Free Small Town Spin by Lyndee Walker Page A

ATF?”
    I nodded slowly, catching the resentful note in his voice, but unsure what to do about it. My long-ago ex-boyfriend was a Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives supercop.
    He was also interested in no longer being my ex-boyfriend. Joey didn’t like Kyle. Kyle didn’t like Joey (what he knew about him, anyhow, which wasn’t much). I liked them both. Em was right. It was a mess.
    “I promise,” I said.
    “I’ll see what I can find.” He backed out the door with a wave. “Get well.”
    I heard the kitchen door click shut and sank into the pillows for a second, closing my eyes and breathing deep. Kyle. Joey. Equally gorgeous. Equally exciting. Almost equally problematic.
    Pushing the covers back, I sighed. “Since I’m not deciphering my love life anytime soon, what say we figure out what happened to this kid, Darcy?” I asked the dog, slipping out of bed. She pricked up her ears and bit her favorite old stuffed squirrel.
    After washing my face and making some tea, I climbed back in bed and opened my computer. My fingers hovered over the keys, but I didn’t get a single word into the lead before my Blackberry lit up.
    I glanced at the screen and frowned at the unfamiliar number. Not Bob.
    “Clarke,” I said, pressing it to my ear.
    “Zeke Waters in Mathews County,” came the reply. “Remember that epidemic we talked about? It’s been thirty-six hours. And I have another dead kid.”

6.

    Like wildfire

    “You and the local paper are the only media being notified tonight, and I only called you because TJ’s parents brought you into this,” Waters said tightly, letting me through the yellow crime-scene tape blocking access to the area under the drawbridge. Deputies combed the rocks with flashlights, and I tried not to slip as I tagged after the sheriff.
    I’d had the sense to leave my Jimmy Choos at home in favor of a pair of Tory Burch ballet flats when I’d dragged myself out of bed and back to the coast, but I wasn’t expecting rocky shore terrain. The flats were slick, and my balance was already off from being sick. I hadn’t come this far to wait by the road for an interview, though.
    Sheriff Zeke swept the area with a wide orange beam, and I swallowed hard at the memory of the summer I’d had the four jumpers in Richmond, scanning the rocks for blood. I turned to the sheriff when I didn’t see any.
    “Is this bridge high enough—or the water shallow enough—for a jump to be lethal if they didn’t hit the rocks?” I stared at the far bank, which I couldn’t really see, but the deputies were all on this side.
    “No,” he furrowed his brow, looking up at the underside of the bridge. “This wasn’t a jump. The kids have parties here a lot.”
    “Another party?” I clicked out a pen, glancing at the stout man with the dark beard and glasses who appeared next to me, holding a tape recorder. Lyle, probably. “Same kids?”
    “Some, yeah,” Zeke said.
    “Cause of death?” I asked.
    “Not immediately apparent,” he said. “I’m sure the tox screen will reveal it.”
    “Then why did you tell me on the phone you suspected it was a copycat suicide?”
    “There’s a note,” he said. “Maybe another overdose, or intentional alcohol poisoning.”
    “Are you releasing the name of the victim?” Lyle asked.
    “Sydney Cobb,” Zeke said, one hand flying up to rake over his face. “It’s Sydney Cobb.”
    Something rang familiar, but I was too beat to get it on the first try.
    A look flashed between Sheriff Zeke and Lyle.
    “What am I missing, guys?” I asked.
    “She was TJ Okerson’s girlfriend,” Lyle muttered. “Those of us who work here all the time know that.”
    I sucked in a sharp breath. Of course. “Sydney was the only one he ever wanted,” Ashton had said. The picture in TJ’s locker floated to the front of my thoughts.
    “She left a note?” I asked.
    Zeke nodded. “‘It hurts.’ That’s all it said.”
    I closed my eyes for a second, then