Sunset Beach(73)

“It kinda is,” Brice said, looking sheepish. “I’ve been seeing her. Like a lot.”

“What does Sherri think about that?”

“She knows I’m taking night classes, but I told her I’m meeting with a study group on Thursday nights.”

Zee chuckled. “But instead you’re studying Colleen Hicks?”

“I feel like I’m losing my mind. And she’s definitely lost hers. I had no idea just how crazy that girl is. Now she’s saying the only way she can leave her husband is if she just disappears.”

“Like, poof, she’s in the wind?”

“That’s her plan. And she wants me to help. They’ve been saving up to buy a house. Her plan is to empty the savings account and hop a Greyhound to Atlanta. She’ll assume a new identity and start a new life.”

“Where do you fit into this crazy-ass scheme?”

“She wants me to help her disappear, get her a fake ID. She really wants me to go with her too.”

“You’d do that?”

“Hell no,” Brice said. “Leave Sherri? My job? Give up my plans? If I help her, go with her, I’m a fugitive. What’s that do to my plan to go to law school?”

“You think Sherri knows what’s going on? She’s not stupid.”

“I think maybe she suspects. She kicked me out of the house the week before Christmas—that first night I was with Colleen. She only took me back, Christmas morning, after I swore I was through cheating. Now she watches me like a hawk.”

Brice shook another cigarette out of the pack of Salems with shaking hands. “I think I’m just gonna do it. Get the fake ID. It’s not that hard. Every teenager in town has one.”

“I don’t like it.” Zee shook his head vehemently. “What if her disappearing act blows up? And it comes back on you? The department would can you in a minute. I say you let this chick do what she’s gonna do. She can’t make you help her.”

“Colleen already admitted she went and saw Sherri, at the real estate office. Pretending she wanted to rent a house. And I’ve seen her drive past the house at night a couple times.”

Zee didn’t say anything. Just shook his head.

“I’m worried that if I don’t help her, she’ll go to Sherri. Tell her we’ve been hitting the sheets at the Dreamland every Thursday night…”

“The Dreamland? That dump? Are you shitting me?”

“What can I tell you? She gets off on the place.”

“Let me get this straight. She’s stalking you, stalking Sherri. Making threats?”

Brice leaned back in the booth, avoiding his friend’s direct gaze. “Yeah, I know. I feel like I’m living a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

“Let me talk to her,” Zee said. “Make her see that she just needs to walk away and not look back. Forget she ever met you. No reason to ruin both your lives.”

“No. I’m already in over my head. I don’t want to get you involved.”

“I’m already involved. I was with you the night we broke up that fight at the motel. I went along with not filing a report, remember?”

Brice knocked back the rest of his scotch.

“When are you supposed to see her again?”

“This Thursday night. At the Dreamland. Nine o’clock, after my class gets out.”

“How do you usually work it?” Zee asked.

“I know the guy at the desk. He gives me the room, you know, ’cause he likes the idea of a police cruiser on the property. In case there’s any trouble.”

“Great.” Zee rolled his eyes. “Accepting gifts from a citizen in return for protection. You really have lost your mind.”

“I know,” Brice moaned. “But I can’t exactly put it on a credit card. Sherri pays the bills. And I don’t have the extra cash.”

“Okay, forget it. Is it the same room every time?”

“Yeah. Room eight. The owner’s name is Harold. Just go to the desk and tell him I sent you. He’s cool.”

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You go right home after your class. And I mean right home. Tell Sherri study group was canceled. I’ll have a chat with Colleen. Let her know you can’t help her anymore. And she should stop calling you and stop riding by your house.”

“You don’t know her,” Brice said. “She’s not gonna give up that easy.”

“Colleen don’t know Zee. But Zee knows lots of crazy girls like Colleen,” Zee said. “Don’t worry about it, bro. It’s handled.”





35


When she left Coquina Cottage to go to work Wednesday morning, Drue found a plain white business envelope containing a plastic flash drive on OJ’s passenger seat. There was no note, but she was sure it was the video from the security cameras at Gulf Vista, taken the night of Jazmin’s murder. “Thanks, Detective Hernandez,” she whispered.

But there was no opportunity to watch the video on her computer at work. Another new ad campaign had launched over the weekend, this one aimed at motorists who’d been involved in accidents with long-haul truckers.

The file box of medical receipts had disappeared from her cubicle, and there were no ominous sticky notes, so she gladly donned her headset again.