Swept Away (9 page)

The sun filtered through the crack in the curtain, casting a line of light across the scuffed hardwood floor. Tucker rolled onto his back and stretched.  There was a foreign feeling in his chest—a levity of spirit, possibly even an eagerness to roll out of bed and start a new day. Throwing back the covers, he swung his legs to the floor. He snuck a peek out his window. Josie’s silhouette moved about her kitchen. His lightened heart easily picked up speed. 

Skipping breakfast, he headed to Josie’s and knocked on her door.

“Tucker,” she said, opening the door only wide enough for her head to poke out.

“You all right?”

“I, uh, I think I may be coming down with the flu. Or something.”

She sounded fine. A bad feeling crept up his spine, but he shook it off. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m okay. I just need sleep.”

“I could keep you company.” He leaned an arm against the door frame.

“That’s all right. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

He nodded, but didn’t move.

“I think I better go lie down.” Josie took a step back, closing the door.

Tucker placed his hand against the door, stopping her. “Josie, about last night…”

Josie’s hand flew to her mouth and her face drained of all color. “Please don’t. Not now.”

She did look like she was about to vomit. Tucker began to think maybe she was sick. “You have my number, right?”

She nodded.

“You call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” she said, shoving the door closed. He heard the lock turn, then the sound of footsteps as she ran through her house.

“Well, hell.” He headed to the garage and got his work done. Afterward, he visited Ella and picked up soup and ginger ale for Josie. He planned to make it for her, but she took the bag from him with a “thank you” and nearly slammed the door in his face.

He gave her three days, then returned, knocking on her door.

She answered looking like hell. Her curly hair was fuzzy, sticking out all over as if she’d been electrocuted, and she had large shadows under her eyes. He shoved the door open before she had a chance to hold it closed against him. Stepping into her cottage, he saw that the bag of food was still on her table. He looked inside. She hadn’t even unloaded it. There were no dishes in the sink. Turning to her, he asked, “Have you been eating?”

“Of course.”

Tipping her chin until she had to look him in the eye, he studied her. Her eyes were rimmed in red and her skin was too pale. Her hand wrapped around his wrist and her eyes sparkled with tears. His thumb brushed the tender skin of her cheek. “What is it, Josie? What’s wrong?”

She swallowed and tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let her go. Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he held onto her.

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on. No more I’m sick bullshit, either.”

She bit her lip. Her chin quivered, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Tucker’s own eyes stung and his chest tightened. Pulling her close, he wrapped her in his arms. As if exhausted, she sighed and laid her cheek against his chest.

Tucker kissed the top of her head. “Is this about the other night?”

She nodded.

“Then we should talk about it.”

She shook her head.

“It was special. The two of us—“

“I don’t…I think you’re reading too much into it. I shouldn’t have…done that. We were better as friends.”

“I see.” Tucker didn’t know what to say. He felt like he had a bit of the flu. So, she was out of sorts because she had regrets. That happens. Girls did shit they wish they hadn’t all the time. He just never expected he’d be one of them. Like an idiot, he’d completely misread what was between them. He let go of her.

“I think you should go. I need time,” she said.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. I…I’m afraid you need more from me than I could ever give.”

His eyes narrowed. He hadn’t asked her for a damn thing.

“Don’t be mad. I just…” She stepped toward him, but he backed away. He didn’t need her pity, so he left, slamming the door behind him. He expected her to follow, say she didn’t mean it and ask him to come back, but she didn’t.

So, he avoided her. For eight days, he barely looked in her direction, much less spoke to her. He didn’t need some crazy chick messing with his head. He worked for Hetty with a fury. Throwing things away was good for his soul. Then in the afternoons, he drove to Ella’s. She gave him full use of her office and internet to make searches and phone calls for any clues on Maddy.

Finding information on his sister was what he came here for in the first place. He never should have let Josie distract him. Unfortunately, that search frustrated him too.

Madison Morgan had zero online presence—not a single profile on any of the social media sites, not even on the ancient
My Space
. Ella worked right there with him. She was full of ideas, thinking of things he surely would have missed. Like, registering Maddy’s profile with the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System. There was no match. With Gloria’s help, he ran a credit check to see if Maddy’s social security number was ever used for a loan or a credit card. Nothing. He even ran her information through the welfare system and Public Record Finder. Maddy was either deep in hiding, or dead. As a last resort, he even called the boyfriend who dropped her off the night she was last seen. The boyfriend, Devon Riggs, now a young man, was surprised he called. Tucker apologized for the intrusion.

“Hey, no. Not at all. It’s bugged me for years that no one seemed to care about Maddy’s disappearance. She was a sweet girl. A bit of a hothead. I mean, we had our share of fights and all. You didn’t tell Maddy no, and you did things her way,” Devon said with a chuckle.

“Police reports say you were the last person who admits to seeing her. The night she disappeared, did she seem normal?”

“She was pissed at her mom and dad for not letting her go to Arie’s. She had to crawl out of a window and meet me at the end of her street for a ride to the Stone’s.”

“So, she was mad?”

“Yeah. But that’s typical Maddy. She was always bitching about her parents. Always threatening to run away.”

“She said she was running away?” Tucker rubbed the top of his head.

“Yeah, but like I said, she was going to run away all the time. I never thought she’d actually do it. I figured she’d get to Arie’s and calm down.”

“Evidently, she didn’t calm down.”

“I don’t know what happened. Honestly, all things considered, I think Stone killed her. Just like he did Arie.”

“But she told you she was running away.”

“Yeah. But you had to know Maddy. She was all talk, and she was real high-strung that night. Talking a mile-a-minute. One second she was slamming Gloria. Next minute, she was talking about getting even with the Stones. She was more hyper than that damn dog she dragged with her—what the hell was his name?”

