Hotshot P.i.. B.J. Daniels
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She looked into his eyes, wondering what had happened to the boy she’d loved, the boy who had loved her. She saw nothing in all that gray but bitterness. But instead of hating him, her heart broke as she thought of all the years he’d suffered. Because of his father. Because of her. Jake should have trusted her. He should have known she wouldn’t lie, she wouldn’t hurt him or his father, and she wouldn’t have thrown away their love without a fight, the way Jake had.
“In the meantime,” Jake said, “you and I are going to be inseparable until you’re acquitted—or sent to prison.”
She bit back a curse. “You’re making prison look better all the time.”
His gaze met hers. “I think I know why you lied about my father, but no matter the reason, you’re going to admit it to me. And very soon.” He touched the brim of his baseball cap. “See you in the morning.”
She slammed the door and dropped into a chair at the table, feeling incredibly tired and despondent. Aunt Kiki had brought Jake back knowing how he felt about Clancy, knowing how she’d once felt about him. That old familiar ache seized her heart in a death grip. How Clancy still felt about him.
Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down over her cheeks, bitter on her tongue. She wiped at them. She still loved him. Through all the hurt, she’d never stopped loving him. Could never stop loving him. But like him, she felt betrayed. And angry with him for not trusting her. She knew she’d have to draw on that anger to keep Jake from knowing how she felt about him—and using it against her.
Emotional exhaustion and lack of solid sleep stole at her strength. She leaned her head on her arms and closed her eyes, telling herself she’d rest for a while, just until she could be sure Jake was asleep. Crossing the lake at night seemed less dangerous now. Much less dangerous than facing Jake Hawkins. If there was more incriminating evidence out there against her, Jake would find it.
She wished with all her heart that she could turn back the clock, back before the night of the fire and Lola’s murder, back when Jake loved her. She closed her eyes. And saw Jake come sauntering up the sandy beach, sixteen and suntanned, that grin she loved on his handsome face. And she ran out to meet him, as carefree as the breeze that rippled the surface of the lake.
* * *
CLANCY OPENED HER EYES, shocked to find the sun streaming in through her bedroom window. Even more shocked to find herself curled in the middle of her bed, the quilt rough with sand from her bare feet. She lay perfectly still, her mind frantically trying to recall when she’d come to bed. No memory.
That’s when she noticed her left hand clenched into a fist, as if she held something that might try to escape. With dread, she slowly uncurled her fingers. There in her palm lay a single tiny blue bead.
Her heart pounded. There was nothing unusual or unique about the bead. Except Clancy knew where it had come from. With a tremor of terror she remembered Friday night when Dex had called and demanded she meet him at the Hawk Island Cafe on the other side of the island.
He’d been holding a necklace of colored beads when she’d walked up to him. The outdoor café was empty that late at night and that early in the season. Dex sat at a table in a flickering pool of light from the Japanese lanterns strung overhead. She had looked at the necklace with growing dread, thinking it was another present, wishing she hadn’t agreed to meet him.
He must have seen the expression on her face, because he gave a bitter laugh as she took a seat across from him.
“Don’t worry, it’s not for you,” he’d said, holding up the string of beads for her to see. With a jolt she realized she’d seen it somewhere before. The tiny beads were pale blue. A handmade ceramic heart hung from the center of the necklace. It was painted navy with a smaller pink heart in the middle.
“Where did you get that?” Clancy asked, trying to remember where she’d seen it before.
“It’s part of my mother’s legacy,” Dex said.
His mother? “What are you doing here?” Clancy demanded, wishing she’d never come, wondering how he’d even known where to find her. She’d never told him about the family’s lake lodge. When she’d broken it off with him in Bozeman, she’d thought she’d never see him again. She felt a chill as she watched him hold the necklace up to the light and smile.
“What do you want, Dex?” Clancy asked with dread.
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “You’re part of that legacy, Clancy.”
She felt her fear level rise. How could she not have seen this side of him from the very start? “I thought we’d agreed not to see each other again.”
“We agreed?” He reached across the table and grabbed her arm, squeezing it until she cried out in pain.
“Leave me alone, Dex. I’m warning you—”
He squeezed harder. “If you think you’ve seen the last of me you’re—” He looked past her, seeing something that made his eyes widen. He released her arm almost involuntarily. She turned to look but saw nothing in the darkness beyond the café.
He lowered his voice. “I’m not leaving this island, Clancy. Not until I get what I deserve.” He’d hurried off, leaving her sitting, head reeling, wondering what he’d seen in the darkness that seemed to frighten him. And what Dex thought he deserved.
Just hours later, he’d turned up dead in her garret.
Now she stared at the tiny bead in her palm, knowing this had to be one of the beads from the necklace. Apprehension rippled through her as she stared at her sandy feet. Something had triggered her night wanderings again. And she couldn’t seem to stop them. Now she’d returned from sleepwalking with a single bead from a broken strand. When had it been broken? And where had she found this one blue bead? Even more frightening, how had she known where to look?
She slid her legs over the side of the bed and staggered into the bathroom. As she dropped the bead into the toilet and flushed, she watched it disappear with growing terror. She couldn’t keep kidding herself. Like the broken string of tiny blue beads, her life was coming unraveled.
Chapter Three
Clancy glanced warily across the bay at Jake Hawkins’s lodge. The shades were drawn; she could catch no sign of movement behind them. The blue outboard was still moored at his dock, a boat she assumed he’d rented to get to the island. She looked at her watch, surprised to find it was earlier than she’d thought. Then she turned her gaze again to Jake’s lodge across the small bay. The coast looked clear. She picked up the overnight bag and her purse and opened the back door, expecting Jake to suddenly appear and block her escape.
As she stepped out onto the small back porch, she glanced apprehensively behind the lodge. While she found no one hiding in the lilac bushes that brushed the back side of the building, she did see something that stopped her cold. Slowly she put down her purse and overnight bag and moved toward the first lilac bush. Some of the branches along the lodge side of the bush had been broken. They hadn’t been yesterday afternoon when she’d returned from jail. She was sure of it. She’d stopped on the porch to dig out her key and picked up the sweet scent of the lilacs, now in full bloom. And she wondered where she’d be this