by Sam Cameron
Boyle looked unimpressed. “And Michael Lake wants you arrested. Sit right here while I go talk to my boss.”
She left the office. Robin shifted miserably in her wet pants and wet underwear and wet blouse. Some seaweed was caught in the laces of her sneakers. She couldn’t stop thinking about Austin and Juliet on that boat with an armed gunman. Even now, they could be nothing more than bullet-ridden bodies floating in the Gulf of Mexico.
Voices outside. Boyle and the gray-haired man, but Robin couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. She wondered if she should call home while she could. Dear Mom and Dad, I’m in jail, send bail. And wouldn’t it be ironic to be arrested for something she hadn’t done? She checked her phone for that last message, the one that came from Austin, but seawater had ruined the electronics, and the screen was all cloudy.
Several minutes passed before Boyle came back and stared down at her.
“Jake Montell is not at his rental. The place looks vacated. The FBI’s on their way down from Miami, and no doubt they’re going to take over everything. What’s best now is that you go back to Fisher Key, stay silent about all this, and let Karen and Liam concentrate on helping the FBI.”
“But I can help,” Robin insisted. She hated how whiney it came out. “I’m not going to hinder anything.”
“You’ve done what you can,” Boyle said. “Any more and you could be considered an obstruction to justice. It’s time to let the adults take care of things. Do you want me to call your parents and have them explain that to you in my office?”
Mulishly, Robin said, “No. You don’t have to do that.”
Boyle had one of the hotel guards bring Sean back to the office. He was bristling with anxiety. “What’s going on? There’s a hundred cops and you’re all wet.”
“Tell him on the drive,” Boyle suggested firmly. “And keep it to yourselves, because the last thing this case needs is to blow up in the press. Do I need to drive you back to your car, or can I trust you to find it and head north?”
There was no warmth or friendliness in Boyle’s tone now. Robin was pretty sure she’d ruined their friendship. The loss of that, on top of Austin and Juliet in jeopardy, made her feel sick. But she bristled at the idea she was going to immediately break her promise to go back to Fisher Key.
“You can trust me,” she said.
“Good. Good-bye.”
Robin’s sneakers squished as she and Sean crossed the sparkling lobby. She ignored the questioning glances of tourists and guests. Let them wonder about the girl with wet clothes and hair. Outside the hotel, the air was much warmer. She wondered if she’d be arrested if she stopped for hot coffee.
“Are we honestly going home?” Sean asked.
“Yes.”
“And you’re going to tell me what’s going on?”
Robin sighed. “Yes.”
High-heels clicked on the pavement behind them. “Hey, wait!” Molly called out and caught up to Robin and Sean at the end of the parking lot. She was out of breath, her hair disheveled, both bra straps sliding down her arm. “Where are you going?”
Robin said, “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Something happened, didn’t it?’ Molly asked. “Liam and Juliet and Karen all disappeared, Michael Lake went off somewhere in a huff, and you’re all wet. What’s wrong?”
Sean said, “Don’t ask me. No one tells me anything.”
The night landscape had narrowed down to Molly’s face, her smudged lipstick, and the wide look in her eyes that came from too much champagne.
“I can’t talk about it,” Robin said, well aware of how weak that sounded. Lamely, she tried. “It’s not my story. I have to leave.”
Molly stepped closer. Her gaze remained bold. “If you need a place to stay, I can get you into my motel room. My roommate’s not coming home tonight.”
On any other night in her life, Robin would have seized that chance. Hope and lust spiked in her heart, tempered by the smell of alcohol on Molly’s breath and the promise she’d just made to Michelle Boyle.
“I can’t,” Robin said ruefully. “I’m sorry.”
Molly didn’t move away or say anything. Maybe she thought Robin would change her mind. Robin was acutely aware of Sean standing nearby, and the voices of people passing on the sidewalk, and the slow traffic of Old Town.
Sean cleared his throat.
Robin realized that Molly was waiting for a kiss.
But it was too late. Molly stepped back, her face creased with disappointment.
