Killer Honeymoon (4 page)

“You haven’t heard any rumors, maybe?”

“I hear things, but it’s not like you can trust
rumors.”

“Humor me,” Jake said. “I’m in the mood for a
story.”

“Okay.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “Every town has
a slut. Right?”

Jane cringed.

“And I’d vote Cherry our number one.”

It was uncharitable, but Jane wondered how
Cherry would rate Taylor.

“So when the crowd ran off, I wasn’t too
surprised. But of course, some of the parents freaked. They just knew they had
been kidnapped like all the other girls.”

“Hold on. You pointed out that those guys Cherry
left with were her cousins,” Jake said.

“But Ryder wasn’t, so even if I don’t like it, I
guess there’s a chance. Besides, Emma’s and Rose’s parents were the ones that
freaked out. Cherry’s folks have been cool.”

“Fair enough.” Jake raked his hand through his
hair. “But what did you mean about ‘all the other girls.’”

“Over in Seaside and up in Astoria, a week
before Cherry and the rest of them left. Those are the ones that went missing
that people have been talking about.”

Jane shivered. It was a serial killer. It had to
be. She put her hand on Jake’s knee, glad for the solid evidence that she
wasn’t alone in this world. “What does rumor say about those girls?”

“That’s the funny thing. They were less like
Cherry and more like Hannah. At least that’s how the gossip has it.”

“Kind of geeky? Or older?”

“Not older—they were all high schoolers. Seniors
in the fall. And it wasn’t that they were geeky about computers or anything,
just…weird.” She set her cup down. “That’s what the rumor said. They were the
quiet, library types. You know what I mean? Like, church camp kids or
something.”

“But I thought you were going to tell us the
town…well, the girls with reputations had left.” Jane wondered how much of
Taylor’s story was rooted in reality and how much was just hurt feelings
because she had been left out of the road trip.

“Girls do things to change their reputations.
The quiet girls sometimes change overnight.”

Jane could picture it easily enough. Quiet,
insecure, trusting girls. The kind that are easily swept off their feet by a
smooth talker. No wonder everyone was upset. “Cherry wasn’t like that, but what
about the others from town?”

“Rose was a weirdo. Definitely. And Emma, too.
But Skye was cool.”

“Is everyone one hundred percent sure that Emma
and Rose left with the others?” Jane could see it now, four kids head out on a
road trip, which completely masks the kidnapping and murder of the others.
Except, of course, everyone was really upset, so it hadn’t masked anything.

“I think so, but it’s not like I could prove
it.” Taylor patted her pocket and frowned. “What time is it?”

“Nine. Do you need to be somewhere?” Jane held
her phone out for Taylor to check.

“Yeah. Work.” She yawned and hit Jane with the
breath from hades again.

“Do you need a ride home?” Jane offered.

“No.” Taylor stood up and wavered on her feet.
“Maybe. No. I can walk. It will do me good.” She picked up another piece of
toast. “I don’t think Josh will tell me anything about the body, even if he
finds out. But maybe…”

“Yes. Definitely.” Jane tapped the contacts on
her phone. “Give me your number and I’ll text you as soon as I hear who it
was.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Taylor recited her number.
“Thanks.”

“I hope it wasn’t your friend Ryder,” Jane said.

Taylor scrunched her mouth up. “Me too.” She
paused at the door. “Don’t mention this to anyone else, will you?” Her almond-shaped
blue eyes, shadowed and tired, looked scared.

“Of course not. What’s said in the cottage stays
in the cottage.” Jane watched Taylor leave on shaky legs and hoped she could at
least stop at home to brush her teeth before work.

By eleven, Flora and Rocky were established at
the little round table on the patio at the Crawford cottage. “Did Taylor use
anything while she was here that she might have left prints on?” Flora spread
lemon curd on her croissant.

Jake pushed the coffee cup across the table. “This.”

“Nicely done.” Rocky picked the cup up with a
napkin and dropped it in a plastic sack. “I don’t know that there’s anything in
that shed that might have prints on it, but it never hurts.”

Flora had placed a large picnic basket in the
middle of the table when she arrived. Jane had done her best to ignore it, but
curiosity was killing her.

“Who do you think you should talk to next?”
Flora asked.

“Cherry and Skye’s parents.”

Flora narrowed her eyes and nodded. “Why?”

“Because she is connected to four of the missing
kids—her two daughters and her two nephews. She probably has some thoughts on
the matter.”

“I can see why you want to talk to her, but you
need to work your advantages.” Flora took a bite of her croissant. “What are
your advantages?”

“We have everyone’s names or at least their
first names,” Jane said, one eye on the basket.

“Nope.”

Jane drummed her fingers. “Then Taylor, I guess.
We can make use of knowing her.”

“Better.” Flora smiled. “Plus, your age. I suppose
you are older than these kids, but you don’t look it. You need to get in with
the young people and get someone else’s opinion of the missing people. Taylor
thinks it was for adventure, but what does Eric think?”

