A Deadly Reunion (7 page)

“It would have to be very good Vietnamese to
keep me in Wetlake,” I managed, “because I can’t say there’s much
else to keep me here.”

He brought a hand up and patted his chest,
making it sound as if he’d been wounded. “Nothing else to keep you
here. Now hold on there, Patti, shouldn’t you be enlivened by the
opportunity to see how your classmates have changed and grown?”

“If by enlivened do you mean attending all
of these functions while everybody gets pissed and they all start
reminding me of the football game?”

“Have I reminded you of the football
game?”

I shook my head.

“Plus, maybe you are judging them too
harshly. We didn’t all run off from Wetlake to make our fortunes.
You should cut us some slack.”

Though I’d been smiling at him until that
point, my expression suddenly soured.

He clearly saw it, because he put his hands
up. “I’m sensing that’s a touchy topic.”

“That’s very perceptive, officer. I feel
like Annabelle has spread it throughout the entire school. I
honestly feel I’ve come back to high school and everybody’s
spreading rumors about me again.”

“So you’re not an incredibly successful
self-help writer with two dogs?”

I looked at him pointedly. “You read my
bio?”

He shook his head and laughed. “No, Nancy
told me.”

Nancy.

“What, you don’t like Nancy?”

“She took a photo of me in my underwear at
the football game, and spread it around the entire school. She made
copies for the people who hadn’t been able to get there on the day.
Hell, she even made postcards out of it.”

“That was a long time ago. People
change.”

“And sometimes they don’t. Don’t you worry,
officer; I’ve already had the pleasure of running into Nancy again.
She doesn’t seem different to me at all. Except she wears a little
more leopard print than she used to.”

Thorne smiled and shook his head. “She is
okay. You really shouldn’t judge her too harshly.”

I pressed my lips together and decided to
drop it for now. “So, are you going to shepherd me back to my car
and protect me from all the bears and cougars?”

“And cliffs, you forgot cliffs,” Thorne
pointed to my left at the sharp drop off that led to a stony scree
and a section of forest far below.

“I would have been fine if you hadn’t
startled me.”

“Of course. And sorry, ma’am. Now, do you
need any water?” He nodded at my already empty plastic bottle.

I wanted to say no, but I didn’t. Instead, I
let him take off his pack and hand me some.

“You came prepared,” I noted through a
swallow.

“We always have a pack or two in the back of
our cars. There’s not much crime in Wetlake, but there sure are a
lot of people getting lost in the woods. I was up here last week
tracking down a man who’d gotten lost, and then the week before
that a couple of British tourists who had taken a wrong turn and
hadn’t been prepared.”

“And now you’re dealing with a murder,” I
said in a very quiet, hushed voice.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he
looked sharply to the side, brushed a hand down his head, and
shrugged his shoulders. “Yes we are, ma’am, but I cannot share any
details of the investigation with you.”

“That’s what Denver said.”

“Denver?” Thorne’s expression crumpled
slightly. “Have you been talking to him?”

I shook my head. “Talking? No. He’s been
questioning me. From the moment I saw him at the back of the motel,
he hasn’t left me alone. I mean, I can’t say I remember high school
perfectly, but I don’t remember him being like that.” Suddenly I
stopped. Denver was Thorne’s brother. I gave a cute smile. “Sorry,
I kind of forgot you two are related.”

Thorne shrugged his shoulders again. “It’s
fine. And you’re damn right; Denver does nothing but ask you
questions. You are wrong though; he was like that in high school,
just not around any of the other kids.”

“Oh.”

“What were you doing at the back of the
motel with Denver though?”

A question. Just maybe all Scott boys asked
questions, but at least Thorne did it with a rugged smile and a
whole load of charm.

I could have strung him along, offered a
secret smile, or giggled a little, but I didn’t. “Well, I was
legitimately behind the back of the motel checking it out. I heard
someone shouting, and I went to see. Denver, on the other hand,
followed me and then questioned me, and hasn’t stopped since.”

“I see. You’ve got to forgive him, Patti; he
has a strange sense of justice. He is also damn determined. He
doesn’t mean anything by it though.”

