“She’s not more important than me.” The woman’s voice hissed into his ear. “You need to come here now, or I’m going to call the cops and tell them you stole from me.”

  Beau pushed his head against the steering wheel of his car. He didn’t need this now. Celeste needed him. He fought over what to say to Mrs. Sanders, but shook it off and simply hung up the phone.

  She was going to have to wait. Maybe forever. He’d find Celeste and take her somewhere else. Mexico if he had to.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The cab pulled in front of a pale yellow two story house. It was across the street from the beach, a perfect position for someone who loved the ocean. Most of the homes along the beach sat on stilts. The homeowner of this place had split up a house and built apartments into it, including below among the stilts. If there was another super hurricane, Kris’ apartment would be underwater. She didn’t care. She walked to work, and rarely left the island. It had everything she needed.

  Celeste walked into a short, unfinished hallway. The lumber still revealed, sheet rock leaning over to one side together. She knocked on Kris’ door. She heard some keyboard keys being pounded and then jumping and running to the door. The door was unlocked and she yelled, “Come in!”

  Celeste opened the door enough to see her scampering back into her bedroom, and to the computer. She typed something quickly, clicking at her mouse, and then cursing.

  Kris’ apartment was shotgun style. There was a tiny front room with a couch, TV and video game systems strewn over the carpet. Her bedroom doors were wide open and the kitchen beyond the bedroom was lit. There were no windows except for a small one above the sink in the kitchen, and even that was covered by shade. The bedroom was dark, only the computer monitor was glowing in her face.

  She looked up from her game as Celeste dropped onto her sofa and pushed her face into the cushion. “Rough day?”

  “Rough week,” she said. She tried to go through everything that happened. She skipped the photographs.

  Kris listened while she clicked at her mouse and tapped away at her keyboard, but when Celeste got to the part about the needle in her hand, she stopped her game and came to the couch to sit next to her. “What were you thinking? I thought this Beau was smarter than that. I thought he’d protect you. Wasn’t he a cop? Don’t tell me he wasn’t. He was, wasn’t he?”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” she said. She told her about the hospital. “I think they’re supposed to call me about the test results.” And she hadn’t even gotten to the part about psycho-whoever paying her a visit. The bandage on her face over the cut was really the only evidence, though. And Celeste was tired of talking.

  “I’m surprised they aren’t done yet. Call them.” She got up and dug into her purse, pulled out her cell phone and gave it to her. “We’re getting you another cell phone today.”

  She sat up, “I’ll get one.”

  “Uh huh. I’m getting you one. You can use one of those top up phones. Just use that for now.”

  She looked up the hospital number on her computer. Celeste punched it into the cell phone. The nurse that answered put her on hold for at least 10 times but eventually came back to tell her that the HIV test results wouldn’t be available yet for a while. No other diseases but had her reschedule for tests in a few weeks. “I’m clear for now,” she told Kris. Suddenly she was more tired than ever. It felt like she had been holding back a big sigh and was just now able to let it go. “I want a nap.”

  “Naps are for wimps,” she said but she went back to her video game and left Celeste to sleep on her couch.

  Now that she was there, she wasn’t sure how to approach Kris. She’d been her best friend since forever. And here Celeste was with proof she was hiding some sort of secret. Celeste wondered how much she really knew about that day her father died and had kept from her.

  She passed out for an hour. Kris popped her on the leg with a slap at one point after she had almost fallen asleep again and said she would be right back. She was going to grab food at the store. She came back with a bucket of fried chicken from Burt’s Mart, along with a prepaid cell phone in a box. “I love the island mart. It has everything.”

  At the smell of food, she woke up more. Fried chicken could help.

  Kris went into the kitchen, following her. She dropped into one of two chairs she had at a tiny table inside the kitchen. She made glasses of cold water and slapped down a roll of paper towels on the table. “I got cake, too. They don’t make good cakes, but it’s chocolate. That counts for something.”

  As Celeste was eating, she struggled for the words to start the conversation she really wanted to have. Why was she suddenly so shy about finding out what she really wanted to know? After everything, she needed to get the real information, and soon. She swallowed against her thumping heart, already dreading the reaction she knew might come. “You know, I had a talk with Sheldon yesterday.”

  Kris smirked. “That guy would make a great husband for a girl he will never notice, only because he’s too busy chasing pipe dreams.” Celeste smiled weakly. Kris tilted her head. “Okay, something’s wrong with you. I’ve never seen you eat this slowly.”

  She shrugged and put down the chicken thigh. “Sheldon had photos.”

  “Oh God. You weren’t caught with your underwear down, were you?”

  “No. He had photos of the house the day my father died.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “He was there that day because he was doing an interview with my dad on antiques and was taking photos of the house.” She told her about Warren being caught in the photos.

  “Where are they?” Her hand drifted up to the two chains around her neck, several different religious symbols hung from each, clumped together. She rubbed at them. “Can I see?”

  Celeste nodded toward the living room. Kris wiped her hands and left her alone in the kitchen.

