Page 24 of Beauty and the Beach
“Dax,” I call, killing the engine of my golf cart and hopping out.
From beneath the ambulance, one tanned, grimy arm pokes out; it waves and then disappears again. I approach the vehicle and then crouch down.
“Hey,” I say, speaking loudly so I’ll be heard over whatever tinkering he’s doing under there. “Do you have any spare bike chains lying around?”
The noises coming from under the ambulance stop, and a second later, Dax rolls himself out, his head, arms, and upper torso appearing.
“Maybe,” he says, a frown wrinkling his grease-smudged forehead. “Check over in the bin by the cabinets.”
I stand up, looking toward the back of the car bay. “The big blue one?” I say, pointing.
“Yep,” he says, and his dark head of hair disappears under the ambulance again.
“Thanks,” I say, thumping the side. I let him get back to work, dusting off my suit to make sure it’s not getting dirty and then heading toward the back. There’s a row of black metal cabinets against the wall, next to which I see a giant blue tub; I lean over and peer inside.
“Spare parts,” I mutter. I’m going to have to dig.
So I take off my suit coat, hanging it lightly on the cleanest-looking cabinet corner I see, and then I roll up my sleeves.
“Getting ready to fight, Park?” a voice calls from behind me, and I turn to see Beau Palmer emerging from indoors. He’s got on a short-sleeved button down and tan shorts, which means this must be his day off.
“I wish,” I say. I gesture to the blue tub. “Instead I’m hunting for a bike chain in all this.”
He stops next to me and peers into the tub too, then lets out a low whistle. “Good luck,” he says with a grin.
I just snort and get started, moving aside metal pieces and parts.
“Hey, how’s your girl doing?” Beau adds from behind me, and I freeze. Then, scowling, I turn to glare at him.
“What?” he says from where he’s just seated himself on top of a small table. His voice is too innocent, as is his smile.
“She’s not my girl,” I say. I resume digging.
“But you knew exactly who I was talking about,” he says, and I can still hear the grin in his voice. “Either way—is she doing okay after what happened?”
I freeze again; this time, though, I don’t scowl or glare when I turn around. “What do you mean?” I say, a metal handlebar still dangling in my grip. I straighten up. “What happened?”
Beau’s grin vanishes, giving place to surprise. “Did she not tell you?” he says.
I shake my head.
“Huh.” He eyes me skeptically, like he’s deciding whether to share, and then he ducks his chin. “She called me. A week ago? Maybe a week and a half? She fell for some internet scheme. She said they wiped out her account.”
“They wiped out?—”
“Her entire account, yeah,” Beau says, nodding. He’s serious Beau now, the police officer instead of my friend. “I had her file a report, but there’s not a ton we can do. We’re not sitting on a world-class cybercrimes division or anything.”
I scrub my free hand down my face, exhaling heavily. “Amsterdam,” I mutter, suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion.This is why she needed money, I guess. “What internet scheme?”
“She was trying to buy something off some sketchy site,” he says. “I don’t remember what it was called; it’s in the report.”
“What was she trying to buy?”
Beau’s lips twist into a reluctant smile. “A dog bed.”
Am I hearing him right? “Adog bed?” I repeat.
“Yeah—a human-sized dog bed. She seemed super embarrassed, so don’t give her a hard time,” he adds sternly. “I didn’t ask for details, but she said it just looked comfortable.”
