Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jamie placed Deuce on the floor after carrying him down the stairs from her loft to Hemingway’s.

“I’m not going to keep carrying you,” she said to her pudgy bulldog. He ignored her comments, instead preferring to sniff around the door. As she pushed it open, Deuce bolted like a sailor on weekend leave, not looking behind but scrambling straight to her car, hopping as he waited for her to unlock the door.

“You excited to see Uncle Cookie?” she asked as she opened the door and bent down to lift him into the car. Jamie smiled at him as she got him settled into the back seat, grateful for a small moment of thinking about something other than Kristen, Brian, and what struggle lay ahead.

Traffic was light as she drove to Cookie’s apartment, a short ten-minute drive from Hemingway’s. Jamie had encouraged the move from his old apartment, which was twice the distance and decades older than his new digs. The new place had several nice amenities, including a weight room he completely ignored and a swimming pool that only Deuce had enjoyed. Still, it wasn’t a dump, and it was closer to Hemingway’s, so a win all around.

Jamie pulled into the parking lot of Beach Retreats, which sounded more like a retirement home than an apartment complex, and parked in front of Cookie’s building.

She sent him a text and, after another two minutes, honked her horn. He soon opened the door, decked out in one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts—hunter green with white hibiscus—as well as khaki cargo shorts and deck shoes. He was dressed as though he was on vacation, as usual.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Cookie said as he slid into the passenger’s seat and reached back to give Deuce a quick pat. “I think a trip to the beach is a great idea. Deuce needs to get out.”

Jamie backed out of the parking space and pulled out the side exit. “I think we all need it. I can’t remember the last time I was on the beach.”

“Then it’s been too long.”

Jamie navigated back toward Island Main until she reached the 120-marker turnoff, one of the key entry points to the beach. Once she made the turn, she could see the water. The tires soon hit the sand, and a wave of happiness washed over her. She had missed this, the lightness that came with the surf. Lightness had left her some time ago.

The Tahoe moved slowly, churning sand under the tires, moving past the crowds of summer visitors in search of a space not occupied by strangers and their attention. They finally found their spot, an open space between a family playing horseshoes and a group of college girls sitting in reclining chairs, studying their cell phones.

No sooner had Cookie opened the back passenger’s door than Deuce leapt out of the back seat and belly-flopped onto the sand. Snorting out a snout full of white granules, he scampered toward the waves and stopped short before the water hit his paws. He jumped back and forth, chasing the waves then letting the waves pursue him, finally giving in and getting wet up to his belly.

“Your dog is ridiculous.” Cookie laughed, his eyes almost watering from watching Deuce play by himself. “Glad he’s too heavy to be plucked out of the water by a seagull.”

“You better not let him hear you say that.” Jamie brushed her hair away from her face, the wind challenging her ponytail to keep her strands in line. “It feels so good out here. Let’s stay out here for a week.”

“Done.”

The two friends stood side by side. The sun strong, the wind equally so, and the sandpipers and seagulls hovered overhead, searching for food. Jamie watched as they circled, dove into the water, and quickly returned to the sky.

“So, what are we going to do about Brian?” Cookie asked, his attention still focused on Deuce’s antics, which included chasing a small sandpiper and sticking his muzzle in the sea foam.

“I’m not sure what to do,” she said. “I can’t just sit and wait for him to do something destructive, but I’m not even sure what that would be at this point. I’ve got Marty keeping an eye out for anyone trying to access my place, not that he’d find anything, of course.” She squatted down and ran her fingers through the sand, drawing a random squiggly line in its surface, her lips tightening in frustration. “I didn’t mean to imply that I had the journals. It was a rookie mistake. But now that he knows, I’m afraid he’s going to do something drastic.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Jamie. This case is all about your family, so you’re going to be emotional; you’re going to have moments where you react differently than you would in any other case. Be aware but understand that you’re human. It’s okay.”

