Swept Away: A Squeaky Clean Honeymoon Novella (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 12) (7 page)

What? Where had they gone?

I stared at a long row of piers and boathouses that stretched along the bay side of the island.

There was no sign of the boat.

“Do you know anything about these houses?” I asked Larry and Leonard.

“Not really. Those are some rentals. I think some doctor owns that one, but he only comes down twice a year. A lawyer owns that one over there. I heard J Lo is buying that one on the end.”

I burned as much as I could into my memory. But there were no clues as to where those guys had gone. Maybe into a boathouse. Maybe they’d rounded the island again in an effort to lose us.

There was no way to know for sure, and I didn’t even know what else to look for.

Larry glanced at his watch. “Anything else you need? Bingo starts in an hour, and I really don’t want to miss it.”

* * *

T
hat night
, I lay in bed, wishing I could enjoy Riley’s arms around me. But every time the sheets hit my skin, pain burst through me. Since I couldn’t sleep, I replayed the events from the day and tried in vain to figure this mystery out.

And it was while my thoughts were racing that I heard a creak downstairs.

Not a the-house-is-settling type of creak.

It sounded like someone was inside.

Was it the same person who’d sneaked in two days ago? Had he come back to finish what he’d started when he left that sandal?

I grabbed my gun from the nightstand. If I woke Riley, he would insist on handling this himself. It might sound crazy, but I wanted to do this on my own. I didn’t want to send him downstairs to face someone who could potentially harm him. I’d almost lost him once already.

I tiptoed toward the door and gently nudged it open. Darkness waited for me on the other side.

I paused, listened.

Another creak sounded from downstairs.

After a moment of hesitation, I stepped out. I stayed close to the wall as I crept toward the stairs. My gun remained raised in front of me so I would be ready to act, if needed.

I’d been at the mercy of a killer before, and I’d vowed to never be in that position again. Victim no more.

When I finally reached the first floor, it hit me: Riley was going to kill me.

Guilt washed through me.
What had I been thinking, coming down here alone and not calling the police first? I’m a smart girl. I should know better.

I’d had some kind of independent impulse, and I’d acted without thinking.

I looked back at the stairs, ready to go back up and call the police like a good girl. With any luck, Riley would never know I’d left.

Before I could move, a shadow stepped from around the corner.

“
W
hoa
! Who’re you?” the man in front of me slurred.

I pointed my gun and tried to steady my trembling hands. “Who are you?”

“I . . . live . . . here.” The man crossed his arms, as if daring me to defy him.

“You are not Mr. Murphy,” I muttered.

I didn’t know Mr. Murphy, but this man didn’t strike me as an attorney on the verge of retirement. This man was probably twenty-something, and the distinct scent of alcohol saturated every inch of him. He had longish, sun-bleached hair with nasty dreads. His body looked bony, and his skin had scattered sores.

Meth addict? It was a good possibility.

“I most certainly am. I am Mr. Murphy!” The man raised a finger in the air with an inebriated flamboyance. “And you are trespassing on my property.”

Just then someone thundered down the stairs, stopping halfway. Probably when he’d seen both the stranger and my gun.

“Gabby?”

Riley.

My heart sank.

“I’ve got this,” I muttered, still holding my gun and trying to look tougher than I felt.

“What’s going on?” He slowly and cautiously continued to the bottom. His gaze wavered from me to the man on the other end of my gun. “Who are you?”

“This man broke into the house,” I announced, my gun still pointed at the supposed Mr. Murphy. Honestly, I figured he was harmless, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I could feel Riley’s gaze boring into me. “And you came down to confront him and left me sleeping?”

“Not my smartest move. Sorry.” My words were sincere, but I didn’t have time to grovel right now or explain that this self-sufficient girl might have some trouble operating as a team.

Riley’s gaze continued to sear into me—a mix of righteous anger and hurt—until he finally turned toward the man in front of me. I knew we’d have an uncomfortable conversation later. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“You are not Mr. Mel Murphy,” Riley said.