  When she returned she had the stack in her hands. Celeste couldn’t look at her. She was looking at the chicken, waiting for her to say something.

  “Celeste...” The grinding of the symbols at her neck made shivers run up Celeste’s spine.

  “Why, Kris? Did I have to find out such a secret like this? What happened?”

  She dropped the photos on the counter and sat down across from her. “I didn’t hurt him. I swear it. Only I didn’t want to tell you about it because... of what you thought about Sanders.”

  “You thought I would accuse you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Celeste swallowed, trying to blink away tears.

  “And I was embarrassed about why I was there.” Her cheeks were deeply flushed and her head bowed. Her hands moved to fold under her breasts. “I asked to borrow some money.”

  “You?”

  She nodded. “It’s hard to explain. I had a few bills piling up and my mom, I couldn’t ask her. I’m 26 and I can’t take care of myself? I just wanted to pay them off before late fees made it impossible. I didn’t want to ask you because... I couldn’t. I don’t know. At the time I was ashamed that I let the bills pile up like that.”

  “So you turned to my dad?”

  She nodded. Tears dropped from her down-turned face. “He told me no.”

  She blinked repeatedly. The sound of her heart thudding in her ears was making her head throb. “Why did he do that? Did he give a reason?”

  “When I asked about borrowing a little and paying him back, he flipped out at me. I had never seen him like that. He told me to leave. It made me feel awful. Like I was some beggar on the street that had harassed him. Only worse because I felt we knew each other, at least well enough to be friends. When my father died, I almost thought of him as a second father.” Her shoulders shook. As much as Celeste wanted to console her, she couldn’t move. Her body felt rigged. There was something she needed to know, and she knew the answer, but she had to ask. She would be stupid not to ask. Like a wife not willing to ask a husband about the lipstick stains or the panties founded in his pockets. When it hangs over like a blazing sign, Celeste knew she had to ask. And she knew she would regret it forever.

  “Did you hurt him?”

  Her head shot up. Surprise, anger and grief flooding her face. “No! I would never!”

  “But you were angry with him.”

  “I was, but I wouldn’t hurt him. I don’t know why he yelled at me like that. If he didn’t want to, he could have said no. I would have totally understood. But he went on about betrayal and lies and using him.”

  Could she be telling the truth? That didn’t sound like her father at all. He’d never yell at anyone. He knew Kris as well as Celeste did.

  Or thought she did.

  “I wish you had told me. I wish you had asked me. I wish...”

  “Me, too.”

  They sat together in silence for a long while. Her tears eased a little but she still couldn’t bring herself to console Kris, or even herself.

  She stood. “I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine why you didn’t tell me.”

  She wiped at her face. “I told you why. I was embarrassed.”

  “I mean afterward. When he died. Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen him? I would have understood. Instead you kept it a secret. You’re no better than Warren or Sheldon or San...” She wanted to stop herself but the name had mostly slipped.

  “I didn’t kill him!” She slapped her hand on the table. “I knew you would do this.”

  Celeste bit her tongue. There was a need to get her to recall every detail and tell her every secret. She felt crushed. She felt numb. She wanted to throw things. She was unable to move and yet there was so much she wanted to do to her.

  “You should go,” she said, her voice cold.

  She felt like choking on the tears she couldn’t spill. She was too angry to cry. She grabbed the photos and snatched up her medications and rushed out of the apartment.

  She walked quietly toward the beach and sat along the shore alone, watching the tides slip further away from the coast. Of all people, Kris was the one she had revealed the secrets about her father and her suspicions about Sanders. Celeste wanted to scratch her name from her heart and hate her. She wanted to hate Warren and Sheldon.

  By the time she got to thinking about Sanders, her heart was so heavy, he barely registered. Images flashed through her mind of Sheldon knocking her father off his feet at the top of the stairs. There was Kris to kick him while he was down. Sanders throwing a coat rack over him to finish and trying to cover their tracks. Then she saw the face of her father, the destroyed image of his face she had seen after the autopsy.

  She threw up in the sand.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  She used the restrooms underneath the pier on Folly Beach to clean herself up. When she left the bathroom, it was starting to get dark. She walked into one of the bars along Main Street and asked to use a phone. She was ushered into a back office by a familiar bartender. He left her alone to make her call, asking if she needed anything, offering water. She thanked him and smiled politely.

  She wasn’t sure who she could call and ended up pulling Beau’s number out of her pocket.

  “You rang?” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Hmm.” She could feel tears coming and swallowed them back. “Are you busy?”

  He took the hint. “Where are you?”

  She told him the bar’s name and he promised to be there soon. She hung up, lingering in the back office for a few minutes. She really didn’t want to talk or face anyone. She sucked in a breath and walked out, heading straight to the bar. She waved down the bartender and thanked him again. He brought out a glass of water and a basket of breadsticks. When she tried to say no thanks, he shook his head. “They’re free. Never turn down free breadsticks. It’s a sin.”

  She made a face but said thanks again and moved to eat one. They were buttery with plenty of garlic. The guy left to the back of the kitchen. She focused on the food, breaking off pieces and eating slowly.

