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CHAPTER 1
Blood.
"Daniel." Cal's voice cracked with panic as she shook her boyfriend's shoulder. "Daniel."
Daniel moaned and shifted, bleary and hung over.
There was blood on the sheets.
"Wake up!" She shook him harder.
The Italian girl. Naked. Lying between them, her green eyes open and staring lifelessly at the ceiling.
"Daniel, Gia's not breathing. Daniel! Wake up!" Cal shook him, panic lacing every ragged breath she took.
Daniel shifted, groaning. "What!" Daniel cracked open one bleary eye. His thick thatch of brown hair was matted and askew.
He sat up and looked at Cal. "What's on your arm?"
Cal glanced blankly at the red smudge on her bare shoulder.
More blood.
Cal made a strangled sound as she scrambled out of bed, wearing only her pale pink lace underwear.
"What the fuck?" Daniel exclaimed, fully awake at last. He jumped up, stark naked, scrambling away from the dead girl, and nearly fell. His eyes were round and white with surprise.
Daniel had the streamlined body of the varsity wide receiver he'd been in high school. He was tall and broad with a chest like a wall, rippled with muscle. "Oh, shit! I fell asleep...." He glanced around, confused and dazed.
"What the hell happened last night, Daniel?" Cal's hands shook. She balled them into fists to keep her fingers still. Her eyes stayed on Gia, with her pretty face and the long dark hair and the tanned and fit body made for sporting a bikini on the cover of a magazine. Except she'd never be on the cover of a magazine, not now, not with that cut, gaping and red.
Daniel shook his head. "I don't know!" Daniel stared a long time at Gia's lifeless body, his face blank. He shook his head slowly from side to side.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Cal's voice was a harsh whisper. She leaned on the wall next to the bed, her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths.
Daniel looked at Cal, his face frozen in shock. "I don't remember."
Cal frowned. "Nothing?"
Daniel shook his head slowly. "Swear to Christ, Cal." He looked cornered, bewildered, trapped. He glanced down at his arm, which had a splatter of blood on it, and swiped at it furiously.
Cal looked back at the bed, at Gia, naked and bloody.
Daniel followed her gaze and all the color drained from his face. "We need to call an ambulance, Cal. Jesus." Daniel's voice was a jangle of nerves and hoarse from a night of hard partying. "What do we do? Do we call nine-one-one? Shit!"
"Greece doesn't have nine-one-one." Cal hugged her bare torso.
"Do you remember what happened? Shit!"
Cal shook her head silently, staring at Gia.
"What do we do? Oh, shit. Shit!" Daniel looked back at the girl lying naked and lifeless in his bed. His face took on many different emotions: horror, regret, disgust.
Cal's eyes darted back and forth from Daniel to the girl on the bed. She studied the thumb-sized blood smudge on his cheek and made a decision. "We've got to get out of here."
"What?" Daniel looked like he was still dreaming, not quite awake.
"We need to shower and get dressed." Cal stalked to the bathroom. Daniel stood staring at her.
"But ... just ... leave?"
"Shower and pack. We're going."
"But Gia ..." For a split second, Daniel did look back at the girl, her glassy eyes, and saw a person and not a body. His voice softened a little.
"Daniel," Cal said, voice rising a bit. "Do you really want to be here when the police show up? What are we going to tell them? We don't know what happened. We can't remember."
The circumstances began to sink in, and as Daniel sobered, he looked like he'd been slapped.
"We're two Americans in Greece," Cal said. "Do you know what happens to Americans abroad at a crime scene? They go to jail. For a long time. Do you want to spend your life in a Greek prison? I mean, remember what happened to that couple in Italy or wherever?"
Daniel shook his head.
"They spent years in jail. Years." Cal scraped her blond hair up in a hasty ponytail. "We've got to get out of here now. We've got to get home. We can figure out what happened later."
Daniel blinked at Cal. "Cal, this is insane.
This is fucking insane."
Cal frowned. "As long as we're together, we can figure it out."
"We can?"
"My mom's a lawyer, okay? If we can just get out of here. Just get home ... it'll be better for us. That's what my mom always said about that Italian case. Guilty or not, that girl's biggest problem was that she stayed there."
"You think?"
"Do you want to find out all the ways the Greek justice system is not like ours? I sure don't."
"But..."
"Look, let's just get cleaned up and get out of here. We can figure it out later." Cal's hands fidgeted anxiously by her sides. "I mean, do you want to stay here? It's..." Cal shuddered as she glanced at the bed, her composure cracking. "I can't even think here. I can't..."
"Okay." Daniel just stared at the bed, his eyes blank.
"We have to clean up first. Get dressed." Cal carefully picked her way to the bathroom, avoiding the bloodstain on the floor.
"Here?" Daniel asked, surprise flickering across his face.
"Do you want to go down the hall to the other bathroom and wake Remy and Stephen?" Cal asked him. "They'll be up soon enough on their own." Cal disappeared into the bathroom, and the sound of the shower filled the room.
