Flaw-Abiding Citizen (The Worst Detective Ever Book 6) Read online

  “Good point.”

  I grabbed my computer and deleted the post, hoping I hadn’t brought any harmful attention to my dad.

  Chapter Seven

  After Zane and I talked, he disappeared to take a nap.

  I was desperate for something to occupy myself, so I washed my face and pulled my hair back into a sloppy bun.

  I thought about eating, but my appetite was gone. Romantic drama was always a surefire weight-loss plan for me.

  I considered taking a pitiful selfie and putting it on Facebook, but I hated it when people did that.

  Instead, I stood in my living room, feeling lost and kind of sorry for myself.

  And that was simply unacceptable.

  I glanced at my phone. Ignored some emails from Rutherford, my manager, who’d been pestering me about some scripts. I couldn’t care less. There was an interview request and a mock-up for a new jewelry line I was endorsing—tennis bracelets. My aunt Dizzy had sent me some selfies she’d taken while trying out a new app. She looked like a cat.

  Unfortunately, none of this mattered to me right now.

  I needed to use every resource at my disposal to uncover more information. And, thankfully, I had one idea on where to start.

  Jackson had mentioned the name Marvin Peterson. He was the man who owned the house where my picture had been found. Armed with that knowledge, I did the only logical thing.

  I grabbed my computer, plopped on the couch, and looked on the Internet for more information on the man.

  To my surprise, he had a Facebook account. I checked the information, and I appeared to be looking at the right profile. Marvin was from Pennsylvania, and as I scrolled through several pictures, I saw some tags from the Outer Banks.

  Bingo.

  He looked like an ordinary man who worked in the steel industry in McKeesport, Pennsylvania. For that matter, he looked like someone my dad would be friends with—a blue-collar worker who liked trucks, fishing, and the Bible.

  I began scrolling through his likes, his favorites, and his friends list, looking for anyone familiar to me.

  Halfway through his list of two hundred or so friends, I recognized a name.

  My heart rate spiked.

  Charlie McGowan.

  The man my dad had worked for.

  That decided it. I knew exactly where I needed to go.

  I got to the fishing community of Wanchese early and learned that Charlie was out on a tour right now and wouldn’t return for another thirty minutes. That gave me just enough time to grab a lemonade.

  Finally, the boat pulled up and the tour group unloaded. They chattered happily about the dolphins they’d seen. I smiled as I listened to them. Their conversations seemed so happy and lighthearted, which contradicted everything I was feeling right now.

  Charlie appeared at the end of the line. The man was my dad’s age, pleasantly wrinkled, and he reminded me of Andy Griffith. He secured the boat on the pier before stepping toward land.

  He did a double take when he spotted me on the end of the dock.

  “Joey Darling,” he said with a friendly shake of his head. “I wondered when you might be back here.”

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jean shorts, wishing this was simply a social visit. “Do you have a minute?”

  “For you? Of course. Let’s go to my office.” He motioned for me to follow.

  I kept in step with him to his office, which was really little more than a shack behind the ticket counter. He pulled out an old wooden chair for me before squeezing behind an oversized desk full of charts, maps, and receipts.

  I looked behind him and saw a picture of two children. The photo looked dated. “Your kids?”

  He glanced behind him and nodded. “Yes, they are. My daughter died when she was eleven.”

  My heart panged. “I’m sorry.”

  “She had a rare form of cancer and just couldn’t beat it.”

  He understood my loss, I realized. No, I hadn’t lost a daughter to a terrible disease, but I’d lost my dad.

  He let out a breath, his eyes now heavy with grief. “Now, what can I do for you, Joey? Do you need another private dolphin tour?”

  “Not this time, unfortunately.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

  I tucked my hands beneath my legs. “I was hoping you could tell me what you know about Marvin Peterson.”

  “I wondered when he might come up.” He picked up a pen and tapped it against his desk. “Marvin is a friend of mine from childhood.”

  “He owns a house in Hatteras.” I was trying to ease into this conversation gracefully.

  “More like a shack,” Charlie said with a small smile.

  “My dad stayed there.” My throat ached as I said the words.

  Charlie, a man of few words, nodded somberly and continued to tap his pen. “You’re correct. He did.”

  I rubbed my hands on my shorts, trying to restrain my emotions even as a rumble of frustration threatened to emerge. “I talked to you about my dad before, and you never mentioned this.”

  Charlie’s eyes met mine, apology stretched in the depths of his dark browns. “I’m sorry, Joey. He told me not to.”

  My heart skipped a beat. My dad was the one behind these secrets? “Why would he do that?”

  It just didn’t seem like my dad. Him keeping a secret would be like Quentin Tarantino making a movie for Hallmark.

  “Because he didn’t want you to find him. He didn’t want anyone to find him, for that matter.”

  “Why?” I could understand the bad guys. But me? Why me? Was he that upset with me after our last conversation?

  Charlie leaned his elbows against his desk and scratched his head, avoiding eye contact for a minute. “He didn’t tell me, Joey. He just said he’d stumbled into something bigger than he ever imagined. Whoever was involved had seen his face, and he needed to lie low for a while.”

