Page 89 of Midnight Mooring

“Paisley.” I curled my finger at her in a come-here gesture. “Let’s talk.” I strode to the back of the store to behind one of the bookstacks and I waited. Paisley didn’t make me wait long, though she looked like she wished the floor would open and swallow her whole.

“Why are you acting like I’m wearing a Scream mask and carrying a big knife?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

She let out a nervous snort of laughter, her big hazel eyes like a cartoon doe’s. She had the thickest, longest lashes I’d ever seen, which only made her eyes look bigger.

“Well?”

“I …” She literally wrung her hands together. “I don’t think I should be the one to tell you.”

Dread made me tense. What now? “If you think I’m leaving here without you telling me whatever has turned you into a nervous wreck, you’re delusional.”

“Uh …” Paisley let out an almost comical whine.

“Paisley …”

“Caoimhe told me she slept with Forde on Friday night and I told her I can’t be friends with someone who would do that. I’m so sorry, Cammie.” Tears glittered in her eyes.

Anger flushed my cheeks.

Here was the thing.

No one but Quinn, Taran, and those at the resort knew Forde and I had left the island on Friday afternoon. He’d told Rina and Caoimhe he was cutting out early for some volunteer training. We’d wanted total privacy for the weekend.

Caoimhe didn’t care if I knew Forde was innocent. She just wanted the village to believe the worst in him.

“First of all, that’s impossible because Forde and I were at the Scaris Thistle Hotel on Friday evening and for the entire weekend and we have witnesses.”

Paisley slumped with relief even as her brows drew together. “Why would … why would Caoimhe lie?”

“Because she’s a vindictive wee turd whose crush on Forde just hit creepy levels.” All the pieces of the puzzle were coming together clear as day. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now!” Without another word I marched out of the store, fueled by my revelations as I hurried through town to Forde’s garage.

By the time I got there, I was out of breath and really had to talk myself into being smart about this, rather than tearing that wee shite a new one. The sight of Forde’s front door with police tape on it only made me madder.

The doors to the garage were open, though, and Caoimhe had her back to me as she stood near a new SUV I recognized as Murray’s. He was one of the few people on the island who could afford a top-of-the-line Range Rover, unlike some of us who preferred our twenty-year-old Defender. Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I hit the screen a few times and then kept the device at my side (hopefully out of sight) as I approached Forde’s biggest fan.

She heard my footsteps on the concrete and whirled around.

Caoimhe’s features pinched. “Forde’s not here. He’s picking up a delivery from the harbor.”

I must have missed him as I’d raced past in my righteous ire.

“That’s fine.” I shrugged. “It’s you I want to talk to, anyway. First, you should know that Forde and I stayed at the Scaris Thistle Hotel on Friday through yesterday and there are witnesses. So, your wee lie to Paisley to get the village to turn against him was futile.”

Her cheeks flushed as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “Maybe it wasn’t Friday. Maybe he’s been fucking me for months behind your back.”

My throat constricted with frustration as we glowered at each other.

But as we did, I let my pity and distaste overtake my anger.

Jealousy was an awful, awful thing. Sometimes it really got the better of people.

I turned my phone subtly in my hand and raised my voice. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to the police and I’m going to tell them I suspect you’re the one behind the threatening letters Forde and I have been receiving. That I think you broke into his home and vandalized it. They have fingerprints in their system now from those letters, and I think my evidence is enough for them to run your fingerprints to see if they’re a match.”

Caoimhe sneered. “I have no actual fucking clue what you’re on about.”

“You lied about sleeping with Forde the same weekend the words Cheating Dirty Bastard are painted on his bedroom wall. And no one will think Paisley’s lying when she gives her witness account that you told her you slept with Forde on Friday when that’s an impossibility. I think the police will agree with me that many dots are connecting here.”

She flushed, her sudden fear obvious. “Okay, okay. Fuck, okay, I admit that I lied about sleeping with Forde. But I did not break into his house or leave letters or whatever the fuck you’re talking about!”