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“Holy shit,” I exclaim. “I’ve heard of you, actually.”
She laughs. “Are we a hit in Nebraska? Maybe we need to expand the tour.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Anyway, we’re playing at the Sheds tomorrow night. You should come.”
“The Sheds?”
She nods. “Down the beach next to Kaos Surf. It’s West about a mile, on the right.”
I fold up the flyer and slide it into my pocket. “I’ll think about it.” I walk back out of the office and up the stairs to my room, pausing on the walkway outside. I pull the flyer out of my pocket, studying the image. Paige was obsessed with this band. I’ve lost count of the number of pictures and videos she sent me from their concerts. I never knew Paige worked this closely with them.
My gaze strays to the Gulf, and I search the sea until I spot the boats. Bobbing just offshore, diver down flags flying, I watch them search for my sister. I want to ask them what they’ve seen. If they have any leads. If they’re holding out hope like I am.
It’s been four days since she disappeared. All I can do is wait. And I suck at waiting almost as much as I suck at following directions.
I walk into my room and shut the door, striding over to the mirrored closet doors built into the wall across from the bed. I test the doors, sliding one behind the other on the track to see ifit will completely conceal, then slide it back into place. I pull the dry-erase marker out of my pocket and write PAIGE at the top of the mirror in large, bold letters. Everything starts with Paige. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m into true crime stuff, and it’s time to pull from that useless wealth of crime TV knowledge and figure this shit out.
Beside Paige, I write Officer Henrich, Rose Whitman, and the date and time of the incident. My web continues down to the next level, and I write Pelican Beach Police Department. Apart from Rose, Officer Henrich, and Paige, they’re the only other people I know for a fact to be on-site at the accident.
On the next level, I write Evan - who left at 2 AM. I don’t like him, and I don’t know if that’s why I’m so hyper-focused on him. I know I have to consider other avenues of information, because there’s an entire restaurant of people who saw her that night and might know something. I need details. I need to know who was working that night. Who was closing. Where she was going, if she was meeting anyone.
Next to Evan I write a large question mark. Then add the other Aurora cocktail servers - Raven and Natalie. Paige would have been on the way to meet them. I like Raven. I don’t know her at all, but she feels genuine. She’s also the first person I’ve found since I arrived in Pelican Beach who seems to care about Paige.
Then I add Mia Knight, Paige’s roommate. I need to know more about her.
Beneath that row, I add Giana, Nick, Carolyn, and Zaden. Tapping the end of the marker absently against the side of the mirror, I stare at his name. Zaden. I’m intrigued by him, more than I should be. I have to squash this. I don’t need distractions.I need information. And to go the fuck back to California.
I slowly slide the mirrored door aside to conceal it, then stand from the bed. I wander over to the window and look out at the ocean, watching the boats gently rocking in the marina. Behind the Sandbar fleet is a line of sailboats of varying sizes, sails wrapped tight, with polished teak wood shining like gold in the sun. The line is punctuated occasionally by a commercial shrimper or a dive boat, with larger sport fishing vessels anchored in the third row, and a houseboat on the end.
A familiar figure steps out of the back door of the houseboat and onto the dock, and I squint against the morning sun to see her better. She’s wearing a Sandbar shirt, with a slender frame and dark brown hair falling to her shoulders. I know her, yet I’ve never met her. Mia. I recognize her from the photos Paige would send me.
A man stands shirtless on the boat, leaning against the railing as he watches her leave. Even at a distance I know the shape of him.
Zaden.
Curious, I step out onto the second-floor walkway and watch Mia’s journey down the catwalk to the Sandbar. She has her apron folded under her arm, and her server book in her hand. She must work the first shift today. My gaze drifts back to Zaden. He’s beautiful with the sun on his skin, his jeans slung low on his hips, and his muscled arms folded over his chest. He watches Mia until she’s out of sight, then runs a hand through his tousled dark hair.
I should move. Maybe hide. I definitely shouldn’t be staring, but I can’t help it. It doesn’t take long for his attention to shift tome, and our eyes meet across the distance. I can feel my pulse pounding in my chest, and in the grip of my hands on the railing. I curse under my breath. I don’t even know him. He has a girlfriend. He shouldn’t be able to affect me like this.
I turn back to my room, and shut the door behind me. Striding to the closet, I slide the murder mirror back out and pick up the marker. I underline Mia’s name with an arrow toward Zaden and write ‘girlfriend?’beneath it. It’s a small town. I’m sure there will be a lot of intersecting arrows before I’m done here. I cap the marker and sit back on the bed, staring at the black names on the murder mirror.
This is where I start. Each piece of the puzzle has a place, and I’m not leaving until I figure out exactly where each one goes. When the police won’t give me answers, this is how I get them.
Myself.
Chapter 7
Ivy
The Sandbar in the afternoon is a completely different atmosphere. Servers hustle trays of food and drink out to the deck, tables full, with a line extending out the doors and down the sidewalk. The dinner rush hasn’t even officially begun, and they’re at capacity.
I slide in between the waiting bodies, passing through the crowd to the server station. Evan is standing at the food window traying food and barking at the cooks for items as he pulls tickets. When he passes a tray off to a waiting server, his eyes catch mine.
“Ivy, welcome,” he says, motioning toward the server walking a tray through the dining room. Stress beads in the sweat on his forehead, and I can tell he’s out of his element on expo. “Grab that tray jack and follow Natalie, then come back here, and I’ll show you around.” He turns to the window and pulls another ticket, flopping a large tray on the ledge beside thefood.
I trace Natalie’s wake, propping open the jack for her when she reaches the table, and helping her distribute the plates. I monitor her closely, her sassy blonde curls bouncing in a high ponytail on her head, her full lips painted a deep maroon, with a wide smile and a sultry laugh. She has a chipper, flirty vibe with the customers, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