  “When was this?”

  “The last time I saw him.”

  I leaned back, feeling like someone had just dropped a load of bricks in my lap. “How long did my dad stay at your friend’s cabin?”

  Charlie shrugged. “About a week, I think.”

  I held my breath, hardly able to ask my next question yet unable to stop myself. “And then?”

  “Then he was gone. I haven’t heard from Lew since then, and he didn’t tell me where he was going.”

  All the air left my lungs. My spirit felt equally as deflated. I took one step forward and two steps back. The process was getting old fast.

  I licked my dry lips. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

  “No, there isn’t, Joey.”

  I locked gazes with him. “But if there was, would you tell me?”

  Charlie remained quiet a minute, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, Joey. But a promise is a promise.”

  Jackson’s image came into my mind, but I pushed it away. That sounded like something he would say, but I wasn’t ready to accept it was a noble notion.

  “I just need to know where my dad is, if he’s okay. That’s all I want.” That was all I’d wanted for the past five months, but apparently that was asking too much.

  “I know. Not knowing is hard. I want to know what happened to him too. He didn’t seem himself in the days before he disappeared.”

  “This has to do with the Barracudas, doesn’t it?”

  Charlie frowned. “That would be my guess as well.”

  I didn’t like the sound of it. Not one bit.

  Chapter Eight

  It wasn’t until I was in my car that I allowed myself to feel all the emotions that cried for my attention like hungry seagulls surrounding a boy with breadcrumbs.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so utterly alone or hopeless. I didn’t like it, and I was having trouble knowing what to do about it.

  I leaned my head against the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths to try to steady myself.

  My phone buzzed. I
glanced at the screen.

  Jackson.

  No way did I want to talk to him now.

  I knew if I went back to my condo, there was a good chance Jackson would find me there. I didn’t want that. Not if I could avoid it for longer.

  Even as Charlie’s a promise is a promise echoed in my head.

  That was what noble men did, wasn’t it? They kept their words. They respected authority.

  But all that logic did nothing to comfort me now, not with my emotions spinning out of control.

  Think, Joey. Think. Focus on a solution instead of your emotion.

  I knocked my forehead into the steering wheel again, hoping it would jar something in my thoughts.

  I had one more idea I wanted to explore. I didn’t know where it would lead me, but it was worth a shot—especially since my other option at the moment was nothing.

  The fact was that whenever a show’s writers were uncertain about something, they would turn to experts in the field. I needed to do so also.

  A light-bulb moment brightened my thoughts.

  I searched through the contacts on my phone until I found the one I was looking for.

  Thomas Billings.

  Thomas was a retired FBI agent who’d consulted for Relentless. The man had always been kind to me, and I knew he was respected in the field. He also had a grandfatherly way about him that made him approachable.

  I needed to talk to him. Maybe he wouldn’t keep any secrets from me.

  I dialed his number and waited.

  He answered on the third ring.

  “Thomas? This is Joey. Joey Darling,” I clarified, just in case he didn’t recognize my voice.

  “The Joey Darling?” he asked, a playful edge to his deep voice.

  “The one and only.”

  “Well, this is unexpected, but a nice surprise.”

  I raised my head and stared out the windshield. I watched as tourists came and went, enjoying their vacation and time with family and life in general.

  I envied them a minute.

  I swallowed hard before asking, “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

  “I’m in the middle of ripping to shreds a new episode of Shadow People. They have police officers acting like idiots. I just can’t handle that.”

  “You’re consulting for them?” It was a new crime drama on NBC.

  “I am.”

  “Tell Frankie I said hello.” Frankie was one of the producers I’d worked with on Relentless. Shadow People was his newest show, but I heard it wasn’t doing well.

  “I’ll do that. Speaking of which, I heard you were going to reboot Relentless as a Netflix original.”

  “That’s the rumor.” It had been circulating for a while now, and I knew the studio was in talks with the company about bringing the show back.

  “The world is ready for some more Raven Remington. It would be nice to get you out here again. You were a ray of sunshine in a world full of artificial light.”

  Get you out here again, he’d said. He was talking about LA. About my old life.

  Was that what I wanted? To go back there and pick up where I’d left off?

  I’d told myself I wasn’t leaving until I found my dad. Jackson was also a really good incentive to stay.

  But now everything felt uncertain. Maybe coming here had been a really bad idea, worse than combining Pride and Prejudice with zombies.

  It would be a shame to stay here for a relationship that was doomed.

  But were Jackson and I doomed? Could I move past this?

  I wasn’t sure.

  “Anyway, I could use a break from calling these guys idiots,” Thomas said. “Besides, if you’re calling, it must be important. What can I do for you, Joey?”

  I stared at the water—a place so many enjoyed. But it was also a means for evil people to do evil things. People like the Barracudas. “Thomas, I wondered if you knew anything about the Barracudas?”

  “The Barracudas?” Surprise laced his voice. “That wasn’t what I expected you to say. Yes, I’ve heard of them. What kind of information are you looking for?”