“Toby?” Tucker offered.

“That’s it. Toby. She said her and Ariel were taking the dog and skipping town.”

“And you didn’t warn anyone?”

“No. Looking back on it, I realize I should have. But back then, I never dreamed she’d be in danger at that house. I thought the Stones were perfect. When my dad lost his job, Jeb Stone hired him. When my little sister needed surgery, the Stones paid for it. I figured Maddy would get to Ariel’s and Ariel would talk some sense into her.”

“I take it you don’t trust them anymore?”

“Nope. Maddy and that dog got out of my car, walked up the drive-way, and went into that house. Then no one ever saw them again.
I saw them go in.
So, where the hell did she go?”

“And that was the last time you saw or heard from Maddy?”

“Yep. Not another peep.”

“And no one questioned the Stones?”

“Nope. Everyone assumed she ran away. But I’ll never buy that. You’ve got to understand, those girls were tight. Maddy wouldn’t have left Ariel in a million years. I swear. I knew her. Maddison Morgan didn’t run away.”

Tucker sighed into the phone. “I appreciate the information. If you can think of anything, no matter how trivial, give me a call?”

Tucker thanked him and hung up the phone.

Ella sighed, slapping her hands on her knees. “Well, I’m plum out of ideas.”

“Me too.” He powered down the computer and spun away from the desk. “I appreciate the help. Even if we didn’t find shit.”

“You know the storyteller in me hoped like hell that one of these bites would’ve turned up something.” Ella took her place behind the counter.

“I wish it had too. I suppose I’ll buy another twelve-pack and head home.”

Tucker stepped out into the sun. There was a group of shoppers coming up the steps, so he went right, down the wooden ramp to a shady breezeway between the grocery store and the bait shop. 

His phone buzzed with a call. Pulling it out of his pocket, he stared at it. Santos. He’d avoided talking to him since he had his conversation with Marie, instead leaving their interactions to emails and messages. But it was time to put that to rest.

“Hey,
David
,” Tucker said when he answered.

“So, Marie did call you, eh? She wouldn’t give me a straight answer.” Santos’ laugh was tight.

“Yeah. Hell, I didn’t even know you had a first name. Thought you were just Santos, like Madonna and Cher.”

“Oh hell, mi hermano, I’m way better looking than them. Got bigger tatas too.”

Tucker couldn’t help but laugh. “I miss you, buddy.”

“Then come see me. You’re probably only a few hours away.”

Not being able to leave Josie was his first thought. His second was how full of bull his first thought was.  She evidently had no more use for him. Why the hell would he stick around?  “I may take you up on that. Make sure you’re keeping it real down there.”

Santos was quiet. Then he said, “I hate myself for this, man. I came here to help. I mean I’ve got nothing holding me anywhere, so why not? And then, the more time I spend with her, with Tom-Tom. I love them. It’s wrong. You don’t know how bad I wish she was someone else’s widow.”

Tucker thought of Josie. She left him feeling hollow. Tucker leaned against the store watching families unload from cars. Happily vacationing. Santos and Marie could have that. Both of them being miserable wasn’t going to bring Ash back, or make the pain in his chest any better. “Look,” Tucker said. “Don’t overthink it, all right? You love her; you guys should be happy. Ash would want that. I’m sure if another man was going to raise Tommy, he’d want it to be you.”

“I appreciate that. I’m not going to lie and say I’d have walked without your blessing, because I’m in deep. But it means a lot. And we’re taking it slow.  I plan to talk to Ash’s mom too. I won’t disrespect his memory.”

Tucker nodded. “I trust you, brother.”

“That means a lot, man. So, will you come down here? I could probably get you hired on.”

“Me, be a cop?”

“Why the hell not? What else you got going on?”

“Nothing, really. Still trying to find that sister.”

“Oh yeah, the sister. That’s actually why I called.”

Tucker stood up straight, suddenly feeling a spark of hope. “You find something?”

“I watched the interrogation tapes of her friend, the one who ended up dead?”

“Yeah?”

“She swears she saw her stepdad kill Maddy.”

“And nothing came of that?”

“Well, it seems the girl was suicidal and more than a little crazy. She witnessed this
murder
during an out-of-body experience after an attempted overdose.”

Tucker groaned. He remembered Gloria telling him Ariel Stone was psychic. How had he gotten caught up in so much insanity? Murdered girls, psychics, and pedophiles. This shit belonged in Hollywood. Add in the cold shoulder he got from Josie, and he was ready to hop in his car and head to Santos’s house tonight. “This is a total dead end, isn’t it?”

“Seems that way. Even the letter you sent me got us nowhere. That lady? Your, uh, stepmom? She says Applewold PD took the envelope the letter came in, and it’s now gone. If we had that, or if the letter wasn’t handled over and over, we might have been able to get prints or DNA. Hell, even a date stamp would have been great. Gloria swears the letter arrived after Ariel was murdered, but there’s no proof, and for all I know it’s a grieving mom grasping at straws.”

“I appreciate you trying. I owe you one.”

“I’ll call in that favor. Get on down here.”

“I think I will. But I’m working for a guy. He hired me when I needed a job, and I don’t want to leave him short-handed. I’ll talk to him this evening.”

“All right. Keep me posted.”

“Will do,” Tucker said, then hung up.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way back to his car. He tossed his twelve-pack and a bagged sandwich in the passenger seat and headed back to his cottage. As he drove, he thought of Josie. Should he go talk to her? Be up front with her—was there any reason for him to stay on this island? Pounding the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, he detested being
that
guy: the desperate son of a bitch begging a woman who wanted nothing to do with him. Screw her. Walk away. Keep some pride.