I thought to myself, If I were Becca, I would probably have spent a lot of time in here, too. I went over to the little alcove opposite the aquarium and sat down on the velvet bench. I closed my eyes and the image of Mrs. Harwick’s face came into view. There was so much sorrow in her vacant stare that I could barely take it. She must have been so terrified when she woke up that morning in Tampa and realized that her husband wasn’t lying in bed next to her. I hoped someone had been with her when she was told what had happened. The thought of her sitting alone in a hotel room to hear that news was just too terrible to think about. And now it was beginning to look like Detective McKenzie might have been right about Becca, that she was on drugs.
That’s when it finally dawned on me.
Becca had said that Mr. and Mrs. Harwick had basically disowned August for getting mixed up with drugs, and that he’d been forced to get a job at the golf club. That was one of the main reasons she’d been afraid to talk to her parents: She was worried they’d cut her off, too. And who could blame her? If I’d had that kind of money growing up, I don’t think I’d be too happy about losing it either.
Now, though, I remembered something August said the first day I met him. He had just searched through the house and found Charlotte out on the lanai. We were walking up the driveway together, and when we passed his car he said, “How do you like my new wheels?” If he’d been cut off financially from his parents, forced to get some menial job at a golf course, how in the world could he have afforded to buy a brand-new, expensive-looking sports car? Where would he have gotten the money for something like that?
It was simple. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before.
August wasn’t “mixed up” in drugs. He was dealing them, and Becca knew it. Detective McKenzie had mentioned Becca had taken something from her brother’s room. Was it possible Becca had found his stash of money and drugs and stolen it?
Then there was the question of that packet of letters that Kenny supposedly gave Mr. Harwick. Where was it? And if it wasn’t hidden in the house, who had taken it?
My brain was starting to hurt. I rubbed my hands over my eyes and took a deep breath. Somehow I’d done it again. I’d gotten all mixed up in something that was none of my business. I had told myself that it was none of my business a hundred times, but somehow that didn’t matter. I just kept getting sucked in.
I looked up at the fish tank. The mermaid was sitting inside her simple, peaceful little world with that same insipid look in her eyes and stupid smirk painted on her face. As I was about to mutter something disparaging about her ridiculously exaggerated boobs, I stopped myself. Wait a minute, I thought. This mermaid is trying to tell you something.
She was gazing serenely out one of the bathroom windows, as though she was mesmerized by how the sun was glittering through it and sending little prisms of color reflecting around the room, as though she was being transported to some magical, far-off land.
I thought, You’re exactly right. I need to do that. I need to gaze off into the distance with an empty head. I need to wear a bikini. I need to drink some margaritas in the middle of the day. I need a damn break. I need to get away.
And I knew exactly who I wanted to get away with.
23
I looked at my watch. It said exactly 4:38, which meant it was exactly a minute past 4:30. I like to be on time, so I trick myself. I set all my clocks seven minutes fast. That way if I’m running late or hit traffic, I always have a few minutes to spare. I knew Ethan usually left his office around 4:30 every afternoon and walked over to the café for a cup of coffee. I decided I’d drive by and see if I could catch him. It was silly, but I knew it would cheer me up. My conversation with Mrs. Harwick had put me in a lousy mood.
The coffee shop is right on the corner at the light. As I pulled up to the curb, Ethan was just coming out the door with a coffee and a bagel. I honked the horn and rolled down the passenger window. He was deep in thought, probably mulling over the details of a case he was working on, but when he saw me his face lit up and he came bounding over and stuck his head in the window. If he’d had a tail he would have wagged it.
“Hey! Fancy meeting you here!”
“Well, not really. I’m sort of stalking you. I know you usually get coffee around now, so—”
“Hold on. You drove over here just so you’d run into me?”
I shrugged. “Well, I was sort of in the neighborhood, but basically yes.”
“Wow. That is the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”
I could literally feel my heart racing. “Me, too.”
“So, when am I seeing you again? I am seeing you again, right?”
I said, “Yes. In fact I have a fantasy that we’re sharing a margarita on some faraway island in the middle of the day.”
“I have some fantasies, too, but we can go over those later.”
Huh.
He looked at his watch. “I wish I’d known you were going to be stalking me. I would have made some excuse not to go back to the office.”
“No, it’s okay. I need to get home anyway.”
“Maybe I could stop by later?”
“Definitely.”
He smiled. “Good. I’ll call you. I had a great time last night. I even enjoyed all the crazy drama.”
“There won’t be any more craziness, I promise.”
His eyebrows went up, and I braced myself for whatever sarcastic yet witty remark he was about to make. Instead he said, “Damn, look at this beautiful automobile.”
He tipped his chin at a car that had just rolled up next to us and was waiting for the light to turn green, but I didn’t look over. I had no interest in some silly car. I was more interested in how excited Ethan was. He was beaming like a dog in a butcher shop.
“That’s a Fiero Miyata. They only make about a hundred of them a year, and you need major connections just to get on the waiting list. That little baby probably costs a cool hundred thousand at least.”
I’ll never understand what it is with boys and their cars. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a nice car as much as the next person, but as far as I’m concerned, cars are just like shoes—they help you get from one place to another. I wouldn’t waste a hundred thousand dollars on a fancy designer car any more than I’d waste it on a pair of fancy designer shoes. Except that I have been known to have a weakness for shoes. So I might fantasize about buying a hundred-thousand-dollar pair of shoes, if they even make such a thing, but I’d never actually do it. I mean, they’d have to be pretty nice shoes.
Ethan saw the grin on my face as I was watching him. “What?”
I said, “I’m just wondering if I’ll ever see that gleam in your eye when you’re looking at me.”
He laughed. “Oh, you’re way hotter than that car. But still … you have to admit. That is one nice car.”
With a cheesy wink, he headed off down the sidewalk. I watched him go and thought to myself, and that is one cute butt.
As the light changed to green, I turned to look and my smile instantly vanished. I couldn’t see who was driving, but I recognized the car immediately. It was the same black sports car that August was driving the first time I met him outside his parents’ house. In and of itself, that was no big deal. We live on a tiny island, so people’s paths are bound to cross every once in a while, and I run into people I know all the time. What made my jaw drop open and my eyebrows jump was that I thought I recognized the person that was sitting in the passenger seat.
The windows were rolled up and slightly tinted, so I couldn’t see the face clearly. I waited until the car had gone through the light, and then I pulled out onto the road a few cars back. I followed it all the way up Higel Avenue and through Bay Island to the bridge that crosses over Roberts Bay onto the mainland. At Tamiami Trail, the car turned north and headed out of town. I kept a safe distance just in case they saw me and got suspicious. We drove on for about five miles, and then finally made a right onto University.