Swept Away: A Squeaky Clean Honeymoon Novella (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 12) (9 page)

“Why would you think that?” Alastair splayed his hands on the marble countertop as he stared at me like a pit bull about to attack.

If he thought he was going to intimidate me with that stance, he was wrong. I’d faced giants before, and I had no plans of backing down now.

Copying him, I splayed my hands on the counter and stared back at him. “Because whoever is behind this knows too much about the operations of your show. Because someone was close enough to you to grab your phone and send a text message. Who gave Joey her phone anyway?”

Alastair frowned and backed off, crossing his arms. I’d gotten through to him, I realized. I made him see my perspective. That was half the battle sometimes.

“I did,” Alastair said. “I gave Joey her phone back, though it’s supposed to be against the rules. I thought it might make her feel safer about her stay here.”

“Did you send that text message?” I asked.

He gawked. “No. Of course not. I don’t know why my name popped up on her screen.”

I stepped back and set my jaw. I knew what I had to do, and I had to do it now before anyone else got hurt.

“I’ve got to call Chief Yeller and tell him my theory,” I announced. “The bad guys could have been right under your nose this whole time.”

* * *

W
ord spread quickly
around town and around the cast and crew of
Looking for Love
about what was happening. The police were currently searching the rental home where Elite Security was staying. The guys had willingly let them inside, but each of them sent death looks at Riley and me as we stood on the lawn outside their place.

We weren’t the only ones there. Alastair had also come, and several locals joined the crowd.

Could this be where Vivian was being held? Was Elite behind this the whole time? And what did all of this have to do with Joey, if anything? Perhaps Skip had hired Elite to nab Joey after she’d escaped him. Only Elite had grabbed the wrong person.

The pieces were on the verge of fitting together, but they weren’t quite there yet.

“What do you think they’ll find?” Riley whispered. He stood beside me with his arms crossed. A brisk wind swept over the landscape, bringing with it tiny pieces of sand that irritated my skin in perfect harmony with my sunburn.

I saw some storm clouds in the distance and realized that rain was on its way. That would be sure to clear out the unwanted gawkers here. Of course, I supposed that included Riley and me.

“I’m not sure,” I finally told Riley. “I hope it’s Vivian. Although, I keep thinking about that blood that Homer told us he found on the side of the boat. I hope that doesn’t mean she’s hurt . . . or worse.”

“I agree.”

I stared at the house again. It was large, white, and covered in shingles. It had the same charm as the rest of the houses in the area, with its massive size yet cozy beach feel. Two Jeeps were parked out front, and I noted some beer cans in the flowerbeds.

Elite had been partying while they were here. It seemed like a lot of people did that. But a respectable PI firm should stay sober while on the job. In my book they should, at least.

“When we were out on the boat yesterday with Larry, we followed the men in that other boat, and they disappeared somewhere around this side of the island,” I whispered to Riley. “It could have been here.”

“I suppose it’s a possibility. There is a boathouse in the back.”

Chief Yeller exited the house at that moment and motioned to his officers and then to the men from Elite. They immediately pulled out handcuffs and arrested the PIs.

I sucked in a quick breath. What exactly had they found inside? Obviously, not Vivian because she was nowhere to be seen.

Oh no—please tell me they didn’t find Vivian’s dead body. Please.

I kept watching, waiting for a sign of what had happened. I held my breath. Prayed.

Yeller sauntered up to us a few minutes later, after the Elite guys were placed in the back of two police cruisers. “Good work, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas. We found a ransom video on one of the computers inside. Vivian was on it. We’re taking them in, hoping with the right pressure they’ll tell us where Vivian is.”

“Really?” I asked.

I didn’t know why the question slipped out. I guess, in part, that seemed too easy. I’d expected more of a search, of a struggle.

“Really. My men are going to stay here and look for more evidence. We’ll keep you abreast.”

Alastair was on the phone in the distance. He paced, looking furious that someone he’d hired was involved. A camera crew in the background filmed it.

