I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. A big, big part of me was holding on to the hope that what had happened at the campfire the night before was just a bad dream, but I knew that wasn’t the case.
I, a grown woman, had chased my best friend around a campfire in front of a whole bunch of strangers so that I could go through his phone without his permission.
Oh no … and don’t tell me I …
I sat up in bed and looked at my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. Yup … that wasn’t a dream either … I had angry-cut my own bangs. That fourteen-year-old girl on YouTube said it was like totally no problem to do it yourself, but she was wrong.
I flopped back onto my bed.
This … this …
… was not my fault!
Okay, maybe the bangs were my fault … and maybe I hadn’t exactly been on my best behavior, but I had been driven to it! All of it. I wasn’t sure that I believed that even as I was thinking it, but I thought it was worth hearing myself out. Fine, okay, yes, I never should have demanded Freddie give me his phone, but a person could only take so much! He had been miserable for days and wouldn’t tell me why. He had started this whole thing. I … had just finished it.
And I was going to finish this investigation too.
Oh, I knew what Freddie was thinking. He was thinking that there was no way I could find out who killed Lyssa without his help, but he was wrong, wrong, wrong. I didn’t need him. At least not the way he needed me. I mean, good luck, Mr. Ng, planning Candace’s wedding all by yourself.
I rolled out of bed. I needed to get out of here. Yes, I was fully aware that I should apologize to my mother, Zaki, and, well, everyone at the campfire last night, but I just couldn’t. Not yet. I should have known that going to the retreat was a bad idea. I mean, Why are you still single? I think the answer was pretty obvious. I chased people around campfires!
I needed to get out of here. Soon all the retreat guests would be up and wandering around staring at me … from safe distances … probably wondering what happened to my hair, and if I was still in the possession of sharp scissors. I didn’t need all that. And it’s like I always say, there’s no better distraction than solving a murder. Okay, I had never said that, but the scary part was I could, and it would apply to my life.
I jumped out of bed, threw some clothes on, and grabbed a baseball hat. This time I was going to be smarter exiting the retreat. No leaving through the front door for me. Nope, I would climb through my window. Just in case Zaki was meditating out front again. I couldn’t face him today. I could still see the look of horror on his face.
Fifteen minutes later I was zipping across the lake.
Yup, forget the town. It was time to rack up some wins for Erica.
And I knew just where to start.
Tommy Forrester.
I slipped the boat into neutral and drifted toward Tommy’s dock. Not too long ago Tommy had had two docks and two boats. That’s when he’d been involved with the shady business with MRG incentivizing seniors living on the lake to sell sooner than they may have been originally thinking. But I guess a lot had changed since then. He was back to just one boat, and it was in pretty rough shape—along with the rest of his property.
I took my time tying my mother’s boat off. I was hoping that Tommy had heard me coming and was awake. Not only was there a very good chance Tommy was sleeping one off, but I didn’t really know how Tommy was doing these days. And Mrs. Roy had made it sound like he wasn’t doing too well.
I walked the length of Tommy’s dock to the front lawn of his cottage. It could have easily been mistaken for a junkyard though. Rusted-out box spring on the front lawn. Beer bottles—lots of beer bottles—everywhere. Seat of a toilet lying across the front path. Nice. Nice.
Now, Tommy’s place hadn’t been in great shape the last I’d visited him. Actually, some people might have called it a break and enter. I prefer the term look-see. But it was nothing like this.
Suddenly my toe hit a large rusted-out steel drum, making a loud clang.
I was really starting to think that Tommy needed some help from, like, a family member or someone to turn things around. A cousin perhaps. Too bad his only one seemed beholden to nobody and nothing—except for his desire to get his relaxation on.
That had actually been one of the worst parts about last night—resisting the urge to call Grady. Even though we were in the place we were … and he was in the place he was, which was La La Land apparently … I couldn’t help but think he would understand why I had freaked out the way I did. Well, maybe not understand—that was asking a lot—but at least give me one of those kisses on the forehead that says Hey, you’re still a good person. I still like you. I really needed that right now. Not that that would work through the phone, but … whatever.
I picked my way over the rusted-out mattress spring, hands out to the side for balance.
I totally had this, though.
I mean, yes, I obviously had my failings as a person, but the one thing I did know how to do was question people. Maybe it was even because of those failings that I was so good at it. People felt safe with me. Like I wasn’t judging them.
Generally speaking, people usually liked me.
Just then something white zoomed across my field of vision.
What the…?
I turned to see Tommy standing on his back porch in just boxers holding a bucket in one hand getting ready to whip another golf ball at me with the other.
Yup, generally speaking, people liked me …
… just not maybe Tommy Forrester.
But I didn’t have time to think about that right now. I needed to—
Duck!