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Margot Remington exited the wood-lined boardwalk at Moonstone Beach and pedaled her bike onto the highway. It was dusk, and the sky had started to grumble, the clouds shifting and bending as they turned a melancholy charcoal color. Rain was coming. Margot could smell it in the air. But after the fight she’d just had with her older sister, she wasn’t ready to return home yet.
The argument had started out as a simple one, with Margot asking Bronte if she could borrow a blue sweater.
“Why can’t you wear you own clothes?” Bronte had asked.
“I want to wear something I haven’t worn before,” Margot said. “I can’t afford to buy new clothes until I get paid on Friday.”
“Why is it so important? Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting Sebastian later tonight.”
“I thought the two of you broke up.”
“We did,” Margot said.
“There’s no reason for you to see him. He cheated. End of story.”
“I never let him explain his side of things. I feel like I owe it to him to hear what he has to say.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you’re looking for a reason to get back together with him. If you take Sebastian back after what he did, you’re an idiot.”
The argument had escalated from there until Bronte got so heated she’d slammed her fist onto the kitchen countertop. Desperate to get away from Bronte’s over-the-top drama, Margot had hopped on her bike. She needed time to think, to process all the cruel things her sister had said.
Margot and Sebastian had started dating a year earlier, even though she’d had a crush on him for the last three years. In her sophomore year of high school her body had started to change. She grew a couple of inches and developed curves in all the right places. Sebastian swooped in, and the two began dating.
For years, Margot had dreamed about dating Sebastian, and when the dream became a reality, it was just like she thought it would be. She was happy … until one night when Sebastian’s parents had gone out of town, and he decided to throw a party.
The get-together was supposed to have been an intimate one at first—a few close friends, nothing more. Once word spread, it wasn’t long before the party turned into something else:
Alcohol.
Dancing.
Loud music.
Partygoers stripped down to their undies doing backflips into the pool.
The drinks were flowing, and Margot knew it wouldn’t be long before even more shenanigans began. As she scanned the drunken crowd, Sebastian had come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She’d found
it cute at first, until his hands wandered, and Margot suggested they take a break from the party. She grabbed Sebastian’s hand and helped him to his bedroom, relieved when he fell asleep a few minutes later.
With Sebastian out of commission, Margot took over the party, keeping a close eye on everyone and everything. She played the perfect hostess, picking up after her fellow classmates, refilling snacks, and trying her best to keep everyone in line. As the party wound down, Margot helped people find a safe ride home, and then she went to check on Sebastian. When she entered his room, she slapped a hand to her mouth, shocked to find Sebastian butt naked next to Kaia Benson, the new girl in town.
Sebastian insisted nothing happened between them.
Margot left Sebastian’s house in a fury that night, refusing to speak to either of them until a couple of days ago when she ran into Kaia in the girls’ bathroom. Kaia apologized about what happened at the party, and then she said something interesting—after giving it a lot of thought, she wasn’t sure what, if anything had happened with Sebastian. Every time she’d thought back to that night, it was all a bit of a blur. Blurred lines or no, even if Kaia was telling the truth, Margot couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t walked in when she had.
After her conversation with Kaia, Margot found herself trying to find a loophole—any loophole to justify giving Sebastian another chance. He’d gone above and beyond to win her back, and before the incident, he’d always been a stand-up guy, someone she could rely on.
Yesterday evening, Margot texted Sebastian. He’d replied right away, and they decided to meet tonight for dinner. Glancing at the time on her watch, she realized she’d have little time to freshen up if she didn’t return home soon
She began pedaling faster, slowing when a car driving in the opposite direction swerved, its headlights blinding her as it bounded her way. Margot slowed to a stop, realizing her mistake when the car showed no signs of reducing speed.
In a split-second, Margot had collided with the car, and she found herself hurtling through the air, her bike going one way as she went the other. So many things went through her mind in that moment as she thought about her life and how much she didn’t want to die.
There would be no meetup with Sebastian.
Not tonight, or any other night.
The following morning
I woke feeling off, and I wasn’t sure why. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, I realized I’d risen later than normal, which wasn’t like me. Most days, my body was its own internal clock, and I never had to set an alarm. So why was today different than all the rest?
I had one sneaking suspicion.
Several months ago, I’d started feeling hotter than usual, and given it was December, I should have been reaching for my coat. Instead, I’d been stripping it off, fanning my face with my hand. I’d also felt tired and rundown, and I’d been forgetting things, like where I’d placed items in the house. On top of it all was a change in my mood, which was requiring a lot more effort to keep balanced.
At a recent Sunday dinner at my mother’s house, she caught me fanning myself and suggested I get some bloodwork done. I put it off for a couple of weeks, but she kept pestering me until I relented. I made an appointment with Dr. Rae Remington, a woman who was also a good friend. As it turned out, my testosterone levels had just about flatlined, and there was a simple explanation why: I was entering menopause.
Yippee for me.
Upon hearing the news, my first question was how long the menopause madness would last.
It was a good question, but it had a less than satisfactory answer.
Seven to fourteen years on average.
Fourteen flipping years of menopause?
I couldn’t bear the thought of it.
Even now.
I slid out of bed, rolled out my yoga mat, and did a quick fifteen-minute morning meditation session. Then I got in the shower. When I finished and stepped out, I realized I was no longer alone in the bathroom. Luka, my Samoyed, was sitting on the floor. He was staring up at me, his head cocked to the side like he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been served breakfast yet.
“I know, boy,” I said. “It’s coming. Let me get dressed, and you’ll get your breakfast.”