“If you’ve got to go, you should go,” she said, tinged with hurt, and walked away.
“No, wait,” Robin said because she’d had a pretty hard day, and couldn’t she be forgiven for missing a vital interpersonal clue? But Molly kept going, and Sean’s hand touched Robin’s arm when she started to follow.
“You promised the cops,” he reminded her. “We have to go.”
Robin closed her eyes and let Molly walk away from her.
Chapter Twenty-five
Once they reached her car, Robin dug around in her backpack for some dry clothes and changed in the darkness of the backseat while Sean kept watch for pedestrians. The last thing she needed was someone wandering by and complaining about public indecency. The wrinkled clothing was an improvement, although she wouldn’t be satisfied until she could shower off the salt and oil from the marina.
“I told Officer Boyle I’d drive,” Sean offered.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she replied.
Leaving Key West felt wrong in every way. Logically, she knew Boyle was right. In no way could she help the FBI find Juliet and Austin. She also recognized that Boyle was protecting her from further scrutiny. Leaving Molly was sensible, too. In the morning, Molly might regret things she’d said tonight and be glad they hadn’t made some foolish decision together.
No amount of rationalization made Robin feel better, though.
At mile marker ten, Sean said, “Okay, spill it. What happened at the party?”
She wasn’t ready to talk about it. But she told him anyway, and his shriek nearly deafened her.
“Alex Austin?” he yelled. “That hottie in the sunglasses was Alex Austin? I had dinner with Alex Austin and didn’t even know it?”
“You didn’t have dinner,” Robin pointed out. “We were drinking iced tea. And please stop screaming his name before you give me a headache.”
He stared at her. “And he’s Liam Norcott’s boyfriend?”
“Top secret, don’t-you-dare-tell boyfriend,” Robin said.
He was speechless for twenty miles. Under other circumstances, Robin would have considered that quite an achievement.
“I knew Liam was gay,” he finally said.
Robin flexed her fingers against the steering wheel. Her back itched from dry sea salt. “I guess he doesn’t want anyone else to know.”
Sean shook his head. “Alex Austin. Was kidnapped. And you were there.”
“I was there,” she agreed. And did nothing to save him or Juliet.
The ride was long and routine, with nothing to do but watch the dark landscape of the keys and think about Molly and Boyle, worry about Austin and Juliet, and go over all the mistakes she’d made this week. She’d left without telling Toni or Lina what was going on. She didn’t even have Molly’s phone number, because it had been in her phone and her phone was ruined.
“Who would kidnap Liam’s boyfriend?” Sean asked. “I mean, why have the side course when you can have the main dish? Alex Austin is gorgeous, but Liam’s the whole deal.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Call up the kidnappers and ask them.”
Robin was tired and anxious enough to forget all about the Seven Mile Bridge until she was halfway across. She told herself that whatever Juliet and Austin were going through was no doubt worse than her ridiculous fear of heights. At Fisher Key, the Dreamette and Gas’n’Go were both closed down for the night, but the restaurants were bright with tourists visiting for Pirate Days.
Sean’s house was entirely dark when she dropped him off. At her own house, the only light shining was in the den, where Dad was asleep in front of the TV. Robin showered quietly in her bathroom, crawled between her clean sheets, and was blissfully asleep within minutes.
“Wake up!” was the next thing she heard, loud and ridiculously cheerful. Ginny was peering down at her, framed by the painful glare of morning sunlight. “Happy Pirate Days!”
Robin groaned into her pillow. “I hate pirates.”
“I love pirates,” Ginny said. “I got you an eye patch just like mine.”
Mom paused at the open doorway. Like Ginny, she was dressed in a garish Pirate Days T-shirt. “Rise and shine, time to walk the plank. Or something like that. Did you have a good time in Key West?”
“I can’t even tell you,” Robin said.
“Well, you are going to tell your father and me, because I seem to recall a conversation where one of us seemed to be inebriated.”
Ginny bounced on the edge of Robin’s bed. “What’s inebriated?”
