that she had come, and he stayed beside her, though her pace quickened.
“Izzy… I…” he began, a torrent of emotion threatening to overflow.
She put her hand up to stop his words, unable to look at him. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine, but I really have to run. Good seeing you,” she blurted. With that, she gathered up her skirt in both hands and jogged away from the bewildered Marine, who stood for a long time, staring until the woman that he’d once loved was out of sight.
***
Izzy had lied. There was nowhere that she needed to be at three o’clock, but when she saw Spencer, and figured that it was probably around two o’clock, she had made up the ruse so that she could get away from him without seeming rude. A small, petty part of her also admitted that she was hoping that he’d infer that she had a date and would be a bit jealous. She didn’t know why she still cared, he’d made it clear that he had moved on, but she honestly didn’t know what she’d do or say if he ever asked her to try again. Her head told her to write him off, as things were just too complicated between them, but her heart ached for those cobalt eyes to gaze at her the way that they used to.
By the time she got to her car, brushed off her feet and slipped on her flip-flops, Izzy had tears streaming down her cheeks and was thankful that there was no one nearby to see her making a fool of herself over the handsome Marine yet again. She roughly wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, in case any residual grains of sand remained on her fingers, and the text tone on her phone went off. It was Thomas Blevins, apologizing and asking her if she’d give him another chance.
Izzy’s heart thumped in her chest, but she figured, why not? She had to move on with her life. Being obsessed with Spencer was unhealthy and painful. Maybe she could release some of her angst by yelling at Thomas if he misbehaved again. It was better than leftovers in front of the TV.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
* * *
Izzy saw a local number on the screen when her phone rang, and though she didn’t recognize it, she picked up the call.
“Izzy? Hi, it’s Chas. Missy told me that you’re going to be going on another date with Thomas Blevins, and I really need to speak with you before you do that. Can you meet me at Betty’s Diner for lunch in about an hour?”
“Umm… sure, but, why?” Izzy was puzzled.
“I don’t want to get into it over the phone, but I’ll fill you in when we have lunch,” the detective hedged, making Izzy’s heart speed up just a bit.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Everything is fine. Just make sure you’re aware of your surroundings and situation. I’ll see you in an hour. Thanks.”
Chas ended the call before she could reply, leaving Izzy worried. She dressed casually, wound her hair into an unruly bun, and headed out the door. Having forgotten to eat breakfast, she was looking forward to her trip to Betty’s for a number of reasons, but she couldn’t shake the dread that Chas’ phone call had inspired.
After iron-haired and iron-willed Betty had placed a gargantuan turkey club sandwich in front of her, along with a mountain of fries and a large glass of iced tea, Izzy got straight to the point.
“So, you’ve kept me in suspense long enough, Chas,” she teased, popping a crispy ketchup-coated fry into her mouth, while the detective worked over his Florentine quiche and salad. “What’s up? What’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?” She asked the question lightly, but in truth, she was apprehensive about what his answer might be.
“Would you be willing to wear a wire on your date with Thomas Blevins?” the detective asked in a low voice.
Izzy nearly choked on a bite of her sandwich. “What?” she exclaimed in a whisper. “Why would I do that? Is he the…?” she couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.
“It’s possible. Whoever murdered Leslie Mikels left a… couple of clues at the scene, and we just need to figure out who they’re tied to,” Chas replied carefully.
“And you think that Thomas…?”
“I’d like to find out. If you wear a wire, we’ll have people close enough to get to you if you find yourself in trouble. Let us know where you’re meeting him, and if you leave, for any reason, say something that will clue us in to where you’re going. Try not to relocate, obviously, but if you have to go somewhere to avoid arousing his suspicion, just be safe about it. We’ll give you a code word and all you’ll have to do is say the word and we’ll send someone in to subtly take care of the situation in a way that won’t implicate you as a plant.”
“I have no idea how to do something like this,” she whispered, wide-eyed.
“I’ll give you some topics that I’d like you to discuss, and you can figure out how to phrase it in a manner that sounds conversational. As an author, I’d think you’d be particularly adept at that.”
“Writing dialogue for fictional characters is a heck of a lot easier than trying to get information out of a potential killer,” she responded, blinking rapidly.
“Izzy, I know that you can do this. If you choose not to, that’s fine. We can find someone else… maybe.”