Once he heard me utter the word breakfast, he spun around in gleeful anticipation. I reached down, smiling as I gave him a pat. I put on a pair of gray, high-waisted trousers and a violet, short-sleeved wrap blouse, and we hit the kitchen.
Dog food for him.
Eggs for me.
Eggs for him.
And it was time to go.
I grabbed my coat, even though I doubted I’d need it, and walked to the car, opening
the passenger-side door. Luka hopped inside, and we headed to the office for a morning meeting with fellow private investigators Simone Bonet and Lilia Hunter.
Business at the Case Closed Detective Agency had been slow of late. For me, anyway. There had been no murders to investigate, no major crimes committed around town. I supposed it was a good thing, but it had left me feeling antsy and in need of a stimulating case.
I turned onto the highway leading into town, reducing my speed when I spotted Rex Foley’s car parked on the side of the road. He was the chief of police for San Luis Obispo County in California. He was also dating my sister, Phoebe. I considered driving by and not stopping, until I noticed Foley was standing next to Detective Amos Whitlock, their eyes fixated on what appeared to be a mangled bicycle.
I pulled behind Foley’s car and parked, which shifted his attention. He looked over and shook his head at me, like he wasn’t surprised I’d turned up. I told Luka I’d just be a minute, and then I got out of the car.
Whitlock, who was dressed in a navy turtleneck, matching trousers, and a pair of shiny black shoes, grinned at me and said, “Lovely to see you this fine morning.”
Foley wasn’t as welcoming. “What are you doing here, Georgiana?”
He’d started growing a mustache since I’d seen him last, which gave me Tom Selleck Magnum P.I. vibes, except unlike Tom’s luscious locks, Foley had no hair left on his head.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“We’re checking out this bike.”
I bent down to get a closer look.
“Don’t touch it,” Foley said.
“Why not?”
“Just … don’t.”
The bike was a light-pink Beach Cruiser with a brown wicker basket on the front, the perfect bike for riding along the coast. Except this bike had seen
better days. The frame was bent, the front tire was flat, the chain was broken, and the wicker basket had a gaping hole in it. There were also small pieces of white paint flecks on some of the damaged frame and on the ground … along with what appeared to be dried blood.
A pastel sticker shaped like a rainbow was stuck to the back of the bike’s seat. The words on the sticker read: It’s a good day for a good day.
Kind of ironic, given the bike was having a bad one.
“Whose bike is this?” I asked. “Any idea?”
Foley and Whitlock glanced at each other and back at me. Foley crossed his arms, and Whitlock shrugged like he wanted to say more but couldn’t.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “I’ll find out soon enough.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Foley said.
“You’re standing in front of a busted-up bike. There’s what appears to be blood on the pavement surrounding it. The baggie in your hand contains a smashed-up cell phone. And Silas just parked behind me. Care to explain?”
Silas Crowe was the county coroner and a man I’d worked with for years. He hopped out of his VW bus, grabbed a rubber band off his wrist, and swooped his long, wavy hair into a man bun. He grabbed his camera off the seat and headed toward us, winking at me when we made eye contact.
“Nice to see you, Gigi,” Silas said.
“And you, Silas,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m, ahh … I’m not sure yet.”
“I’m guessing there’s a reason you drove over to take photographs.”
Foley turned toward me. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like at your own place of business?”
“I’m in no rush.”
He scratched the top of his forehead. “All right, fine. I’ll throw you a bone if that’s what it takes to get on with my day. We got a call this morning. One of the Remington girls never made it home last night.”
“Are you talking about Rae’s daughters?”
“I am.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“That’s just it. We don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“When Dr. Rae arrived home last night, she checked in with her girls, as usual. Margot wasn’t home. Her other daughter, Bronte, said Margot was out with a boy from school. Dr. Rae said her girls had a strict curfew whenever they were out, and Margot never missed hers. Dr. Rae showered, got into bed, and started reading, while she waited for Margot to arrive home. At some point, she fell asleep, and when she woke this morning, Margot wasn’t home, her bed hadn’t been slept in, and her bike wasn’t in its usual place in the garage.”
“When was the last time anyone saw Margot?” I asked.
“Bronte told her mother she’d had an argument with her sister yesterday afternoon,” Foley said. “Afterward, Bronte went to her room and avoided Margot for the rest of the day.”
“Does Bronte remember when Margot left?”
“She does not.”
“What was the fight about?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Foley said. “We haven’t spoken to her yet. We were out looking for Margot this morning, and we came across the bike. It matches the description Dr. Rae gave us.”
“Have you called the hospital?”
“Of course. Margot’s not there.”
“Does Rae know you found Margot’s bike?” I asked.
“No, and I don’t want you speaking to her about it.”
He couldn’t stop me from talking to Rae, a woman I considered a good friend. But for now, it was Foley’s investigation, not mine, and I respected that.
There were far more
questions than answers right now, and I couldn’t help but wonder if something nefarious had happened to Margot. I wanted to believe there was a reasonable explanation for why she hadn’t returned home. Still … Rae said her daughter never missed curfew. I assumed she’d have called if she were running late.
The mangled bike, the cell phone Margot had left behind, the stains on the pavement that looked a lot like blood … it all left me with an uneasy feeling.
A feeling I couldn’t seem to shake.
“Well, well, it’s about time,” Simone said when Luka and I entered the office.
She had a teasing tone to her voice.
Simone was wearing an Alice in Chains T-shirt beneath a black blazer and jeans. Our other partner, Hunter, was in a pair of overalls, but given it was December, ...