“It means Robin’s going to be grounded after Pirate Days,” Mom said. “In the meantime, kiddo, you have to drop your sister and me off at the Pirate Swap.”
“Do I get breakfast first?” Robin asked.
“Hard tack biscuits and rum,” Mom said. “In the kitchen.”
Breakfast turned out to be vegan pancakes and fresh apple-celery juice. It wasn’t the same as the craft service table on the set, but Robin was happy to fill her stomach and grab coffee from Mom’s state-of-the-art brewer. Dad had already left for his official pirate duties. Mom and Ginny had an early shift at the Girl Scout booth at the swap and would later ride the float in the parade.
“Robin, we’ve got to go,” Mom called from the living room.
She was checking the news online, seeing if news of Austin and Juliet’s kidnapping had been reported. The secret seemed safe for now. Robin skimmed Monica Mell’s website as well, but nothing had changed.
The Pirate Swap was spread across three parking lots adjacent to the Gas’n’Go. Robin dropped Mom and Ginny off and then went to the Bookmine. Mrs. Anderson was already there, a pirate hat crooked on her head. Sean was reluctantly trying on an eye patch.
“I’ll get a headache if I can’t see out of both eyes,” he complained.
Mrs. Anderson waved the plastic hook on her right arm. “Hi, Robin. How was show biz?”
“The show must go on,” Robin offered half-heartedly. “How was Lewis?”
“He scared off three customers, but he also found five rare volumes on the shelves that we put up on eBay,” Mrs. Anderson said. “I consider that a fair trade.”
When they were alone Sean asked, “Anything?” and Robin shook her head.
“If there was going to be a ransom demand, they’d probably have it by now,” Sean said. “Maybe that’s all the kidnappers want. A million dollars or something.”
Robin wasn’t reassured. She kept thinking about Hollywood stalkers, like the kind who broke into celebrity homes and ignored restraining orders and sent them love letters that were fifty pages long. Maybe she was looking at the situation the wrong way. Maybe a stalker like that had been on Austin’s trail since his arrival. But how? The only time he’d been out of the trailer had been that first dinner in Key West and then the trip to the hospital.
Business was brisk enough to distract her for a while, but never completely. She couldn’t shake off the anxious feeling that no one would be able to find or rescue Juliet and Austin in time. When Mrs. Anderson went to the back to help a customer, Robin used the store phone to call the Key West Police Department.
“I’m trying to reach Officer Michelle Boyle,” she said.
Boyle wasn’t available. Robin decided to call Toni, but she wasn’t at the condo, and Robin didn’t have her cell phone. She reached Lina at the Bar Nothing. Lina knew Boyle and had her number, but was reluctant to give it up.
“I have to apologize,” Robin told her. “I held back some information about a case that I shouldn’t have.”
“You kids today with your mysteries to solve,” Lina said. “How was the wrap party?”
“Memorable,” Robin said.
A gaggle of customers at the front counter meant that Robin couldn’t call Boyle’s cell phone right away. Finally, there was a break. Boyle picked up on the third ring.
“I know you probably can’t tell me,” Robin said, “but I wanted to see if there’s any news, or anything I can do to help.”
Boyle sounded tired. “Not unless there’s something else you didn’t tell us.”
“No, I promise,” Robin said. “I just…I’m worried about Juliet and Alex Austin.”
Boyle was silent. In the background was the distant sound of water splashing and a kid laughing. Robin imagined the swimming pool near Karen’s bungalow.
“There’s been no word,” Boyle said.
“Shouldn’t there be a ransom note by now? A phone call?”
“Nothing,” Boyle insisted.
“Will you tell Liam that I’m keeping my fingers crossed?” Robin asked. “I didn’t get to tell him that. Tell Karen, too.”
“Good-bye, Robin,” Boyle said
The pirate parade started at one o’clock. From the counter, Robin could see the steady progress of floats and pickup trucks, along with the high school’s marching band and the PTA. Everyone out there looked happy and oblivious to the drama. Mrs. Anderson went out to watch, but Sean said he’d rather swallow a sword, and although it was Robin’s lunch break she didn’t feel hungry at all.
