Swept Away: A Squeaky Clean Honeymoon Novella (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 12) (4 page)

N
o sooner had
Old Yeller left than did Wally appear on the sand below. He watched the chief leave, an almost amused look in his eyes.

“You get to talk to the police again?” he said from down below. “Lucky you.”

“I suppose,” Riley said. “What can we do for you?”

He squinted up at us, still sporting that
Miami Vice
vibe in his sports coat and sunglasses. “Do you mind if I come up for a minute? Or would you both come down?”

“We’ll be right there,” Riley said, before muttering to me, “What’s one more interruption to our trip?”

I could tell he was getting frustrated, and I felt badly about it. He’d worked hard to plan this, and nothing seemed to be working out as he’d envisioned.

We met Wally at the back door.

“Everything okay?” Wally pulled his sunglasses down on his nose as he looked back-and-forth from Riley to me. “I saw the police activity outside.”

“Just a little break-in,” I said.

His eyebrows shot up. “Break-in? Maybe we should do a better job scouting our locations for
Looking for Love
. I feel like we should be filming
CSI
or one of those other crime dramas. Anyway, I wanted to know if you’d had a chance to look at that contract I left yesterday . . .”

I couldn’t hold my tongue. “You’re still worried about that? One of your contestants is missing!”

He put on an overly animated expression of sorrow. “Of course, we’re concerned about Vivian. Deeply concerned. We’re doing everything we can to get her back. But we also have a business here. Time is money when you’re working on these shows, and we’re already over budget. Ricky’s agent knows how to get a good cash advance.”

“He has an agent?” I asked. “So he’s an actor, not some guy off the street who wants to find his soul mate?”

I really shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact. It was just that I’d only recently started to believe in love again, and I hated to see people being fooled by cheap imitations of the real thing.

Wally scoffed. “No, of course not. He’s looking for love.”

I doubted that. I wondered how many of the women were also actresses. Reality TV wasn’t grounded in any reality at all.

“I’m surprised you’re still filming,” I said, not ready to let this drop.

“We’re not. Not right now. We’re going dark for at least twenty-four hours to be respectful.”

“And after that?”

“After that, we’ll have to see. Vivian would want the show to go on.”

Uh huh.
I was sure she would. I mean, most reasonable people would want others to forget about them and what happened to them after a dramatic abduction in which there was no resolution. I kept my sarcasm at bay.

“How’s Joey?” I asked, remembering how upset she’d seemed.

His jaw flexed. “Joey’s hanging in. We brought in a masseuse to help the ladies cope.”

“A masseuse? What about a counselor?” Riley asked.

“Oh, one of those too.
Of course.
But to these women . . . everything is better with some wine, pampering, and a lot of air time.” He let out a clipped laugh before clapping his hands. “So, about those release forms . . .”

I shook my head. Riley and I hadn’t even talked about it—we’d all but forgotten about them with the excitement—but the answer was a no brainer, and I felt certain Riley would agree. “We’re not signing. I don’t want to be connected with this show in any way, shape, or form.”

“Are you sure? There could be some compensation involved . . .” His voice lilted upward, as if money might tempt us.

“We’re not interested,” Riley confirmed. “Especially not now that a woman is missing.”

He stared at us another moment before nodding coldly. “Your loss.”

As we watched him walk away, a cold, hard stone seemed to form in my gut.

If that was show business, I wanted no part of it.

* * *

A
fter Wally left
, Riley and I walked down to the general market and bought a few groceries for the week. We came home, ate lunch—sandwiches—and then we headed out to the beach.

The owner had left beachy items—chairs, umbrellas, and inner tubes. We enjoyed the water for a while before drying off in the sun. Riley had brought a Tom Clancy novel to read, and I’d picked up a magazine at the store. It was
Star Touch
, one of those gossipy tabloids. It wasn’t usually my first choice in reading, but this issue just happened to be all about
Looking for Love
.

As the sun warmed my skin, I turned over on my blanket and stared at the pictures of the various contestants. My gaze went to Vivian first. She was classically beautiful with an upturned nose, dark hair swept back from her face, and a slender build. The article listed her as a flight attendant who was twenty-four years old and from Southern California.

Beside her was Joey’s photo. She was a twenty-five-year-old schoolteacher who enjoyed small town fairs, cow-tipping, and tractor races. She came from a large family and loved dogs.

I scanned the rest of the contestants. As typical for these shows, the producers had cast a tomboy, the life of the party, the sweetheart, and the older woman.

The bulk of the article was about the show’s star, Ricky Stamos. Ricky owned a successful bar in Texas. He was thirty-two years old, and he’d never been married. He had a movie-star smile, and, just looking at his pictures, I could tell he had swagger.

“Anything interesting?” Riley asked, putting his book down for a minute.

“Not really. Just trying to relax.”

He looked over my shoulder. “By reading about the show being filmed next door?”

I shrugged. “Coincidental.”

His “uh huh” clearly stated that he didn’t believe me.

“The first episode comes on tonight . . .” I added.

He pulled down his sunglasses. “Please don’t tell me you want to watch it.”

“You don’t?” I batted my lashes innocently.

“It will only build your interest in this case.”

