Footsteps thudded. Aerin curled her arms to her chest. The air around her darkened, and she could smell a bodily mix of sour sweat and bad breath.
Brett.
Suddenly, he was right next to her. She could feel him crouching down, the fabric of his pants brushing against her bare leg. Aerin whimpered and covered her face. “P-please,” she stammered. Was this what Helena felt like, before it was all over? Did time both slow down and speed up? Did she feel a solid, crackling terror in her bones?
Clammy fingers pulled Aerin’s hands from her face, knocking her cap off her head. Aerin felt her long hair cascade over her shoulders. She heard a gasp above her, and then whoever it was stepped away.
An overhead light flipped on. A man of Brett’s height stood above her, but his nose was wider, his lips thinner, his hair wispier, almost balding. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but their shape was all wrong—down-turned, puffy. His name tag read Barnes, and he wore a bright orange hat with two fins and a fish tail on it. He blinked at her, stunned, but then a look of irritation rolled across his face. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I…” Aerin had no idea what to say. She cringed when Barnes moved toward her, but he was just inserting a key into the locked door and opening it. He was still staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. “Get out of here,” he hissed.
Aerin scurried into the aquarium, tears in her eyes. When she reached the sunny boardwalk, she wanted to kiss its sticky ground and embrace every tourist that passed. When she saw Madison, pulling on the arm of an aquarium worker, she ran for her and fell into her embrace. And then she started crying hot, scared tears, her whole body shuddering. She felt so childish. Where was her vicious, snarling courage? She wanted to be able to handle this, but she suddenly realized how terrified of Brett she really was. If he got close to her, she wouldn’t be able to fight him.
She might shatter to pieces.
MADDOX AND SENECA stood in Quigley’s Surf Shop and Boutique, a warren of rooms containing everything from beachy rompers to motivational DVDs on how to become one with the waves. The place smelled like a mix of surf wax and patchouli, and a jam band Maddox recognized from track parties blasted through the speakers. They were standing in the shoe area, talking to an employee named Kona, a compact, bearded guy with swimmer’s shoulders and a tattoo of a bunch of Japanese symbols on the back of his hand. He had been at the party the other night.
“Chelsea seemed happy, excited,” Kona said in a lazy drawl. “All she could talk about was how her Instagram account was blowing up and how she’d met some really interesting people lately and had really cool stuff on the horizon.”
“Did she name the people she’d met?” Maddox asked. “Were they at the party?”
Kona straightened a display of plastic sunglasses. “It sounded more like they were big shots. Hollywood people who could make her a social media star.”
“Who was she hanging out with at the party?” Seneca asked.
“Guys, girls…everyone. I kept seeing her with her ex Jeff. Which was weird, because someone said they had a rough breakup.”
Maddox narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
A second employee, Gwen, a petite brunette whose eyelashes were either freakishly long or fake, strode up. “Well, they were the it couple, you know? But then something…happened.”
“Jeff couldn’t handle her fame,” Maddox guessed.
“Chelsea was cheating,” Seneca said at the same time. She shot Maddox a look. Maddox shot her one back.
Kona and Gwen looked from Maddox to Seneca. “Wait, Chelsea was cheating?” Gwen said. “Because I thought…”
“We don’t know if it’s true,” Maddox said quickly. “Jeff could be lying.”
Seneca cocked her head. “Why would he lie?”
“Because he’s sketchy, Seneca. I don’t know.”
Gwen’s smile wavered. An invisible problem by the register caught her attention. “Uh, I need to take care of this.” She hurried away. Kona gave them a sleepy smile and went to help some customers who’d just walked in.
Seneca put her hands on her hips and looked at Maddox with amusement. “What are you doing, Sherlock?”
Maddox avoided her gaze. “I’m just asking questions.”
“This is about exacerbated, isn’t it?”
“No!” Maddox cried, though he felt his cheeks flush. Was she making fun of him? He jutted his chin in the air, determined not to dwell on it. “It’s not,” he insisted. “I just want to make sure we’re fully informed.”
“Well, we’re wasting our time asking about Jeff,” Seneca argued. “We need to figure out who else was at that party. Who Brett is.”
