But that day I had a bigger and far grumpier client to worry about. Claire. I checked the time. Yep. Time to be at the bookshop. It was 9am and I had promised I’d be there bright and early.
She had some kind of low, quiet jazz mix on. “Can we put on the radio?” I asked, trying not to screw my nose up in disgust too noticeably. Usually when I was painting my boards, I had a portable radio down on the sand with me. I just put it on the station that played the newest pop hits.
Claire blinked a few times. “Not really the vibe that our usual customers enjoy.”
Yeah, well, maybe it might actually lighten up the place. Entice a few more people inside if it looks like we are having fun in here, not running a funeral parlor.
But I just smiled at her. She was the one paying me.
But I was still going to need her to compromise on a few things. She’d asked if I could keep my tools of the trade to one corner of the shop, but I had spread out my paints, tools, ladder, and drop-cloth right into the center of the shop. She was glaring at the mess I was causing. “I told you, this is how I prefer to work.”
I sneezed a few times. I am not allergic to the two cats that live in the shop, Mr. Ferdinand and Shelby, but I am allergic to dust, just like everyone else is. And I was not used to being around dusty books. Or books at all, really, even though I was being tutored during the evenings so I could apply for university the following year.
I sauntered over to the front of the shop and popped open the window. “Usually I work in the fresh air. Can’t stand to be caged in like this.”
Claire stopped stocking the display shelves and shot me a look. I knew what that look meant. It meant, “Do you want the money or not?”
Well, the answer was ‘yes,’ so I went back to work. The window remained shut.
“Alyson, there is no way that you need another cup of tea already.”
Claire was annoyed that I was taking yet another break. But I needed a cup of tea and I also needed to stretch my legs while I considered what I was going to add to the mural next. Claire’s idea had been to paint…wait for it…a row of bookshelves.
Yep. In a bookshop full of book shelves, Claire wanted the wall to be painted to look like bookshelves. Don’t worry, I’d already shut that idea down. I’d suggested an aerial map of the town instead, with the more colorful and important landmarks large and out of scale to the rest. Which she had agreed to, but now we were in disagreement about what constituted an important landmark in Eden Bay. Claire wanted the skatepark to be larger than the national park near the beach, which was just insane.
I was sitting on the windowsill, sipping my cup of tea, when I saw something down on the sand.
Something black.
Dun-dun-dun.
“Hang on,” I said, standing up on my tiptoes, so excited that I knocked the cup of tea over. But I barely even heard Claire’s cry of dismay. My nose was pressed against the glass. “What is that?” I just had this tingling feeling in my stomach, like this is it, my fantasy is finally happening.
“Another piece of wood?” Claire asked wryly as she grabbed the mop and started to clean up my mess.
She thought I was just trying to get out of work. “Sorry, I have to go,” I said. My gut was telling me to get down to the shore, and I always listen to my gut.
Yes, there was something dark laying there on the white beach.
I gulped. Not a piece of wood. Not a shark.
It looked like a young man.
But was he alive?
Please still be breathing, I thought as I raced across the sand. I had seen enough dead bodies recently.
The only reason the beach was so deserted that day was because people were still scared off by the ghost shark that had never actually existed.
Oh well, it suited me just fine. It meant that I got to be the one who greeted him. The one who rescued him from his terrible ordeal out at sea. I know this was probably the worst possible time to be grinning, but I was, from ear to ear. If only there had been someone there to witness my heroic triumph.
Oh, Claire is going to have to admit that she was so wrong. Everyone was.
“Hello?” I whispered as I crouched down onto the sand.
He was definitely cute. That was all you really needed in a shipwreck survivor, right? Well, that and undying gratitude. He had dark hair to match his black shirt and pants. He kind of looked like a waiter in all black. I wondered if maybe that had been his role on the sunken ship. I glanced over my shoulder, but the ocean was peaceful that day and there was no sign of any ship or any other survivors bopping up and down.
I leaned down and made sure that his chest was still going up and down and that there was still a beating in his chest. He was alive, breathing quite heavily, in fact. But his eyes were shut, and he was groaning a little bit.
I pressed down on his chest because I wasn’t sure what else to do, and that is what people always do in the movies, right? His eyes popped open. They were as dark as his hair and a little bit intense and scary—a little like a shark’s. “Where am I?” he groaned.
“You’re in paradise,” I said with a grin. I sat back, feeling a little relieved. He blinked a few times and looked at me like I was crazy.
He rolled over and coughed and spluttered. Water came up and he continued to cough while I got out of the way.
Okay, maybe this wasn’t ALL glamor, but it was still exciting. And not just because I had been proven right. That was always exciting. But this was like something I had dreamed up and then it had come to life.
But the poor guy was coughing so hard that his spluttering had turned to wheezing.
“I’d better get you to a doctor,” I said, reaching for my cell phone.
“No doctor,” he groaned, reaching for my arm. He had a hint of an accent, but I couldn’t place it. I noticed then that he had a large gash on his leg. There was a rip in his pants and blood was peeking through. It was deep, but I wasn’t sure if it definitely needed stitches. Matt had gotten gashes about the same size while out surfing, and our mum had always just taken him home and put iodine on the cuts while Matt yelped in pain.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. I could take care of the wound back at my place.
