Wild Crown Read online

  After a moment, Jonah moved on to the next contestant. "Next up, Cassidy Michaels!”

  Another gorgeous beauty strutted onto the stage with a brilliant smile.

  But something was wrong.

  Whispers and murmurs filled the arena as Cassidy strutted up and down the runway.

  Crystal Connors emerged from backstage and moved quickly down the aisle, crouching low as she scampered toward the selection committee. She had a panicked look on her face as she approached.

  She circled the table and put a hand on my shoulder. She leaned in and whispered into my ear. Her voice trembled. "I need you backstage ASAP!”

  "What's going on?"

  3

  This wasn't supposed to happen. Not here. Not at this event.

  JD and I had followed Crystal Connors backstage, making our way down the hallway to the talent bathrooms. We trailed behind her, moving into the area that was usually off limits. Crystal pulled open a stall door in the women's room, revealing the source of her distress.

  Skylar Van Doorn lay on the floor beside the toilet with her eyes fixed and dilated, staring at the ceiling. A line of crimson blood trickled from her nose.

  "I called 911," Crystal said. "I knew you were both cops, so I thought you’d know what to do."

  I knelt down beside the body and felt Skylar's neck for a pulse. Her skin was cold, and there wasn't any sign of life.

  The gorgeous blonde had collapsed, and her body was wedged in an awkward position between the toilet and the next stall. She wore a royal blue bikini, and her once tanned skin was now pale from the lack of blood flow. Her face and lips remained a natural color due to the heavy coat of airbrushed makeup. It almost looked like a mask.

  “She wasn’t breathing when I got to her,” Crystal said. “I don’t know CPR, so I found you as soon as possible. I’ve been meaning to take a class. But I never figured I’d actually need it.”

  Crystal rambled nervously while JD helped me pull Skylar away from the toilet, giving me a little more room to work. I began chest compressions. Skylar was probably too far gone to save at this point, but it was worth a try.

  "When was the last time anyone saw her?" I asked, trying to determine how long she had been without oxygen.

  For most people, brain damage occurs between 3 and 6 minutes of oxygen deprivation. After 10 minutes, serious neurologic damage has occurred. By 15 minutes, most people have lost cognitive function.

  Crystal shrugged. "I recall seeing her backstage before the pageant started, but that was 15 or 20 minutes ago."

  I cringed.

  A crowd had gathered around the restroom, and the horde was slowly creeping into the room.

  JD pushed everyone back and closed the door. He held them off until the EMTs and the Sheriff’s Department arrived.

  There were a few things I noticed:

  There was a white powder around Skylar's nostrils. In the bathroom stall, I saw a brown vial of what appeared to be cocaine on the floor.

  It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize this girl had OD’d.

  She was young, and apparently healthy, but snorting enough cocaine would blow out even the strongest of hearts.

  I kept up with the chest compressions until the EMTs arrived. They took over and used an automated defibrillator. They placed a contact pad above her breast and another on her rib cage on the opposite side. They activated the small yellow defibrillator which announced instructions. These devices were so simple now, even a trained monkey could use one.

  The EMTs cleared away from the body as instructed by the device, and it initiated the charge.

  Skylar's body jolted from the electricity, but she remained non-responsive. The EMTs tried a few more times to no avail. They finally called the time of death at 7:42 PM.

  My heart sank.

  The girl lying on the floor was so pretty with so much potential. Blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones, gorgeous figure, and a promising career.

  “Who found her?” I asked.

  “I did,” said a meek voice in the corner of the room.

  “Gwen found Skylar and alerted me,” Crystal said.

  My eyes flicked to the pageant contestant. She was a brunette with shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and flawless skin as usual.

  “I had to go to the bathroom one last time before the show. I get really nervous before big events. I saw Skylar’s feet sticking out from the stall. I screamed and ran out of the bathroom, then looked for Crystal.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked

  “Gwen Dean.”

  “Did you touch the body?”

  “No,” she said, mortified. “That would freak me out. I’m gonna have way too many nightmares as it is.”

  “Were you aware that Skylar was using drugs?” I asked.

  Gwen shook her head. “I really didn’t know her that well. I knew who she was. Everybody knows Skylar Van Doorn,” she said dramatically. “But we weren’t friends.” A look of concern washed over her face, then she added. “I mean, we weren’t enemies. I don’t really think Skylar had too many friends. Just competitors, if you know what I mean.”

  Sheriff Daniels marched into the bathroom with the forensics team and Brenda, the medical examiner. Cameras flashed as the photographer documented the scene, and Brenda went to work doing a preliminary evaluation of the remains.

  The dull thump of the music filtered into the bathroom. The show continued. It was a live event. It had to continue.

  Crystal left the bathroom to manage the chaos. A crowd of contestants still gathered around the door.

  Sheriff Daniels grimaced at the sight of the young girl. I filled him in on the details.

  "That's just tragic. Do we know where she got the stuff?" Daniels asked.

  I shrugged. "No, but I can try to find out."

  "I want you to find whoever sold her this crap and nail his ass to the wall," Daniels said. "You got me?"

  "Yes, sir," I said.

  "Brenda, I want you to test that and make sure it's not laced with fentanyl, or some other kind of additive. If it is, we could have more deaths on our hands. We need to get out in front of this before we have a major situation." Daniels frowned.

  "We're on it," JD said.

  “Do we know who this girl is?" the sheriff asked.

  His eyes widened when I told him.

  "Skylar Van Doorn?” Daniels exclaimed. “Thorston Van Doorn's daughter?"

  I shrugged. "I guess. Maybe."

  Daniels let out a distressed sigh. “Heaven help us,” he muttered.

  Daniels shook his head and strolled for the door. He called back over his shoulder before he left. "Keep me posted."

  He slipped into the hallway and I caught a glimpse of curious faces. Some of them were tearful, some seemed glad their main competitor was dead.

  4

  "This is totally not fair!” a contestant, Aubrey Hudson, grumbled. "Two of the judge's weren’t present when I walked the stage."

  "Me too," another contestant griped.

  There were more than a dozen girls backstage complaining to Crystal after the show.

  The EMTs had taken Skylar's body away, transporting her to the medical examiner's office. The stage was dim, the music was over, and the crowd had dissipated. The first night of the preliminary competition was complete.

  Aubrey continued. "I mean, it's tragic and all that Skylar is dead. But why should that affect the rest of us negatively?"

  Crystal looked overwhelmed. Her cheeks flushed, and she was a few more complaints away from exploding.

  "I want to know which one of you bitches sabotaged my preliminary?" Taylor shouted. "Somebody deliberately sawed the heel off my shoe!"

  She held up her high heel which had a clean break. It looked like the stiletto heel had been cut halfway, with the other half of the break rough and jagged.

  "Nobody sabotaged your shoe," Crystal said.

  "Bullshit! I know one of these bitches did this!” Taylor growled.

 
Crystal held out the palms of her hands, urging everyone to calm down. "Taylor, we will fully investigate your shoe. As for the missing judges, there are five other judges on the selection committee. We will throw out the scores from Tyson and JD during the swimsuit preliminary. You will all be judged by the remaining five equally."

  There were frowns and scowls and murmurs of displeasure, but that seemed to appease most of the angry mob.

  "What's important right now is that we all take a deep breath, center ourselves, and move forward in a professional, compassionate, and classy way,” Crystal said. “I know Skylar wasn't everyone's favorite person, but her memory deserves dignity and respect. The Miss Coconut Key pageant is not only about external beauty, but how we handle ourselves in adverse situations. Keep that in mind when being catty or disrespectful. Let's show the world that despite our differences and competitive nature that we are all a family here at Miss Coconut Key."

  "I think we should do a tribute to Skylar," Willow said. "Perhaps a video montage of her accomplishments during the final round of the competition? You know, like they do at the Oscars."