Kona returned. “I’ve got to get back to work. You guys need anything else?”
“Yes,” Seneca said quickly. “Do a lot of people who were at the party work in town?”
He nodded. “Definitely. In shops, as Uber drivers, lifeguards—you name it. Almost all of us have summer jobs.”
“Can you think of anyone who was at the bonfire for most of the night?”
Kona stared at the ceiling, which was decorated with old surfboards covered in yellowed wax. “It’s usually stoners down there. A kid named Rex? And this guy J.T.”
“How about someone named Alistair?” Seneca asked, referring to the guy Jeff mentioned. “Do you remember seeing him after Chelsea left?”
“I got a ride home with him, actually.”
“You don’t by any chance have the number of the guy who threw the party, do you?”
“Gabriel? Sure.” Kona scrolled through his phone, then sent Seneca the contact. Seneca’s fingers flew as she texted, and within moments, she got a reply. She examined the text, then smiled. “Looks like we’ve been invited to lunch at Gabriel’s place—which is perfect. We can talk to him and check out where Chelsea was last seen. I texted Aerin and Madison to see if they want to join.” Then she shot Maddox a pointed look. “I’ve invited Jeff, too. So be nice.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Maddox and Seneca pulled up to a big structure with a sign that read Ocean Sands Beach Club and Condos. With its marble-white exterior, enormous balconies off each condo, swanky valet service, expansive lobby, and private cabanas lining the beach, the place definitely looked nice enough. The parking lot was roped off by yellow police tape, with a single officer on guard.
Maddox walked ahead of Seneca down the sidewalk, then up a set of stairs to the second floor, where Gabriel’s place was. Someone was whispering on the landing, and he froze. He caught sight of Jeff’s man bun bobbing as he paced back and forth. “Listen, it’s not worth it,” he said quietly into the phone. “Back off, okay? I can handle this. I can handle them.”
Maddox felt a crawling sensation over his skin. When he cleared his throat, Jeff peered over the stairs, widened his eyes, then slipped the phone in his pocket without saying good-bye. “Hey,” he said, his gaze on Seneca, who had just appeared behind Maddox. Jeff’s hair was wet, he was unshaven, and he wore a burlap-like white hoodie with ragged sleeves, striped board shorts to his knees, stretched-out, filthy Etnies sneakers, and a pair of Maui Jim aviators propped on his head. He looked like a homeless pirate. A sketchy homeless pirate.
“Who were you talking to on the phone?” Maddox asked loudly.
Jeff’s features hardened. Seneca stepped between them. “Thanks for coming,” she said evenly. “We appreciate it.”
Jeff murmured a thank-you, his gaze still on Maddox. Maddox stared back coldly. He was all for including this guy in the investigation if Jeff could get them closer to Brett. But how could they be sure he was on their side?
“So this is where the party was?” Seneca gestured to the pool down the stairs.
“Yep,” Jeff said. “The party was all outdoors.” He continued up another staircase to a set of three doors. Knocking on the leftmost one, he said, “This is Gabriel’s. He’ll tell you more.”
After three knocks, a bleached-blond guy in aviator sunglasses and with a scr
uffy beard pulled the door open. “Hey,” he said, grinning.
“Hey, Gabriel.” Jeff gave the guy a fist bump. “These are the people I was telling you about. Seneca and Maddox.”
Gabriel nodded at them. “Gabriel Wilton,” he said, extending his hand. “Good to meet you.” The guy’s skin glowed golden with a tan. A tattoo on his arm showed a man doing a trick on a skateboard. “Come on back. We’re on the patio.”
They walked through the condo, which was filled with bright, almost-blinding sunlight and decorated with comfy off-white couches, Navajo blankets, and a large leather beanbag chair. Three surfboards were stacked in the corner, a ginormous flat-screen showed an X Games rebroadcast, and black-and-white photos of ocean waves marched across the walls. Maddox nodded approvingly. He wouldn’t mind having a beach pad like this.
Gabriel slid back a glass door and stepped onto a small patio that contained a bistro table laden with sandwiches, chips, and drinks. Sitting on one of the chairs was a tall man with warm brown skin whose hair was buzzed short. He wore a pair of mirrored Ray-Ban Wayfarers, and Maddox caught sight of his reflection in the frames. “This is Alistair Reed,” Gabriel said.