Daniel stumbled toward the bathroom, too. He stepped in a small pool of blood. "Oh, shit!" he cursed, stepping out of the puddle, his face going a shade of white as he scooted to the side and managed to land on something small and sharp. A piece of glass. "What the hell?" He picked it out of his foot and examined it for a second, then tossed the sharp-edged splinter into a corner before continuing on, carefully making his way to the bathroom.
Cal was already in the shower, having slipped off her underwear, which she'd dumped on the floor. A steady stream of pink water flowed down to her feet and into the drain. She got out as Daniel got in, and she hastily dried herself with a towel. She went straight to her dresser and grabbed cut-off jean shorts and a tank top, which she pulled over her head. While Daniel finished his shower, she hastily stuffed all her other clothes in her backpack and then went to work gathering up the rest of the clothes scattered around the floor. Anything that belonged to Daniel, she stuffed in his knapsack, which was propped in the corner of the room. She grabbed his shorts and put them on the sink in the bathroom. She avoided looking at the bed, at the dead girl, but eventually raised her eyes, focusing on Gia's face.
She paused a minute, completely still, staring at the dead girl's eyes. She took one tentative step, and then another, closer to the bed. Gia lay naked on her back, her perfectly toned and tanned stomach and her breasts bare. Cal reached down and pulled up the top sheet, careful to avoid the blood, and tucked it straight up to her chin, covering the giant gash on her neck.
Cal leaned over, as if she was going to touch Gia's face. She didn't. She withdrew her hand. The shower went off, and Daniel came out of the bathroom, his hair wet and glistening, wearing the plaid shorts Cal left out for him.
Outside, in the hall, both of them heard the door creak open — one of the other roommates was awake. Daniel froze, eyes big. Cal stayed calm, and that kept Daniel calm. She held up her hand; stay still, it said.
The footsteps came slowly, creaking against the old wood of the Greek beach house. One step. Then another. Closer to the bedroom door.
Daniel sucked in a breath and held it. Cal stood perfectly still.
Shortly after came the thunk of the hallway bathroom door shutting and the click of the lock sliding into place.
Cal exhaled. She grabbed one of Daniel's sweatshirts and tossed it to him. He caught it easily and pulled it over his head, following her to the bedroom door. She peered out into the hall, and seeing no one, ducked out. Daniel followed, moving quickly and stealthily for someone so tall. They ran past the locked door of the bathroom, and then by the closed doors of their roommates' bedrooms, and then down the back stairs, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. Cal's long blond hair, still wet, clung to the back of her shirt as she stopped near the kitchen, looking for a sign of another roommate about, but there was no one. She strode to the sliding back door and inched it open, and then both of them stepped outside into the humid island air.
Above them, from a second-story bedroom window, someone watched them close the back door. His eyes never left them as they turned down the narrow alley, walking quickly down the tiny narrow mazelike passages on the small island.
CHAPTER 2
The police station was like most other buildings on the Greek island of Naxos: blindingly white, as if bleached by a thousand years in the sun, the only color a bright blue trim along the windows. The entire island felt like one giant interpretation of the country's flag, as if everyone on Naxos had decided at the same time to be patriotic. Nico, the police station's only rookie, arrived at the building early, as usual. He carried three coffees in a paper tray from the espresso shop next door. He never arrived at the station empty-handed. He swiped his thick, nearly black hair out of his eyes as he walked into the police station, ducking so he could get in without hitting his head on the low-hanging doorframe. He wore his usual island uniform of khaki Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt, fitted to his muscular chest.
Hestia, the fifty-something dispatcher sitting at the front desk, beamed up at him. She was the only one in the office, and she had to be, to answer the phones. Just in case.
"KaliMEra, Nico." She blushed bright red and gave him a shy smile. Poor woman had a crush on him as wide as Plaka Beach, even though she was technically old enough to be his mother, and she was married. Her husband used to work as a tour guide until the banks stopped lending, the tourists got skittish, and his business, like thousands more, went under. They were both lucky she had a job. "Coffee? For me?" "You bet. Extra cream. Just like you like it." Nico handed her the hot cup and she took it in both hands and grinned up at him.
"You look tired, Nico. No sleep again?"
"Hardly any. I can't sleep here." He sighed. "It's too bright."
"That's island living. You'll get used to it." Hestia took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving Nico. He glanced out the open window behind Hestia. The sea breeze rustled the large olive tree in the back and then traveled into the small station, fluttering the edges of the papers in front of Hestia.
"I really hope not."
"You've only been with us three months! You're not wanting to leave already?" Hestia's face drooped in a pout, disappointment obvious as she set her cup of coffee down next to the dispatch microphone.
"It's nothing about the company." Nico flashed smile that was perfectly white in his smooth, tan face, his brown eyes warm. "It's just I prefer city life."
