My Killer Vacation(34)

“Thank you in advance for scaring off all the fish!”

The door rattles on the hinges in the wake of his departure.

“Oh my God.” Jude falls back in his chair, face wreathed in amusement. “The sexual tension between you two has escalated. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“There is no…” My shoulders slump. I pretend to cry. “Fine. I know.”

“Maybe it’s the perfect vacation fling,” he points out with his fork. “You don’t even like each other. There’s no chance of anyone getting attached.”

A motorcycle engine cranks to life outside, accelerates, roars off down the block.

And then it’s gone altogether.

“Yeah.” I force a smile. “It’s perfect.”

I’m standing at the sink a few minutes later scrubbing down the breakfast dishes, when there’s a knock at the door. I trade a surprised look with Jude, who is still sitting at the table scrolling through his phone. “I’ll get it,” he says.

I draw a butcher knife out of the wooden block on the counter. “I’ll come with you.”

Jude muffles a laugh with his hand. “You could never in a million years use that for anything but chopping onions.”

“I could nick someone,” I whisper back. “Long enough to stun them and run.”

He ruffles my hair, tugs me into his side and we approach the door together. When we reach the entrance, he leans in and looks through the peephole, rocking back on his heels with a lot less tension in his frame. “It’s a woman. Young. I don’t recognize her.”

I take a turn looking through the hole. “Hmm. Can we help you?” I call through the door while making a stabbing motion with the knife. Jude’s shoulders shake with silent mirth.

“Yes! Hi!” the woman answers brightly. “I have a quick question about the recent murder that took place across the street. Could you help me out?”

“What is your question?”

She hesitates. “I don’t really feel comfortable doing this through the door.”

I shrug at my brother. He shrugs back. “Two of us. One of her,” he whispers. “Plus you’re packing.”

“Right.” I turn the lock. “Okay, we’re coming out.”

As soon as the door opens, a man steps into view.

With a camera on his shoulder.

The woman produces a microphone from behind her back and holds it in front of my face. “Is it true that you are the one who discovered the body?”

I blink at my reflection in the camera lens. “Um…”

With a curse, Jude herds me back into the house and slams the door. But not before the reporter can fire off a second question. “Our sources tell us someone threw a buoy through your window last night. Is it true you’re being targeted?”

Jude turns the lock.

We slowly back away from the door.

“Targeted,” I snort. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

“So extreme,” Jude confirms. Then, “Right, T?”

I haven’t really taken the time to process the repercussions of the buoy being chucked through the window, but having it laid out in such stark terms has my stomach bubbling.

“Let’s fail to mention this to the bounty hunter. Just in case he’s not thrilled about us appearing on a camera that was definitely rolling,” I suggest, setting the knife down on the closest surface. “It’s probably not a big deal. It’s not like we answered her.”

My brother’s laugh turns into a gulp. “Right.”

“Maybe we should go before he comes back.”

“You read my mind.”





Chapter 10





Myles





* * *




Needless to say, I’m not in a great mood when I pull into the parking lot of Something is Fishy Snorkel ‘n’ Fun. Taylor’s car is here, along with two other ones I don’t recognize. I already hate whoever is driving them.

They left without me.

I returned from downtown and her car was gone. It took me under ten seconds to jimmy the lock on the back door and it was a real delight to find a random butcher knife just sitting out in the open, nobody around to ask for an explanation. My heartburn is acting up like a son of a bitch. I’m convinced my antacids have been replaced with placebo. I should be investigating Oscar Stanley’s murder and instead, I’m chasing a second grade teacher all over Cape fucking Cod. Because the possibility of her in potential danger has me in a headlock.

And because she’s a suspect, too, I’m forced to remind myself.

I’m definitely not stomping across the beach in steel-toed boots because the idea of her in a bathing suit in front of other men gives me a splitting headache.

That has nothing to do with it.

I prove myself a liar almost immediately. Taylor comes into view down in the cove—in bikini bottoms and a rash guard—smiling and nodding at the instructor like an A-plus student. Beside the instructor there are four other men present. Jude is here, thankfully. I don’t mind her brother. He seems decent. But there is some dude, I’m guessing it’s MBA Ryan, who looks a lot more interested in Taylor’s body than he is in the body of water behind him, and the burn shoots into my throat like a geyser.