Page 33 of Just Beachy

He puts the phone on speaker, and I hear what sounds like Luke pulling on clothes, which, oddly, given that there are bad people just one floor below me, makes me wonder whether police detectives leave them puddled next to the bed ready to be stepped into, like firemen leave theirs next to the firepole.

“Where are you and Grand right now?” Luke asks.

“I’m in the living room. Grand’s out for the night.”

There’s a brief silence but he doesn’t waste time asking me where she is.

“Go into your bedroom right now and lock the door. I’ll be there in ten minutes or less. Do not open your door or leave your room—your locked room—until I get there.”

“But…” I begin to protest as I realize there’s no longer noise coming from below.

“No. No buts. I’m not going to hang up. I don’t want you to hang up, either.”

As much as I dislike being ordered around, I’m relieved that he’s on his way and that we can continue to communicate. But I can hear no reason to go upstairs and hide.

I stare out the kitchen window until Luke pulls to a stop in front of Grand’s unit, at which point I race downstairs.

“I told you to stay upstairs,” he says when I throw open the front door.

“I waited until you pulled up. And I haven’t heard anyone in the garage since just after I called you,” I shoot backbecause, although I’m uber relieved that he’s here, I really don’t love how bossy he gets.

He looks me up and down. His forehead wrinkles and I can’t tell whether it’s because he’s pissed that I didn’t follow his instructions, or because he’s never seen a grown woman wearing puppy-covered flannel pajamas.

He opens the foyer door that leads into the garage. “Wait here.”

I ignore this and follow him into the garage, where the Cadillac sits, trunk open, leather seats slashed, trunk lining ripped out. Through the open door that leads into the bonus room (aka Grand’s studio), I can see that one of the back sliders has been forced open but at least neither of them is damaged. This is a good thing. Heavy PGT glass doesn’t grow on trees.

Back in the garage, I turn on the overhead light and Luke shines his flashlight under the car and all around it.

“I’m glad you didn’t go charging into a dangerous situation this time,” Luke says. “Though I guess I should point out that if youdon’tturn off the alarm so quickly, the police—the ones who are actuallyonduty—will show up.”

“I know. I forgot. It was just an automatic reaction. And I didn’t really want to bother the police again.”

“Iamthe police, Syd,” he points out.

I know this, of course. And at the moment I hate just how quickly I turned to him the minute I got scared.

“But for a long time, you were like a member of the family,” I argue. “And I didn’t want to have to explain tostrangers that my grandmother is spending the night at her boyfriend’s.”

“Boyfriend?” He blinks back his surprise. “How do you know she hasn’t been abducted? Or hurt in some way?”

“Because she has a boyfriend—a real live ‘silver fox’—who’s lived in the complex for years. She’s spending the night with him so that they can havesex. And he’s promised to serve her breakfast in bed.”

I sniff. Not only do I not have a boyfriend at this time, none of the boyfriends Ihavehad ever served me breakfast in bed—if you don’t count the occasional cup of Starbucks. For just a moment I let myself imagine havingsexwith Luke.

“Call her right now, Syd, and make sure she’s okay.”

“But it’s two a.m.”

“I am painfully aware of that,” Luke counters. “But someone, or several someones, are clearly looking for something they believe your grandmother has.Therefore, we need to make sure that she’s okay. For all we know, the silver fox could be part of whatever is going on.”

I shudder at the thought that Brian’s attraction to Grand might not be as “genuine” as it seems. And while I’d like to believe that the idea that criminals, including or not including Brian, are specifically targeting my grandmother because they think she has something they want, is farfetched, deep down I know these break-ins are not random. There’s definitely something dangerous going on, and it seems to be getting more dangerous by the day.

“Okay.” I walk into the town house with Luke at my heels and speed-dial Grand’s cell phone. It rings upstairs in her bedroom.

“Shit,” we say in unison.

“What’s his name and his town house number?” Luke demands. “We need to go check on her.”

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