  “Everything you know. Is that too broad?”

  “Well, let’s see. From what I remember, they’re involved in something called narco terrorism. They sell drugs and do other things to fund themselves. But they have a bigger purpose than just selling drugs.”

  “What does that mean?” It fit with what my mom had said. The greater good.

  “This is all scuttlebutt, something I usually try not to engage in. But there are rumors out there that the Barracudas are planning something bigger than funding themselves.”

  “Like what?” I just couldn’t fathom it. Drugs and weapons were their means of fundraising? Why couldn’t they just sell donuts and raffle tickets?

  “That’s the tricky part. No one really knows. They haven’t created their manifesto and shared it with the world. Which means they don’t want anyone to know.”

  “I’m not following, Thomas. Isn’t that the opposite of how most terrorist groups operate? They come together for a common cause.

  “Usually that’s the way it works. For example, environmentalist extremists will use all means necessary to protect the environment. So do most certain political groups or religious groups or ethnocentric groups. But this group . . . they’re planning something that they don’t want people to know about.”

  “Why would they keep their intentions quiet?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

  “Easy. For an element of surprise. They don’t want people to know what’s coming. They have a hidden agenda, which they hope to use to their advantage.”

  “How can they keep it hidden? Certainly law enforcement has someone on the inside to find out this information. In this day and age, they should be able to hack into computer accounts.”

  “I’m sure they do have other means of finding information.”

  My thoughts raced ahead. “Or how do the Barracudas recruit people to join? Don’t they need a way to motivate people for their cause?”

  “You would think, but I’m not completely sure how they operate. I know this group is international, so some of this could be planned overseas. Last I heard, authorities hadn’t made much progress cracking this group. Then again, I’ve been off the field for a while.”

  “So how would I find more information on them?”

  “By getting on the inside, which I don’t recommend you doing. These groups are protective of their own, of their information. They’re organized enough that you’re not going to find out anything by accident. It will only be through a purposefully planned involvement. And if they catch you, they’ll kill you.”

  The color drained from my face. I felt it.

  “Joey, I don’t know how you’re connected with this group, but I would stay far away. They’re no one to befriend. In fact, they’ll kill anyone who gets in their way.”

  My stomach squeezed as the seriousness of the situation sank in. “Thanks, Thomas.”

  His warning had chilled me to the bone.

  Before I had time to dwell on it, someone pounded on my window.

  Was it Leonard? Or the Barracudas?

  Chapter Nine

  “It’s me. Adam.” The guy outside my window waved his hand cheerfully, like a little kid seeing Santa Claus at the mall. “Do you remember me?”

  I stared at the skinny teenager with acne and messy brown hair.

  Yes, yes. It was Adam . . . I couldn’t remember his last name. Maybe I’d never known it.

  He was studying computers at a local college while working at Shipwreck Bay and had helped me with one of my investigations.

  I rolled down my window, a rush of relief flushing through me. No danger. Not right now, at least. “Hey, Adam. Of course I remember you.”

  He leaned on my car, his eyes lit with something close to adoration and pink cartoon hearts. “I thought I saw you earlier, and then I was walking on my break and saw you again. I had to stop and say hello.”
/>   “It’s great to see you. You doing okay?”

  He pushed his trendy oversized glasses up higher. “Doing great. I’m graduating soon. I only need six more credit hours, and then I can stop working here and start making the big bucks at a tech company. In fact, I was already offered a job, and I’m going to start on a part-time basis. Work from home even.”

  I was pretty sure he was trying to impress me. “I’m really happy for you, Adam. You’ve obviously got a lot of talent. What kind of company are you working for?”

  He shrugged. “A start-up. A start-up that pays well and that treasures my expertise. That’s all I need to know.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy.”

  He continued to lean into my car, in no hurry to leave. “I’m kind of surprised you’re still in this area.”

  I decided to be blunt. “I still haven’t found my dad.”

  His smile disappeared, as if he was remembering our past conversations. “Oh, I see. I wish I could help.”

  “I wish you could too.” I wished anyone could help.

  “If you ever think of anything I can do, let me know.”

  I thanked Adam and rolled my window back up. It was time for me to get back and . . . do something. I wasn’t sure what yet.

  As I drove toward my condo, I glanced in my rearview mirror. That car from earlier was still following me.

  I really didn’t appreciate the invasion of privacy. I knew Jackson was doing this to try and keep me safe, but being tailed was still annoying. I didn’t need an escort thinking of me as their Miss Daisy.

  I let out a sigh.

  It was time I lost this sucker once and for all. I was cranky, ornery, and heartbroken—not a good combination.

  As soon as I crossed the causeway, I made a quick right-hand turn. I watched in my rearview mirror and saw the driver turn after me.

  Of course.

  At the first left I came to, I turned and then took an immediate right.

  I glanced at the light.

  It turned red, which should buy me some time.

  Spontaneously, I pulled into a driveway. Several other cars were there, but I was able to pull up right under the house, virtually out of sight.