“I beg to differ. I am Mr. Homer Murphy.” He let out a slight bow, as if he were royalty. As he did so, he accidentally hit a vase on the table beside him and sent it shattering on the floor.

“You’re his son,” I muttered, putting things together.

The one who’s a drug addict.

He pointed at me and pursed his lips. “You’re on the nose.” He tried to touch his nose, but poked his eye instead. “And you are . . . ?”

Riley stepped forward, gently edging me behind him while still keeping the gun pointed at Homer. “I work with your father. He said we could use this place for our honeymoon.”

“Aw . . . wasn’t that nice of him?” His sickly sweet smile disappeared. He tried to lean on the high table beside him, only to knock it down also. He straightened. “The only problem is that I need to use it.”

“Were you the one who was in here two days ago?” Riley narrowed his eyes as he stared at the man.

“That was you?” Homer twisted his lips in confusion.

“That was us,” Riley said. “I saw you. You were wearing a mask. And you ran. Those aren’t the actions of someone who’s innocent or of someone who’s supposed to be staying somewhere.”

Homer shrugged and raised his hands. “I thought you might be my dad.”

“I thought you were allowed to stay here,” I countered. “If that’s the case, why did you care if it was your dad or not?”

He seemed to instantly sober as his shoulders sagged downward. “My dad and I aren’t on great terms. But I know where he keeps the key, so I crash here when I need somewhere to lie low.”

My locked elbows loosened slightly. “Did you leave the shoe in the guest bedroom?”

His face seemed to pale, though it was hard to say for sure in the darkness. I sensed the energy and hope drain from him with every new fact that came to light.

“Maybe,” he muttered.

“That shoe belongs to a missing girl,” I told him, elbows locking again. “Where did you get it?”

Could Homer have something to do with Vivian’s abduction? If so, this whole mystery had just become more convoluted, especially since he would have needed to know ahead of time that
Looking for Love
would be filming here and that those ladies would be on the beach. That’s what I kept coming back to over and over again.

“It was in my dad’s boat.” Homer shrugged and let out a lip-flapping sigh. “That’s all I know.”

“Who did you let use your father’s boat?” Riley asked.

“How’d you know I let someone use it?” Homer sounded dumbfounded.

“Lucky guess,” Riley said. “So who used it? Or were you behind the abduction of an innocent woman?”

Homer’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. Thankfully, there was nothing else there for him to knock over. “The abduction of an innocent woman? Whoa. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then you better start talking.” I raised my gun higher.

“Slow down! I promise—I don’t know their names. I was up at a bar in Clearwater bragging about the house and the boat.” He shrugged again. “I was trying to impress the ladies. You know how that can be. Anyway, some guys there overheard me and cornered me outside when I tried to leave. They roughed me up until I gave them the key to the boat.”

“You just handed the keys over? You just happened to have the keys with you, for that matter?” I questioned. “That seems like too much of a coincidence.”

“I’m in between homes right now, so sometimes I sleep on the boat. Plus, I may or may not have been dangling the keys in front of the women when I was bragging.”

Joey had said the boat pulled up to the shore on the night Vivian was abducted. The water wasn’t that deep out there, not enough for a large boat to come ashore without hitting the bottom. “I thought your dad’s boat was small.”

Homer shrugged. “A place to sleep is a place to sleep. People don’t bother me out there on the water.”

“What happened next?” Riley asked.

“I went down to the marina the next day, and, to my surprise, the boat was there—with the keys even.” Homer ran a hand over his face. “But there was also blood.”

“What do you mean, there was blood?” I asked. That was one fact I hadn’t heard yet. That was one fact Old Yeller hadn’t mentioned.

