Page 69

“The pier,” she replied without hesitation.

Nate walked to where she sat and offered his hand. “Well, if you think it’s a clue, then we need to check it out. Pack the sunscreen. We’re going to Daytona.”

AFTER HOURS OF SEARCHINGthe beach, pier, and boardwalk, Nate was having some serious doubts about the significance of the toy crab. With an area this large and this crowded, it felt as though they were searching for a needle in a haystack. But what else could they do? It wasn’t like they had anything else to work with, and twiddling their thumbs while waiting for Larissa to hack into the flash drive seemed like an even worse alternative.

From the look on her face, Dorcas shared the same doubts. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here for nothing.”

Nate made a dismissive sound as they wandered into the arcade for the third—or was it the fourth?—time. The place smelled of the ocean and suntan lotion, with a hint of burnt popcorn from the nearby concession stand. The newest games were placed along the front, while the old school games like pinball and air hockey were situated along the back wall by the prize redemption area.

“No harm, no foul. It was worth a shot, right? Besides, it was my idea to come here.”

In truth, he understood her frustration. If one of his siblings went missing, he’d tear the world apart to find them. But unfortunately, not every lead struck gold, and he understood the need to methodically pursue every possible avenue in the hopes of hitting pay dirt.

Slowly, they wove a path through the crowded building, searching for Rita, for something that would serve as a clue to her sister’s whereabouts. But like every other time, they came up empty.

From the corner of his eye, Nate caught sight of Pinto by a claw machine filled with brightly colored stuffed animals. Clearly, he hadn’t bothered with sunscreen, because every inch of skin not covered by his shorts and tank top had turned beet red. His gaze caught Nate’s, held it for an instant, and then he went back to playing with the machine as though nothing ever happened.

Nate came to a stop by the row of Skee-Ball machines and dug into the back pocket of his shorts for his wallet. “Want to play while we’re here?”

Nostalgia gleamed in Dorcas’s eyes as she stared down at the game. “I haven’t played since I was a teenager.”

“Great. Then you won’t make me look so bad.” After getting change from the machine, he inserted two quarters into one of the games, and the balls slid down from their queue. He stepped back and made a sweeping gesture. “Ladies first.”

She peered up at him, a note of humor on her lips. “You really want to do this?”

“Why not? We’re here. I can tell you want to play.”

“I know, but it doesn’t feel right to play games while my sister’s out there somewhere.”

“Don’t be silly. You can’t look for her 24/7.” Unable to resist, he brushed his lips over hers, and then nudged her toward the machine. “Let’s see what you got, babe.”

She bent at the waist to pick up a ball, treating Nate to a mouthwatering view of her ass in short, tight denim. As if sensing his gaze, she peered over her shoulder at him and rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Unrepentant, he grinned. “I’m a guy. What do you expect?”

“You’re an adult.”

“Yeah, but we’re in an arcade. You can’t expect me to act like a grown-up in here. It’s impossible.”

Shaking her head, she turned back to the game. After a moment’s hesitation, she cocked her arm back like a bowler and sent the ball rolling down the lane. At the end of the ramp, the ball launched into the air and landed in the center ring.

Thirty points flashed on the digital scoreboard.

She frowned. “Damn. I’m rusty.”

Not for long. By her third attempt, she was landing balls in the forty-point ring, and by the sixth she was racking up fifty points a crack.

“Rusty my ass,” Nate said as the machine spit out a long string of tickets to reward her score.

Her eyes wide with delight, she tore off the tickets and stepped to the side. “Your turn.”

Games like this weren’t really his thing. He was more of a first-person shooter kind of guy. But he didn’t want to disappoint her, so he slid two quarters into the slot. Once the balls rolled down the queue, he sent the first one down the lane.

Ten points.

The next one landed in the twenty-point ring, but the two after that were back in ten-point territory.

He scowled. Yeah, he realized it was only a game, but he had a competitive streak ten miles wide, and he really hated losing. At anything. To anyone. “I suck even worse than I remembered.”