Alistair said hello as well, the word bent with a Jamaican accent, then slapped Jeff’s back. Maddox slid into a chair, admiring the unobstructed water view. Waves rolled steadily to shore in the distance. A few scattered clouds drifted casually though the sky. Three drones hovered over the ocean, their operators squinting up at them.
“Thanks for all your help,” Seneca said to the guys, sitting down next to Maddox.
“It’s no problem at all.” Gabriel settled into a chair with a plate of food in front of it. He took a big bite of a sandwich. “We want to figure this out. We cared about Chelsea, too. I can’t believe this happened. But I definitely don’t think Jeff is responsible, and I’ll do everything in my power to prove that.”
Jeff looked grateful. “I appreciate that.” His gaze flicked to Maddox again. The look seemed loaded.
“So the party was at the pool and on the beach, right?” Seneca asked, grabbing a sandwich from the platter.
Gabriel nodded, pointing out the pool—they could see the very tip of it from the patio. “Yep. Pool was packed. We had drinks, food, music, the works. And then people were down at the bonfire, too.”
“Was anyone on that patio?” Maddox said, pointing to a large raised terrace just next to the pool. A few people were leaning over the railing, staring at the ocean. Just underneath the terrace was a rather ugly undeveloped square of property littered with spare boards, cardboard boxes, and several Dumpsters.
Gabriel shook his head. “The building management asked that we keep the parties only at the pool so that people staying at the condos who didn’t want to come could use the terrace. That’s the way most of my parties work—they’re either at the pool or on the terrace, but not on both. But like you already know, the party spilled over to the beach. The bonfire was just over the dunes.”
Maddox followed his finger to a bunch of burned-looking logs beyond the cabanas. He suddenly shivered. Had Brett lingered down there, listening in?
He turned back to Gabriel. “Did you talk to Chelsea that night?”
Gabriel nodded. “I said hi. But I didn’t keep track of her.”
“Did she seem…okay?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I guess so. Pretty much the same as always.”
“I hung out with her a little bit,” Alistair volunteered. “I was even down at the bonfire just before she blew up at Jeff. But I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“He was stoned,” Gabriel explained, giving Alistair a wry look.
“You can’t remember who else was at the bonfire?” Seneca asked Alistair as she poured herself a glass of lemonade. “Someone who might have posted something about Jeff on a crime-solving chat site?”
Alistair shrugged. “Lots of people were down there all through the night. But isn’t it possible that someone told someone else about the fight and that was who posted about it on the website?”
Maddox and Seneca exchanged a glance. “Maybe,” Maddox said tentatively.
“Was everyone at the party interviewed by the police the next morning, when Chelsea was reported missing?” Seneca asked.
“Most were, yes,” Gabriel said. “They talked to me, Alistair, our pal Cole, a bunch of the lifeguards, this group of girls who have a house on Ninety-Fifth, and a few of Chelsea’s friends.”
“And was anyone unaccounted for around the time Chelsea vanished?”
“Well, according to the police, Jeff was the only one.” Gabriel looked uncomfortable. Jeff shifted in his seat. “But the party was so scattered. Everyone was all over the place. From my perspective, lots of people were unaccounted for….It’s hard to know.”
“Do you have a guest list we could take a look at?” Maddox asked. “We think Chelsea’s kidnapper stopped by your party for a little bit.”
“I’ll text it to you now.” Gabriel pulled out his iPhone, and in moments, Maddox felt his pocket buzz.
Gabriel’s gaze was still on his phone, and suddenly, his brow wrinkled. “My freaking boss. I gotta jet.”
“Now?” Seneca sounded disappointed.
“Yeah.” Gabriel drained the rest of his water. “There’s an emergency at the office.”
“Where do you work?” Maddox asked, thinking, Surf instructor, obviously.
“I’m a Realtor-in-training.” Gabriel pulled a beanie onto his head. “Mostly I handle gripes from renters about how the toilets don’t function properly.” Everyone else stood up to go, too, but Gabriel gestured for them to sit back down. “Stay. Finish eating. Take a look around the grounds, anything that might help find Chelsea.”
