Beach Thriller(35)

I didn’t stay for your whole meeting. I had other things to do. But now I’m back on your trail, watching …

I see you despite the crowd of tourists. You’re certainly in a hurry—no window-shopping today, no time for a shot of caffeine. Given the path you’re taking, I believe I know where you’re headed.

It’s a bad idea, Holly. A very bad idea.

Remember, you’re a professional writer, not a trained investigator. You should keep your head down, typing away. I know you won’t outline your next story. You never do. You call yourself a pantser, as in flying by the seat of your pants. I’ve learned that about you from the privacy of my computer.

That’s just another way I watch.

Here’s what else I know: You’re working on your fifteenth book. As a teen, you loved reading and devoured classics like Jane Eyre, Sense and Sensibility, and—of course—anything by Shakespeare. When you began writing, you focused on crafting stories about human emotions and meaningful relationships. You pride yourself on telling a good tale that doesn’t need a dead body to move the plot along.

But that’s the old you. You’re changing, Holly. It’s happening right before my eyes. This new you might decide to try writing about a murder, one that actually took place, maybe even one close to home. I’m here to tell you: You shouldn’t. You think you’re finally making progress, but you have no idea the danger you’re stumbling into.

So I do what I do best—I follow you. Just another face in the crowd, seen but unseen. I am a phantom. I am your ghost. I’m right behind you when you march into the police station.

There’s danger there—danger all around. I reach into my pocket. I feel the sturdy cold steel beneath my palm. It’s right there, waiting for me, in case I need it.

Don’t push it, Holly.





Chapter 21

Jade




Good news: Maeve isn’t going to die.

She’s resting on the couch in Conrad’s office. The doctor is here. His name is Dr. Vernon Hill, but I’m told everyone calls him Vern.

Dr. Hill isn’t what I expected. He doesn’t look like a typical doctor with his fedora, Hawaiian shirt, and old-fashioned wire-rimmed glasses (back in the day, they would have been called spectacles). He’s almost the same height as Conrad and moves like a much younger person. But his gray hair, bushy mustache, and wiry eyebrows suggest he’s in his sixties. He looks strong for his age—one of those guys who still thinks he’s twenty when he’s at the gym.

The doctor does all the doctor things: gives Maeve pills, checks her blood pressure and temperature, listens to her heart and lungs, applies a cold compress to her forehead, and checks her reflexes.

“Stop it! Stop fussing over me,” Maeve says, swatting at Dr. Hill as she pulls herself into a sitting position. “It was nothing.”

Conrad’s voice is heavy with concern. “It’s your third fainting spell in as many weeks. You should go to the hospital, get some blood drawn, and run more tests. And no more swimming. It’s not safe for you to be out in the ocean—especially alone.”

“Nonsense,” Maeve insists, her spine straightening. “I got a bit dizzy, that’s all. I’m perfectly fine.” She shifts her gaze to me. “You there, girl.”

Even though she’s pointing at me, I look around as if a person named Girl might be standing nearby. “Get me some iced tea, five ice cubes, two sprigs of mint, and a teaspoon of sugar. Be quick. I need an energy boost.”

I pull back, stunned. Um, no, I think you need some manners. But I keep that thought to myself as I head off to fulfill Maeve’s request, unsure how to find the kitchen.

Conrad takes my arm, holding me back. “Mother, this is Jade,” he says as if speaking to a woman with dementia. “I’ve hired her to help you sort through Baxter’s belongings. Remember? You agreed to this. She’s not the housekeeper.” He pulls out his phone and sends a text. “I’ve sent a message to Rose. She’ll bring your tea.”

The mention of Rose’s name is enough to make Maeve’s ghostly pallor turn red.

“That woman is useless,” she says. Her rouged lips pucker in disgust.

“If you hadn’t fired most of the staff, we’d have other options. Unfortunately, you’ve gone through all the available help in town, so I’ve hired Jade to assist with some additional tasks that need to be done.”

He presents me like an offering. Where do they keep the altar for human sacrifices? Now I understand why he hired a shoplifting pierced rebel—no other options.

The doctor shines a penlight into Maeve’s eyes. She flinches as if he’s poked her.

“Enough, Vern,” she snaps, turning her head. “I’m fine. I told you that. What I need is some breathing room.”

“Dr. Hill, can you please talk sense into her?” Conrad asks.

Dr. Hill grimaces like a cowboy tasked with breaking a wild stallion. “Maeve, Conrad is right. You’ve been having fainting spells far too often. You really should have more tests done.”

A woman appears outside the office. She hovers in the doorway. Nobody is blocking her way, but she refuses to enter. Instead, she holds out a tall, dew-drenched glass of iced tea, which Conrad takes like a relay baton. I examine the drink in his hand, and sure enough—five ice cubes and two mint sprigs float in the amber liquid.