Page 38 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

“We all do things we regret. It’s part of growing up.”

—Sue Grafton, F Is for Fugitive

I landed with a thud on a bed of damp leaves, which thankfully cushioned my fall but covered me in mud.

I looked up and at first couldn’t see anything. Then the sky came into focus, a darkening blue as the sun was quickly disappearing.

The wind had been knocked out of me. I tried to call up to Brie, but no sound came out, just a strangled gasp. My ears rang

as I took stock of potential injuries. My arms moved without pain. Good. Legs? Check. Neck? I moved it slowly back and forth.

A little twinge, but nothing serious. I stretched, feeling my ribs, but there was no major pain indicating a cracked or broken

rib.

“Mia? Mia!”

“I’m okay,” I said, the words a whisper. I coughed, cleared my throat, and shouted up, “Brie? I’m okay!”

I stood, my feet sinking into the mud, my limbs heavy with it. Ugh.

“Can you climb out?” Brie asked.

“Maybe,” I said. The hole was about twelve feet deep, but it was too wide for me to shimmy up. Even if Brie reached down, I wouldn’t be able to reach her hand, and the chances were high that I would pull her down with me.

I took out my phone and turned on the light, though it took me a couple of tries because my fingers were wet and slippery.

I looked for a ladder, footholds, anything to hoist myself up and out.

Nothing.

I was stuck.

I did not want to be stuck. There had to be a way.

“Can you see a ladder up there? Remember the tools we saw? Go look there.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Brie walked away. I stood in the muck feeling absolutely, totally, completely foolish.

“Mia?” Brie called a few minutes later.

“Don’t come too close,” I said. “I don’t want you to fall, too.”

“There’s no ladder, no rope. Maybe if I lie down, I can pull you out?”

“No,” I said. “It’s too deep.”

The hole was for the foundation of the cell tower. There had been orange warning mesh around the tools, but the mesh that

was supposed to block off this hole? It was down here, at the bottom, where it did no good to warn anyone.

“You need to get help,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone we were following Amber.”

“Of course not. I’ll be as discreet as possible. We were on a hike, and it was getting late, so we cut through here. Total

accident. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Nothing’s damaged except my pride.”

“It won’t take too long,” Brie said. “I’ll try to get a cell signal at the Sky Bar. You have your phone? Light?”

“Yeah. It’s at fifty percent. Go.” The faster she got help, the faster I’d get out of here.

“Okay,” Brie said, and then I heard nothing as her footfalls disappeared.

I wanted to cry. It was my thirtieth birthday, and I was stuck in a muddy hole at the top of a mountain when I should have been on a cruise with the sexiest man on the island.

I stared up at the sky that was now dark. Stars twinkled brilliantly, and if I hadn’t been stuck in the bottom of a twelve-foot

hole, I would have enjoyed them.

How foolish was I? I’d followed Amber and Parker deep into the island, two people who didn’t like each other and had broken

into my room and stolen my book. I went to St. John to talk to the police as if I, myself, were an investigator. I went on

a bike with a kid I didn’t know, following Sherry around the island. He could have left me in the middle of nowhere—or worse.

I’d dragged an eighteen-year-old college girl into the middle of this mystery and put her in danger as well. I literally saw

a dead body and thought I could solve the crime? Why was I more invested in finding out what happened to Diana—and what she

had been doing on the island—than I was in exploring my feelings for Jason Mallory?

My imagination had not only gotten away from me, it had landed on Mars then taken a side trip to Jupiter. Gino Garmon wasn’t

a killer. He was the head of security. He’d been a Miami cop and was more than capable of working a murder investigation.

And just because Diana Harden had paid a kid to take her to Ethan Valentine’s dock didn’t mean that he’d killed her. He probably

wasn’t even on the island. And all those people Diana might have been blackmailing? What if I was wrong? What if her shorthand

had nothing to do with blackmail and was just nasty gossip?

CeeCee was a typical trophy girlfriend of an asshole fifty-year-old walking midlife crisis. I’d read far more into her offhand

accounting comment than I should have. Who cared if she met with his ex-wife? Maybe the ex was just warning her away. Yet

I was having my assistant in New York research Trevor Lance and Parker Briggs! I was wasting his time—and mine.

Who did I think I was? Miss Marple? Veronica Mars? I was more like the fumbling Clouseau, tripping my way into a pit.

But unlike the endearingly clumsy French detective, I was ill-equipped to solve the crime.

I was a grown woman with a grown-up job. I didn’t have time for mai tais and sexy bartenders and solving crimes. This wasn’t

me.

I was Mia Crawford, CPA, Financial Planner: intelligent, responsible, diligent.

My name was going to be on the fucking door .

Tears burned, and I felt totally, one hundred percent sorry for myself.

I didn’t want to be on the door. I would have no life. But if I didn’t take the promotion, who was I?

Not knowing the future was far scarier than staying on the path I’d forged. It was safer to do what I’d always planned.

It felt like an hour since I’d fallen down here, literally hitting rock bottom, but when I looked at my phone, only fifteen

minutes had passed since Brie left to get help. It was a good twenty-minute walk down the mountain, longer in the dark. So

I shined the light around the hole and tried not to be squeamish. I pushed a bunch of fallen leaves into the corner and sat

on them. The leaves and I slowly sank into the mud.

When I got out of here, I would tell security about Diana’s book, that Amber stole it from my room, and what I thought Diana

Harden had been doing. I’d show them the pages Brie photographed and tell them about the kid who brought Diana back to the

island. Then I was done with playing Nancy Drew.