“After last night, I don’t think we’ll get
anything out of them,” Jane said.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you’re fine. Go back tonight.”

“With beer and firewood,” Jake added. “We could have
stayed until dawn if we had brought beer or firewood.”

“There you go.” Rocky nodded at Jake with
approval.

“But what if the body isn’t related to the
missing girls?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. If it’s not
related, I would be very surprised.” Flora pushed the basket toward Jane.
“Speaking of coincidences, this is an apology gift from Franny Manchester.”

“The organist?” Jane lifted the lid on the
basket.

“Yes. You did a pretty good job of keeping your
honeymoon a secret, so your mom called the office to see if we knew where you
were. Franny’s husband had delivered this basket to the church yesterday.
Anyway. It’s to apologize for almost dying during your wedding. The woman is
just heartsick over it.”

The basket was a regular horn of plenty. Two
golden-crusted pies sat on top of four jars of homemade jelly, next to a six-pack
of home-brewed beer. Handfuls of saltwater taffy surrounded everything. “But
she can’t even be out of the hospital yet! Surely she didn’t bake us pies.”

“I don’t know who did the baking, but they were
letting her out today, so I suspect the pies were store bought and the rest was
stored up in her pantry. Please call her. Let her know you don’t hold a
grudge.” Flora finished her scone and looked at her watch.

“Yes, of course.”

“And hey, there’s our beer for tonight.” Jake
lifted the six-pack of brown bottles out of the basket and carried it to the
fridge.

“Good idea,” Rocky said. “I wouldn’t want to
have to drink someone’s home brew.”

“Thanks for the report and the snack. We’ve got
a lunch meeting with Judy, the ME. We’ll see what she can tell us.”

“How did you get that?” Jane asked in awe.

“Just working my advantages,” Flora said. “We’ve
worked with her before, and it’s been a while since we had a chance to talk.
Should be informative.”

“It’s a long time before dark. What should we do
until then?”

“It’s your honeymoon,” Rocky said, with a
chuckle. “You figure it out.

Jane and Jake figured out a way to spend their
long afternoon, and only some of it included Googling for missing person
reports up and down the coast. By the end of their searches they had the names
of fifteen girls and women who had gone missing in the last six months. “It
turns my stomach. Literally.” Jane eyed the beer Jake had set on the counter.
“How am I supposed to go drinking all night thinking about all of these people
who were probably butchered?”

“Don’t drink. Just hold the bottle. You want to
have a keen, clear mind all night, for as long as you can. And don’t take a
drink from any of them. Sip from one of Franny’s innocent bottles.” He pulled a
second six-pack from the fridge. Pabst Blue Ribbon.

“Where’d you get that?”

“The store, while you were napping. I didn’t
think six beers were enough to get us an invitation to stay.”

“Should I haul some firewood too?” Jane teased.

“Yes.”

“How much?” She stretched her delts and grinned.
Not that she wanted to haul wood, but she was ready to work.

“Just an armful. They’re all too young to know
me, but I’ve been to my fair share of beachside fires.”

“What if they aren’t there tonight?”

“Then we start the fire and wait for people to
come. Someone will stroll by and that’s who we’ll talk to.”

They waited until it was dark and then headed
out, Jake with a six-pack of beer in each hand and Jane with an armload of
driftwood from the wood pile at the cottage.

They found a beach fire closer to their house
tonight, and smaller. Jake walked up to it like he had been invited. He set
both boxes down and plucked a bottle of PBR from one. He handed it to Mason,
who had a black eye.

Mason tipped his head back, a nod of approval.

Jake popped the lid off a second bottle and
passed it to Jane.

Tonight’s crowd was smaller, too. Just Mason,
Taylor, the brunette with the pixie cut, and another guy who hadn’t been there
the night before, sitting on a log picking at his guitar. She recognized the
song as an old church camp standard.

Taylor had used church camp as a pejorative. Had
she had a particular camp in mind? Since Jane hadn’t had much luck engaging the
girls the night before, she decided to just observe for now. Let Jake do the
talking. Talking was sort of his spiritual gift. She found a small hill of sand
near enough to the guitar player to be social but far enough to not have to have
a real conversation, and sat.

Taylor stared at her, her eyes narrow slits
heavily lined with kohl.

Jane smiled and lifted her bottle in greeting.

Taylor flipped her ponytail over her shoulder.
She took a swig from a bottle of water and then tossed it near the fire.
Another bottle just like it had rolled into the fire, offering its acrid
plastic stink to the night. Taylor turned to the girl with the pixie cut.

The brunette gestured to Mason, but Jane
couldn’t hear what she said.

“I don’t know.” Taylor’s voice was pretty clear
and sounded sober. “Has no one heard?”

The brunette shook her head.

“How should I know? He doesn’t tell me
anything.” Taylor’s voice carried well, but Jane was at a loss for the topic
they were discussing.

“Come o-on.” This time the brunette’s plaintive
wail was loud enough to hear. “Didn’t Sadie tell you anything?”

