Lines in the Sand (Crossing The Lines #0.5) by Sc Montgomery Read Free Book Online Page B

“Lettie.”
    “Who’s Lettie?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Really?” I studied the things we had in our hands again. “Probably some old lady who lost her stuff at the beach.” Surely these were just parts of an old dress and some kind of purse or weird, hippy jewelry or something. I mean, who wore leather bands these days?
    “I guess you’re right.” His face dropped in disappointment. What, did he think it would be some hot chick’s stuff we’d get to return for a reward?
    “Of course I’m right.” But I was disappointed, too. I was sure there would be something more when I first saw that fabric poking out of the sand. Must’ve been too much Cap’n Crunch. Sugar rush. Mom was right.
    Jonah stood. “Well, let’s get outta here. I’m hungry and bored.”
    “Okay.”
    He tossed down the tattered fabric and it floated above the sand in an eerie dance with the wind for a moment, as though hesitant to go anywhere. And, I had to admit, I didn’t want to let it go, even then. I stooped to pick it up with the leather band still gripped in my fist.
    And that’s when I saw it.
    I swallowed the lump that threatened to choke me as my heart began to pound viciously in my chest.
    I sank to my knees and blinked to clear my eyes.
    Oh, crap.
    I wanted to puke.
    How could we have missed that?
    There, right next to where I’d been digging, a small, white bone—about the size of a human finger—poked mockingly up from the sand.
    With shaking hands, I plucked it up and examined it. Yup. I’m no scientist, but it was definitely a bone.
    I looked at Jonah, whose eyes were about as big as half-dollars, and looked about ready to piss his pants. “Lettie?” he croaked.
    We weren’t sticking around to find out. We ran for home like hell hounds were after us.

    That afternoon, we made excuses to hang around my house the rest of the day, rushed through dinner, then locked ourselves away in my bedroom.
    Jonah flopped down onto my video game chair. “Man.” He finally looked me in the eye for probably the first time since we’d returned from our find at the beach. “What are we gonna do?”
    I shot a glance to my closet, where I’d hidden all the stuff we found—including the bone—in my grandpa’s old military ammo box. “What do you mean?”
    He sat forward and swallowed, his eyes darting around nervously. “Dude!” He lowered his voice in a stage whisper, “We found somebody’s bone. ”
    “So what?”
    “So what? So what? ” His face bloomed an interesting shade of pink. “Did it ever occur to you that people aren’t buried at the beach?”
    He tilted his head and waited as his question sunk in. Suddenly, the blood drained out of my brain, making me dizzy. “So . . .”
    “So, what if Lettie was . . . murdered ?” He forced the last word out with a painful squeak.
    My eyes popped open. No way.
    But it was possible.
    “And,” he continued, “whoever killed her dumped her body at the beach.”
    I sat on the edge of the bed as the implication of this settled in. Poor woman. We needed to tell someone . . .
    “. . . we can’t tell a soul . . .”
    My head snapped up. “What? Why not?”
    “Man. Don’t you watch CSI? We have evidence from the crime scene all over us. In your bedroom.” He pointed to my closet. “They’ll think we had something to do with it, nimrod. And even if they don’t pin it on us, they’ll probably get us for tampering with evidence or obstruction of justice or something. It’s just better if we leave it alone.”
    My heart sank as my conscience gnawed at every fiber of my gut. He made sense, but could I let this go? Could I do that to Lettie, whoever she was?
    No. I couldn’t.
    “Well, what if we don’t go to the cops, but look for some clues by ourselves?” I suggested, hoping to tug on Jonah’s sense of adventure, if not his conscience.
    “Clues to what?” he asked, suspicion coloring his words. “I ain’t goin’ after no murderer.”
    I glanced at my closet