One More Day
Page 2
He leaned closer to Matt. His friend clapped a hand on his shoulder, his expression grave. He almost hated to play a joke on him when he looked so serious but this conversation was way too kumbaya for his taste. And joking around was easier than putting his emotions on a platter for everyone to rifle through.
“But I would definitely make an exception for your sister because she is fine as hell!”
He barely had time to duck when Matt swung on him this time, but hearing his friends laugh was worth a few blows.
* * * * *
“FINAL STOP—PORT of New Haven!”
Ridley Wells leaned her forehead against the bus window and gazed at the boats bobbing in the water. The small shops lining the pier still had the same bright red awnings. Fat seagulls still swooped down from above, ready to waddle their way up and down the boardwalk begging for food. Everything looked exactly the same as it had the last time she’d been here. Fifteen years ago.
After waiting a few minutes so the other passengers could disembark, she grabbed her backpack and stepped down into the warm, briny air. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the water.
She’d been traveling for two days and was more than ready to take a hot shower and sleep in a real bed. If Raina doesn’t slam the door in your face. With her sister’s temper, it was a distinct possibility.
“Is this your first trip to the peninsula, too?”
A middle-aged woman wearing a bright pink “Nowhere Like New Haven” tee shirt and a faded blue visor stood at her elbow. A group of other women, all wearing the same bright pink shirt, milled nearby chatting excitedly. Tourists, Ridley thought. Come to enjoy the beaches and the world-class seafood restaurants.
“No. I used to live here. A long time ago.”
She smiled politely at the woman before walking past the others and pulling out her phone. She’d mapped out the distance from the New Haven, Virginia bus station to her sister’s house while on the road. At less than a mile it should be a relatively easy walk and a nice one. She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and set off to the south, toward the center of town.
The late spring breeze carried the scent of salt water and something slightly tangy, like someone was having a clambake. It brought back memories of the two years she’d spent in New Haven back in middle school. After years of moving around, an old friend of her mom’s had told her about a waitressing position in the diner where she worked and offered to rent out her basement.
Ridley and her twin sister, Raina, were used to the schools in Washington, D.C. so moving to some backwater town in the south of Virginia seemed like banishment. Back then the town hadn’t even had its own movie theater.
But their mom’s friend, Miss Ruth, fixed up the basement so nicely it looked like something in one of the fancy design magazines Raina had always liked to flip through at the corner store. Their beds had been covered in pillows and not just the kind you slept on. Pretty little decorative ones with lace at the edges. Miss Ruth had told them she’d done the lace edging herself. It was the first time Ridley had realized everyone didn’t live the way they did.
Her mother didn’t do much after work that didn’t involve a bottle.
They’d stayed there longer than just about anywhere else. Long enough for Ridley to get completely attached to Miss Ruth, her friends at school and the sleepy, little town itself. Driving away in their secondhand Buick had just about broken her heart.
College had become an obsession after that. If she had enough money, she could afford to make her own decisions. To make a place for herself somewhere, something no one could ever take away. Her sister had been just as driven. Raina had started modeling right after high school and never looked back. After years of working nonstop and traveling all over the world, she’d finally bought a house in the one place they’d lived that had felt like home. She’d sent Ridley a message containing her address, the security code and a simple sentence.
You are always welcome.
Those four words had let her know that no matter what happened, her sister would always be there for her. When she’d found herself scared and in need of a place to stay, this had been the first place she’d thought to come. She’d always known she’d come back to New Haven at some point.
But not like this.
All she’d wanted was to locate her father. After her mother’s death she’d become obsessed with finding the only family they had left. The private investigator she’d hired had finally gotten a lead. If only she’d pushed him to tell her what it was. Images of charred wreckage flashed through her mind and she shivered. She pulled the diamond pendant she’d been wearing since the accident from beneath her shirt and stroked it.
What had he found out that was bad enough to make someone sabotage his car?
Whoever it was had to have been planning for him to die in the accident. They just probably hadn’t counted on her witnessing the whole thing. She pulled back her sleeve to reveal the mottled bruises and scars on her forearms.
“You’re just here to hide out until the police figure out what happened.”
The officers working the case hadn’t told her much, but she could tell something was up by what they hadn’t said. When she’d asked directly, they couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear: that the accident was truly an accident. She planned to stay under the radar until they figured it out.