  "That is a great idea, Willow," Crystal said.

  Willow beamed, proudly.

  The other girls tried to conceal their disdain.

  "Tyson and JD would like to speak with you all for a moment," Crystal said. "Any assistance you can offer them would be greatly appreciated."

  Crystal motioned for us to take over.

  "It's important for us to find out where Skylar acquired the drugs,” I said. “Other lives could be at stake. If anyone has any information, please come to us. If you know who her dealer was, or if you just have an idea of who that might be, talk to us. I can assure you that we just want information. You won't get in trouble for talking to us. I'm going to make my personal cell phone available. You can call me or text me. You can come down to the station and talk if you prefer. Whatever you're comfortable with. We just need to get these drugs off the street before someone else gets hurt."

  The girls stared back at me with flat expressions. Nobody made any indication of coming forward with relevant information.

  There was silence among the usually talkative crowd.

  I waited another moment, then said, “Feel free to reach out at any time if you're not comfortable speaking here."

  Crystal took over. "Thank you, Deputy Wild." She addressed the girls. "Okay, we've got another preliminary tomorrow night. We will proceed with the pageant schedule as planned. There will be no changes. Go home, get some sleep, and I will see you tomorrow."

  Crystal was mauled with a few more questions from the girls. When the crowd dissipated, I pulled Crystal aside. "I need to ask you a few basic questions."

  "Whatever I can do to help."

  "You've known Skylar for a long time. Does her drug use come as a shock to you?"

  Crystal shrugged. "Nothing really shocks me anymore. I've seen a lot over the years. These girls are under a ton of pressure, and sometimes that plays out in negative ways. Despite what we try to promote, there's no denying that a considerable portion of this event focuses on external beauty. These girls are desperate to maintain their weight and look good. Some of them turn to diet pills. Some turn to stimulants like cocaine and speed. Of course, there are a lot of cigarettes and coffee.” Crystal sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, this kind of thing is exceedingly rare. But sometimes they turn to recreational drugs to escape the pressure and anxiety. You have to understand, for many of these girls, this is everything. This is their launching pad to the life that they've dreamed of. It really can be a platform to help them gain notoriety and achieve their dreams. It's very empowering. Granted, some of the girls are just here to find a husband. There are a lot of wealthy and powerful men that linger around these competitions, plus the national exposure doesn't hurt."

  "Have you ever seen any indication that Skylar was regularly using?" I asked.

  "In hindsight, maybe? But nothing that couldn’t be attributed to her being nervous or excited. Skylar has always been a very intense personality. She was driven. She wanted to be Miss Coconut Key more than anything else. She was determined to make that happen. She was willing to sacrifice friendships and personal relationships to get it. Maybe the pressure got to her?”

  "Thanks," I said. "If you hear any rumors of who her dealer might have been, let me know."

  "I will. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me. I'm tired, stressed, and I need a drink."

  "One more thing," I said. "We will be investigating this case, and I think it might be best if we stepped down as judges."

  JD's eyes widened. "What?"

  "I think it presents an awkward scenario,” I said. “And besides, Denise is on staff at the Sheriff’s Department. That could be perceived as a conflict of interest. I think it's probably best for everyone involved if we stepped down.”

  "I see no reason," JD said. "We can totally be impartial."

  "I think Tyson is right," Crystal said. "We’ve got five other judges. We're throwing out your scores for this evening, anyway. This will just even things out. You'll still be our official photographers?”

  "Absolutely," JD said.

  "And you are more than welcome to hang around and conduct your investigation and do whatever you need to do," Crystal said, then excused herself.

  JD scowled at me. "I wish you would have consulted with me first. I was really enjoying my position as a judge."

  "Relax, Jack. Now that you’re not a judge, you can date a contestant."

  He thought about it for a moment, then a mischievous smile curled on his lips. "Good point."

