slipped to
the ground.
Jane grabbed Coco’s wrist and felt for a pulse.
It was faint, but it existed. She chafed her wrists. “Coco? Coco?”
Coco’s eyes fluttered, but she didn’t respond.
“Hey, Jake.” She caught his eye and he got to
her before she could say anything else.
She felt Coco’s forehead. It was damp and warm,
but not feverish.
“Dude, what happened?” The guitar player was
still on the other side of the small fire, but his voice carried to them.
“I don’t know.” Jane sniffed the beer bottle.
She was no expert—in poison or beer—but it seemed to smell fine.
Jake picked the bottle up with his coat sleeve
and slipped it back in the box. He picked the box up and put it on his hip.
“Who brought her here?”
“She walked.” Taylor supplied the answer.
Perhaps thinking of last night, Taylor was still very sober.
“Has she ever passed out like this before?” Jane
rolled Coco to her side, trying hard to remember the first aid class she took
back in high school. Coco’s breathing seemed weak, so she tilted her head back
to keep the airway clear.
“Don’t worry about her.” Mason jangled his car
keys. “I’ll get her back home.”
Jane eyed him narrowly. She didn’t want to leave
a passed-out Coco with Mason the way he had been acting. And she wasn’t sure
she wanted him driving. “Hey, Jake…”
“Already on it.” He held up his phone. He stepped
away from the crowd and gave directions to the 911 operator.
Jane was more than thankful that this was Jake’s
second home and he knew it well enough to give clear directions to their spot
on the beach. She never could have.
Coco groaned. She rolled onto her stomach, her
arms around her waist.
“You’re not out cold, anyway.” Jane spoke in a
low, soothing tone and rolled Coco back to her side. She couldn’t remember why
exactly, but she knew she wouldn’t want to be on her stomach and puking. A face
full of vomit and sand sounded pretty much the worst.
The ocean was a steady crash of waves in the
distance while the fire crackled. Jane counted it a blessing that the guitar
player had stopped.
In the distance Taylor shuffled back and forth,
Jake kept one eye out for the ambulance, and Mason sat next to the fire, his
head in his hands.
The sound of sirens broke their silent vigil,
and once the ambulance got there, everything went fast. When the group had
given all of the information they could, both Mason and Taylor offered to
follow Coco to the hospital and contact her parents.
“We should follow,” Jane whispered, hoping only
Jake was paying attention.
He shook his head. “No. That would be weird.
Let’s not be weird yet.”
“But I’m worried about her.” Jane chewed her
lip. She didn’t trust Mason with Taylor or Coco. And something might be said.
Something related to their investigation.
“Give me a minute.” Jake took one of the
paramedics to the side and handed him the bottle Coco had been drinking from.
Then, Jane, Jake, and the guy with the guitar were left with the fire to
themselves.
The guitar player tapped his strings, beating
out a rhythm with no melody. Jane paced in front of the fire, aggravated that
driving to the hospital was weird but hanging out at the campfire wasn’t. They
were detectives, not on vacation…ah. Well, technically they were honeymooners.
Why were her cases always complicated?
“So who poisoned Coco?” Jane asked the guitar
player.
He strummed a little something before he
answered, “Who brought the beer?”
Jake cleared his throat. “We did.”
The guitar player shrugged.
“It didn’t have to be the beer.” Jane dug a
little channel in the sand next to where she sat. “But it probably was, since
it worked fast. Jake, did you see anyone go near the bottles?”
Jake thought for a moment. “I thought I was
keeping an eye on it pretty well, but they could have.” He paused, his eye on
the fire. “Not Taylor, though. She never got near it. It would have to
the ground.
Jane grabbed Coco’s wrist and felt for a pulse.
It was faint, but it existed. She chafed her wrists. “Coco? Coco?”
Coco’s eyes fluttered, but she didn’t respond.
“Hey, Jake.” She caught his eye and he got to
her before she could say anything else.
She felt Coco’s forehead. It was damp and warm,
but not feverish.
“Dude, what happened?” The guitar player was
still on the other side of the small fire, but his voice carried to them.
“I don’t know.” Jane sniffed the beer bottle.
She was no expert—in poison or beer—but it seemed to smell fine.
Jake picked the bottle up with his coat sleeve
and slipped it back in the box. He picked the box up and put it on his hip.
“Who brought her here?”
“She walked.” Taylor supplied the answer.
Perhaps thinking of last night, Taylor was still very sober.
“Has she ever passed out like this before?” Jane
rolled Coco to her side, trying hard to remember the first aid class she took
back in high school. Coco’s breathing seemed weak, so she tilted her head back
to keep the airway clear.
“Don’t worry about her.” Mason jangled his car
keys. “I’ll get her back home.”
Jane eyed him narrowly. She didn’t want to leave
a passed-out Coco with Mason the way he had been acting. And she wasn’t sure
she wanted him driving. “Hey, Jake…”
“Already on it.” He held up his phone. He stepped
away from the crowd and gave directions to the 911 operator.
Jane was more than thankful that this was Jake’s
second home and he knew it well enough to give clear directions to their spot
on the beach. She never could have.
Coco groaned. She rolled onto her stomach, her
arms around her waist.
“You’re not out cold, anyway.” Jane spoke in a
low, soothing tone and rolled Coco back to her side. She couldn’t remember why
exactly, but she knew she wouldn’t want to be on her stomach and puking. A face
full of vomit and sand sounded pretty much the worst.
The ocean was a steady crash of waves in the
distance while the fire crackled. Jane counted it a blessing that the guitar
player had stopped.
In the distance Taylor shuffled back and forth,
Jake kept one eye out for the ambulance, and Mason sat next to the fire, his
head in his hands.
The sound of sirens broke their silent vigil,
and once the ambulance got there, everything went fast. When the group had
given all of the information they could, both Mason and Taylor offered to
follow Coco to the hospital and contact her parents.
“We should follow,” Jane whispered, hoping only
Jake was paying attention.
He shook his head. “No. That would be weird.
Let’s not be weird yet.”
“But I’m worried about her.” Jane chewed her
lip. She didn’t trust Mason with Taylor or Coco. And something might be said.
Something related to their investigation.
“Give me a minute.” Jake took one of the
paramedics to the side and handed him the bottle Coco had been drinking from.
Then, Jane, Jake, and the guy with the guitar were left with the fire to
themselves.
The guitar player tapped his strings, beating
out a rhythm with no melody. Jane paced in front of the fire, aggravated that
driving to the hospital was weird but hanging out at the campfire wasn’t. They
were detectives, not on vacation…ah. Well, technically they were honeymooners.
Why were her cases always complicated?
“So who poisoned Coco?” Jane asked the guitar
player.
He strummed a little something before he
answered, “Who brought the beer?”
Jake cleared his throat. “We did.”
The guitar player shrugged.
“It didn’t have to be the beer.” Jane dug a
little channel in the sand next to where she sat. “But it probably was, since
it worked fast. Jake, did you see anyone go near the bottles?”
Jake thought for a moment. “I thought I was
keeping an eye on it pretty well, but they could have.” He paused, his eye on
the fire. “Not Taylor, though. She never got near it. It would have to
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