Corey Island: A Thriller Novella by Ryan J. Pelton

Author:Ryan J. Pelton [Pelton, Ryan J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Common Grace Publishing
Published: 2021-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

9

We dominated three bowls of ice cream at Andy’s. The only ice cream parlor on Corey Island. I’m old school doing straight Chocolate Chip while the girls are more adventurous. Liza had Bubble Gum Blast, and Marisa did Cookie Heaven. Nothing like ice cream to give a moment of relief during a stressful day. Let’s say I’d dominated a bowl or ten in the years leading up to Sarah’s death, and even more so now.

The walk back to the Airbnb involved less complaining from the girls for two reasons. One, ice cream covers a multitude of sins, and two, the hike from Main Street to the B&B was only a five-minute hike. I’d had no capacity for more complaining after the way the day to the Wilson Mansion had escalated. We decided a couple hours in the room for naps and chilling would be a welcomed respite from the last few hours.

I snuggled into my bed, and the girls each found their sleeping quarters with matching phones. I’d been working through a Michael Connelly novel, The Drop, with Harry Bosch. One of the better crime writers and fictional detectives of our generation. I had just read a line and felt my eyes get heavy when a knock at the door jarred me from my desired nap. Are you kidding me right now?

I yelled from the bed, “Please come back another time. We don’t need any towels.”

A second knock. I tossed the novel on the bed and answered the door.

“Mr. Collins, I’m Officer Brown with the Corey Island Police. Can I speak with you, please?”

I glanced back to the girls, lost in phone world. Marisa raised an eyebrow and then glanced back to the phone. I cracked the door a little more and talked in a hushed tone, “Can I help you? What is this about? My girls are trying to rest.”

“Please step outside, sir,” the officer said. He was wearing khakis and a Hawaiian shirt, which I thought strange. The stern look on the face of the officer said he meant business.

“Yes, what’s going on?” I said, stepping outside.

“Do you know a Molly Faber?”

I stared at the gravel floor and then back at the officer. “Yes. We were together last night.”

“In what capacity?”

“Well, I’m not sure how to describe our relationship. I’m not really one of those guys.”

“What do you mean ‘those guys’?”

“Molly and I had a one-night stand. I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy. More of a monogamous long term commitment guy.”

“So you were intimate with Ms. Faber?” the officer said, scribbling something on a tiny notepad.

“Yes, but please don’t tell my daughters. I don’t want them to think less of their father. We’re kind of going through something right now.”

The officer ignored the comment and continued to scribble. “What time were you with Ms. Faber last night?”

I paused a beat. “I headed down to the Woozy Pirate around 8 PM. We talked for a couple hours. Went back to her place around 11 PM. Did the intimate stuff,” I said, giving a sheepish grin.

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