Beach Thriller(81)

“Who is here?” says Conrad. “Are you talking about Rose? She moved on. She quit. I told you that, remember?”

“Not Rose,” Elizabeth says slowly.

I offer a silent prayer to the universe. Please, please, don’t say my name.

“Jade,” she finishes as my stomach clenches.

Conrad inhales sharply. “What did you say?” The anger in his voice shrouds me.

“Jade … she came to see me.”

“No. You’re imagining things.” His rumble deepens.

“She’s … here.”

My throat closes. Fear swallows my breath. The bed shifts as a heavy weight lifts. He’s up and moving. I hear his footsteps. I close my eyes. A silent prayer loops in my head. The steps move toward the stairs. From the sound of it, he might be leaving. At last the tightness in my chest eases. He’s going to look for me. But he won’t find me—I’ll sneak downstairs, run from this house, and never return. Maeve can have her party without me. But I’ll make sure the police show up with a search warrant instead of an invitation.

I wait, listening. There’s background noise outside, but what I don’t hear offers relief. No more footsteps. Still, I need to wait a little longer. I start a silent countdown. I make it all the way to ten—when a pair of hands clamps around my ankles.

I scream in terror as strong arms drag me out from underneath the bed.





Chapter 44

Holly




Gail pushed the tiny plastic ball toward Chester. It rolled across the hardwood floor, the little bell inside tinkling like a delicate fairy. The cat pounced, swallowing the toy into his mouth, whipping his head side to side to break his prey’s neck, then spitting it out and pawing at it until the thing was as good as dead.

So cute.

Gail rolled it again, and once more Chester attacked. Holly watched the game from across the room, thankful for this brief moment of normalcy.

She had been home for over an hour but couldn’t stop smelling blood or seeing Spellman’s lifeless body splayed across his desk.

Gail was a welcome distraction. For once, she wasn’t talking about selling the house out from under her. Of course, the bank might do it anyway if she couldn’t pay the tax bill.

“He took everything?” Gail asked, incredulous, referring to Spellman.

Holly could only shrug. “I don’t know. My friend’s a bank auditor. She’s already looking into some oddities with the account. I’ll have to tell her about Spellman’s criminal activity as well.”

“What a little shit.”

“More like a gigantic turd, but I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Holly said. “It’s just hard to accept that he stole my family’s money, and now I’ll never know if he also stole evidence related to my sister’s death.”

Holly wished she could turn to Serena as well, but her psychic friend might not be trustworthy—and she wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation. The day had drained her, and Holly’s recent text exchange with Jade made matters worse.

In hindsight, she could have responded better to Jade’s message about Elizabeth Ward. The poor kid was just trying to help, but Holly’s nerves were frayed, her temper short, and her anger had spiked.

She thought she had been clear—the Carmichaels were off-limits, no investigating allowed. It wasn’t safe. But instead of listening, Jade had asked about Conrad’s wife—or ex-wife, Holly wasn’t sure.

Find the answers … finish your novel. Holly kept hearing that jeering paper puppet calling out to her. She was finally listening, and the last thing she needed was for someone else she cared about to get hurt—or worse—before she could get her answers.

Jade should be a kid—working a simple job, making some money, and keeping her nose out of trouble—and Holly should be the adult. This was her mess to untangle. And whoever was trying to intimidate her into walking away was achieving the opposite.

Elizabeth Ward was part of the story, which was exactly why Jade shouldn’t be asking about her. Holly’s reply hadn’t been gentle: I told you very clearly that investigating my sister’s death was off-limits.

As a novelist, Holly didn’t use text speech. She wrote books with real grammar and proper spelling, and her texts followed suit. Jade would get the point—loud and clear—without shortcuts.

If you can’t honor that, this living arrangement will not work. Please don’t put me in that position.

When she sent the message, she’d been full of anger and anxiety. But Jade hadn’t responded—not to that message or to Holly’s later apology—and now she worried her young roommate had gotten in over her head. Holly already had enough guilt for one lifetime.

She kept checking her phone while Gail absent-mindedly flipped through Holly’s copy of Meow Mindfulness. Having tired of the ball game, Chester had slunk off to another room.

“Do you know what happened to Conrad’s wife—Elizabeth Ward?” Holly asked.

Gail had her face buried in the book. “Did you know people believe the frequency of a cat’s purr has healing qualities?” She peeked over the top of the cover. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Elizabeth Ward, Conrad’s wife. Do you know what happened to her?”