“It was on the side of the boat, like maybe someone had fallen overboard and hit their head on the way down. I don’t know. But I didn’t like it. I panicked. I hopped on board and rode it over to Caladesi with the intention of cleaning it up. But then I saw the police, so I ditched it and caught a ride on the ferry back to the shore. I saw the shoe on the boat and grabbed it before running.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“Cause I don’t want to go to jail, and it seemed like easy evidence to get rid of.”

“But there were two sandals,” I said. “Why did you leave one?”

He shrugged again. “I didn’t see the other one. I wasn’t sticking around long enough to look either.”

“Why come back here?” I questioned, trying to put everything together. I had a feeling Homer had been acting while in a drug and alcohol induced haze, which meant that all of his actions didn’t necessarily have to be logical to the common person. Drugs and alcohol could seriously limit the good decisions people made. Add stress and panic to that, and it was the recipe for disaster.

“I wasn’t . . . what’s the word?” he said.

“Thinking?” I filled in.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He snapped his fingers. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I came back here to leave the keys. That way if my dad asked if I had anything to do with this, I could tell him no. I was going to take the shoe with me and throw it into the ocean, but then I heard you guys downstairs. I dropped it and ran.”

“Your were wearing a mask, though,” Riley said.

He shrugged in a “duh” like motion. “I didn’t want anyone to see me. Of course.”

I was done questioning his logic—he had none. Instead, I moved to my next inquiry. “Tell us about the men who took your keys.”

He looked beyond me a moment, as if trying to recall anything about them. “They reminded me of spoiled frat boys, you know? They acted like they had money. They were wearing fancy clothes and jewelry and carrying big guns.”

It sounded like the guys who’d cruised into town a few days ago and tried to rent a boat from Larry’s friend. Had they given up on doing that and decided simply to use other people’s boats without their permission in the meantime?

Homer looked back and forth from Riley to me. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

“Shoot you?” I squealed. “Not unless you do something stupid. I mean, stupider than you’ve already done. But I have to call the police, Homer. A woman’s life is on the line here. You have to tell them what you just told us.”

He frowned. “Fine. But please don’t tell my dad.”

* * *

I
almost hated
to see the police and Homer leave because I knew that meant that Riley and I might launch into the first fight of our married life together.

I dreaded that.

I dreaded disappointing him—mostly just because I loved him so much that I wanted to see him happy.

Riley’s arms were crossed as he turned toward me. We stood in the living room, and the dark windows beside us promised doom and gloom as they stared back at us like a black abyss.

“Why’d you come downstairs without me?” Riley said.

I nibbled on my bottom lip, wishing I could rewind things. Instead, I backed up, my shoulder hitting a floor lamp and sending pain over my skin. “I just thought I’d check things out.”

“You could have gotten killed.”

“If you had gone down, you could have gotten killed.”

“Gabby . . .” He let out an exasperated sigh.

I raised my hands. “I know, I know. Look, I really am sorry. But I’m used to doing things on my own. This is going to take some adjustment. And just because we’re married, I don’t want you to think that you always have to be my protector. I like to stand on my own two feet.”

“This isn’t about that. I just need to know you’re going to be safe.”

“Riley, I wish I could know that. None of us knows that, though.”

He reached for my waist but stopped halfway and dropped his hands. “I do know that. But I want to take care of you.”

“And I love that about you. I should have woken you so we could have figured something out instead of simply
me
figuring something out. I will try to do better. I promise. Forgive me?”

“Of course, I forgive you.”

Relief washed through me. “Good. Because I thought for sure I’d just ruined our honeymoon. Again.”

I was sensing a theme here.

“You could never disappoint me, Gabby.”

As much as I loved what he said, that was a pretty big expectation to fulfill. I could think of plenty of ways I might disappoint him. I hoped none of them came to fruition.

I glanced outside at the beach for a moment. The moon lit the sky and reflected on the water, showering the area with soft light.

Something on the beach caught my eye, and I moved closer to the window.

“What is it?” Riley asked.

“Riley, there’s someone out there. On the beach.”

He turned toward me. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go check it out.”