Deep down, he still hadn't quite adjusted to being surrounded by water, to the bright blaze of sun, and most of all to the quiet. He'd grown up in bustling Athens, always awash in crowds and smog and noise, and the relative calm and slow-paced vibe of Naxos actually grated on him. While the sound of the Aegean Sea put others to sleep, for Nico, it was jarring, strangely unnatural, and almost too loud. When he did finally fall asleep, he would often have disconcerting dreams of being pulled out on a long wave, only to be lost at sea.
"You should appreciate the peace and quiet." Hestia found an excuse to touch him by reaching out and patting his arm. Nico looked at it.
"I'm fine with peace and quiet, just not all the time. When was the last time there was even anything serious that happened when you were on shift?"
"That parasailing accident?" Hestia offered.
"I mean something premeditated, something bad that someone did. Not an accident. Something that requires some actual detective work." Frustration came through in Nico's voice. On the good days, Nico spent his time writing reports on shoplifters or babysitting drunk tourists. On the bad days, the afternoons would stretch out, impossibly long, with nothing to do but watch the sun crawl across the sky.
"You could lodge a complaint with Headquarters."
Nico scoffed. "You mean my dad? The esteemed assistant chief believes I should pay my dues."
Hestia shrugged. "Giannis would love to give you a promotion, but you know it's not his call."
Lieutenant Giannis, Naxos's top guy, treated the rookie with kid gloves, always friendly, to an almost painful point, continually apologizing to him for the lack of equipment or action or hours. Hardly anyone ever mentioned Nico's father. Most everyone just assumed that Nico was a plant from Headquarters, a spy.
Thena, Nico's partner, and the only female detective on Naxos, was the only one who called him on it, the only one with courage enough to give him crap. After his first morning of getting the too-nice treatment from the lieutenant, Thena had been the one to lean over and say, "It's a shame they know about your father. You should've at least been allowed to skate on your looks for a little while."
Nico had laughed, though he wasn't sure that would've been any better.
"What about my partner?" Nico asked Hestia now. "She should be in line to get a promotion before me."
"Right ... Thena." Hestia's eyes slid down and to the right. Hestia and Thena did not get along, largely because they were the only two women in the department. "You know ... uh, Nico..." Hestia looked suddenly uncomfortable. She started shuffling papers.
"What?"
"There are rumors ... about ..."
"What?"
"About you and Thena." When Hestia said she'd heard a rumor, nine times out of ten it was something she'd made up.
"What have you heard?"
"Oh, it's none of my business." Hestia always said this, even though she made everything her business. She cleared her throat. "Just that you two are awfully friendly."
"We're partners." There was an edge to Nico's voice.
"Okay." Hestia held up one hand to show she meant no harm. "But, you know, I mean, you're new, so maybe you haven't heard ... but Thena, she transferred out here a few years ago from Athens, and they say she did it because of ..." Hestia's voice dropped. "... an affair."
"I thought it was because of her son." Thena was a single mom, the mother of a four-year-old boy named Mario with severe asthma. Mario kept having serious attacks in Athens, in large part, Thena said, because of the heavy smog and other allergens in the thick city air. His doctors had convinced Thena that a mild seaside climate would help him breathe better. And they'd been right. The attacks were fewer and farther between and not nearly as severe, but they hadn't gone away. Not entirely.
"Maybe it's the asthma, or maybe it's just the boy." Hestia leaned forward, voice low. "Do you know who that boy's father is? Nobody does. Why do you think that is? I mean, what do you expect from a woman who —"
"Who what?" Thena had appeared seemingly from nowhere, from around the corner behind them where Hestia couldn't know what Thena had heard. Thena smelled like cocoa lotion, freshly applied, straight from the shower. Her brown hair streaked with blond highlights from the island sun was still damp, pulled up and back, twisted into some sort of bun. When she wore it down, which was hardly ever, it was wavy and thick, running well past her shoulders. She, like Nico, was dressed in casual attire, as the only other special plainclothes detective in the small station. She managed to make her khakis and plain short-sleeved Oxford look suggestive, where it hugged her curves. She wore her holster in plain view, with a standard-issue Smith & Wesson 910 in it. Hestia flashed an envious look at Thena's narrow waist as Thena focused her hazel eyes sternly on Hestia.
Flustered, Hestia went back to shuffling papers.
Coming to Hestia's rescue, Nico said, "I've got your coffee, just like you like it, no sugar or cream," to Thena, and held up the paper cup. Nico had grown up with three sisters and had a knack for breaking up spats by using distractions and bribes.
Thena glanced at Nico, the hint of a smile on her lips. She was seven years older than he was, but she didn't look it. "Thank you, Nico."
The police scanner crackled to life as an incoming call from the local patrol came in. Bobby Papoutsis, one of the patrol officers, spoke quickly, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had found a dead body.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Follow Me Episode 1 Deadly Game"
by .
Copyright © 2013 Cara Lockwood.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