I stood to my feet and tried to pulled him up. Shoot. His legs were wobbling, and he struggled to stand. Maybe I needed an ambulance. At the very least, I needed some kind of help. I’m strong, strong enough to carry a surfboard with ease and strong enough to compete in triathlons and win, but I couldn’t lift a fully-grown man all on my own.
Help arrived right when I needed it. Just not in the form I wanted it.
It arrived in the form of Troy Emerald.
“Oh no,” I said as I saw him approach, not knowing whether to be relieved or horrified. His salt and peppered hair was looking very coifed that day, as though he had been to the hair stylist. Of course he was wearing a grey suit and dress shirt even though he was walking across the sand, where most people wore board shorts and flipflops.
Troy and I were in a bit of a weird place, personally speaking. I wasn’t sure where I stood with him. Let’s just say, we had left things in a ‘friendly’ spot since we had last spoken. The last time we had met on that very beach, we had almost kissed. Almost. I had realized, just in time, that he was a ruthless shark with absolutely no scruples who was trying to ruin the town I loved and grew up in. So I had pulled away.
Troy was frowning at the man on the sand.
“Who is this guy?” Was there a hint of jealousy in his voice? “Alyson?” He looked at me, demanding an explanation.
I spoke quickly. I wanted to get the guy off the beach before anyone saw him and tried to swoop in and take my fantasy away from me.
“He washed up today. We need to get him back to my apartment.”
There was a look of bemusement on Troy’s face, which quickly turned to disbelief. “We need to get him to a hospital.” He was staring at the wound in the stranger’s leg.
I shook my head firmly.
I h
ated to beg Troy Emerald for help. But it seemed like begging was my only option right then. “He refuses to see a doctor. Please help me, Troy.”
My apartment was a large studio, only ‘one room’ technically, but I had it divided into three so that J and I got our own ‘bedrooms’ and there was at least a little bit of privacy. J was my eight-year-old niece who stayed with me half of the time since her mom, my sister was ill. The other half of the time she spent with Matt. J needed her own ‘room,’ even if it was only divided by a room divider. There was no bedroom for my shipwrecked victim, but the couch would do just fine. With a bit of effort, Troy and I managed to get his body up the stairs and onto the sofa. Troy had done most of the work and I thanked him profusely once we were finally through the door. I just hoped no one had seen us. I would have looked quite a sight, smuggling a half-conscious stranger through my door.
“I guess my work here is done.” Troy didn’t quite look like he was ready to leave yet, though. He was hesitating.
“Thank you,” I said, pushing him out the door. “I can take it from here.”
“Alyson, are you sure—”
I shut the door on him.
“What is your name?” I asked, returning to the sofa. My houseguest was awake, but his eyes looked dazed and glassy as he tried to take in his surroundings.
He didn’t seem to remember much else. He didn’t remember how he got to the shore, where he had come from, what he had been doing before that. But after frowning and searching his memories for a few minutes, he did seem to recall his own name. “Kieran.”
I couldn’t place his accent. I wasn’t even sure it was an accent. Maybe he was just speaking strangely because of the ordeal, or a bump to the head. Maybe I should have taken him to the hospital after all.
“You survived a shipwreck,” I said, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of him, my voice both grave and admiring at the same time. “That is pretty impressive, Kieran.”
“Shipwreck…” he paused. Clearly, some details were starting to come back to him. They were just details that didn’t quite align with what I wanted to hear. “It was just a small fishing boat.”
Ah well, that didn’t matter. Small details. I was happy to continue calling it a shipwreck. It sounded more dramatic that way. I waved dismissively.
“Was there anyone else on the boat with you?”
“I…I can’t remember.” He told me he was feeling tired and dizzy and needed to sleep. I nodded and stood up to get him a blanket.
By the time I got back, he was already asleep.
4
Claire
I felt like such a creep, staring down at this guy while he slept. Watching people sleep wasn’t one of my usual activities. Alyson had told me over the phone how cute he was and okay, I…kind of agreed with her? He was dark and handsome, but with the way he was sleeping with his mouth open and a little bit of drool coming out, it was a little difficult to see it. But Alyson was clearly smitten. Part of me wanted to ask her how Troy Emerald was, but I knew that question would end up with me getting an elbow to the ribs.
Luckily, it was Matt’s night to have J. Matt and Alyson shared custody of their niece, and she had been with her uncle all weekend.
“You’ll have to ask him to move out by the end of the week,” I pointed out. She’d only have her apartment to herself for another three days.
Alyson nodded. She bit her lip. “Hopefully, that is enough time to figure out what has happened.”
“What do you think has happened?”
She pulled me aside just in case he heard. Or maybe he was only pretending to be asleep. From the way Alyson spoke about him, it seemed like she didn’t entirely trust him.
“There must have been other survivors,” she said, keeping her voice low as we went out to the balcony. “Who just goes out into the ocean on a boat by themselves?”
“Solo sailists,” I pointed out.