Maybe he wasn’t
that
furious, after all. Maybe this was all for show. I could never tell around these guys.

“Your hunch was right,” Riley said. “Maybe we’ll have some answers soon.”

“We can only hope.” There was still one thing that bothered me. These men weren’t here on the first night when Vivian was abducted. How did they know the ladies were going outside?

Just then, Wally sidled up beside us. His face looked drawn and tight. Maybe everything was starting to get to him. After all, he was the one who always had to put on a cheery face, not only for the cast in the house but also for the viewers at home.

He leaned closer. “There’s something I think you need to know,” he whispered. “It’s about Alastair.”

I glanced at Riley before asking, “What?”

He scanned the crowds. “I can’t tell you here. Follow me.”

My blood spiked. Had he found something? Did he know something that we didn’t?

We followed him across the yard, away from any listening ears. The clouds were over us now, making the atmosphere feel ominous. It was already late—nearly seven. Darkness would be falling soon.

As we rounded the side of the house, just out of sight, Wally turned. He had a gun in his hand. Pointed at us.

He was a part of this? He’d been the inside source this whole time, hadn’t he?

“I’m sorry, guys,” he muttered, sweat scattered across his forehead. “You were never supposed to get involved in this, though.”

“
W
ally
, you don’t have to do this,” I told him.

“I wish I didn’t. But I do.” He wiped his forehead and gulped in shallow breaths.

“We can just walk away right now and pretend none of this happened,” I told him.

The gun trembled in his hands. “I can’t walk away. Can’t you see?”

“Why are you doing this?” Riley nudged me behind him just as a big, fat drop of rain landed on my arm.

Thunder rumbled overhead as if God himself was warning us of bad things to come.

“We don’t have time to talk. I need you to get in the boat. It’s in the boathouse. No one will see us. We can finish this there.”

“But—” I started.

He raised his gun higher. “No buts. We don’t have time for this. You need to move.”

“What are you going to do with us?” I asked as we walked toward the bay, our hands raised in the air.

“That remains to be seen.” He wiped his forehead again. “I’m hoping it looks like you two were swept out to sea.”

He was nervous. Like, really, really nervous. But why?

“There’s a storm coming,” Riley said. “You don’t want to be out on the water.”

“That’s why I’m not going to be. You both will be, though. Now move.” I felt something jam into my back. The gun.

We had no choice but to continue walking. As we did, I glanced over at the house next door. No one could see us. The house was angled in just the right way to conceal us.

What were we going to do?

“Please, Wally. Can’t we just work this through?” I said, afraid if we got in that boat that we’d never be seen again.

He didn’t say anything for a moment and then shook his head frantically. “It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late,” Riley said.

“Look,” he paused, his chest heaving. Not from exertion. We weren’t walking that fast. So why was he so anxious? “I don’t have a choice in this.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. His words caused me to pause. What did that mean?

“You’re what’s called collateral damage. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t. But I’ve been ordered to get rid of you two. You’re too much of a risk.”

“Who ordered you to get rid of us?” I asked.

He glanced around. “It’s a long story. Now into the boathouse. We don’t have any time to waste.”

As soon as we stepped into the boathouse, I knew I had my chance. I swung my leg, and it connected with Wally’s gun. Wally was many things, but he wasn’t a fighter. At least, that was what I was counting on.

The gun flew in the air and slid across the pier before finally plopping into the water below. Thank goodness. But this battle wasn’t over yet.

Riley charged toward Wally, tackling him. They both flew into the wall. The whole building shook with the impact.

I held my breath as I watched, wanting to step in. But as arms and fists flew, I had no way of inserting myself. Not yet, at least.

Wally smashed his elbow back, hitting Riley in the stomach. Riley only hunched in pain for a moment before getting a second wind. He grabbed Wally, twisted him around, and put him in a headlock.

