Beach Thriller(47)
As she hoisted the book to eye level, small bits of burnt paper descended onto the table like black confetti. Someone had taken a torch or lighter to it. The edges of the book were charred and uneven. Some of the singed pages curled up like blackened rose petals. The title on the cover was left intact—intentionally, it seemed.
When Holly realized what she was holding, she gasped and dropped the book as though it were still on fire and burning her fingers. The whole thing landed in the center of the casserole dish with a splash, right on top of what remained of the eggplant Parmesan. Bits of marinara sauce stained the cover like blood spatter while thoroughly soaking the charcoal pages in red.
Serena and Jade leaned over the table to get a better look, their jaws hanging open.
Even with splotches of marinara sauce on the cover, Holly could make out her name and the title: Beyond Horizons. It was the same book Ethan had said he’d read and enjoyed. Evidently, someone didn’t feel the same way. The burnt edges weren’t a coincidence. This was a message—more like a warning. What happened to Anna could happen to her.
Jade fished the desecrated novel out of the casserole dish. She flipped open the cover, sauce oozing down its charred edges like it was hemorrhaging.
“Holly, look at this,” Jade whispered. She showed Holly the title page, which appeared to be the only one left uncharred.
At a glance, Holly understood why. If the burnt pages weren’t enough, the inscription in big block lettering, every word capitalized like a scream, made the sender’s intentions abundantly clear: LEAVE TOWN OR I’LL DESTROY YOU.
Chapter 27
Jade
Maeve might be super annoying, but this job definitely has its perks. No way would I get tea and scones, served on a sterling silver tray by a real-life butler, if I was scooping ice cream downtown. That gig probably wouldn’t even offer me a meal break.
I’m in the sitting area of Maeve’s chambers, perched on a velvet window seat. Across from me, Maeve lounges on a chaise, enjoying the warm morning sunlight streaming through the dormered windows. She’s wearing a moss-colored blouse decorated with pearl buttons, silky trousers, and satin slippers—exceptionally well-dressed for a day at the house, and I doubt she’s expecting visitors. Aside from me and Dr. Hill, it seems no one else comes to this place, not even the mail carrier.
Which makes me wonder who delivered the package to Holly’s house—or is it our house now? The thought makes me smile, which is ridiculous. I know this is a temporary situation. Holly feels bad for me and is letting me stay, but it won’t last. Good things never do.
And God knows what kind of mess Holly has gotten herself into. She brushed off the threatening delivery, but what if the danger is real? Nobody bought my theory that it came from the superslick real estate agent, Gail Provost. What better way to score a prime property than to spook the owner into hightailing it out of town? But, if it wasn’t Gail, maybe it was someone with a more dangerous agenda.
While I still have a job and a place to live, I need to make the most of my circumstances, but Maeve is meeting my smiles with scowls. Rather than be discouraged, I’m resolved to win her over by the end of the afternoon. The key to success is to be a good conversationalist.
Big Sallie, the guard from juvie who saved me from being throttled on more than one occasion, gave me that tip.
“You don’t mean shit in here. Not even the ‘shit on the bottom of your shoe’ kinda shit,” Sallie preached. “You wanna make friends? Ask about other people. Everyone loves to talk about themselves. Ask more questions than you answer and you might not get your ass beaten daily.”
It was solid advice and easily applied to this situation. I’ll feign interest in all things Maeve, stroke her ego, and eventually break open that hard exoskeleton.
After lunch, Maeve snaps at me to bring her some boxes. I jump like a nervous dog. Following orders, I head to the closet, pondering how to initiate Operation: Win Over Maeve. Perhaps I should ask about Conrad. The mystery reader in me must follow the trail of bread crumbs without being overly intrusive. A marriage no one talks about? A locked tower? An old ruin? I’m compelled to investigate.
I haul the boxes over to Maeve, my muscles straining. Now I get why Conrad worried about his mom. This job might be too much for me.
“Let’s get this over with.” Maeve sighs, already bored. “This fundraiser is very important, and events of this caliber don’t organize themselves.” She studies her nails as if they’re far more deserving of her attention than I am.
“I’ll try to be efficient,” I promise, opening the first box. I already know what’s in here, but Maeve does not. I hand her some manila folders. She quickly rifles through the paperwork.
“Most of this can be shredded,” she says with annoyance. “They’re just old business documents—long out-of-date.”
“What was Baxter’s business?” I plaster on a cheery smile.
“Pharmaceuticals, mainly,” Maeve replies, flicking the air to push me onto another topic.
“And what about your first husband? I heard he passed away. He must have been fairly young. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not,” Maeve bites back. “He was useless. I try to forget about Geoffrey. He was a gambler—almost lost everything we had. An impressive feat, given our wealth. The Ward family rescued us from financial ruin. I don’t consider Baxter to be my second husband. He was my only real husband.”