See You at Sunset (7 page)

Micah breathed a mental sigh of relief. Justin wouldn’t have agreed to a search if there was anything problematic in the trailer. Still, he had to go through the motions. “Best that you stay out here. It won’t take long.”

He headed inside the old double-wide, straight into the living room. The dining area and the kitchen were on his left. Heading past the kitchen and down a short hall, Micah found a decent-sized bedroom where clothes were strewn everywhere, like he’d expect in a teenager’s room. But from the underwear he saw on the floor, he had no problem deducing it was Crystal’s. The bathroom was across the hall, and another smaller bedroom was beside it at the end. That one was obviously Justin’s, because it featured a common theme in late-teen male décor—posters of near-naked swimsuit models on the walls. A wooden table with folding metal legs supported a desktop computer, two monitors, a Wii console, and a rat’s nest of black cables. The room was messy, though not as bad as his mother’s.

Micah made only a cursory search of each room. In the tiny bathroom, he found a bottle of lorazepam and another of Celexa, which he knew was an antidepressant. Both prescriptions were ordered by a Portland doctor and filled a few weeks ago at Watson’s Pharmacy, not surprisingly, he supposed, since it was right across the street from the restaurant where Crystal worked.

Justin, who’d been peering in the door, quickly moved out of the way to let Micah through. Micah took his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and put them back on. “One more question, okay, Justin?”

The kid nodded.

“I know you’re pretty plugged in on what’s going down here on the island, so let me ask you this. Do you know any kids who like to fool around with stuff like Vicodin or Oxy?” Micah put his hand on Justin’s shoulder. “Look, I know you don’t want to be a rat, but you need to be honest with me now. I want to be able to trust you, and I’ll never be able to do that if you lie to me about something like this.”

Justin didn’t hesitate, shaking his head hard. “Nobody on the island does that stuff. Not that I know of anyway. And that’s the truth.”

Micah had watched Justin’s eyes and body language carefully. The kid gave no indication he was lying, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“Okay, son, that’s all for now.”

Micah returned to his cruiser with some relief. He would have hated to dump more trouble on Crystal by having to arrest her son. But he was concerned too, because if Justin was indeed telling the truth about himself and the other island kids, it would mean his theory—and Griff Turner’s—had just gone down the drain.

Chapter 5

H
olly’s first dart sailed off to the right and missed the board. That pathetic toss earned her a raspberry from Bram Flynn and a mixture of groans and shouts of encouragement from the tables nearby. Sighing because she totally sucked at Seashell Bay’s cherished pastime, she aimed her second missile. It hit the wire just below the number twenty but then bounced off and clattered to the floor. For the final attempt, she shut her left eye in the vain hope of sharpening her aim and sent the dart in a shallow arc toward the board.

Success! Somehow the dart not only landed inside the triple ring, it actually stuck, scoring twenty-four points. She pumped her fist in triumph as the dart wobbled, unsure whether to stay lodged or fall off to join its red-tipped mates on the floor.

Bram Flynn grinned as he retrieved the darts. “Even a monkey can hit a triple, time to time.”

Bram had hounded her for the better part of an hour to play a match with him, though Holly suspected it might have more to do with getting a better view of her legs and other parts of her anatomy than it did with darts. She’d finally given in, if for no other reason than to shut him up.

“Are you calling me a monkey, you jerk?” She smacked Aiden’s little brother on the shoulder as he toed the line. Describing him as a little brother was a hoot. At six five,
little
was not the appropriate adjective for Bram Flynn.

Bram’s face got red, his mouth pulling down with dismay. “Jesus, Holly, I was just yanking your chain.”

Holly knew that, of course, and she loved Bram, despite his history of ribald comments during her visits home. And she was thrilled that he was in control of the alcohol and gambling addictions that had almost destroyed his life.

“I know, you big goof.” She threw a glance at Micah, seated with Lily, Aiden, Morgan, and Ryan. At the next table sat Morgan’s sister, Sabrina, along with Miss Annie, Roy Mayo, and Father Michael Malone. “Micah, why don’t you take over for me? I think I’ve humiliated myself enough.”

Grinning, Micah tossed back the rest of his beer and stood. He’d already agreed to relieve her if she decided to bail. “Be glad to, if Bram can handle getting his ass whipped.”

