Page 48 of Just Beachy

“That was incredible, wasn’t it?” Grand says as we leave Pass-a-Grille behind. “I’m so happy for Myra. And glad to be a part of her new venture.”

“Me too,” I agree. It’s not exactly an acting gig, but it’s aworthwhile venture, and I’m excited not only for Myra but for the place Grand is creating for herself here.

In fact, I’d call this day pretty close to perfect. If it weren’t for the fact that when we get back to Grand’s, someone has smashed in her side light and the front door is wide open.

Twenty-Three

“Wait here,” Luke says ashe jumps out of the car and strides toward the front door.

For once, Grand and I do as instructed. But I have my phone in my hand before he reaches the front door and have already punched in, but not called, 911.

He’s out in less than five minutes and he doesn’t look happy. “Obviously, someone broke in.Again. Only this time they took the time to search the entire house. It’s trashed.”

“Oh no!” Grand and I make a move toward the front door.

Luke stops us with a look. “Isn’t the alarm system working?” he asks quietly.

“No, it works fine.” It takes everything I’ve got to meet his gaze. “It’s just that it’s, um, you know, daytime.” I swallow. “And we, uh, usually just put it on at night when we go to bed.”

He sighs. Somehow, he manages not to say a lot of the things he’d clearly like to. What he does say is, “Someone is still looking for something.” His gaze grows steely. “I find it hard to believe that neither of you has any idea what that thing or things might be.”

I blink and focus on looking innocent.

Luke shakes his head and sighs. “Nope. Not falling for that look. You’ve been using it since elementary school.”

This is the trouble with trying to outwit someone who’s known you since you were a child. If Luke and I are going to have any kind of relationship as adults, I’m going to have to up my game. Or tell him the truth.

“I…I think I need to go inside and sit down,” Grand says, swaying slightly. “Could you, could you help me, Luke?” She reaches for his arm before I can determine whether this is a performance.

“Of course.” Luke wraps one strong arm around her shoulder and gently grasps one of her hands.

I hope he doesn’t see the wink she aims my way as I begin to move from her other side and step behind her to prevent any chance of her falling backward.

“Oh my,” Grand whispers as we step off the stairs into the living room.

There’s no winking or smiling as we take in the main floor with its slashed sofa cushions and paintings ripped off the walls, their canvases peeled back. Luke wasn’t exaggerating when he used the word “trashed.”

“It’s even worse upstairs,” he says as we move into thekitchen. “Why don’t you take a seat?” He leads Grand to a dining room chair.

“You too,” he says to me, only it’s not a question.

The only thing missing as he interrogates us yet again about what Grand has that someone wants this badly is a bare lightbulb over our heads and two-way glass into an observation room. But the longer we hold out, the more determined Luke becomes. (Which is exactly how Cassie Everheart and every other television cop or detective would play it.)

It’s only when Grand, who can apparently cry at will, has tears streaming down her cheeks that Luke stops firing questions at us.

“I’m sorry,” he says to her as he plucks a tissue out of a nearby box and hands it to Grand. “I know how stressful this must be for you. You need to arm your alarm system anytime you leave home, and we can ask the Treasure Island Police Department to continue doing regular drive-bys until we figure this out.” He draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “But I don’t know how to help or protect you if you won’t tell me the truth.”

• • •

Grand and Ilet out audible sighs of relief once the front door closes behind Luke, but we don’t speak until we hear him drive off. Neither of us are remotely ready to begin cleaning up the mess that surrounds us, so I grab bottles of water and plop back down at the dining room table.

“We need to tell Luke what’s going on,” I say to Grand. “ASAP.”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean, I haven’t keptThe Madonnahidden all these years just to bandy it about now.”

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