“No.” Taylor backed away, closer to Jane and the
guitar player.

“I just want to be sure he’s okay.”

“Then call him. You’ve got his number.”

The brunette scratched the back of her head, her
lips shut tight.

“You can’t call him because he doesn’t even know
you’re alive.” Taylor laughed. “I forgot how pathetic you are, Coco. Always
have been.” Taylor backed up again, stopping right next to Jane this time.
“You’ve been in love with him for how many years? Ten? And he’s not once
noticed you were alive. So pathetic.”

“We’re friends.” Coco’s voice was hesitant.
“Just not like…”

“Not like, real friends.” Taylor laughed. “Ask
Mason how Eric is. I dare you.”

“Fine. I will.” Coco flounced over to Mason.

He looked her up and down, a gleam in his eye
like he appreciated her short-shorts and crop-top shirt. He reached for the
beer Jake had set down and handed Coco one of the bottles of home brew. “Hey
there,” he drawled.

“So, how, um, how is Eric after last night?”

Mason took a long swig out of his own bottle.
“Alive.”

Coco took a long pull on her drink.

“The question should really be: how is Mason
after he was viciously attacked last night? And Mason is okay.” Mason leaned
forward, his face in Coco’s. “But Mason could be a lot better.” He grabbed Coco
by the waist and pulled her to him. “You wanna help make Mason better?” He
pressed his face to hers in what looked like one of the world’s sloppiest
kisses.

Coco squirmed in his arms.

“Doesn’t really look like she wants to make you
better.” Jake took a quick step forward and offered his hand to Coco. She took
it and held tight.

Jake pulled Coco to his side.

She shook herself, like a dog coming in from the
rain, and let go of Jake. She glared at Mason, wiped her mouth and took another
drink.

The guy with the guitar kept playing. The tune
was familiar, but Jane couldn’t remember all of the words. What she did wonder
was why this church-music guy hadn’t stepped up to help his friend. Unless,
like her, he didn’t really know any of these people.

Jane stood and brushed the sand off her pants.
Coco was hovering around the other side of the fire, looking ill.

Jane joined her. “Worried about your friend
after the fight?”

Coco nodded.

“He’s probably fine. Guys recover fast.”

“Yeah…but he’s supposed to be careful. He got
too many concussions playing football.” She swished the beer around in her now
half-empty bottle. “And Mason knew that.”

“But it wasn’t really Mason’s fault…”

Coco’s jaw twitched. She swayed and closed her
eyes.

“But I mean, Mason was really harsh. I can see
why you’re worried. Just, with the runaways and everything, things seem tense
around here.”

“I don’t know why everyone is so freaked out.
It’s not like they’re the first people to hit the road.”

“So that’s what it was, you think? Nothing worse
than that?”

She shrugged again and then sat down with a
thump. She braced herself, both hands trying to grip the sand.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jane knelt beside Coco.

Coco rocked her head from side to side. “They
were her cousins. What was the worst that could happen?”

“Cherry and her cousins?” In the glow of the
firelight Coco seemed to have plenty of color, but her eyes were still closed
and she pressed her lips together like she was sick.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jane put her hand on
Coco’s back.

Coco looked up towards Mason and then slipped to
the ground.

Jane grabbed Coco’s wrist and felt for a pulse.
It was faint, but it existed. She chafed her wrists. “Coco? Coco?”

Coco’s eyes fluttered, but she didn’t respond.

“Hey, Jake.” She caught his eye and he got to
her before she could say anything else.

She felt Coco’s forehead. It was damp and warm,
but not feverish.

“Dude, what happened?” The guitar player was
still on the other side of the small fire, but his voice carried to them.

“I don’t know.” Jane sniffed the beer bottle.
She was no expert—in poison or beer—but it seemed to smell fine.

Jake picked the bottle up with his coat sleeve
and slipped it back in the box. He picked the box up and put it on his hip.
“Who brought her here?”

“She walked.” Taylor supplied the answer.
Perhaps thinking of last night, Taylor was still very sober.

“Has she ever passed out like this before?” Jane
rolled Coco to her side, trying hard to remember the first aid class she took
back in high school. Coco’s breathing seemed weak, so she tilted her head back
to keep the airway clear.

“Don’t worry about her.” Mason jangled his car
keys. “I’ll get her back home.”

Jane eyed him narrowly. She didn’t want to leave
a passed-out Coco with Mason the way he had been acting. And she wasn’t sure
she wanted him driving. “Hey, Jake…”

“Already on it.” He held up his phone. He stepped
away from the crowd and gave directions to the 911 operator.

Jane was more than thankful that this was Jake’s
second home and he knew it well enough to give clear directions to their spot
on the beach. She never could have.

Coco groaned. She rolled onto her stomach, her
arms around her waist.

“You’re not out cold, anyway.” Jane spoke in a
low, soothing tone and rolled Coco back to her side. She couldn’t remember why
exactly, but she knew she wouldn’t want to be on her stomach and puking. A face
full of vomit and sand sounded pretty much the worst.