Bram rolled his eyes. “Lancaster, I could beat you if I threw backward over my shoulder.”

“Okay, let’s see you back up all that talk.”

When Holly slid by him on her way back to her seat, Micah gave her butt a soft pat that practically froze her in her tracks. Though it was just a playful gesture and she figured no one would make anything of it, it struck Holly as almost possessive. And damned if she didn’t kind of like it.

And it wasn’t hard to imagine that big hand on the rest of her body either.

You wish, girl.

Then again, maybe that was two and a half bottles of Shipyard Ale doing the talking. She was already past her usual limit. If she was going to get a little blitzed though, tonight felt like a good time for it. A little de-stressing was definitely in order.

Trying for a casual smile, she eased back into the chair beside Morgan and across from Miss Annie and Roy.

No matter how hard she tried, Holly couldn’t help eating Micah up with her gaze as he waited for his turn to throw. Maybe an inch shorter than Bram, the guy looked like an NFL defensive end standing next to a high school basketball player. Micah’s superwide shoulders stretched the blue, long-sleeved Henley he was wearing, as did his studly biceps and muscular forearms. With his impressive size and totally ripped body, he was a dominating presence even among the man-mountains that generally populated the Lobster Pot.

“Holly, as I was saying before you abandoned me for that rascal Bram Flynn, I’ll be darned if I can get a bead on those selectmen yet,” Miss Annie grumbled, referring to the town councilors. “I’ve talked to all three, and not a one of them is showing his cards.”

The matriarch of the Doyle clan turned her sharp gaze toward Father Michael, whose face was ruddier than usual, no doubt from the heat and the beer. Father Mike was the classic stereotype of the jovial, Irish American priest if there ever was one. “Father, you’d think it would be a no-brainer for those three old coots to get behind Florence and Beatrice, wouldn’t you? But no, they say they want to get lots of
feedback
from people before they make up their minds.”

She made the notion of feedback sound as appealing as a bucket of rattlesnakes.

“That’s what you get for not running for selectman yourself, Miss Annie,” Ryan drawled in a teasing voice from the other side of Morgan. “Actually, I think we’d all be better off if you ran the island as a benevolent dictatorship.”

“Hell, I thought she already did,” Roy said without a second’s hesitation.

Miss Annie gave him a poke on his wiry arm.

“Granny, they’re hardly old coots,” Lily said from down the table. “Chester and Amos and Thor are all at least twenty years younger than you are. Besides, you always say you’re not even old. Unlike Roy,” she added with an evil grin.

“Lily Doyle Flynn, you know very well that age is relative,” her granny shot back. “Chester’s still got most of his marbles, but Amos Hogan can barely figure out where the town hall is, and Thor Sigurdsson isn’t much better. They can still catch lobsters like nobody’s business, but why in heaven they ever wanted to be selectmen is beyond me.” Miss Annie’s fluffy white perm practically quivered with frustration.

Father Michael made a gentle scoffing noise. “Oh, climb down from your soapbox, Annie. Some of us had to practically get down on bended knee to beg Amos and Thor to run since nobody else wanted to, other than Chester.”

“Oh, I know, but who ever thought that prehistoric trio would wind up having to decide the fate of poor Florence and Beatrice?” Miss Annie raised her gaze to ceiling. “May the good Lord above help us all.”

Despite the importance of the subject at hand, Holly was having a hard time concentrating. She kept getting distracted by Micah’s back—or, to be more geographically precise, his very fine ass. How insane was that? Though she’d always looked at her friend with deep appreciation for his manly attributes, her reaction to him now felt quite different. She tried to tell herself that she was simply too tipsy to keep her guard up, and yet she knew that would be too easy an answer.

Damn hormones.

“Earth to Holly Tyler,” Miss Annie said, waving her bony right hand halfway across the table at Holly. “Are you with me, dear?”

Feeling the heat of embarrassment rising up her neck, Holly managed a contrite nod. “I’m sorry, Miss Annie. I’m just a little tired and distracted.”

“Well, no wonder. You must be worried sick about your aunts. I was saying that we need to start a petition drive to convince the selectmen to deny Night Owl their building permit. I’ll draw it up, and you can get everyone who comes into the store to sign. And Roy can take it around the island to those folks who don’t visit the store much.”

