Play Dead

Hayley told herself that she was thankful. If her friend had to die, at least she didn’t suffer. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Hayley forced herself to eat half the eggs, a piece of toast and part of a slice of bacon. The food seemed to lodge somewhere in her upper chest like a chunk of cement.

“Do you live with your father?” she asked to fill the silence. She knew Conrad Hollister had been at Twelve Oaks for at least two years because that’s when Aunt Meg had moved to the facility and Conrad had already been there.

Ryan shook his head and patted his lips with a napkin. “No. I work out of the L.A. office. I’m just down here rehabbing.”

Drugs? Alcohol? He didn’t look as if he had a habit but she’d been in Southern California her whole life and knew appearances could be deceiving. Chad Bennett had been hooked on “vitamin R,” as the college kids called Ritalin. It wasn’t a narcotic but Chad relied on it for a “brain boost” to improve his concentration as had many of her classmates.

When they’d been together, Hayley had told him that he didn’t need the so-called “smart pills.” But no matter how much she encouraged him to get off them, Chad hadn’t listened.

Ryan put one hand on the opposite shoulder. “Physical therapy for my shoulder,” he explained. “I had an old football injury that I reinjured in a multicar pileup on the freeway.”

“I see.”

Hayley gazed out at the blue expanse of water. The house was set back from the sea and separated from the public beach that stretched along the shore by a stand of wild grass, but the crystal blue of the ocean seemed to flow out to the horizon.

She’d come to this part of the beach often as she’d been growing up. Her father had insisted she learn to bodysurf. She’d loved it and took up board surfing at about the same time—to please her father. Even though he was dead, Hayley still felt her father’s power over her. Oh, how she’d longed to please him.

Ryan cleared their plates and put them in the sink. Hayley volunteered to rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He told her to leave everything for now. She could work on it when they’d finished. He took a notepad from the nook beside the refrigerator and returned to the table.

“Okay. Let’s make a list of anyone who—for any reason, no matter how trivial—might want you dead.”

Hayley groaned and tried to imagine who would be diabolical enough to blow her to bits. “Honestly, I don’t know anyone—”

“Name anyone who just plain doesn’t like you.” His expression said only a fool would believe they had no enemies.

Someone had tried to kill her. She put her shattered illusions aside and tried to concentrate. “I guess Cynthia Fordham despises me. She’s Trent and Farah’s mother. She never forgave my mother for stealing her husband. She thought I got everything, while her kids never received enough from my father, although believe me, he tried to be fair.”

Hayley knew it was more than this that bothered Cynthia. Russell Fordham had been just another surfer with a small board-making operation when he left Cynthia for Hayley’s mother, Alison. Later the company had prospered, mostly due to the successful clothing line Alison designed. Cynthia had been left behind financially because the money had been earned after the divorce.

Cynthia had taken the whole situation very personally. The money seemed to be a huge factor, but there was also a vehement sense of betrayal. Hayley could relate; she still experienced a surge of anger when she thought of the way Chad had betrayed her—and they hadn’t even been married or had children.

“What about Farah and Trent?” Ryan asked.

“They’re like … oh, I don’t know. Cousins, I guess. They spent most vacations and every other weekend with us, when I was growing up.”

The width of the table hardly seemed sufficient to buffer Ryan’s penetrating gaze. “How did you three get along?”

Hayley considered this for a moment. “Trent and I were buddies. My father loved it. I was a good surfer and Trent surfed, too, but he became a junior skateboard champ.”

“What about Farah?”

Hayley shrugged. “Farah had no interest in sports. She never even tried. She got good grades and concentrated on getting a scholarship to college, which she did. She went to SC and became a CPA. She never looked to my father for anything.”

“Commendable, but how did you two get along?”

“Fine. There weren’t any problems,” she replied, but this man was far too perceptive. She added, “I guess I was a little envious because good grades never came easily to me. I was always more interested in art and sports.”

He tapped the pen against the pad. “No arguments with either of them?”

“Not really. I knew they resented me living in a big house when they lived in a small place in Costa Mesa. I went to a private school because it offered art classes while they went to public schools. I don’t think that mattered to them. Trent was a skateboard king no matter where he was. Farah qualified for a college scholarship because she was at a public school. But I think they envied the house, the cars.”

“What about your aunt? If you died, who would get her money?”

Hayley drew in a deep, shuddering sigh. After the death of her parents and now Lindsey, her throat tightened at the thought of losing Aunt Meg. “I don’t know. She told me that she’d split her money between my mother and me, but then Mom died. Aunt Meg reworked her trust. I honestly don’t know what she would do if I died.”

“But you don’t think Farah or Trent—”

“I can’t imagine it. They see each other only at Christmas and Easter when the family gets together.”

“What would Laird McMasters stand to gain if he bought Surf’s Up?”

Hayley remembered Ryan saying Laird had tried to buy their company but she had held up the sale, which wasn’t true. “Laird’s a rich kid who’s never acted like one. Believe me, I’ve known him all my life. He’s always been an overachiever. He was good at everything and excelled whenever he wanted. He went to Yale, became a successful businessman.”

“With a surf shop.”

“Right. He didn’t make boards, though. He imports them from China.”

“Why does he want to buy Surf’s Up?”

Hayley shrugged; she didn’t see what this had to do with Lindsey’s death. “Hurley, Quicksilver, Billabong—all the big-name surf companies have gone public. That’s meant huge money for the owners. Smaller operations like ours and Laird’s can’t really compete unless they grow larger.”

“Then one of the giants might buy them, right?”

“Exactly. They often do that to shut down competition. I guess Laird would like to cash in on the trend, but with the economy so slow …”

“At some point, it’ll pick up again and with your MMA line, Surf’s Up will have something no one else has.”

“We beat them to the punch on that one.”

“I understand you did it. Trent didn’t want anything to do with The Wrath.”

“True,” she conceded, not wanting to brag, but Trent had been short-sighted. It had taken a lot of convincing to get him to go along. “It paid off big-time. As long as The Wrath is champ, we have a corner on the market. Others can sell their designs but The Wrath is what draws the big bucks.”

“I think your Grim Reaper design has a lot to do with it.”

Hayley banked a smile. She wouldn’t have thought Ryan Hollister would have known what her signature design looked like.

“Tell me what you know about The Wrath.” There was an ominous edge to his voice. “Does he have drug or criminal connections?”

Hayley instantly shook her head.

“Really think about it. I know it can be painful to answer these questions, but just remember, your life is at stake here. The more I know about the people close to you, the better.”

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