I squished my lips against my teeth and
settled for offering a shrug. “I’ll have to take your word for
it.”

We dwindled into silence as we continued to
walk back. It wasn’t particularly awkward though. I didn’t find
myself clutching for questions to ask or anecdotes to bring up
about our high school days. I just walked beside him, enjoying the
outdoors while occasionally slicing my gaze towards those muscular
shoulders of his.

Eventually we started talking about our
lives. Reluctantly, I did confirm that I was a rather successful
author and that, yes, I had two dogs, and then Thorne filled me in
on his life.

Unmarried. Single. Police officer. Had never
lived anywhere but Wetlake. Amateur cook. Had a goldfish named
Stan.

That was it.

It wasn’t exactly the world’s most
incredible resume. I’d met men who were investment bankers from
Switzerland who had family chalets up in the Alps. Men who had
traveled the world, who were pearl divers off the north of
Australia or lawyers in Dubai. With stories, with history, with
experience.

Yet that didn’t matter. Because while Thorne
wasn’t wealthy and hadn’t traveled – and he still lived in Wetlake,
of all places – he made up for it by being equal parts sweet,
rugged, and charming at the same time. You would think that would
be impossible; there was something about sweet and rugged that
didn’t go together, but goddammit, it went together with this man.
It was like chili and chocolate; the sweet drew you in and the
rugged hit you over the head with a pow.

By the end of the walk, I was practically
putty in his hands, and I was hardly ever putty in anyone’s
hands.

I still had enough self-control not to throw
myself at him, but as I opened my car and rummaged around the front
seat for my handbag, I was sure to neaten my hair surreptitiously.
When I straightened up, Thorne offered me a sharp nod.

I needed to wheedle that Vietnamese
restaurant into our conversation again to prompt his memory, and to
get him to agree to a date. Yet before I could even mention it, he
took a step back, waved at me, and pointed his thumb at his squad
car. “I’ve got to go; I’m still on duty. But Vietnamese, tonight,
I’ll meet you there, say seven?”

I didn’t want to seem too keen. I tried to
control my smile, but goddamned the thing, it seemed to have full
control over my lips and chin. “That sounds great.”

“So does that mean you found something to
stay in Wetlake for?” he toyed with me.

“Yes, Vietnamese. I’m very partial to a
fresh spring roll.”

He laughed. “Well then, seven.”

“Seven,” I repeated needlessly. Then I
watched and waved as Thorne Scott walked back to his car, got in,
wound down the window, nodded my way, and drove off.

I hadn’t been expecting that.

In my mind, my plan had been to have a
calming walk through the forest, to head back to the car, to dump
the keys at the motel, and to get the hell out of Wetlake. Now my
mind was rather occupied. It wasn’t by the reunion, and it wasn’t
by that mysterious and dreadful murder; there was only one word and
only one topic: Thorne.

Feeling a little giddy, I clambered into my
hire car, waited there fixing up my hair for a few minutes, and
then decided to head back to the motel.

It was probably mid-afternoon, and I would
have to find some way of keeping myself occupied until seven
o’clock.

Driving back along those dirt roads, I felt
conflicted. I wanted to leave; I wanted to stay. I needed to mourn
and process the murder, yet the thought of Thorne and dinner
tonight had complete control over my imagination.

It wouldn’t last.

Nothing ever does.

I pulled up into the motel car park
reluctantly. A part of me just wanted to move on and find somewhere
else to stay, yet I already knew that every other bed and breakfast
in town was already booked out. It was this place or sleeping in my
car. While I half seriously considered that, I quickly realized I
wanted another hot shower.

Grumbling to myself, I got all the way to
the front door of my room before I realized my suitcase and all my
stuff was in the back of the car.

Swearing under my breath, I turned sharply,
lugged my suitcase out of the trunk, and dragged it up the steps to
my room.

By the time I opened my door, I swiveled my
head to hear footsteps ringing out along the concrete towards
me.

It was Denver.

