Sunset Beach(52)

Jonah Kelleher stepped out from behind his coworker, holding up a six-pack of craft beer. “And some emergency beverages?”

“Oh,” Drue said, taken aback.

“You forgot I was coming to work on your car today, didn’t you?” Ben said.

“It kinda slipped my mind, but I’m so glad it didn’t slip yours,” Drue said, tugging at the hem of the shrunken T-shirt she’d thrown on first thing that morning, trying to cover the exposed skin of her abdomen above her gym shorts. She gazed past Ben at Jonah. “What are you doing here?”

Jonah’s face flushed. “Ben asked me to give him a hand.”

Both men wore grease-stained T-shirts and jeans. “We had to take a starter out of a wrecked car at the junkyard. It’s kind of a two-man job,” Ben said.

“Right,” Drue said hastily. “Do you want to come in?”

“Nope,” Ben said. “We just need your car keys, so we can get started.”



* * *



Drue typed the name Larry Boone into the search bar of her phone and waited. Thirty-two entries appeared. She sighed. If she was going to track down the man who’d harassed Lutrisha Smallwood, and possibly Jazmin, she really needed a laptop computer. That would go on her wish list, right after a new roof for the cottage.

She went back to the search engine and redefined her search, narrowing the location to St. Petersburg, Florida, and this time netting only five names.

One by one, she discarded the possibilities until she came to a Larry Boone who’d been named employee of the month at a local hardware store in 2018.

The citation was from a newspaper in Brooksville, a small town about an hour north of St. Pete. The story was accompanied by a photo of the man. This Larry Boone was white, balding, with a generous paunch and a dark eighties-porn-star mustache.

Drue gazed down at the tiny photo. Could this be Scary Larry?

She cursed herself for not asking Lutrisha Smallwood for her phone number. Then she pulled out a new index card and jotted down what little information she had from the article. Now what? Should she just call and ask for Larry Boone? What if he came to the phone? What would she say?

Before she could further ponder her line of questioning, she heard the front door opening.

“Drue?”

It was Jonah.

He had his head stuck inside the door. His hands and face were smeared with grease, and sweat dripped from his hair. “Hey, can I use the bathroom?”

“Come on in,” she said. He followed her through the living room and she gestured toward the bathroom. “Wait right here,” she said. A moment later she was back with a roll of paper towels.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping his hands on a wadded-up towel.

“I’m in the kitchen if you need me,” she told him.



* * *



Jonah appeared in the kitchen doorway a few minutes later. “This house is really awesome. It reminds me of my aunt and uncle’s house at Rehoboth Beach.”

She looked up from her notecards, trying not to act annoyed at the interruption. She reminded herself that he and Ben were doing her a huge favor.

“Rehoboth Beach?”

“In Delaware. My rich uncle was a lawyer in D.C. They had a house down the shore, as they called it, and they’d invite my family for a week every summer. My sisters and I looked forward to that all year round. For that one week, we thought we were rich too.”

“I stayed here with my grandparents for two weeks every summer for as long as I can remember,” Drue said softly. “Even after my mom and I moved over to Lauderdale, I’d come back here to Sunset Beach every year.” She looked around the kitchen, at the toast crumbs on the yellow Formica countertop, and the faded daisy-print valance over the sink window. “I still can’t quite believe that they’re gone and it’s really mine now.”

“It’s cool that everything’s so original. Especially all the wood walls. It’s solid, you know? My crappy little garage apartment in town is all Sheetrock. I hate Sheetrock. You bump up against a wall and it’s instantly gouged.”

Drue felt herself thawing despite her own stern resolve to keep her distance from him.

“So, did you grow up in Florida? I assumed you did, since you went to UF.”

“For law school,” he said. “I’m originally from Seneca, South Carolina. I got my undergrad degree there.”

“Where? Clemson? South Carolina?”

“I wish,” he said, flashing a lopsided grin. “No, I went to a dinky community college so I could live at home. I’ve got twin sisters who were only a year younger than me, so paying tuition for three was a stretch for my parents.”

“How’s it going with the car?” Drue asked. “Do you think the new starter is going to do the trick?”

“We’re almost there,” Jonah said. “Ben went to pick up some lunch for all of us.”

“What? No. I was going to buy lunch,” Drue said.

“Too late.” He paused, looking hopeful. “Is it okay if I look around?”

“There’s not much to see,” Drue said, leading him into the hallway. “You’ve seen my pink bathroom,” she said, gesturing toward the open door.

“My aunt’s bathroom had a mint green toilet, sink and tub,” Jonah said.