“Please. Stop. Please.” Wally struggled for breath and clawed at Riley’s arms. “They have my wife.”

Riley’s grip loosened. “What are you talking about? You have five seconds to explain.”

“Please! Those men grabbed my wife. They said if I told anyone, that she’d die. I had to go along with their plan or they’d kill her. I don’t mean you any harm. I promise I don’t.”

His words washed over me until my pulse pounded in my ears. “It’s Joey’s ex-boyfriend, isn’t it? He’s behind all of this.”

Wally’s eyes widened. “How’d you know?”

“It’s all starting to come together.”

“Skip cornered me on my front lawn before we left for Florida and told me to hire Elite, probably to throw the authorities off his trail. He came to me last week when he discovered Joey was on the show. I guess as soon as her name popped up on the show’s website, he panicked. He had some kind of alert system in place in case her name ever came up online.”

“You overheard Joey and Vivian were going to meet?” I asked.

He nodded. “I did.”

“What about that ransom video?”

“I planted it on their computer when I knew the guys from Elite were out.”

“So Elite was a scapegoat this whole time,” I muttered.

“I told Alastair my friend suggested them. Skip was pulling the strings, though. He knew they’d be perfect for framing.”

“Where are these guys now, Wally?” Riley asked.

“I’m not sure. I just know they’re going to grab Joey the first chance they can get. She knows too much, and Skip is afraid she’ll spill the beans on his operation.”

“We’ve got to find them before they get Joey,” I muttered. “Now.”

“What about me? My wife? Please. You can’t just let her die.”

I bit down hard. He was right. There was more than one life on the line here. This situation would have to be handled carefully.

* * *

T
hirty minutes later
, we had a plan. It may have been a stupid plan, but I hoped it would work because it was all we had.

As darkness fell and the storm raged around us, Wally had sent a small rowboat out into the bay. The vessel was empty, but the men who had his wife wouldn’t know that. Not yet, at least.

Wally had taken a picture of Riley and me lying inside the boat, looking dead. He’d send that photo to Skip as proof that he’d finished us off. Skip would hopefully assume that our bodies were swept out to sea in the storm.

Wally had also promised that he would go back to the house and look after Joey. He assured us he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, which meant she couldn’t be alone and she would never go out on the beach by herself. I hoped he was as good as his word because if Skip found her, I feared she would end up dead.

Meanwhile, Riley and I had darted through yards and behind trees in an effort to disappear. And by disappear, I mean we’d gone to Larry’s house. He’d told us where he lived while we were on the boat yesterday. It was a condominium near the causeway leading to the island.

By the time we got there, we were soaked. And cold. And sandy.

Thankfully, Larry had been awake when we got there, even though it was still dark outside. He’d agreed to go along with our plan, which involved him starting a rumor that our bodies had washed ashore in the wee hours of morning. All he had to do was start the gossip chain down at Erma’s, and it would spread through the locals in town.

“You really think we can pull this off?” Riley asked as we sat on Larry’s couch drinking some coffee as morning approached. Another night with no sleep had left us both exhausted and running on caffeine and adrenaline.

“I hope so. Let me see that picture one more time.”

Riley pulled out his phone. Wally had forwarded us a text Skip had sent him. It was a photo of his wife, Cheryl, bound and gagged, with the message, “Do it or she dies” beneath it.

Chilling, really. Especially when I saw Cheryl’s eyes, which looked big with fright in the shadowed picture. Her hands were bound to the arms of a wooden chair. The wall behind her was old, rough wood.

I stared at the picture, trying to ascertain any clues possible about it. The window in the background was my best hope.

“Can you blow the picture up a little more?” I asked Riley.

He stretched it larger, focusing in on the window. “Do you see something?”

“If you look at it, it almost appears that’s the causeway in the background,” I muttered. “It’s faint, but it’s there. What do you think?”

He studied it a moment. “You could be right. You think they have her here on Crystal Key?”

