Beach Thriller(39)

A sound outside the dining room catches me by surprise. I take a break to investigate. If anyone asks, I’ll say I’m stretching my stiff legs.

I peek into the great hall, expecting to see Sid wandering around, but instead, it’s Rose. She casts anxious, fleeting glances around her, not noticing me as she fishes through her apron pocket and pulls out a large brass key. She slips the key into the lock of a door, which I suspect leads to the top of the tower. I hear the click as the lock disengages, the creak as the door slides open, and then another click as Rose locks the door from the inside.

Only when I’m sure no one is coming do I dare approach. The wooden door is tall and impressive, made from smooth, weathered teak. A polished, antique doorknob shaped like a seashell shines like it doesn’t get turned often.

My intuition tells me to walk away. But something about this door beckons me, daring me closer—a challenge it knows I will accept.

Pressing my ear to the brass keyhole, I listen.

Someone is talking in a low voice, muffled and indistinct. Then I hear something else—a sad, lonesome moan. It’s eerie and quiet, like the faint cry of an owl in a deep, dark wood.

Another noise bounces down the stairs—this time, a piano plinking. I’m not sure if it’s a recording or if someone is playing. But I’m certain I’ve heard the song before. It’s a famous lullaby. It’s beautiful.

The moaning stops as the music begins. The melody wraps around me, sweet and sad, like a memory I can’t grasp. But that moan … that wasn’t singing. That was something else, more like a trapped animal, not entirely human.

Great. Wouldn’t it be my luck to get caught up in a werewolf saga?

I’m lost in the music when a loud thwack strikes right above my head. I jump. My heart rockets to my throat. For a second, I can’t breathe.

It’s Conrad, his palm planted flat against the wood about three inches above my head. He hovers over me like a tall shadow.

I turn slowly to face him, trying to control my breathing. I can barely meet his eyes.

“I forgot something,” he says in a deliberately cool, calm voice. “And it appears you forgot something as well: Rule one, Jade. The tower is off-limits. Always.”





Chapter 24

Holly




Making dinner for two was a foreign concept for Holly, but she was getting the hang of it. The green beans were a little soggy, the chicken and rice a little dry, but overall, the risk of food poisoning was pretty low, so that was a win.

Before diving into the meal, Jade put her hands together in a prayer position.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” said Holly, who didn’t know much about Jade at all, though, oddly, dinner together felt normal—familiar, even. Good lord. If a runaway helped Holly feel grounded, how woefully out of balance was her life?

“I’m not religious,” Jade said. “I just feel like Joey and Emily need all the help they can get now that their love is gone.”

It took Holly a second, but then she laughed. Oh yes—Ethan had cleaned off the graffiti. He’d made good progress on the other work, too. And thanks to Allen Spellman, Holly could pay for his time and materials.

She raised her glass of water. Jade reached for her Dr Pepper, a beverage choice Holly had never understood. It wasn’t her place to patrol the girl’s nutrition, yet she had the urge to get her a glass of milk instead.

“To Joey and Emily,” said Jade in solemn reverence. “May their love continue, or may they find true happiness elsewhere.”

“If Joey loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day.”

Jade’s eyes grew wide. “Whoa, that’s beautiful,” she said with complete sincerity.

“Yeah, it is,” said Holly. “Wish I had written it. It’s Emily Bront?, Wuthering Heights. But I added the Joey part.”

“Heathcliff,” said Jade, surprising Holly.

“You know the book?”

Jade made a pshaw sound. “It’s a classic, but it’s not a love story, in my opinion. Catherine and Heathcliff had a super toxic dynamic. Way too obsessive to be healthy. If spray paint had existed in the late eighteenth century, I bet Heathcliff would’ve tagged Catherine’s name all over the moors.”

Holly laughed so hard she spit out her rice. For that brief moment, she felt downright at home.

“Speaking of the graffiti, how’s that handyman?” Jade asked, narrowing her gaze. “I caught a glimpse of him on his way out yesterday—he’s a total DILF.”

Holly didn’t get the reference at first, but then realized it was the male version of MILF.

“Any sparks?” Jade teased. “Seems to me you could use a little excitement in your life.”

“Taking in a runaway is enough excitement for me. Besides, I think he’s got a girlfriend.” Holly was surprised to hear obvious disappointment in her voice.

“So? You’re way better. I don’t even need to meet that woman to know she’s trash. He should dump whoever she is and go out with you.”

Jade finished everything on her plate, so Holly got up to grab her seconds, along with a glass of milk.

“I’m not looking for a relationship. I have too much on my mind and too much to do to let a man distract me,” she said.