Page 22 of Jett in Jeopardy

When was the last time I’d spoken to my father? Perhaps it was back in July when my tuition was due. As usual, the conversation had been stilted and awkward. I could hear the tension in his voice when he first answered—probably afraid I was going to ask to come home—followed by the relief when he realized I only wanted money. By the time I’d hung up, we had both been relieved the call was over.

Tonight, Mindy, the overly perky manager of said overpriced seafood restaurant, had been friendly enough while she’d talked about the job waiting tables and my experience—which, given the sheer volume of jobs I’d had since arriving in Saltwater Cove, was surprisingly light on server experience. Like I said, nice enough, but she still didn’t seem all that impressed with me, telling me she still had other candidates to interview and she’d be in touch. While that was probably true, her lack of enthusiasm left me with the distinct impression I wouldn’t be hearing from her again.

Outside the restaurant, a frigid wind gusted, icy drizzle stinging my face and hands and clinging to my hair and coat. I couldn’t wait to get home. Between the less-than-stellar interview, the weather, and my own gloomy mood, I just wanted to go flake out on the sofa and watch bad reality shows. After all, there was nothing like watching someone else’s messed up life play out on the screen to make you feel better about your own.

I was still moping about Brody, which annoyed me. Brody wasn’t the first guy I’d slept with who didn’t want what I wanted. Normally, when things ended with a guy, I would rally and move on, but that hadn’t happened with him. While I tried to pretend I didn’t get why ending things with him was bumming me out so much, I knew what the problem was. I had wanted Brody for so long, and to have whatever we’d been starting snatched away so quickly before it had even started just sucked.

And yes, I recognized I’d been the one to do the snatching in this case. Brody had been clear all he wanted from me was to fuck, and with other men I’d been with, it would have been fine, even reciprocated. But for some reason, Brody’s words tore through me like a hit to the gut, stealing my breath and leaving me winded. It was probably for the best that I’d call things off before they could go any further. If he could hurt me this early, I probably already liked the man too much for my own good.

I tilted my head against the icy drizzle sweeping up the street and followed the sidewalk to where I’d parked my car. When I’d pulled up to the curb an hour ago, downtown Saltwater Cove had been busy. There was a steady stream of cars filling the road, the boutiques and businesses open, with pedestrians crowding the sidewalks. Almost pushing nine o’clock on a Monday night, the downtown was no longer a hub of activity. Cars passed intermittently, the stores and businesses closed or were getting ready to, and my yellow Jeep was the only car parked at the edge of the street.

I frowned. There was something off about the way my car was sitting. It looked crooked, as if the road itself was slanted toward the sidewalk. My frown deepened as I drew closer. It wasn’t the road that was slanted. The tires next to the curb were both completely flat, the car essentially sitting on the rims.

“Fuck!” I squatted next to the car and ran my fingers over the tire. Had I run over a nail or something on the drive here? But in both tires? Not likely. My fingertip grazed a rough tear in the hard rubber. I squinted to try to get a good look at the damage. With only the dull glow of the streetlights and the long shadows stretching across the sidewalk, it was hard to see the jagged gouge in the tire at first. Now that I’d found it, it was impossible to miss.

“What the hell?” I whispered, then moved to the back tire. Another deep tear. Both tires with long rips in the rubber. There was no way this was an accident. If I’d run something over that could cause that much damage to my tires, it would have been hard to miss.

I stood, waited for a car to pass so the street was empty again, then moved to inspect the driver’s side of the car. The lighting was better here, with none of the shadows like on the passenger side. I could easily make out the deep slashes in both tires and the long, deep gouge running along the side of the car. Someone had slashed my tires and keyed my car! The groove was so deep, it left a silver line across the door and almost past the back tire.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”Why would someone do this?

Well, wasn’t this the perfect end to a perfect day? I’d dragged my ass down here to interview for a job that I didn’t really want and probably wasn’t going to get. Now I had to deal with all this. Where the hell would I come up with the money to replace all my tires while I wasn’t working? God damn it, I really was going to have to call my dad.

My jaw tightened at the thought, and I had an almost overwhelming urge to kick my car as hard as I could. What the hell was going on with my life? I felt like I’d been cursed.

Maybe cursed was the wrong word. Targeted seemed more accurate—first my job, then the weird photos of me sleeping on my old phone, and the strange car that may or may not have been following me home from Brody’s. Was someone doing this to me on purpose?

A chill that had nothing to do with the cold weather shivered up my spine, and I suddenly felt too open and exposed. I needed to get the hell out of there.

I dug my phone out of my jeans pocket, thinking I should probably call the police. Maybe I would… once I was home and not standing out here in the middle of the street alone. I called Grier first, even though I knew it was a long shot. He and Sawyer had planned to see a movie tonight, so when the call went directly to voicemail, I wasn’t surprised. I tried Sawyer next, on the off chance he forgot to turn his phone off, but no such luck. That call went straight to voicemail, too.

So now what? I could have called one of the many taxi service apps, but the thought of getting in a stranger’s car right now made my skin crawl.

Alistair, maybe? I knew he was wrapped up in his new family, and I hated to bother him, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. Pulling up his number, I hit the call button. I was almost surprised when he answered.

“Hey Jett, what’s up?” Alistair said.

“Hi…um, I hate to ask, but I need a favor.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I’m at work.”

“Shit,” My shoulders sagged. It looked like I was going to have to suck it up and go with a taxi service.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s not a big deal.” I climbed back inside my Jeep to get out of the cold. “I was downtown for a job interview, and when I came out, someone had slashed all four of my tires. I was hoping you could pick me up. But you’re working, so don’t worry. I’ll figure something else out.”

“No, where are you?”

I glanced up the sidewalk at the restaurant I’d just left. “That new seafood place that just opened. I’m not working at the bookstore anymore.” I wasn’t sure if Grier had told him of my firing.

“That sucks. How’d the interview go?”

“Fine, I guess, but I don’t think I’m going to get it.”

“Probably for the best. Do you really want to come home smelling like seafood every night you work?”

I cracked a smile. Alistair was pragmatic by nature, a realist, but I’d never would have considered him an optimist. “Look at you, looking at the bright side. It’s like I don’t even know you.”

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