Beach Thriller(37)

“Opportunity? Is that what they’re calling verbal abuse these days?” I laugh, making sure Conrad knows I’m kidding. Luckily he joins in. The warmth of his laugh puts me at ease. What could I get for a bonus if I last through the summer? Considering how much he’ll pay me to leave after a few hours on the job, I’d bet a lot. Keeping Mom out of Conrad’s hair has got to be worth a hefty payday. Challenge accepted.

“All I’m saying is, I’d understand if you decide this isn’t for you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I say. “I’m looking forward to it.” I almost believe myself. “So what’s that over there?” I point to some sort of ruin. This is the only part of the grounds they haven’t kept pristine.

The path is overgrown, with clusters of weeds sprouting around the remains of a stone structure. The rocks look blackened, which could be from exposure to the elements—or something else more destructive. It’s a lonesome, sad sight for such a beautiful location, that’s for sure. Any building that stands here would offer breathtaking views of the sea, and I’m surprised someone hasn’t put the land to better use.

“What happened there?” I ask, pointing but keeping my distance. This spot feels sacred, as though we’ve stumbled upon an archaeological find that we must not desecrate.

Conrad goes completely still, almost spellbound, as though he can peer into the past. I look, too, imagining the building that once occupied this land—one made of stone, with a big bay window overlooking the sea.

His chest caves, his shoulders curling around him. Conrad’s eyes glisten from unshed tears, though I could be imagining that. He inhales a deep breath of salty sea air, which works as a reset. The very next instant, he is Conrad of yore—stoic, good-natured, and buttoned-up.

“That was our guesthouse,” he says in a heavy tone. “It was destroyed years ago, and I didn’t have the heart to rebuild it. So here it lies, a ruin on our castle grounds.”

He turns his back on the abandoned site and moves along the path, his hands clasped behind his back, a gentle cadence to his steps. I hurry to catch up.

The tower looms before us. “So cool you have an actual tower. I’d love to see what’s up there.” My tone is cheerful, but the moment the words exit my mouth, I regret them.

Something flashes in Conrad’s eyes. Rage? Fear? Either way, his glowering look gives me the feeling that the tower holds secrets he’d rather keep locked up.

We stop in the middle of the path. We’re all alone. The wind rustles the tall grass bordering what’s left of the guesthouse. Far below, ocean waves crash against the jagged rocks.

“Jade,” he says in a calm voice, his focus unwavering. His dark eyes have taken on a cold, menacing quality. “There are three rules for employment. They are non-negotiable. The job will pay you well—very well, I assure you. But you must never violate these three caveats.” He pauses, allowing his words to land.

My gut twists. This feels like an initiation into some cult. A wiser, less desperate person might have explained the gig wasn’t for them and hightailed it out of here, but I can’t walk away. I have no money and no other prospects, so my options are limited. If we were playing poker, Conrad would be holding the far better hand.

“Sure. Ah, what are they?”

“One.” Conrad holds up a finger. “The tower is off-limits, always. No exceptions. Is that clear?”

I nod.

“Two.” He adds a second finger. “You are never, and I repeat, never, allowed on the grounds of this property before seven o’clock in the morning, nor are you permitted to be here after seven at night. This rule applies whether you’re employed here or not.”

“Fine by me. I’m not an early bird anyway.” My laugh is shaky.

The darkness in Conrad’s eyes only deepens. “What’s the third rule?” I gulp.

“Don’t steal,” he says in all seriousness. “Not one item, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Don’t even think about it. The old you—the thief—that girl no longer exists.”

His words land like a slap. That girl. He says it like I’m dead and buried, but I’m still here. Still me. And still wondering why I’m not running away.

“Are these rules clear?”

I nod again but don’t utter a word because I’m too afraid of saying the wrong thing. However, a little voice inside my head warns me: When it comes to Conrad and the Carmichael estate, any infraction, big or small, will result in serious consequences.





Chapter 22

Holly




After what felt like an interminable wait, a loud buzzer sounded near an imposing metal door. Tom Walker entered the waiting area of the Beauport Police Department and shot Holly a cold, reptilian stare.

“Holly Sinclair … let me guess, you found the girl, brought her back for a nice meal, and she walked off with your purse.” He gave her an unkind smile.

“No,” Holly said, crossing her arms. “I’m here to look at the evidence box from the investigation into my sister’s death.”

The words alone were enough to transport Holly back in time. The years between then and now folded in an instant. The sick flush of shame she’d carried out of Beauport filled her anew, as though she’d never left.