Swept Away: A Squeaky Clean Honeymoon Novella (Squeaky Clean Mysteries Book 12) by Christy Barritt Page A
Authors: Christy Barritt
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scapegoat this whole time,” I muttered.
“I told Alastair my friend suggested them. Skip was pulling the strings, though. He knew they’d be perfect for framing.”
“Where are these guys now, Wally?” Riley asked.
“I’m not sure. I just know they’re going to grab Joey the first chance they can get. She knows too much, and Skip is afraid she’ll spill the beans on his operation.”
“We’ve got to find them before they get Joey,” I muttered. “Now.”
“What about me? My wife? Please. You can’t just let her die.”
I bit down hard. He was right. There was more than one life on the line here. This situation would have to be handled carefully.
* * *
T hirty minutes later , we had a plan. It may have been a stupid plan, but I hoped it would work because it was all we had.
As darkness fell and the storm raged around us, Wally had sent a small rowboat out into the bay. The vessel was empty, but the men who had his wife wouldn’t know that. Not yet, at least.
Wally had taken a picture of Riley and me lying inside the boat, looking dead. He’d send that photo to Skip as proof that he’d finished us off. Skip would hopefully assume that our bodies were swept out to sea in the storm.
Wally had also promised that he would go back to the house and look after Joey. He assured us he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, which meant she couldn’t be alone and she would never go out on the beach by herself. I hoped he was as good as his word because if Skip found her, I feared she would end up dead.
Meanwhile, Riley and I had darted through yards and behind trees in an effort to disappear. And by disappear, I mean we’d gone to Larry’s house. He’d told us where he lived while we were on the boat yesterday. It was a condominium near the causeway leading to the island.
By the time we got there, we were soaked. And cold. And sandy.
Thankfully, Larry had been awake when we got there, even though it was still dark outside. He’d agreed to go along with our plan, which involved him starting a rumor that our bodies had washed ashore in the wee hours of morning. All he had to do was start the gossip chain down at Erma’s, and it would spread through the locals in town.
“You really think we can pull this off?” Riley asked as we sat on Larry’s couch drinking some coffee as morning approached. Another night with no sleep had left us both exhausted and running on caffeine and adrenaline.
“I hope so. Let me see that picture one more time.”
Riley pulled out his phone. Wally had forwarded us a text Skip had sent him. It was a photo of his wife, Cheryl, bound and gagged, with the message, “Do it or she dies” beneath it.
Chilling, really. Especially when I saw Cheryl’s eyes, which looked big with fright in the shadowed picture. Her hands were bound to the arms of a wooden chair. The wall behind her was old, rough wood.
I stared at the picture, trying to ascertain any clues possible about it. The window in the background was my best hope.
“Can you blow the picture up a little more?” I asked Riley.
He stretched it larger, focusing in on the window. “Do you see something?”
“If you look at it, it almost appears that’s the causeway in the background,” I muttered. “It’s faint, but it’s there. What do you think?”
He studied it a moment. “You could be right. You think they have her here on Crystal Key?”
“It’s a possibility worth examining. We never asked where she was snatched. Even if it wasn’t Florida, maybe they hauled her here with them. Guys like that, they have resources. They could have chartered their own plane.”
Just then, the front door opened, and Larry and Leonard stepped inside. They had two plates in hand.
“We told Erma this breakfast was for us,” Leonard said. “We just wanted it to go. I hoped you didn’t think we’d be cooking for you.”
“Not at all,” I told them.
Leonard plopped the food on the table in front of us. “Well,
“I told Alastair my friend suggested them. Skip was pulling the strings, though. He knew they’d be perfect for framing.”
“Where are these guys now, Wally?” Riley asked.
“I’m not sure. I just know they’re going to grab Joey the first chance they can get. She knows too much, and Skip is afraid she’ll spill the beans on his operation.”
“We’ve got to find them before they get Joey,” I muttered. “Now.”
“What about me? My wife? Please. You can’t just let her die.”
I bit down hard. He was right. There was more than one life on the line here. This situation would have to be handled carefully.
* * *
T hirty minutes later , we had a plan. It may have been a stupid plan, but I hoped it would work because it was all we had.
As darkness fell and the storm raged around us, Wally had sent a small rowboat out into the bay. The vessel was empty, but the men who had his wife wouldn’t know that. Not yet, at least.
Wally had taken a picture of Riley and me lying inside the boat, looking dead. He’d send that photo to Skip as proof that he’d finished us off. Skip would hopefully assume that our bodies were swept out to sea in the storm.
Wally had also promised that he would go back to the house and look after Joey. He assured us he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, which meant she couldn’t be alone and she would never go out on the beach by herself. I hoped he was as good as his word because if Skip found her, I feared she would end up dead.
Meanwhile, Riley and I had darted through yards and behind trees in an effort to disappear. And by disappear, I mean we’d gone to Larry’s house. He’d told us where he lived while we were on the boat yesterday. It was a condominium near the causeway leading to the island.
By the time we got there, we were soaked. And cold. And sandy.
Thankfully, Larry had been awake when we got there, even though it was still dark outside. He’d agreed to go along with our plan, which involved him starting a rumor that our bodies had washed ashore in the wee hours of morning. All he had to do was start the gossip chain down at Erma’s, and it would spread through the locals in town.
“You really think we can pull this off?” Riley asked as we sat on Larry’s couch drinking some coffee as morning approached. Another night with no sleep had left us both exhausted and running on caffeine and adrenaline.
“I hope so. Let me see that picture one more time.”
Riley pulled out his phone. Wally had forwarded us a text Skip had sent him. It was a photo of his wife, Cheryl, bound and gagged, with the message, “Do it or she dies” beneath it.
Chilling, really. Especially when I saw Cheryl’s eyes, which looked big with fright in the shadowed picture. Her hands were bound to the arms of a wooden chair. The wall behind her was old, rough wood.
I stared at the picture, trying to ascertain any clues possible about it. The window in the background was my best hope.
“Can you blow the picture up a little more?” I asked Riley.
He stretched it larger, focusing in on the window. “Do you see something?”
“If you look at it, it almost appears that’s the causeway in the background,” I muttered. “It’s faint, but it’s there. What do you think?”
He studied it a moment. “You could be right. You think they have her here on Crystal Key?”
“It’s a possibility worth examining. We never asked where she was snatched. Even if it wasn’t Florida, maybe they hauled her here with them. Guys like that, they have resources. They could have chartered their own plane.”
Just then, the front door opened, and Larry and Leonard stepped inside. They had two plates in hand.
“We told Erma this breakfast was for us,” Leonard said. “We just wanted it to go. I hoped you didn’t think we’d be cooking for you.”
“Not at all,” I told them.
Leonard plopped the food on the table in front of us. “Well,
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