Ninth Grave (A Writer's Retreat Mystery Book 9) Page 3

  “Maybe he likes to sleep during the day,” I suggested. “Writers do at times keep odd hours. Jax writes psychological thrillers and horror; maybe he finds inspiration in the darkness.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “If preferring to write at night is not behind his odd hours and he is suffering from insomnia, I suspect things will get better once he has had time to acclimate himself a bit. I wouldn’t worry about it.” I hugged Vikki once again. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, and as I’ve already said, be careful.”

  I continued on to the cabin Jack and I now shared. He had built the structure on the beach in the same location where a tiny cabin had once sat, so while we called it a cabin in the spirit of the other buildings on the grounds, it was really more of a house. Jack had wanted enough space for us both to be comfortable without expanding the original structure’s footprint, so he’d built up and added a second story. Jack still owned his mansion on the bluff. He talked about selling it but somehow had never gotten around to doing it.

  “Remember that sea turtle with the chipped shell that nested behind the cabin last year?” Jack asked the minute I walked in the door.

  “Yeah. I remember her.” I smiled at the memory of the turtle mama we’d referred to as Matilda.

  “She’s back. She crawled up onto the beach while Kizzy and I were standing there. Luckily, Kizzy obeyed my command to leave her alone, but just to be safe, I think we might want to put her on a leash if we walk on the south beach. If Matilda is here, you know others won’t be far behind.”

  “We should call Meg to let her know that she might want to send someone from the turtle rescue squad over to rope off the sensitive areas of the beach,” I suggested. I glanced at the clock. “Although it is late and she might have turned in for the evening, I’ll text her.”

  I thought about the baby turtles who would hatch and make the journey from the beach to the sea in July and August. Meg Collins, museum volunteer, turtle rescue squad founder, and George’s sort-of girlfriend, took her role as protector of the sea turtles on the island seriously, as did most of the residents who lived on Gull Island. The beach on the far side of the home Jack had built was one of the premier nesting beaches in the area. Garrett had tried to protect the nests when he’d run the resort as a family getaway, but now that the writers had moved in, the beach was roped off during nesting and hatching season.

  “I’ll text Garrett as well to let him know to fill the new residents in on nesting protocol,” I added. “I brought it up briefly during the little orientation I hold for each new resident, but now that the turtles are showing up, I think we should bring it up again.”

  After I had texted both Meg and Garrett, I headed upstairs to pack. Jack had said that he wanted to be on the road by five o’clock the next morning, which meant that anything that wasn’t packed in the car this evening would most likely not come along at all. Jack had said he would take care of packing Kizzy’s food, bowls, and toys, so that meant I just had my own clothing and toiletries to gather.

  I was trying to decide if I would need to bring jeans in addition to shorts when my phone dinged, letting me know I had a text. It was Meg, thanking me for letting her know that the turtles had begun to arrive on the beach. She assured me that she would have someone come out the following day to rope off the sensitive areas and post signs about what to look out for and what to avoid. She wished us well on our journey and, as everyone else had done, cautioned us to be careful. I hadn’t spoken to Meg about our trip, so I had to assume that George had called her after the meeting and filled her in. I often considered inviting Meg to be part of the Mastermind group even though she wasn’t a writers’ retreat resident, but I was afraid that would open a door it would be difficult to close.

  “Don’t forget to bring your phone and laptop chargers,” Jack called from the bottom of the stairs.

  “I have them. Do you think we should bring the travel printer?”

  “I packed it just in case we need it. I’m going to set the alarm for four o’clock. Will that give you the time you need in the morning?”

  I groaned. I was not a morning person. “It will give me plenty of time to get ready, but you’d better set the coffeemaker as well.”

  Jack walked in through the bedroom door with his phone in his hand. I supposed he was setting the alarm as we chatted. “We can stop for coffee along the way as well, and I thought we’d have breakfast at that little place we found the last time we drove north from Gull Island to New York.”

