“Get rid of her?” Thomas inches back.
“Thomas,” I moan. “Not true. She killed Wyatt. It was revenge.” My voice comes out lower than a whisper. “Channing Neville,” his name whistles from me. “She was his fiancée.”
“What?” Thomas steadies his eyes on Brooklynn. “Where is she getting this? Is this true?”
I crawl up on all fours and command that my body rise as I wobble on my feet.
“It’s not true.” Brooklynn’s voice wavers. “She’s a liar. She says she’s determined to help her boyfriend solve this case. She just wants it over and she’s trying to pin it on you. We need to stop her, Thomas, before she stops everything I have planned for you. Think of our future.”
“What do we do?” Thomas sounds conflicted as he shoots a look my way. But I’m weak, seeing double, and I’m afraid I’m in real danger.
“Put her in the back of the truck.” Brooklyn takes a few jagged breaths. “We’ll take her somewhere and dump her.”
Thomas nods. “I know how to get rid of a body. Believe me when I say they will never find her.” I’ve done it before. Channing. Why did she have to mention him? How does this woman know? What does she know? Brooklynn is right. She’s dangerous. She’s about to ruin a perfectly bright future. And here I thought I was in the clear with Wyatt gone for good.
Thomas starts for me, and Gatsby bites down hard on his arm.
Thomas lets out a wild cry as he flings the dog away from him.
“Dammit, Gatsby. You’re always inserting yourself where you’re not needed.” He stomps my way. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. I didn’t come this far to have you ruin things for me.”
“What about Wyatt?” The words come from me breathy. “She killed him. She confessed. And she’s going to kill you, too.”
Gatsby charges back full force and knocks Thomas down like a domino from behind. I jump out of the way and snatch the book from Brooklynn’s hands and slam her over the temple with it.
Brooklynn falls to the ground like a ragdoll and everything in me ceases at the sight.
“Oh God, I killed her.”
No sooner do I say the words than Brooklynn’s leg swipes my feet from under me, and I hit the back of my head hard on the concrete below.
A horrible sound comes from deep within me as she and Thomas work their hardest to drag me into the back of that moving truck.
Gatsby barks up a thunderous storm before he turns and takes off, taking all of my hope along with him.
“No.” I struggle to break free from Brooklynn’s hold, but Thomas picks me up and lands me in an empty box before the two of them run out of the back of the truck. Thomas retracts the ramp before I can get myself out of that cardboard quicksand he landed me in. And just as I manage to land on my feet, Brooklynn slams the steel gate closed and I’m engulfed in darkness.
It looks like it’s curtains for me—literally.
The sound of faint barking picks up again.
Bizzy? It’s Fish. Sherlock is getting help.
The moving truck begins to jerk as the engine fires up. It’s thrown into reverse and I tumble toward the front of the truck and trip over a stack of boxes. The truck moves left then right. The sound of wild barking erupts and I lift my head a notch, trying to discern if it’s one dog or two.
Gatsby! Fish screeches so loud I’d swear she actually said his name out loud.
The truck turns slowly before thrusting forward with a start, and I fly toward the back of the truck, slamming my head into the side of this steely wonder. The truck begins to take flight just as a hard thump knocks against it and the driver slams on the brakes, sending me flying toward the front again.
Gatsby! Fish cries out once again.
“No!” I shout just as the truck takes off and a box topples on my head.
A loud pop vibrates through the truck and the entire vehicle depresses on its left rear.
I try to get up, try to sit up, stand up, but it feels as if the universe is spinning out of control, and just like that, the world fades to nothing.
Chapter 18
Gatsby is fine.
It was the first thing I asked as I came to. And thank God. It turns out, he wasn’t hit by the truck. He hit the truck himself in an effort to stop it. If anything, Gatsby is a true blue hero.
Jasper was right there as they loaded me into the back of an ambulance and so were Emmie and Leo.
Having a book thrust at your head, along with a box full of paperbacks, can land you a nice little concussion. Although, at the moment, there doesn’t seem to be anything little about it.
It’s the next afternoon and Jasper and I are lounging under a large canvas cabana, usually reserved for the inn’s guests, but at the moment there are over a dozen erected along the sand.
Jasper wraps an arm around me as we share a doublewide lounger. “You need some water? A snack? Can I get you a book? Do you want to take a nap?”
A soft laugh bounces through me as I pull him close.
“I just need this.” I land my lips to his. “And this.” I steal another kiss. “And a little bit of this.” My lips press to his and we linger.
“Lucky for you, you’ll get a lifetime supply of all the above.” He pulls back and winces. “How about a fresh ice pack?”
“Yes. But only if you let me go with you to get it.”
He helps me up and we stride out of the cabana as I gingerly place a wide-brimmed hat over my head. It’s an unreasonably searing