“What did you find out when you were looking into Thomas’s background? Anything incriminating?” Izzy chewed on the inside of
her cheek, forgetting about the platter of food in front of her.
“I can’t really get into all of that, but I will tell you that he met the victim through the same dating service that you’re currently using,” the detective looked concerned.
“That means that I…” Izzy trailed off, not wanting to say it, but knowing that if Thomas was a serial killer, she could be next. “But what about Stanley?” she asked.
“I don’t suppose that you’d want to do this twice, if necessary?” Chas cocked his head to one side.
“Does Missy know that you’re asking me to do this?”
The detective sighed. “Let’s just say that after I told her, she locked up the cupcake shop, gathered the dogs, and said she was going for a very long walk on the beach.”
“So you’re in the doghouse for asking me, and I’ll be in the doghouse for agreeing,” Izzy mused.
“So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll give it a try. I’ve survived a couple of kidnappings and visits by unsavory operatives, I think I can handle Thomas and Stanley,” she sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. “So, what are the questions that you want me to ask?”
Chas pulled a packet out from under his coat, which was lying on the bar. “It’s all in here. Study this and then get rid of it.”
“Get rid of it? Why?”
“Well, what if you’re out on a date with Thomas, and Stanley gets curious and breaks into your house? He’ll know what you’re up to, and that could make life very dangerous,” the detective warned.
“Ah, I see. I honestly think I might be able to take Stanley if it came down to a fistfight,” she murmured, accepting the packet.
“Let’s not find out.”
“What if neither of them ends up being the murderer? Wasn’t there another guy too?”
“The other person of interest was cleared. His alibi checked out, there were neighbors who were outside and could verify that he was home.”
“So you think it’s definitely either Stanley or Thomas?”
“There are indications that make them pretty likely suspects,” Chas replied neutrally.
“You’re not going to tell me what you know, are you?”
“That’s correct, and it’s largely for your own safety. If you knew what we know, you’d be much more dangerous to the potential killer.”
“And therefore in more danger, because I’d pose a threat to him.”
“Precisely. So, while I would trust you with the information, I can’t take that kind of chance.”
“So I’m going in blind?”
“Well, you’ll have the questions that I’ve provided.”
“I just won’t know why I’m asking them,” Izzy pursed her lips.
“It’s safer that way.”
“Okay. I trust you,” she nodded. “Betty,” she called, waving down the rough-voiced diner owner. “Can I get a to-go box?”
“Here you are, honey,” Betty handed her a box. “You hardly touched it. Is that a commentary on my food?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, no! You know I love your food, Betty. I’m just… not as hungry as I thought I was.”
“Beckett has that effect on folks sometimes,” she snickered, shooting a grin at the detective.
“I can stay at the office on my lunch hour if I’m looking for abuse, Betty,” Chas remarked.
“Yeah, but they don’t have quiche there,” she retorted, heading for the kitchen.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
Missy settled herself into a corner booth, tucked away in the corner of the upscale oyster bar where Izzy would be meeting Thomas for drinks. From her vantage point, she could see every table and every seat at the bar, but the dim lighting over her table would make her nearly invisible. She’d found the perfect spot to do a stakeout, even though she knew that Chas would disapprove. When Izzy had told her that she was going to help the police by informally “interviewing” her date, Missy had vehemently protested, and had insisted upon being nearby, where she could keep an eye on her attractive and vulnerable young friend, swearing her to secrecy.
Thomas came in just before seven, wearing a well-cut suit, silk tie, and Italian designer shoes. He carried himself with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance, and Missy felt her blood beginning to simmer already. She pitied poor Izzy for having to go through with this dangerous and detestable plan, but at the same time, admired the young woman’s courage. Izzy arrived a few minutes after Thomas, looking stunning in a lightweight, forest green sweater dress.
Missy’s iced tea and appetizer arrived, but she barely picked at the food, using it only as a reason to occupy her corner booth. Her stomach was in knots as she settled in to observe Izzy’s date.
***
“Izzy, nice to see you again,” Thomas stood and pulled out her chair for her.
“Thanks, you too,” she smiled, hoping that it didn’t look as fake on her face as it felt.
“I must say, I didn’t think that I’d be seeing you again,” he commented, once they were both seated.
“Well, first meetings can be so awkward. Both people are nervous, and we all tend to act differently when we’re nervous,” she shrugged. “I think maybe now that we’ve broken the ice, even if it wasn’t in a terribly graceful way, maybe we can get to know each other better. I mean, we have nothing to lose, right?” she giggled nervously.