  I smiled. “I’d like that. I guess we should be there at around eight, which will work out just right.” I glanced out the window as a cloud passed over the moon. It looked like we were in for rain. I just hoped it would hold off until we had left the island and were well on our way to Rivervale.

  Chapter 3

  Tuesday, May 7

  Jack and I were on the road by five a.m., as we’d hoped to be. It was about a ten-hour drive to Rivervale, so we figured that even if we stopped for breakfast, we would arrive in plenty of time to check into the motel, receive our instructions from Sam, and at least get started today. I had to admit that there were butterflies in my stomach as we drove away from Gull Island. Playing a game with a madman when the outcome was so vague really was pretty nerve-racking. I was trying to present a brave face so that Jack wouldn’t know how frightened I was, but to be honest, I was terrified.

  “So, what did you think of the meeting last night?” I asked Jack in an attempt to find something a bit more vanilla than a game with a serial killer to talk about.

  Jack frowned. “It was sort of odd to have so many new people, to tell you the truth. I understand that it might appear exclusionary not to invite the new full-time residents to join us, especially Lorelei and Rena, who have been living at the resort for a while. And I understand that George and Grayson have become friends and George has shared with him the fact that those of us who have lived at the resort for a while meet and solve cold cases together, but Jax has only just moved in. I think that prior to last night I’d only spoken to him once, and even that was a brief hello. Opening up and sharing was difficult with so many new faces.”

  I blew out a breath. “I felt the same way. I suppose that inviting Jax was premature because he hasn’t even lived at the resort for two full weeks. It just felt weird to ask the other new residents and not him. I suppose the group might want to consider coming up with guidelines as to who is invited and when. Maybe there needs to be some sort of length-of-residency requirement.”

  “That might be a good idea, although the long-term rentals are all full and the units booked as temporary units are full through the summer, so I don’t anticipate any new residents unless someone moves out.”

  “And what was your impression of our newest writers’ retreat resident?” I asked. My conversation with Vikki the previous evening had gotten me thinking.

  Jack shifted his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure. Jax seems like a nice-enough guy, but he also sort of creeps me out. When I have been in the same room with him, he has been mostly quiet. I guess a lot of folks don’t like to speak unless they really have something to say. But it’s more than that. He has an odd way of looking at people, and when I tried chatting with him before the meeting, he had a presence that made me feel like he was digging around in my head, looking for a plot for his next thriller. If it turns out he is a psychic like Clara, I wouldn’t be surprised. If he turns out to be a psychopath, I wouldn’t be surprised either.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I get what you are saying. He does have a monosyllabic way about him. And those dark brown eyes that are almost black have a demonic feel to them. I’d almost agree to the psychopath theory, but I checked his references and he seemed fine. He seems to be a deep thinker, and his tendency to write novels from the perspective of the killer is sort of disturbing, but I doubt that he is actually dangerous.”

  “I wrote my last novel from the perspective of the
killer,” Jack pointed out as he merged into the parallel lane to pass a motorist.

  I chuckled when I realized that was true. “And see, while I did find the book to be disturbing, I find you to be mostly harmless.”

  Jack smiled. “I’m sure Jax is a really nice guy who will begin to open up once he gets to know everyone.”

  Kizzy stuck her head over the back of the seat, so I reached up and scratched her behind the ears.

  “So where did Jax live before he moved to Gull Island?” Jack asked.

  “Hollywood. He’d lived with a lifelong friend who died recently. He told me that after the death of his friend, he felt at loose ends. He’d never married or had children, and his siblings had all passed away, so when he heard about the writers’ retreat, he decided to give it a try.”

  “It sounds like he has had it rough lately. I hope everything works out for him.”

  I turned slightly to confirm that Kizzy had gone back to sleep, and then looked back at Jack. “Have you read any of the books he has written? They aren’t really my cup of tea.”

