In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,8

I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge these days, I admit.”

Then lay off the cocaine, James thought irritably. He could practically hear Domino’s teeth grinding.

“Come on, how long have we known each other, James? Since you were five, huh? I know you keep a tight inner circle. And you know I loved your family like…” There was an almost imperceptible catch in his voice, and he paused. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” James muttered with a twinge of guilt. Who was he to judge Domino for overindulging or acting unhinged? Domino had been close to the family for longer than James had been in it. Of course this was hitting him hard. But James could barely handle his own pain, let alone anyone else’s. “I just need to be on my own right now.”

“Hey, and I respect that.” Domino’s voice was back in business mode. “But you can’t blame me for worrying. And bro, you just can’t go through this alone, okay?”

The blip of a siren interrupted James before he could reply, and he looked over his shoulder to see a police car slowing to a creep as it passed by.

The cop behind the wheel pointed a finger directly at him before continuing down the hill.

James made a face, blinking in confusion. The fuck?

Domino was still talking. “…and you’re family to me, you understand?”

“Uh-huh.” James barely registered Domino’s words, too focused on watching the cop car make a three-point turn to head back in his direction. “Listen, I won’t be answering calls for a while. I just need some space. I gotta go.”

“Wait, James—”

James pocketed his phone and stood up from the bench as the police car parked beside the curb across the street. The officer was a typical cop in his prime. Thirty-something, built like a retired quarterback, with light brown hair buzzed close to his head. He got out of the car and headed toward James, smirking below his sporty mirrored sunglasses.

“Well, hello, Beau,” the officer said, taking a wide stance and crossing his arms. The name on his uniform read Brady. “What a surprise to see you here, out in the open.”

Another case of mistaken identity. So his lookalike really was on the lam. “Sorry,” James said, “but my name isn’t Beau. Mind if I reach for my ID?”

Officer Brady was silent for a second, chewing his gum, and then flicked his fingers in an arrogant hand it over gesture. After inspecting James’s license, he looked up sharply in surprise. “Wait a minute. I’ve seen you on the news. Told my wife you looked just like Beau Woodstock.”

James jerked at the sound of that name, shock flooding his veins.

Beau Woodstock?

Luckily, Brady was too focused on his ID photo to notice his reaction. “Godawful, what happened to your family. My condolences.” He held the license level with James’s face, looking between them. “So how the hell are you and Beau related?”

Stunned, James shook his head. “I’ve never heard of this person.”

“Oh, sure.” Brady’s tone briefly hardened, all tough-cop disbelief and disdain. But then he frowned and cocked his head, considering. “Well, then again, what are the odds of Beau Woodstock having a long-lost millionaire twin?”

“Zero.” James tried to focus, even though his brain felt as frenzied as the waves below the sea wall. “So, he’s in trouble? Beau?”

“Ha. Usually.” Brady crossed his arms and craned his neck slightly, nodding over James’s shoulder toward the harbor. “See that boat down there all burned up?”

James turned and followed Brady’s gaze. A short distance from the harbor, a very small fishing boat had been pulled up onto the rocky bank of the bay. It was charred black in most places and wrapped with yellow police tape. “Yeah?”

“Belongs to a guy named Rod Haskell. And he says Beau torched it as revenge.”

“For what?”

“Well, about six, seven years ago, Haskell reported Beau for growin’ a big crop of pot. This was back before it was legal. Beau did two years in county, and Haskell swears he holds a grudge.”

James narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the boat. “Do you think he actually did it?”

Brady shrugged. “More likely one of his people, if you ask me.”

“His people?”

“Yeah, one of his little flock.” Brady smirked. “Beau’s popular. Always has a band of misfits around. A regular Jim Jones.”

James looked at him again, interested. “Seriously?”

“Of course Haskell’s no angel himself. Surprised we even got a warrant on his word, frankly.”

“You said Beau’s in trouble a lot?”

“Aw, he’s been a wild one since we were kids. Nothin’ serious. Just can’t