Of course it was Denver. And of course he
was still wearing that exact same suit, that exact same tie, and
that exact same half-frown. I could tell just by the angle of his
chin and the narrowed look to his eyes that he was about to march
over to me to ask some more frigging questions.

Before I could push my head back and sigh in
exasperation, someone called his name.

“Denver, Denver Scott, oh my god, come
here.”

I shifted slightly to see Nancy rush across
the small lawn in front of the porch and practically somersault up
the stairs as she tried to get to Denver as quickly as she
could.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. I haven’t
seen you in years,” Nancy launched herself at Denver. Denver was
tall, but Nancy wasn’t that much shorter in her towering heels, and
she managed to get her arms around his neck easily.

“Nancy,” he said in a surprised voice that
was quickly muffled as her hair bunched around his face.

I found myself raising an eyebrow prudishly.
I have no idea why. I was a woman of the world. As a woman of the
world, I understood that Nancy wasn’t exactly something your
average man turned down. Plus, she had legitimately gone out with
Denver in high school, and while I had a problem with her, I was
mature enough to know that I wasn’t everybody.

“I didn’t get a chance to catch up with you
at the reunion. Oh my god, how have you been?” She leaned back, but
tapped her hand on his chest as she spoke.

It was an intimate move. And no doubt,
considering how close she was, the sound of that nasal high-pitched
voice would be shaking up and down his bones. Not to mention the
scent of that perfume. I’d copped a whiff of it when I’d gone into
reception to hand back my keys, and it had hung in the air like a
cloying shadow.

Though Nancy continued to smile at Denver as
if they were long-lost lovers finally reunited, he now managed to
take a step back. He neatened his shirt, pulled down tightly on his
cuffs, and cleared his throat.

Was it just me, or did he look
uncomfortable? Not just awkward, not just irritated that Nancy had
thrown herself around him with no warning, but exceedingly put
out.

“Your brother said you’re now an FBI agent,”
Nancy said, her voice dripping with obvious enthusiasm. “Oh my god,
that’s so amazing. Do you have a gun?”

I couldn’t help it – I had to snigger at
that. Did he have a gun? What kind of question was that?

The answer was a sultry, flirtatious one.
Because on the word gun, Nancy let her gaze drop, and while I
couldn’t see what she was looking at, I doubted it was the side of
Denver’s hip.

Though I ensured that my snigger was quiet,
Denver turned his head sharply and stared my way.

As he did, Nancy appeared to realize I was
standing there, and she turned to face me. “So you decided not to
leave after all. That’s very brave of you.” She smiled around her
words, but there was no way she was being nice.

“No, not brave, I just found something to
stay for,” I answered sharply, manhandling my bag and suitcase as I
shoved the door open.

“Oh, you mean that award they’re going to
give you at the reunion for becoming the most successful graduate
of our class?” Nancy continued.

I stared at her darkly.

“That is, if you measure success by riches.
I, myself,” Nancy patted a hand on her chest, and it made her
cleavage wobble, likely on purpose, “think that happiness, strong
family ties, and the perfect relationship,” she sliced her gaze
towards Denver, “are what really matter in life.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Latching a hand on
the door, I took a step into my room. Pausing to turn back to face
her, I shot my gaze between the two of them briefly. “But I would
add morals and decency to the equation.” With that, I shut the
door. Okay, I kind of slammed it. But what the hell – the motel
already had my credit card details, and if I damaged the wood or
the paintwork, they could just charge me.

Dumping my bag on the bed, I shot my windows
a baleful look. Fortunately the blinds were drawn, so I didn’t have
to put up with the view of Nancy wobbling around in her heels.

Realizing there was no earthly reason I
should be allowing her to get to me – considering I wasn’t in
goddamn high school any more – I made my way over to the bar
fridge, rummaged around in it, and then promptly closed it when I
found nothing edible.

Grumbling to myself, I decided a shower was
in order, and I kicked off my shoes and clothes, and headed into
the bathroom.

I clambered into the shower, turned the
water onto full, planted my hands onto the tiled wall, and closed
my eyes.

I liked to think I didn’t lead a complicated
life. In fact, one of the secrets to a good relationship was to
avoid complex people and situations like the Plague.