The arrow on her phone pointed to the left so she turned onto the next street. An ornate wrought iron sign spelled out:
“But I would definitely make an exception for your sister because she is fine as hell!”
He barely had time to duck when Matt swung on him this time, but hearing his friends laugh was worth a few blows.
* * * * *
“FINAL STOP—PORT of New Haven!”
Ridley Wells leaned her forehead against the bus window and gazed at the boats bobbing in the water. The small shops lining the pier still had the same bright red awnings. Fat seagulls still swooped down from above, ready to waddle their way up and down the boardwalk begging for food. Everything looked exactly the same as it had the last time she’d been here. Fifteen years ago.
After waiting a few minutes so the other passengers could disembark, she grabbed her backpack and stepped down into the warm, briny air. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the water.
She’d been traveling for two days and was more than ready to take a hot shower and sleep in a real bed. If Raina doesn’t slam the door in your face. With her sister’s temper, it was a distinct possibility.
“Is this your first trip to the peninsula, too?”
A middle-aged woman wearing a bright pink “Nowhere Like New Haven” tee shirt and a faded blue visor stood at her elbow. A group of other women, all wearing the same bright pink shirt, milled nearby chatting excitedly. Tourists, Ridley thought. Come to enjoy the beaches and the world-class seafood restaurants.
“No. I used to live here. A long time ago.”
She smiled politely at the woman before walking past the others and pulling out her phone. She’d mapped out the distance from the New Haven, Virginia bus station to her sister’s house while on the road. At less than a mile it should be a relatively easy walk and a nice one. She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and set off to the south, toward the center of town.
The late spring breeze carried the scent of salt water and something slightly tangy, like someone was having a clambake. It brought back memories of the two years she’d spent in New Haven back in middle school. After years of moving around, an old friend of her mom’s had told her about a waitressing position in the diner where she worked and offered to rent out her basement.
Ridley and her twin sister, Raina, were used to the schools in Washington, D.C. so moving to some backwater town in the south of Virginia seemed like banishment. Back then the town hadn’t even had its own movie theater.
But their mom’s friend, Miss Ruth, fixed up the basement so nicely it looked like something in one of the fancy design magazines Raina had always liked to flip through at the corner store. Their beds had been covered in pillows and not just the kind you slept on. Pretty little decorative ones with lace at the edges. Miss Ruth had told them she’d done the lace edging herself. It was the first time Ridley had realized everyone didn’t live the way they did.
Her mother didn’t do much after work that didn’t involve a bottle.
They’d stayed there longer than just about anywhere else. Long enough for Ridley to get completely attached to Miss Ruth, her friends at school and the sleepy, little town itself. Driving away in their secondhand Buick had just about broken her heart.
College had become an obsession after that. If she had enough money, she could afford to make her own decisions. To make a place for herself somewhere, something no one could ever take away. Her sister had been just as driven. Raina had started modeling right after high school and never looked back. After years of working nonstop and traveling all over the world, she’d finally bought a house in the one place they’d lived that had felt like home. She’d sent Ridley a message containing her address, the security code and a simple sentence.
You are always welcome.
Those four words had let her know that no matter what happened, her sister would always be there for her. When she’d found herself scared and in need of a place to stay, this had been the first place she’d thought to come. She’d always known she’d come back to New Haven at some point.
But not like this.
All she’d wanted was to locate her father. After her mother’s death she’d become obsessed with finding the only family they had left. The private investigator she’d hired had finally gotten a lead. If only she’d pushed him to tell her what it was. Images of charred wreckage flashed through her mind and she shivered. She pulled the diamond pendant she’d been wearing since the accident from beneath her shirt and stroked it.
What had he found out that was bad enough to make someone sabotage his car?
Whoever it was had to have been planning for him to die in the accident. They just probably hadn’t counted on her witnessing the whole thing. She pulled back her sleeve to reveal the mottled bruises and scars on her forearms.
“You’re just here to hide out until the police figure out what happened.”
The officers working the case hadn’t told her much, but she could tell something was up by what they hadn’t said. When she’d asked directly, they couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear: that the accident was truly an accident. She planned to stay under the radar until they figured it out.
The arrow on her phone pointed to the left so she turned onto the next street. An ornate wrought iron sign spelled out:
