That sounded like a massive stretch to her. “Couldn’t she just have said ‘I dig this guy?’”
“She did. Twice. Then she added the bomb diggity. That’s why I think ‘dig’ is the key word. And the reason I know it’s literal is that we used to love digging at our grandparents’ house. My granny grew carrots and potatoes, and she’d let us dig them up like buried treasure.”
“Should we go back to the island and dig up the garden?”
“Yes. But not now,” he added quickly. Then he thought about it further. “Maybe we should ask someone, maybe Luke, to dig around in the dirt.”
“I’ll ask Marigold,” she decided. “She’s been wanting to help.”
20
Tina had warned him that any amount of alcohol made her conk out fast, but it happened even faster than he’d imagined. She disappeared into the bathroom of their room at the Spotted Owl Inn, where he heard her splash water on her face and brush her teeth with ferocious speed. A minute later she was sprawled across the other double bed in a pair of navy blue pajamas. She hadn’t even made it under the covers. Her bare feet dangled over the side, and her cheek was smushed adorably into a pillow.
He found her feet inordinately sexy. She actually wore polish on her toenails, though she didn’t bother with her fingernails. He felt as if he was getting a peek into her private world by admiring the deep rose pink shining on her nails.
Idiot.
Was she going to get cold during the night? He spent some time maneuvering the comforter out from under her so that he could spread it on top of her instead. She grumbled in her sleep and curled up into a ball.
Too cute. He couldn’t take it.
He went into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, giving himself a quick release while he was at it. He needed to focus on finding Jessie, not this growing infatuation with Tina Chen.
If only he’d put together the “bomb diggity” thing earlier. He went through all the texts Jesse had sent him over the past few weeks. He’d already memorized them—as an actor, he’d developed fantastic short-term memory.
She’d said “dig” three times, which on its own should have been a red flag. But all he’d said in response was “glad you’re having fun.”
Then she’d said the “bomb diggity” thing.
At that point, he should have hopped on a water taxi and gotten his ass to Sea Smoke Island. But again, he’d just sent her a series of laughing face emojis.
As the water drummed against his back, he sifted through every text she’d sent after “bomb diggity.”
He’s a cutie patootie.
If “bomb diggity” was a red flare, “cutie patootie” should have been a wailing siren. Never in her life had Jessie referred to a man that way. Patootie…potatoes? Was that another clue telling him to look in their grandmother’s old potato patch?
Has your crush given you brain damage? He’d texted back. Still making a joke out of it.
Maybe I’ll donate it to science. My art teacher always said I had an interesting brain.
Was that a clue, too? Jessie had worked with several art teachers, and he knew all their names. Why hadn’t she used a name instead of the generic “art teacher?”
Had she been telling him to look more closely at her art?
Was that why all of her art was missing except the watercolor under the fridge? Maybe Seth had caught on to that part of her communication scheme. Hopefully he hadn’t dug up the potato patch already.
Tina had texted Marigold right away, while they were still in the tavern, but she might not get to digging until the morning. Hopefully that wouldn’t be too late.
As he turned off the shower, he realized he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Unlike Tina, alcohol often kept him awake. He itched to do something more. Good thing the Internet never slept. He could do some googling while Tina snoozed.
That story about what the Mansfield family had gone through must have made the local newspapers, he figured. Maybe it had even made the bigger regional papers or the Boston Globe.
He grabbed his phone and settled onto the other bed, pillows propped behind his back.
Sure enough, it didn’t take long to find a short write-up in the Rutland Herald.
“A Woodstock man was taken into custody after a standoff with state troopers nearly ended in tragedy. Authorities say Mark Peterson held his ex-wife and their two children hostage for three days in the family’s barn before setting it on fire, injuring his son. Neighbors say they didn’t notice anything unusual because the family was so new to this rural neighborhood. It wasn’t until a delivery truck driver caught sight of a girl waving from a window that state troopers got involved. Peterson refused to release his hostages. Once the state troopers spotted the flames, they rushed inside and rescued the two children and their mother. All are expected to make a full recovery. Local authorities expect Mark Peterson to be charged with making terroristic threats, kidnapping and child abuse.”
