My Killer Vacation

“Who?”

“Rhonda. The mayor. Did she know you were spying on Oscar?”

“No,” he spits, as if I’m an idiot for asking. “Do you think I wanted to watch a live feed of that sad sack while he binged Bake Off all day? I didn’t. Although it was better than keeping tabs on him from the closet.” He shivers. “Oscar Stanley. What an idiot. Did he really think Rhonda was actually going to pass any laws to restrict him from renting? She was telling people what they wanted to hear to secure reelection. That’s what we do. We stay in office at all costs. And it’s my job to make sure the mayor doesn’t have to worry about the details. That’s what makes me the best. After one more term as mayor of this middle-class hell hole, she was going to run for state senate and I would have been right there, indispensable. No one overlooking me, like I’m nothing but an inconsequential flea.”

“You’re not inconsequential.”

“Don’t pander to me.” He jabs the air with the muzzle of the gun. “The cops would have pursued that meathead father who kicked Oscar’s ass. He probably would have been found innocent. But by then, everyone would have forgotten about the murder of a man no one knew. The Barnstable police wouldn’t have been motivated to dig and ruin a good thing with Rhonda. But you had to poke. And prod. And you didn’t take my warnings, did you?”

Slowly, I inch sideways, hoping he’ll turn in the same clockwise motion so his back will be to the stairwell. “You clocked me with the book. You threw the buoy.”

His finger moves on the trigger. “Should have just shot you and gotten it over with.”

“You’re going to get caught.”

“Oh, I know I’m going to be caught. The cops are already bringing me in for questioning. Rhonda is putting it all together, I’m sure. And will she appreciate what I did for her? To keep her double life out of the press? No. I’m sure she’ll act horrified on the evening news. But if she found out what I did and I never got caught? She wouldn’t have said shit. Because that’s politics.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jude coming down the stairs.

No. No.

It’s clear there isn’t going to be any reasoning with Kurt. He’s got nothing to lose.

I suck in as much air as I can and scream for everything I’m worth. “Jude! Run!”





Myles





* * *



It’s my nightmare come to life.

I didn’t resolve a piece of evidence and now the woman I’ve fallen for could pay the price.

My bike is moving so fast down Coriander Lane, the tires are barely meeting the asphalt. Sweat pours down the side of my face, a pit yawning open in my stomach. None of the lights are on in the house when I park outside. Please tell me they went out to dinner or somewhere the assistant hasn’t located them yet. Kurt. Kurt Forsythe. I had his last name confirmed by the Barnstable police, who I called on the way here. I only recall the conversation in snippets. Could barely hear the chief’s voice over the roaring in my ears. After what Wright confided to us about the police potentially looking the other way with the mayor, part of me wanted to come alone, but I had to weigh the risks—and the risk I absolutely cannot take is with Taylor’s life.

House door locked.

A quick glance in through the front window shows no signs of life— There’s a movement to my right, in the distance. Someone on the stairs leading down to the beach. “Please be Taylor. Please be them.”

I lunge off the porch and jog in the direction of the figure. Hard to make out who it is now that the sun is down. But when I’m about fifty yards away, I recognize the hair, the build. Jude. And immediately, I know something is wrong. Very wrong. His hands are up and he’s shaking his head. That’s when I hear Taylor’s hoarse scream and my legs almost liquify.

“Jude! Go! Please!”

“What the fuck is going on? Who is that?” Jude’s tone is laced with fear. “Put the gun down!”

Gun. Taylor. There’s a gun on Taylor.

My skin is nothing but a sheet of ice, heart lurching and racing.

No. No, please God, no. Not her.

Focus. You have to focus.

Number one. If there is a gun down on the beach, Jude is in harm’s way, too.

“Jude,” I growl, not recognizing my own voice.

His head whips around and his horror-filled expression threatens to derail whatever composure I have—and it’s not much.

“Myles.” He turns awkwardly and trips over the step behind him. “There’s a guy down there pointing a gun at Taylor.”

My icy skin thaws rapidly and now I’m hot. Piping hot. Chest burning. No. No, no, no. A memory of Taylor inviting me for tacos catches me off guard and a rough sound escapes. She’d want me to get her brother somewhere safe. “Jude. Come here. You need to come here now and let me handle this. The police are on the way.”

He’s incredulous. “I’m not leaving her down there!”

“We are not leaving her down there. Of course we’re not. But if she thinks you’re in danger, she might do something erratic and get herself hurt.”

Jude curses and swipes at his eyes. “He’s going to shoot her.”

Hold on. Hold on to your control. “Is he on the shorter side? Glasses?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Okay. You’re going to trade places with me, all right? I’m going to speak to him.”

The static in my head is so loud, when I finally hear the sirens approaching, I have no idea how long they’ve been wailing. But they’re close. Very close.

“Jude! Go!” Taylor hollers from the beach again, her scream mingling with the crashing waves. “Please!”

It’s hard. It’s hard to think in logical terms when she’s in danger. When she sounds so scared that my heart wants to tear through my chest. My instinct when it comes to Taylor and her safety is animalistic. I want to hop the stair railing and hurtle down the hill at full speed and plow down everything standing between me and her. But impulsive behavior gets people killed. I need to be calm right now and think.