I had five more days on this island. Tomorrow morning I was going to forget all about Diana Harden and blackmail and Amber

and cheating Trevor Lance. I was going to swim, drink, eat, and have sex with Jason Mallory. Maybe a five-night fling. I wanted

to have sex on the beach, in the ocean, and in my hot tub. I wanted to get drunk and have fun and not think about Diana Harden.

Then I would return to the real world, accept my promotion, and forget all about St. Claire.

“Mia! Mia!”

It had taken Brie forty-two minutes to get down to the resort and return with help.

“Still here,” I called from the pit.

The ground lighting on the trail above me cast odd shadows all around. Then the lights grew brighter, and someone shined a

spotlight down into the hole. I shielded my eyes.

I heard Brie talking, but not what she said. Then several people came to the edge. “Hold tight, Ms. Crawford.”

I couldn’t see the face, but it sounded like Henry, the jack-of-all-trades from shuttle driver to bellhop to tour guide.

“Not much else I can do,” I mumbled, then said clearly, “Thank you.”

“We’re going to lower a ladder down. Are you injured? Do you need help climbing up?”

“I’m okay. Just dirty.” And cold and hungry, but I didn’t say that.

A minute later, two men lowered a ladder and held it against the side of the hole. “Okay,” Henry called. “I can come down

and help.”

“I’m fine,” I said, and started up the ladder. Sore and bruised, but nothing was broken.

When I reached the top, two men I didn’t recognize held out their hands and helped me climb out.

Tristan rushed over and said, “There was security netting blocking off this entire area! What happened?”

“It wasn’t here,” I said. I glanced at Brie. What exactly had she told them? “The netting ended over there.” I gestured. “I’m

sorry, I didn’t see the hole. We were taking pictures, and—”

Why was I apologizing? It wasn’t my fault. Sure, I was clumsy and didn’t look where I stepped, but the netting ended twenty

feet away.

“I am so glad you were not more seriously hurt.”

Brie said, “We were on a hike, and it was getting dark, and I’ve been on this trail a hundred times, so I said let’s cut through

here and go back by way of the Sky Bar road.”

“The resort is putting in a cell tower. It was supposed to be done before now, but we’ve had a few... well, you don’t care

about that. On behalf of St. Claire, I am so sorry.”

That’s when I saw Gino Garmon.

“Why were you up here in the first place?” Gino asked. “You were scheduled to be on the sunset cruise.”

I was taken aback by his gruff tone.

“Um, I changed my mind,” I said lamely.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Gino,” Tristan said, “let’s dial back the tone, okay? Ms. Crawford just went through a traumatic experience. This wasn’t

her fault.”

Brie said, “Besides, it was all couples on the cruise. Mia and I thought it would be more fun to hang here.”

“Of course, we completely understand. There is no reason to apologize, and we’re blocking off this trail tonight. I’m so glad

you weren’t hurt.”

I thought that the reason he might be upset had more to do with liability than my predicament. He’d given me three days free

for finding a dead body; what would he give me for falling down an unmarked hole?

I walked stiffly toward the three golf carts that were at the head of the trail. We were much closer to the Sky Bar than I’d

realized.

Henry said, “Mr. Dubois, Tim and I will close the trail and put up the netting tonight.”

“Thank you,” Tristan said. “Talk to me before you clock out, please.”

Gino took my arm. “Let me help you, Ms. Crawford,” he said with what I could only describe as a growl.

“I’m fine,” I said, but he didn’t let go as he ushered me quickly to one of the carts.

“Tristan, I’ll take Ms. Crawford to the nurse to get checked out,” Gino said.

“Thank you, Gino,” Tristan said. “Ms. Crawford, please let me know if you need anything at all.”

“I don’t need a nurse,” I said as Gino not-too-gently escorted me into the cart. He climbed into the driver’s side, and I

looked back at Brie. Her eyes widened, not quite sure what was going on. I willed her to hurry, but Gino drove off before

she could catch up to us.

“Tell me what you were really doing up here,” Gino said.

“I told you.”

He was driving too fast down the mountain. Sure, the road was built for a wider shuttle, but the golf cart was small, no seat

belts, and I could just picture us going off the edge. I didn’t think we’d die... but it was definitely steeper than a

twelve-foot drop into a muddy pit.

“Today I received a call from my good friend Juan Diego, the St. John police chief. I was shocked to learn that one of the

guests from St. Claire had come in asking about Diana Harden’s death. They didn’t take your name—they have more important

things to do than appeasing nosy Americans. But every man there noticed the pretty woman with honey-blond hair and big brown

eyes. And you were one of only five guests who went to St. John today.”

My stomach twisted like taffy as my life flashed in front of my eyes for the third time in one day. My dad, my Grams, and

Jason, who I was supposed to have an island affair with before going back to my normal life. Was I going to die before I had

sex with him?

“Stay out of my investigation,” Gino snarled, interrupting my fear-induced fantasy. “This does not concern you, and if I find

out that you lied to me about anything, there is nothing— nothing —I won’t do to find out what you’re really up to.”

He pulled up at the resort and stopped the cart.

I didn’t like being scared, but I also didn’t like men who went out of their way to intimidate women. It took all my strength to look him in the eye when I said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Garmon. I’ll walk to my cottage alone .”

I got out, surprised my knees didn’t completely buckle, and headed straight to my room.

I felt Gino’s eyes on my back for a long, long time.