“You look like you forgot something important,” Sean said.
“Not exactly.” Robin pressed her nose almost up to the glass of the front door. “I’m trying to figure out how someone could get Austin to the marina. He never came out of the trailer all week, and he didn’t say anything about renting a boat during the wrap party.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to spoil it by telling you.”
“So he goes to rent a boat and the owner decides to kidnap him?” Robin asked. “Then decides to grab Juliet and Liam, too? That doesn’t seem likely. Someone had to know Austin was in the trailer and wanted to use him as bait.”
“Who had access to the trailer?”
“It was always locked,” Robin said. “Karen and Juliet knew the code, and Liam and Austin, and me, but everyone else had to knock.”
Sean asked, “What about the driver? Or someone to clean the toilets? Someone took that script and put it in your bag, remember.”
Robin stared at him. “Driver and housekeeper. I never thought of that.”
He preened. “I’m pretty brilliant.”
She called Boyle again, but this time it went to voice mail. Robin left a message about checking who drove the trailer and who cleaned it. She wished she could magically teleport herself to Key West to find out the answers for herself. Long-distance detective work was too frustrating.
The Pirate Days parade ended an hour after it had begun. Boyle didn’t call back. Customers came in, keeping Robin ridiculously busy with the trivial business of retail while Juliet’s and Austin’s lives were at stake somewhere. The clock behind the main counter inched toward five o’clock with a slowness designed to drive her crazy. She decided that she was going to ignore Boyle’s warning and go back to Key West tonight. Maybe she could help or maybe she couldn’t, but being so far removed was torture.
At four forty-five, there was a lull in customers. Mrs. Anderson had to go help at the Pirate Days banquet and said that she trusted them to lock up. Sean headed to the back so he could drag cardboard boxes to the recycling bins. Robin went to empty the trash in the bathrooms and spray down the sinks and mirrors. She figured Mrs. Anderson wouldn’t notice if she skipped mopping duty for tonight. Robin was wiping down the men’s room mirror when the front desk bell rang with its annoying little ding.
“Be right out!” Robin swiped a few last times with her paper towel and carried the trash out to the hal
l, where she almost collided with a six-foot-tall guy in a baseball cap and sunglasses.
“Sorry—” she said, and then she realized the guy was Liam Norcott, right here in Fisher Key.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Good thing there’s only one bookstore on this island,” he said, sliding his sunglasses off his nose. He didn’t look like a movie star today. Dark circles hung under his eyes. “You’re not hard to find at all.”
“Why did you come here?” she blurted out. “You should be in Key West.”
“The FBI’s in Key West,” he said. “So’s Karen. I wasn’t doing anyone any good.”
“So you came here?” she asked.
“You found Juliet’s scumbag boyfriend once. Can’t you find him again?”
Robin hesitated. On one hand, it was kind of flattering that Liam had such faith in her. On the other, he was probably desperate for any lead at all.
Some customers in the stacks looked their way curiously. Robin put the trash down and led Liam to Mrs. Anderson’s office.
“Just because Jake is missing doesn’t mean he has anything to do with it,” she said. “He didn’t seem bright enough.”
“But the police say he’s their primary lead,” Liam replied. “Are they wrong?”
Robin admitted, “I don’t know. But there’s a difference between being not-very-smart and criminally stupid. He’s got to know that he’d be the first one the police would come looking for.”
Mrs. Porter from the Baptist church came up to the front desk with a stack of books to buy. Sean hadn’t returned, so Robin said, “Stay right here,” and went to ring up the purchases.
“I heard you were working on a Hollywood film,” Mrs. Porter said cheerfully. Robin was sure everyone on the island knew that gossip. “How did it go?”
“I could write a book.” Robin kept her eyes on the cash register. She didn’t want to be brusque, but Mrs. Porter could talk for hours and hours if you let her, and although she was very nice, she wasn’t always very interesting. “That’ll be twenty-two dollars, please.”