  “I’ve read a few since he moved in. I actually hadn’t heard of him before that. I will say that he really is a master at building suspense. You know the guy with the machete is going to lop off someone’s head, yet you still find yourself surprised when it happens.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, like I said, not my thing. At least not as a regular source of entertainment. I will admit to indulging in darker-themed movies and novels when Halloween rolls around.” I paused to consider things a bit. “I wonder if Jax has plans to continue with his writing. He mentioned that he wanted to come to Gull Island to retire.”

  “I suppose it depends on whether he feels he still has stories to tell.”

  I adjusted my visor against the glare of the sun. “I get that. I haven’t written anything since I’ve lived at the resort. Actually, that isn’t true. I’ve written articles for the newspaper, but I never have gotten around to my novel. I know Clara hasn’t published anything new since she has lived with us, and George has been working on the same historical novel forever. Lorelei mentioned that she hasn’t published in several years. It seems as if the Gull Island Writers’ Retreat is more of a home for retired writers than it has been for those who are currently publishing, although you’ve had your share of new releases, Alex has published prolifically since he has lived with us, and Brit seems to be coming into her own.”

  “Vikki has published fairly steadily since she has lived at the retreat,” Jack pointed out.

  “She has,” I agreed, “although I sense that she might be ready to focus on other things.

  “Other things?” Jack asked.

  “I suspect that she and Rick might be talking marriage. She hasn’t said as much in any sort of an official manner, but I’ve known her for a long time and I can see that she is ready for a change. It seems to me that her last trip to LA was sort of a final hurrah. I won’t be surprised if she decides to take some time off.” I glanced up at the road sign we were passing under. “I think the exit where we talked about stopping for breakfast is coming up in a mile or two.”

  “Good. I’m starving.”

  Because we had Kizzy with us, we got food to-go and took it to a local park to eat. The park was very peaceful. We found a table near a creek that wound its way through a grove of deciduous trees. The setting was lovely, but we didn’t want Kizzy getting wet because she would be getting back into the car, so we attached her leash to the table and gave her a chew toy to play with. After we’d eaten, we led her away from the water and then let her off the leash. Jack picked up a stick for her and tossed it down the path a bit.

  “By the way,” Jack said, “while this is totally off the subject, I’ve been meaning to tell you that my mother called me a few days ago and told me that she is thinking about getting married again.”

  I raised a brow. “Really? She didn’t mention that she’d been seriously dating anyone the last time she dropped by.” Jack’s mother, a woman in her early sixties who looked as if she was in her early forties, was also his agent. Jack hadn’t seen a lot of her since moving to Gull Island and reopening the newspaper, but she did stop by from time to time when she felt the need to pressure him into dedicating less time to his newspaper hobby and more time to his writing career.

  “That’s because she wasn’t dating anyone seriously then,” Jack answered. “She just met Antonio, a man who, by the way, has yet to reach his thirtieth birthday, two months ago. She assured me that they are soulmates, and the fact that he is thirty-four years her junior is irrelevant to what they have.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “So your type A, workaholic mother is going to marry a man in his twenties? Did she say what he does for a living?”

  “She said something about him being a student,” Jack answered. “On one hand, I am concerned. There is no way this relationship is going to go the distance. On the other, my mother sounded happy. Not just happy but grounded and relaxed. She told me that she was going to take the summer off so they could go to Europe. My mother never takes time off. She works even when she travels, but this time she assured me she was going to be off the grid. She wanted to be sure I would be okay with that, which I am. I’ve been trying to get Mom to slow down and enjoy life a bit for years.”

  “So maybe the fact that your mom and Antonio have little chance of going the distance isn’t all that important. Maybe if all they have is the summer that will be enough.” I paused. “Of course, if she really does plan to marry him, she may want to get a prenup. Or, even better, maybe you can convince her to postpone the wedding until she gets back from her trip. That will give the relationship time to develop naturally.”