Seneca looked uncertain. “A few other people are supposed to meet us here.” She glanced at Maddox. “Have you heard from them yet?”
Maddox nodded. “Madison texted. They’re okay, but she didn’t give details.”
“Tell them to come on up,” Gabriel offered. “There’s enough food for everyone. Just toss everything in the trash once you’re done. Oh, and the door locks automatically behind you, so just make sure you grab all your stuff when you leave. And, hey, you’ll come to my Bastille Day party tomorrow, right?”
Jeff shook his head. “I don’t think so, man. I’m not sure I can do the party scene right now.”
“Understood,” Gabriel said. Alistair rose, too.
“One more thing,” Seneca said, catching the guys as they headed back through the condo. “Can you think of anyone Chelsea might have been dating this summer? Or last summer, for that matter?”
Gabriel looked surprised. “You mean besides Jeff?”
“Yes,” Seneca said. Maddox peeked at Jeff. He had his head down, looking miserable.
“No,” Gabriel said slowly. The question seemed to blindside him. Alistair looked just as surprised. “But do you want us to ask around? Maybe her friends know something?”
“Sure, and we’ll get on it, too,” Seneca said. “Thanks so much, guys.”
Alistair said he had to jet as well, stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and grabbing his bag. The guys strode away, their gaits powerful and athletic. When they’d gone, Seneca looked at Jeff. “Are you sure it’s fine if we stay for a bit?” she whispered. Gabriel’s place was a much nicer HQ than their creepy rooms at the B&B—plus it was private. The last thing she wanted was to be discussing the case in public and for Brett to accidentally overhear.
“Totally.” Jeff nodded. “He’s very mi casa, su casa.”
“And is he really throwing another party so shortly after Chelsea went missing?”
“It’s because the town is French,” Jeff explained. “The party is tradition around here. I’m going to skip it, but you guys should go. You’ll get a good sense of who was at the other party.”
“Hmm,” Seneca said, mulling it over.
They sat back down. Jeff gazed out at the water, suddenly looking contemplative. “You guys
ever surf? Catching a wave brings the dopamine rush to a whole new level. You’ll never get the same kind of buzz.”
Seneca chuckled. “Don’t expect to get Maddox out there. He’s afraid of sharks.”
Maddox glared at her. Seneca raised her hands playfully. “What? Don’t pretend Shark Week last year didn’t happen.” She looked at Jeff. “In every e-mail he wrote to me, he said he’d had another dream that he was being attacked by a megalodon.”
Maddox snickered. “As I recall, your nightmares were about being attacked by your high school’s cheerleading squad.”
“Doing complicated tumbling moves and knocking over my carefully arranged stacks of books.” Seneca shuddered. “Which is way scarier than a megashark.”
Jeff chuckled halfheartedly, but it was clear he didn’t get the joke. Then he turned to Seneca. “Well, you’d be great at surfing. You have the shoulders for it.”
Seneca looked surprised. “You think?”
“Totally. You’re ripped, girl. And you have to be majorly strong to surf.”
“Not as strong as you have to be to run a sub-thirty ten-K,” Maddox grumbled under his breath.
Seneca glanced at him for a moment, then at her bare, freckled shoulders. “You know, I’ve always thought surfing sounded fun.”
“It’s beyond fun,” Jeff said. “I’ll teach you, if you’re ever interested.”
“Can we focus?” Maddox interrupted, hating that Jeff had something to offer her that he didn’t. “Don’t we have a guest list to investigate?” he continued.
Seneca blinked, her pink lips parting. “Yes. You’re right.” She stood and pushed the chair back with a scrape. “Actually, I’d like to check out the place where Chelsea was last seen.”
“Absolutely.” Jeff rose, too.
Maddox heaved himself up, but Seneca shook her head. “You stay here, Maddox. Start going through that guest list.”
Maddox’s mouth fell open. “Wait, really?”
“Aerin and Madison are coming. Gabriel said the door locks automatically behind us, so someone needs to stay behind to let us back in. I’ll take pictures in case I find anything sketchy, okay?”