Jamie glanced up at her friend, grateful for his insight and compassion. She knew he was letting her off the hook, even if she didn’t think she deserved it.

“You know my biggest worry right now?”

“Let me guess,” Cookie said. “Brian’s got Boxer as an enemy, and we now know what that looks like. I still worry that he’s going to target Erin since we let Marissa go from her warehouse.”

Jamie nodded in agreement. “That’s my biggest fear too, but maybe with Brian, Boxer’s attention will be focused on him instead. I’m fine with that. Brian doesn’t deserve any mercy, especially after the way he treated Kristen like a disposable bargaining chip.”

“Waiting it out is painful,” Cookie said, standing over Jamie and watching her draw patterns in the sand. “I hate to say this, but whatever he’s up to, I hope he shows his hand soon.”

She pointed at her pup. “Keep an eye on him for a minute. I’m going to grab a couple of water bottles out of the back of the car. I’m sure Deuce is thirsty.”

As Jamie traveled the few steps back to her car, she focused on the sand underneath her feet. The feeling of something comforting and familiar gave her temporary respite from Brian and his threats. She missed those divorce cases she’d once complained about. They were messy and frustrating, sometimes even a bit heartbreaking, but they never sank into her bones the way a case did when it involved family. In the beginning, she thought she’d understood what she was taking on, but it was clear now, after she and Cookie had continued to dig for the truth, that she hadn’t had a clue what it had meant to take Kristen’s case.

Jamie popped the hatch on the back of her Tahoe and grabbed three water bottles from a large pack wrapped in plastic. Cradling them in the bend of her elbow, she closed the back hatch and walked to the driver’s side door to retrieve her cell phone, which she’d left in the cup holder. She reached for it with her free hand and tucked it in her back pocket before walking back to Cookie to make her water delivery.

“Here you go.” She handed him a bottle. Deuce was completely disinterested, preferring to spend his time chasing imaginary friends in the surf. She then placed one bottle on the ground while opening the other for herself. She drank almost half of it before taking a break.

“Good thing you don’t drink beer like that,” Cookie joked. “Oh wait, you do.”

She smiled at him.

“Okay, good thing you don’t drink beer like that often,” he said, correcting himself.

Jamie pulled her phone from her back pocket and checked the screen. She noticed a message from an unknown number, and her chest tightened. She reminded herself not to panic and that she often received messages from unknown numbers in her line of work, but Brian’s threat hung fresh in the air, infiltrating every moment.

“What’s wrong?” Cookie asked, noticing her staring at her phone.

“I don’t know yet.” Jamie selected the number to open the text message.

Want to Trade?

Below the message was a photo of Erin, strapped to a chair, much the way Marissa had been back in Erin’s warehouse. A white gag split her lips, and while she didn’t look directly into the camera, Jamie could see the fear on her friend’s face. It looked as though her arms were tied behind her back, her white shirt soiled from a struggle. The image was shot tight to make sure no background information was included and that there was no real way to see where she was being held.

Jamie held the phone up for Cookie. She had witnessed many expressions on her friend’s face, but this one was a rarity, and she glimpsed it only for a second. Fear. He feared for his friend.

“Okay, so Brian made his move,” Cookie said.

“No,” Jamie corrected him. “Brian made a mistake.”

Jamie texted a response.

She had better be perfect, Brian. If you hurt her, you’re dead.

Jamie and Cookie stared at the screen, waiting for a response. It felt as though a day passed, but in reality, it was only mere minutes.

You should have never let my package escape. So now I have a new one.

Boxer.

What do you want?

More waiting, then came his response.

Kristen’s Journals. Seems a fair trade.

Jamie stared at the text, her finger hesitating before responding. I need time to get everything.

Time is running out, Jamie. For you and your friend. So hurry.

Jamie and Cookie stood side by side, staring at the cell phone screen, taking in Boxer’s threat. The fact that Boxer had Erin was far worse than if Brian had been her captor.

Brian was an amateur.

Boxer was a professional.