  “I suggested that she might want to hold off on the actual vows. I don’t know if she will take my advice, but she seemed to be considering my suggestion that they wait a few months at the very least.”

  “I have to admit that I am curious about this guy. I just can’t imagine your mother tossing caution to the wind and letting her hair down for anyone.”

  Jack frowned. “It did occur to me to request they come for a visit before they head overseas, but now with this quest to see through, I’m not sure that will work out. I’d pretty much decided to let things sit, but I think I’ll call her tomorrow and talk to her again. I want my mother to be happy, and if this kid can make her happy, I’m all for the relationship, but if he is just using her…”

  Jack didn’t finish his sentence, but I had a feeling that it wouldn’t have been pretty if he had.

  Once Kizzy had run around a bit and seen to business of a personal nature, we got back into the car and continued on our way. We arrived at the motel just after three o’clock. Jack checked in and we were shown to a fairly nice room. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was large and clean. It had a separate seating area with a desk and free Wi-Fi.

  “So what now?” I asked.

  Jack set up his computer and logged on. “I guess we let Sam know where we are and take it from there.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed as my heart started to pound. Were we really going to do this? I’d agreed to come along with Jack partially because I didn’t want him to have to take this journey alone and partially because it seemed like an important one to tackle. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t terrified. I just hoped we weren’t making a huge mistake by engaging with this man. I wiped my sweaty palms along my pant legs and tried to steady my breathing so that Jack wouldn’t sense my anxiety. He was focused on the computer screen, so he didn’t seem to notice that I was about to pass out, but Kizzy, who was always in tune with my moods, jumped up onto the bed and put her head in my lap. Luckily for my nerves, once Jack sent the email letting Sam know we had arrived at the motel, we only had to wait a few minutes for a reply.

  “What does it say?” I asked.

  “He sent a name: Jessica Oswald. I’m going to call Rick to see if he can pull up a file on someone with that name.”

  “Okay,” I said. I
glanced at Kizzy. “I saw a soda machine near the office when we checked in. I think I am going to take Kizzy for a quick walk in the field next door and then grab a soda. Do you want anything?”

  “I could use a soft drink. Any brand of cola is fine.”

  I snapped the leash on Kizzy and then headed out the door. I was going to have to find a way to manage my nerves if I was going to make it through this journey in one piece. Having Kizzy along helped. She had a calming presence I appreciated.

  By the time we returned to the room, Jack was on the phone with Rick.

  “Hang on,” Jack said. “Jill is back. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  Once Jack had made the adjustment to his phone, Rick continued. “As we have been discussing, Jessica Oswald went missing from Rivervale last year on June 11. There are those who feel that she simply took off and others who assume she is dead. If she is dead, her remains were never found.”

  “Okay, so tell me what you know about her,” Jack asked after taking out a notepad to jot down his thoughts.

  “Jessica, a nineteen-year-old drifter at the time of her disappearance, was last seen heading toward the parking lot behind the diner where she worked after her shift was over at ten p.m. When she didn’t show up for work the following day, her boss, a man named Cordon Manchester, started asking around, and when she still hadn’t turned up after three days, Manchester filed a missing persons report. Jessica was never seen again and her body was never found. One of her customers, Giles Bedford, told the police that he left the diner at the same time she did that night and hadn’t seen anything that would lead him to believe she was in danger of being abducted. Bedford told the police that he said goodbye to her and drove away as she was unlocking her car door. As far as the police know, Bedford was the last person to see Jessica alive.”

  “And the investigation?” Jack asked. “Does the report say what was done to look for her?”

  Rick answered. “According to the report, uniformed officers questioned Jessica’s coworkers as well as the other tenants of the apartment building where she lived. No one admitted to having seen or heard anything. A very cursory investigation was conducted, but there seemed to be zero clues about what happened to the girl, and after a few weeks, the case was filed away. That was the end of it.”