Thomas’ smile was more of a smirk. “Nothing to lose… there’s a ringing endorsement.”
“That’s not what I…” Izzy began, scared that she’d blown it already.
He raised a hand and chuckled. “It was a joke, no worries. Are you an oyster-loving young lady?” he asked, perusing the menu as the server arrived with two identical cocktails.
When Izzy began to say that she hadn’t ordered a drink yet, he interrupted, letting her know that he’d ordered two of his favorite cocktail, one for him, one for her. While Izzy resented the fact that he’d ordered a drink for her that she didn’t want, she accepted it when the server set it in front of her, murmuring, “Oh, how thoughtful.”
“To second chances,” Thomas regarded her seriously, raising his glass.
“Second chances,” Izzy echoed, bringing the glass to her lips. She took a small sip, and was glad that she’d been cautious. The cocktail was vile and it took everything within her to not make a face as it went down her throat.
“Good stuff,” her date commented, savoring his drink. “Now about those oysters…”
“I’m not a huge fan, but I love just about every other kind of seafood,” she replied, taking gulps of lemon water to try to dilute the strong taste of alcohol in her mouth.
Thomas looked at her and blinked a couple of times, then took a deep breath in through his nose and returned his attention to the menu.
“There’s a sampler platter that we could both…” Izzy began.
He interrupted her again, lowering his menu slightly and peering at her over the top of it. “Just go ahead and choose whatever you’d like, I’m getting an oyster platter for myself,” he directed.
Izzy took a deep breath, clenched her fists in her lap and forced what she hoped was a disarming smile. “That’s a great idea.”
She didn’t want food, and had no idea how she could possibly force down even the smallest of bites, but she knew that Chas was counting on her, and she had to try, so she ordered calamari, hoping that the mellow flavor, with just the right tang of cocktail sauce, would cleanse her palate and diminish the taste of her awful drink.
“Calamari? Funny, you didn’t strike me as a deep-fried sort of girl,” Thomas observed, handing his menu to the server, who glanced quickly at Izzy before turning to head back to the kitchen. “That stuff will kill you, you know.”
Izzy bit back the comment that sprang to her lips, instead pasting on another simpering smile. “You look like a man who takes good care of himself,” she said, hoping to appeal to what seemed to be a colossal ego.
“I do, and
eating right is part of that.” Apparently, he really wanted to continue his lecture on eating habits, much to her annoyance.
“Do you work out every day?” she asked, starting in on Chas’ list of questions quite naturally.
“Absolutely. Even if I’m traveling for work, I stay in hotels with excellent gyms.”
“That’s great. I admire your willpower,” Izzy nodded, taking another sip of her lemon water.
“Not enjoying your drink?” he challenged, looking pointedly at her full glass.
“Oh, yes, but I try not to drink on an empty stomach, so I’ll enjoy it when my appetizer comes.”
“The temperature of it is part of the appeal. It won’t taste the same if you just let it sit there.”
“Makes sense,” Izzy nodded, trying to appear as though she was hanging onto the insufferable man’s every word. “Sounds like you travel a lot… what do you do for a living? Is it exciting?”
“To me it is. I’m in mergers and acquisitions.”
“That sounds complicated,” she smiled, trying to feign admiration.
“I rise to the challenge,” he smirked.
“I bet.” Izzy wanted to throw her drink in his arrogant face and run from the restaurant, but she had a mission and she was determined to fulfill it. “So, are you from here, originally?”
“Definitely not,” he grimaced briefly. “I came down here to get away from the rat race of the city, and didn’t realize just how out-of-touch that these retirement meccas can be.”
“Oh, I thought that maybe you had gone to school around here… high school, college. I think people tend to gravitate toward where they were in their formative years sometimes,” Izzy stared down at the plate of calamari that had just been placed in front of her like it was a mountain that she no longer wanted to climb.
Thomas practically sneered. “No, I went to a preparatory high school in Virginia, and graduated with honors from Columbia.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” Izzy nodded, wide-eyed. Perhaps if she got tired of writing horror, she could become an actress. She was doing a pretty good job of swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in the back of her throat every time this man spoke. “I had a friend in the class of 2008 at Columbia, I wonder if you might have known him.”
Toffee Apple Killer: Book 11 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series Page 8