Alyson sighed. I definitely had her there. “But look at this guy. He’s pretty tiny.” She was right about that, but I didn’t necessarily think that leanness correlated with not being able to sail a boat on one’s own. If anything, it might actually be an advantage. It would make him more nimble. I glanced down at my fresh manicure and shuddered at the thought of being out on a boat. I could not think of anything worse. But that didn’t make me admire the guy. It just made me think he was a fool. If you go out onto the ocean on your own, becoming shipwrecked was just the risk you ran.
“Well, if there were other survivors, I suppose they will wash up soon enough,” I said, shrugging. I was hoping we could drop the subject now and maybe break out a cheese platter and some wine to make the evening a little more pleasant. But Alyson was not going to take that as an acceptable answer. I should have known.
I’d been back in Eden Bay—temporarily and casually, I do point out—for almost two months, but there were still some blasts from the past I had yet to bump into.
One was about to rear its ugly head.
Simon seemed to brace himself as we approached. Ugh. I hadn’t seen the guy in almost ten years. We had dated, briefly, in high school. He kinda grimaced as he saw us get nearer to him and I apologized to Alyson. “This is gonna be a little awkward,” I said, watching his face as we approached. “From the look of it, he still has some feelings for me and this could be a little difficult for you to witness.” See? This is why being back in my tiny home town didn’t suit me. I was always running into people I would rather leave behind in another lifetime. Poor Simon. I had broken his heart. That would have taken some getting over.
I was glad I was looking my best, at least. Fresh manicure and because I had been staying out of the water, my hair was looking much fresher and icy blonde. Looking good always helps when you run into an ex. Makes them realize what they have been missing. I smiled, but not too brightly—didn’t want to make the guy feel too bad.
But when we finally reached the lifeguard chair and he jumped down to greet us, Simon didn’t even look at me. It was Alyson he was eyeing with caution. He tried not to roll his eyes as he talked to her, but it looked like it took a lot of restraint. “There has been a full scan of the bay,” he said. “Helicopters and everything. No sharks today.”
Alyson made her little bulldog face. Meanwhile, I just stood there like, hello, are you going to acknowledge me at all here?
When I still hadn’t gotten the attention I required, I cleared my throat a little.
He squinted at me a bit and cocked his head to the side as though trying to place me.
“Claire?” he asked, as though he wasn’t even sure that was the right answer. He squinted so hard while trying to remember my last name that his eyes were practically closed.
I straightened up and pursed my lips, feeling quite put out but trying not to show it. Alyson was trying not to laugh.
“Claire Elizabeth Richardson,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Oh!” he said, then laughed. “That’s right. Didn’t you always insist that people used your middle name as well when they were addressing you?” He made me sound like I was the queen. Well, my middle name did match with hers. Alyson was still trying not to laugh.
“I don’t make people do that anymore,” I said, looking at the sand. It had still stuck, though. That’s what making a big deal of things in high school does. People don’t tend to forget.
Simon laughed a little. “So do you remember me?” he asked.
“Of course. We went out for a while, Simon.”
“Whoa, what is with your accent now?” he asked, laughing and taking a step back. He seemed to have no recollection of the fact that we had once dated.
While I stood there licking my wounds and trying to remain unaffected, Alyson asked the question as bluntly as it was possible to ask it. “Have any people washed up on the beach?”
Simon raised his eyebrows. “Umm, no.”
Alyson smiled at him but turned to me with a disappointed look. “Darn,” she said under her breath.
>
“Well, that was rude,” I said as we hurried away.
“Aww, come on, you’re just mad because your fragile ego has been hurt.”
I had come to an alternative conclusion about what had happened by that point. “No. Of course he remembered me, Alyson. He was just trying to save face. Playing games to make it seem like he has forgotten me.”
“Okay, if that makes you feel better.”
It did. Also, I had convinced myself that it was the truth.
Alyson shook her head and once we were far enough, asked me, “Do you think that Simon was being honest with us? About no one else washing up on the beach, I mean.”
Well, about that part, yes, I thought he was being honest. But Alyson clearly didn’t believe him. I raised my eyebrows. “You think that he found someone washed up on the sand and is secretly keeping that person in his apartment?” I bit my lip and tried not to laugh at the next part. It was really, really hard. “Because you would have to be crazy to do something like that.”
Alyson just nodded and tried not to laugh in return. “Yeah, yeah. You got me there. Good point.”
Yep. That would be crazy.
We’d been walking for ages and I was getting tired. Clearly, we were not going to get the answers we needed that evening and it was starting to get dark. I was about to turn back and go home when Alyson pulled my arm back. “Woah, what is that?” she whispered. Alyson shot me a glare before I could answer. “And no, it is not a shark, okay. I can see that.”
I was about to tell her it was just her overactive imagination again when I stopped. My heart also stopped beating for just a second. There actually was something on the sand. It wasn’t the right size to be a shark. It was also far too pale.
The size was more…human. Arms. Legs. No fin.
“Another shipwreck survivor?” I whispered as we approached. “You’re running out of room in your apartment, Alyson.” And there wasn’t a lot of room in that apartment to start with.
Alyson walked behind me. For the first time, she didn’t seem quite so brave as we approached our latest find.
Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery Boxed Set Page 20