  Denise found us in the hallway backstage. She wore a pair of sweats, but her hair and makeup were still done to perfection.

  Jack looked her up and down. "What happened to the bikini?”

  "What, I'm supposed to prance around all evening in that?"

  Jack shrugged. "Well, yeah."

  She rolled her eyes. "That part of the competition is over."

  "Not if you make it to the semifinals," I said.

  "I don't know," she said. "I'm thinking about pulling out of the competition."

  "Jack and I recused ourselves as judges,” I said. “You don't have to worry about any conflict of interest anymore."

  Jack scowled at me. "Tyson recused us as judges. Without consulting me, I might add."

  "Somehow I think you’ll live," Denise muttered.

  "Have you heard any rumblings about this evening's events?" I asked Denise.

  "Just gossip and speculation."

  "Keep your ears open."

  "So, now I'm undercover?"

  "Effectively."

  "So, you're saying I have to continue with the competition, whether I want to or not?”

  "You don't have to do anything you don’t want to do. But just think, you could gain valuable information and potentially become Miss Coconut Key."

  She scoffed. "Have you seen these other girls? There is no way that I'm going to become Miss Coconut Key."

  "Don't sell yourself short," I said with a grin. “It’s not like you’re terribly ugly.”

  Her green eyes narrowed at me.

  A clean-up crew swept backstage and vacuumed the ballroom.

  "Let's get out of here and grab a drink," JD said. He looked at his watch. "There's still plenty of time to get into trouble."

  “We're not supposed to drink to excess in public, since we represent the pageant," Denise said.

  "Who said anything about excess?" JD asked with a grin.

  "One drink," Denise warned. “Apparently, I need to get my beauty sleep.” She shot me a look. “The evening gown competition is tomorrow night."

  We strolled out of the ballroom and stopped in the hotel bar. The place was packed with a mix of audience members, a few judges, and several contestants. We took a seat at a high-top table and waited for a waitress. The minute Jack sat down he got back up again. "I gotta take a leak."

  "TMI," Denise muttered.

 
As he stepped away from the table, he bumped into a large man carrying a drink in his hand. The guy was 6’5”, and the drink sloshed, spilling several mouthfuls over the lip of the glass. The man's face crinkled. "Watch it, Tubby!”

  Jack's eyes widened, and his face flushed. Rage boiled under his skin. "Who are you calling Tubby, mother fucker!"

  Jack puffed up to the big behemoth. This wasn't going to be pretty.

  5

  The big man stared down at Jack, his biceps bulging, his hands balled into meaty fists.

  Jack had a lot of whoop-ass in him for a little guy, but it was like a Chihuahua yapping at a Doberman.

  I put a hand on Jack's arm and reeled him in. "Easy there,” I muttered, then addressed the big man. “There's no problem here. My friend apologizes. Can we buy you another drink?"

  Jack grumbled under his breath, never losing eye contact with the big guy.

  "No,” the behemoth said. “It's not a problem."

  There was another tense moment as the two men stared each other down, then the big guy backed away and continued through the bar.

  Jack was red in the face, and the veins in his neck bulged. I coaxed him back into his seat as he grumbled. "Did you hear what that asshole said to me? Calling me Tubby. I am not tubby.”

  Denise and I exchanged an awkward glance.

  Jack picked up on it. "What?"

  "Nothing. I'm not saying a word," I said.

  "This is my winter coat. It keeps me a little warmer in the colder months."

  "This isn’t the Arctic," I said.

  Jack scowled at me.

  The waitress sauntered by. "What can I get for you?"

  "Whiskey. Rocks," I said.

  "The same," Denise replied.

  "Light beer," Jack said.

  "Do you want to pay cash, or do you want to start a tab?" the waitress asked.

  "Cash," Jack said.

  The waitress smiled. "Coming right up."

  She dashed away.

  Jack grumbled again. "Tubby, my ass!"

  Denise and I were silent.

  "If you'll excuse me…" he said, pushing away from the table.