“Hey, don’t I get a say in all this?” Roy protested, winking at Holly.

“No, Ancient One, you don’t,” Miss Annie said firmly. She looked back at Holly and smiled. “Most folks will be glad to sign. Those three dinosaurs won’t be able to ignore the will of the people after that.”

Holly perked up as everyone nodded in agreement. “That’s a great idea,” she said. “I know how much Florence and Beatrice appreciate all your help. And so do I.”

Miss Annie smiled and uttered a soft
psshh
.

Ryan stood up, pushing his chair back. “Okay, now that we’ve got our battle plan, let’s get back to some serious partying. Morgan and I want to lay down a challenge to any pair that has the mistaken impression that they might beat us at shuffleboard.”

“That would be Lily and me,” Aiden said.

Ryan shook his head. “Forget it, dude. No, I was figuring the deputy could take us on. Joined by our sweet pal Holly, who we’re so happy to have back on the island.”

Holly saw Morgan turn in her seat and stare up at her fiancé, her icy blue eyes conveying what she thought of Ryan’s mischief making. Her friend knew Holly would be uncomfortable being put on the spot like that.

Unlike darts, Holly enjoyed shuffleboard and was generally decent enough at it to hold her own, so that part didn’t bother her. But she could barely believe Ryan’s meddling. She opened her mouth to refuse but didn’t get the chance.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Micah said. He gazed down at Holly, his dark eyes glittering with an unspoken challenge… and a whole lot of heat.

Holly, you are in so much trouble.

“We can’t duck a challenge, can we?” he added.

When Morgan gave her an apologetic look, Holly waved a hand and got up from the table. She would not look like a wimp to her friends. Even more important, she would not disappoint and maybe even embarrass Micah by making some lame excuse for not playing. Not after everything he’d done for her. She simply had to keep her unruly hormones under control.

Good luck with that.

“Game on,” she said, pinning on a smile.

Micah gave Holly lots of space as she made her way across the room to the shuffleboard table. It wasn’t like him to jump in like that, accepting Ryan’s challenge—not when it was clear that Holly was about to decline. But he just hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to get close to her. He never could when it came to Holly Tyler.

Not that he wasn’t tempted to whack Ryan upside the head for being so obvious. His buddy knew exactly how conflicted he was about Holly, and yet he still hadn’t been able to resist playing matchmaker. Like plenty of islanders, Ryan wanted Micah and Holly to hook up. Not just for his sake but because it might pull her back to Seashell Bay.

Too bad Holly wasn’t down with the program. Nor was she the type to want a casual summer fling. And when it came to Holly, neither was Micah. He wanted more than that, and was pretty well convinced he would never get it.

And she has a boyfriend.
Micah forced that unpleasant thought away.

He kept his eyes pretty much glued to Holly’s perfect ass as she slipped through the crowded tables. Her short, red skirt was hot enough to peel the paint off the Pot’s walls. Her form-fitting white blouse showcased her trim waist and dynamite rack. Not for the first time, Micah couldn’t help thinking that, looking the way she did—not just tonight but all the time—Holly could have virtually any man in the world. Add in a sweet personality, and it’d been no surprise that she’d ended up with a dude like Drew Tyler, a guy about as handsome as they came, not to mention a brave airman and a hell of a nice guy.

By the time he caught up with her, Holly was already lining up the shuffleboard pucks at one end of the fourteen-foot wooden table. “Ryan, since you issued the challenge,” she said with a sly smile, “I assume you have no problem with Micah and me having the hammer to begin?”

Micah swallowed a grin. Players usually flipped a coin to see who would have the advantage of throwing the last puck—called the “hammer”—in the opening round. Holly had smoothly backed Ryan into a corner.

“No problem,” Ryan said with a mock sneer. “You and my big doofus pal will need all the help you can get.”

Morgan poked him in the side. “Play nice, you jerk.”

“Babe, I love it when you talk dirty,” Ryan said, pulling her tight against his side.

Holly laughed. “Hey, are we here to play shuffleboard or make out?”

Making out sounded pretty great to Micah. He couldn’t help pointedly raising his eyebrows as he stared down at her. Holly’s eyes opened wide as she realized her mistake, then a sweet flush turned her cheeks rosy. He almost laughed when she scowled back at him.