“It’s a possibility worth examining. We never asked where she was snatched. Even if it wasn’t Florida, maybe they hauled her here with them. Guys like that, they have resources. They could have chartered their own plane.”

Just then, the front door opened, and Larry and Leonard stepped inside. They had two plates in hand.

“We told Erma this breakfast was for us,” Leonard said. “We just wanted it to go. I hoped you didn’t think we’d be cooking for you.”

“Not at all,” I told them.

Leonard plopped the food on the table in front of us. “Well, here you go. Eat up.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Riley said.

“Course we did,” Larry said. “We start a rumor you’ve died and then you’re found starved in this condo? I want to spend my last days fishing, not in some jail.”

“I can’t argue that,” I said.

I pulled the foil back from the plate, and the scent of eggs, bacon, and homemade fries drifted up toward me. My stomach grumbled. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

“How did the rumor starting go?” Riley asked.

Leonard nodded. “Not too bad. Everyone believes it right now. It won’t take long for people to start talking to Old Yeller, though. Then they’ll know the truth.”

“Guys, are there any secluded houses on this island?” I asked. “Any places that are off the beaten path, probably bayside?”

Larry thought about it a moment before nodding. “I suppose there are a couple of places that were purchased back before this was a retirement hotspot. I heard property used to be dirt cheap here back in the day. Anyway, there’s supposedly an old fishing cabin out by the Preserve.”

“Where’s the Preserve?” I asked.

“Midway on the island, bayside,” Larry said. “It’s mostly mangrove and banyan trees. But if you turn down this shell-lined driveway and keep going, you’ll eventually find what we call the Homestead.”

“Does anyone live there?” Riley asked.

“I understand you can rent it,” Leonard said. “Most people come here wanting luxurious. This place is anything but. Not normal for this community at all.”

I turned to Riley. “We need to go there.”

“It’s a bit far to walk,” Larry said.

“Walking could be a problem anyway because we’re supposed to be dead,” Riley said. “We can’t exactly go get our car and drive there either.”

“You can take my golf cart,” Larry said.

“Your golf cart?” I repeated.

He nodded. “Put some Hawaiian shirts on. We’ll give you a couple of fishing caps. Go fast enough and everyone in town will assume they’re seeing me and Leonard.”

“Are you sure?” I questioned.

Leonard nodded. “Mark our words.”

* * *

W
e’d given
strict instructions to Larry and Leonard that if we weren’t back in an hour to call Old Yeller and explain to him what was going on. Perhaps we should have called the police chief first, but since investigating that house last night had been a false alarm, I figured we wanted to be certain before crying wolf.

I felt ridiculous in the oversized Hawaiian shirt that smelled like Brylcreem. I’d pulled my hair back into a fishing cap and donned some sunglasses. Riley had done the same—minus the hair. We were a sight.

At least the loose clothing didn’t irritate my skin.

“You really think Cheryl and Vivian could be here?” Riley asked as we cruised down the road.

“We won’t know unless we look.” I pointed in the distance. “I think that’s where we turn.”

The directions had been sketchy. Go past a big blue house then follow the woods past two palm trees, and you’ll find a small forest of banyan trees. Turn at the first driveway and travel until you reach the mangrove trees at the end.

Not only was I potentially finding a bad guy, but I was also getting a botany lesson in the process.

Riley slowed as we approached a small road that was hidden among the trees and other tropical vegetation I couldn’t identify.

Leonard’s final warning echoed in my head: Watch out for rattlesnakes.

Not comforting.

As we saw a clearing at the end of the road, we slowed. Riley slipped the golf cart between some trees, and we started the rest of the way on foot. There was no need to announce our arrival.

Finally, a small cabin came into sight. Larry and Leonard were right: the place was a dump compared to the rest of the homes on the island. Definitely one of the originals.

“This could be the spot,” Riley muttered. “The wood on the outside walls looks the same as the photo of Cheryl, and even from here I can see the causeway in the background.”