𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨

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"WELL, THAT WENT WELL," POPE MUTTERED WHEN JJ AND JOHN B CAME BACK FROM THE HELP DESK

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"WELL, THAT WENT WELL," POPE MUTTERED WHEN JJ AND JOHN B CAME BACK FROM THE HELP DESK. They were at the Marina, planning to tell them about the boat, but it seemed that they had bigger problems.

Leaning his elbow on his best friend's shoulder, JJ questioned, "So, what's the plan?"

"I think I know how we're gonna find the guy that owns that boat," John B informed them, holding up the motel key that they found in the sunken boat.

"We don't know whose room that is, okay?" the Heyward boy pointed out, shaking his head in disagreement. "It could belong to anyone."

JJ grabbed the keys from his best friend and threw them to Kie who was standing behind Pope. "I'm in."

"Come on," the Carrera girl urged, smiling at the boy in front her. When she noticed that Bree was also hesitant about the plan, she bumped the girl's shoulder. "I'll be lookout. Bree and Pope can hang in the boat with me."

"Okay, fine," the brunette muttered, walking with Kie down the dock as JJ followed after them.

"Finder's fee. Just saying," the Routledge boy told Pope with a shrug before racing after his friends. "And hey, at least you'll only be an accomplice." The Heyward sighed loudly but came along nonetheless.

As they pulled up to the motel whose name was on the key, JJ whistled. "I thought the Chateau looked bad." The Chateau, as Bree had figured out through context clues, was what they had named John B's house.

"This place is a shit show," the brunette boy mumbled while his blonde best friend got the tether ready for when they got close enough to the land.

Kie nodded, "Motel or meth lab?"

"Who says it can't be both?" questioned the Callaway girl. She hadn't even known that that place existed, but it seemed like it looked better after the hurricane hit.

John B furrowed his eyebrows. "Doesn't look like the type of place somebody with a Grady-White would stay."

"No," Pope agreed, surveying the building as they pulled in next to another boat that looked absolutely nothing like a Grady-White. "It looks like a place where someone with a Grady-White would get killed."

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 || 𝐣. 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤Where stories live. Discover now