Page 16

My head still whirling, I headed back to my bedroom. The door was slightly ajar.

“Yeah, the promotion is everything—means I’ll see more of her,” Declan was saying. I stepped in, and he glanced up at me. “Okay, mate, got to go,” he said, and hung up quickly.

My mind stuck on one phrase. See more of her . Who?

I shook off the question and showed him Kingi’s note. He was pleased it confirmed our findings so far. I suggested Kingi might know more, and we should try and find him. “Too far for such a long shot.” His tone was final. “Let’s stick to my plan.”

Burying my frustration, I reviewed my notes and typed up a story pitch for my prospective editor, Felicity Barnfield of the UK News . Declan called and asked her to keep the case and his identity confidential, and then he stepped out of the room.

Switching on the camera, I pitched the story to her. Everything about Felicity was pointy, from her nose to her shoes, cruelly lampooned as uptight by the men of Fleet Street. But I’d always found her warm and encouraging.

“Ah,” she said with deep satisfaction after I’d finished my pitch.

“Embedded with the National Crime Agency. Perfect. That gives us the watertight credibility we need. And offsets the fact that your motivation is obviously clearing your parents’ names.

” She took a deep breath. “And the story? A heroin ring operating in an idyllic surf town of only ten thousand people? Brilliant.”

We talked for half an hour until I brought up expenses.

She couldn’t have me on the books until the story was ready to go.

I was disappointed by that but not surprised.

I could have used the money for rental car and living expenses and to pay bills back in London.

Instead, I’d have to dip into the last of my savings.

Still, a surge of excitement raced through me as I typed up our conversation until it was time to meet Kui. I wanted to try her way of investigating, but it was hard to believe I’d find anything out on our walk to yoga.

*

When I saw Kui outside the library, I drew back, startled.

Book club was breaking up, and CeeCee and Sarge were waiting with her, laughing. CeeCee punched Sarge’s arm, like, “Oh, Dad, you’re so embarrassing.”

Kui looked at me and raised an eyebrow . See?

Yoga was a five-minute walk away, under the palm trees next to the Surf Life Saving Club.

On the way, I chatted with CeeCee, pretty in cloud-patterned yoga shorts and crop top.

She was dainty, from her lips to her feet.

We talked about what we’d done after high school.

At dinner last night, she’d been covered up, and because she seemed fearful of Snow, I’d worried her clothes were hiding bruises.

Now that she was wearing something more revealing, I checked her arms and neck. Her skin was clear.

Turned out she had done a postgraduate business degree at a prestigious university in Sydney, Australia.

I barely concealed my surprise. The few times I overheard her speak, it was about shell bracelets, tanning, and Snow.

I tipped my head to the sky. That was the second thing I’d gotten wrong about her.

I also wondered if she helped with the winery accounts.

“I had to come home.” She sighed blissfully. “I couldn’t be away from Snow. He’s the love of my life.”

I nodded, at a loss for an answer, and watched Kui and Sarge ahead of us, talking about a book. Hobbling slightly, Sarge leaned into her, hanging on her every word, one hand adjusting his trendy yoga pants. My fingers turned clawlike at how close he was to her.

“Sarge has updated his look from the tight rugby jerseys,” I said. “Is this a three-quarter-life crisis?”

“He’s got a secret crush on Kui,” CeeCee whispered. I suppressed a shudder at the thought.

CeeCee tucked her tiny hand into the soft crook of my arm. Why did this small gesture feel familiar and comforting? Oh . Yeah. Janey had done that too.

I knew not to show my feelings about Sarge, and I exchanged a grin with her over an old man’s crush.

With the warmth of the sun overhead and her breath on my ear, I couldn’t believe how easy it was to chat with her.

She’d always seemed such a follower in high school, with no thoughts of her own, but she was articulate, witty, and passionate about eco issues and running a sustainable business.

The light beamed through the palm trees like a window had opened, as if we might become friends.

Kui turned to ask CeeCee’s opinion about one of the book’s characters.

While they were occupied, Sarge shot me a gimlet-eyed glare, tarnishing the air between us like old rust. He hadn’t properly investigated Janey’s disappearance, and I didn’t trust him.

Clearly, he was wary of me too. If Kui confided in him about our investigation, he could ruin it.

Of course, she wouldn’t do that because it would put Kingi in danger.

Anxiety must have shown on my face. CeeCee assured me. “The crush? It’s not reciprocated. Even if it was, Kui would never betray Clarebear,” she added, referring to Sarge’s wife, who was known for wearing bells on her skirts and sandals.

Wait. Sarge wasn’t wearing shoes. Neither was Kui or CeeCee.

Seagulls squalled over a group of school kids who whirled past on bikes and scooters, surfboards under their arms, obviously wagging school. They aren’t wearing shoes either.

Sarge had said Janey’s shoe prints at the top of the cliff proved she’d jumped off.

At the time, I’d begged him not to believe that.

None of us ever wore shoes up there or anywhere, so it had always angered me that he’d made up such a blatant fallacy.

And here we were, twenty years later, without shoes.

It made me furious he’d dismissed it. Why had he?

Was it sloppy police work to close the case quickly? Or had there been more to it?