I shook my head, trying to convince myself as much as I wanted to convince him. “No interest. You’re crazy.”

He gave me another skeptical, “Uh huh.”

I turned back to the magazine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to soak up some sun.”

“Do you need more sunscreen?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he asked. “I’ve heard it’s easier to get burned the farther south you go.”

I waved him off. “I grew up at the beach. I’m fine.”

Just because I had fair skin and red hair and burned easily as a child shouldn’t be a matter of concern. I’d slathered sunscreen on when I’d gotten out of the water. Besides, one of the articles in
Star Touch
was about how toxic sunscreen could be. I’d been in the sun all summer, so it wasn’t like my skin was still fresh and untouched.

I turned back to the magazine and studied the various contestants.

What kind of self-respecting man or woman would go on a show like this? Were some people actually sincere in their desire to meet the love of their lives? Or was this a matter of desiring fifteen minutes of fame?

Why were women abducted?

Serial killer? I sure hoped not.

Human trafficking? Oh, Lord, please no.

As leverage by someone relying on the goodwill and concern of loved ones? Possibly, but as far as I knew there was no ransom note yet.

Certainly there were other reasons, but what?

It didn’t take long for my thoughts to go back to Vivian. What could have happened to her? Had she staged her abduction? Had the show staged it? Was she secretly rich royalty?

The crime seemed so strange. So strange because it appeared there was no way it could have been premeditated. Not when the walk was spontaneous.

Halfway through my ponderings, I felt a shadow block my UV rays.

I looked up and spotted a man dressed in cargo shorts and a casual button-up top standing over me. He wore sunglasses and had spiky blond hair that used more gel than a high school production of
Grease
.

He had to be with the show. He looked like the showbiz type.

“Excuse me,” he started. “You two are the ones using this home this week, correct? I was hoping to ask you both a few questions. Sorry to interrupt your fun.”

I sat up and exchanged a quick look with Riley.

“Who are you?” Riley put his book down and bristled.

I’d lost count of how many interruptions we’d had so far in our time here. Was this the third? If I included Joey, it would be the fourth . . . maybe. Why couldn’t people just leave us alone?

The man flashed a smile, and I was pretty sure his teeth were so white and shiny that only my sunglasses had protected my eyes. “I’m Trevor McManus with Elite Security. My associates and I have been hired to look into the abduction of Vivian Gray.”

“Elite Security?” I questioned. The man had my full attention.

“We’re a private investigation firm based out of Miami.”

“And you came all the way out here in order to work this case?” I clarified

“The show wanted to hire only the best. That would be Elite. I can humbly say that we’re the cream of the crop. Ex cops, military, Special Forces. You name it.” He flashed his award-winning smile again.

“What can we do for you?” Riley asked.

“I was hoping to ask you some questions. I understand you talked to Joey last night.”

“That’s correct,” I said. “We were the closest house so she ran over, trying to escape from the men.” I eyed him suspiciously. “What’s this have to do with anything?”

“Can you recount exactly what she told you?”

I didn’t see where it would do any harm, so I launched into what had happened. Leaving this investigation in someone else’s capable hands seemed like the perfect way for me to let it go and avoid any more of these interruptions. They could single-handedly save our honeymoon.

The man nodded as I talked, taking some notes on a pad of paper.

“Did either of you see anything? Did you happen to spot the boat on the water?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, we were sleeping up until the moment Joey pounded on our door.”

He tapped his pen against the paper and nodded. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful. Here’s my card in case you remember anything.”

I took it and used it as a placeholder in my magazine.

“Any word on Vivian?” I asked. Maybe I should use the role of innocent, frightened bystander more often. It seemed so much less assuming than pushy investigator. Maybe I’d been approaching getting answers the wrong way all along.

“No, not yet.”

“That poor girl’s family,” I continued. “No ransom demands.”

“No, ma’am.” His expression showed nothing. Nothing.” He shifted. “Well, have a nice day. Oh, and you might want to put on some sunscreen, ma’am. Your back is looking a little burnt.”

* * *

“
Y
our skin is
the same color as the siding of the house, Gabby.” Riley squinted as if just looking at my back caused him pain.

“You’re so romantic,” I murmured as I stared with contempt at myself in the bathroom mirror.

Riley stood behind me. We’d just come inside after being at the beach for most of the day. My hair was windblown and crazy. Irritating sand clung to my legs and feet. But those things were nothing compared to my skin. My very, very red skin.

I attempted to move the strap of my bathing suit a couple inches so I could see for myself how bad the damage was, but just touching it caused my skin to revolt in a major
owie
moment. Not only that, but my sunglasses had left white circles around my eyes, and I looked like some kind of oddly colored raccoon.

“How did this happen?” I muttered, staring at the stark white line as it contrasted with the crimson of my skin. I looked like an American flag. I just needed to paint my face blue and add some white stars.

“Lack of sunscreen?”

“I put some on!” Bless his heart for not saying, “I told you so,” when he had every right to. He’d asked me if I should reapply it at least three times, but I’d ignored him.

Riley shrugged. “You’re not one who usually sits out sunbathing. Maybe you forgot how much sun you could handle.”