  After an eon of avoiding eyes and trying to downplay small talk made by bar crew, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She met Beau’s warm eyes with a weak smile. The moment he saw her face, though, he reached gently for her arm and lifted her out of the chair. “We’re out of here.”

  He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill, dropping it into the tip jar on the way out. He was parked illegally in front. He guided her to the passenger side, opened the door for her and waited for her to get buckled in before closing the door.

  After a few minutes they were on the road off the island.

  “So can we back track? What happened after the hospital?”

  “The nurse said she couldn’t reach you. But she offered to get a cab to take me where I needed to go. So I went to visit Kris.”

  “But maybe you shouldn’t have?”

  “It’s fine” she said.

  It wasn’t convincing. He could tell simply by looking at her face. It was beyond torture. “Just tell me honestly. Are you hurt? Is there someone I need to have a talk with? Maybe break his legs?”

  The protectiveness actually warmed her heart. “I’m fine. Thank you for the offer, though.”

  They hit the road and soon pulled up the Sargent Jasper. He got out of the car and stretched. “If it wasn’t so chilly with the breeze coming in from the beach, it’d be perfect for a jog today.”

  “No. No jogging,” she said, heading toward the front entryway.

  “No jogging?”

  “You know what the best part about jogging is?”

  “What?”

  “Stopping.”

  They went up the elevator and he fumbled with his keys. When he opened the door, he let her in first but they both stopped short. The room’s furniture had been moved. Books from the bookshelf were on the ground, a lamp was tipped over and couch cushions were pulled up and sitting on the coffee table.

  “You did this, right?” He asked, picking up a book from the floor and putting it back on the shelf.

  She shook her head. “You must have ghosts in your apartment.”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Indian burial ground?”

  He gave her a stare. “You’ve got some creep following you and you want to talk to me about burial grounds?”

  She picked up the couch cushions and placed them back on the sofa. “Should we have someone look for prints or something?”

  “Whoever it was knew where he or she was going. This wasn’t a thief. It’d be someone you know.”

  “Or you. It’s your apartment.” She sat on the sofa, slumping.

  Beau picked up his stuff, stacking books haphazardly on the shelf again. “This guy is getting beyond annoying. So what happened on the island.”

  “There’s a problem with Kris.”

  “Please don’t tell me she was kidnapped by the Joker.”

  “Wouldn’t you feel badly if she was kidnapped by the Joker?”

  “What’s going on?”

  She told him about the photos and their argument.

  “You accused her like that?”

  “Yeeees.” Geez.

  “Hrm.” His eyes swept around the room again. “Nothing seems missing.” He sat down next to her on the couch. “Show me the photos.”

  He took his time looking them over, setting them up in order. He had her describe what Sheldon told her about what was going on.

  “We’ll have to talk to Warren. Maybe he said something to upset him enough to blow up at Kris.”

  Celeste groaned. “Fine.”

  He leaned on her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Or we could go with plan B. I hear Mexico beaches are nice.”

  She shook her head. “It wouldn’t fix things.”

  “Maybe we should reconsider what’s worth fixing? Seems we’re breaking more than fixing.”

  She leaned back against him, placing a head on his shoulder. “Maybe we should talk to Warren.”

  “Can’t you give it a break? One night?”

  She sighed and looked out the window. The truth was, she wasn’t sure she could give it a break. It was what consumed her thoughts, and had been for the past several months. If she wasn’t working toward getting Sanders in jail, she felt like she could be missing out on some valuable piece of evidence. She was so close, she could feel it. It could be the night that someone finally throws out that one sheet of paper that proves he did it, or he goes on a rampage and tries to kill someone else. Or he goes crazy and makes a full confession on his knees in front of everyone. It was what she had been dreaming about. Maybe that was too much to hope for.

  Beau mumbled something. It might have been expletives but it was too low for her ears. He got off the couch. “We’re going to rest up first. I insist. Tomorrow, we’re checking on Warren.”

  She perked up. “We’re going?”

  “We’re going,” he said. “And this is the last time. We’re going to find out for sure.”

  She didn’t know what he planned on doing, but she was willing to go along with it. One little piece to show it wasn’t an accident. That’s all she needed and she’d give it all to the cops so she could take it easy. Anything. Something.

  He sat at the computer desk. Celeste had almost passed out on the sofa when she felt a lump jump on her. She reacted with a jump in her half-awake state and only caught a glimpse of black and white fur before it bounced onto the floor and scrambled for the open bedroom door.

  “Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?” Beau didn’t turn his head to look at her, distracted by the screen.

  “I think I just scared Bonehead into hiding for another eon.”

  “Hmm.” He mumbled something, and checked his phone. “Do you recall what time exactly the guy assaulted you at the hospital?”

  “Not really.”

  He turned to look at her. “Around 10 am?”

  She tried to think back. “Actually, yeah. The nurse kept double checking the time and then asking me how long ago it was that he was there. And then security asked me the same thing.”