Page 5 of A Sublime Casualt

Theo and I could never happen. The only ending our story would have would be of tragedy, of great sorrow, nothing more than a sublime casualty.

I freeze a moment before heading to the elevator, my arms heavy with perfumed parchment. I haven’t felt this alive since that night in Strafford. Every cell in my body is ringing with panic, with fear, with a strange sense of elation. Theo is alarmingly handsome, far too easy to get along with. Gabby was right. He is a totally nice guy. I’m going to feel lousy breaking our date.

God, I hope I break it.

Theo

Three days straight I think about her. Nonstop. Charlie Neville has become a welcome distraction, a much-needed respite in this sea of constant agony. Jackson razzed me about getting dolled up, licking myself clean as he put it for my hike with Charlie. Such a cute name. Such a cute girl. Jackson has been on me for months to make a move on her—per Gabby’s direct orders. Gabby has really taken to her and I can see why. Charlie is sweet, a little bit shy, and just self-deprecating enough to charm the pants off anyone. And yes, she can certainly charm my pants off if she wanted, my boxers, too. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Gabby’s roommate. One-night stands are off the table. Gabby is like family, and once Jackson proposes, she will be officially. Any good friend of hers isn’t simply going to disappear. Charlie is someone I will most likely be looking at from across the Thanksgiving table for a long time to come. This can’t go sideways. I need to take things slow. She’s beautiful, and funny, and smart, and if she’s willing, we could really go somewhere. She’s young, though. And alone. She’s got family in New York. She might pick up and leave tomorrow if she feels like it. The thought alone depresses the hell out of me.

Out of habit I drive out to the north end of town and do a quick look around Conrad. It was the last place Lizzy was seen. In a sense the parking lot she said her last goodbye in has become sacred ground. Cursed ground, too, but I try not to dwell on that. I’ve mapped out all of Wakefield in a series of figure eights and loops. I drive the same direction day after day when I’m on patrol. It drives my new partner, Fiona, nuts. Once Neil was bumped to lead detective, she was next in line to sit by my side. I didn’t know how I’d feel about spending so much time with a woman, locked hip-to-hip like that. I have nothing against women. I was raised by a single mother, love my sisters more than I love myself—a lot of good that did Lizzy, and I slam my palm over my steering wheel briefly— but Fiona was something altogether new. Fi isn’t at all what I was expecting. Hell, I don’t know what I was expecting. She’s petite, four foot eleven, hardly weighs enough to sit up front without a booster seat. In fact, she does sit on a stack of phone books to keep her visual field above the dashboard. She asked if I was okay with it. I didn’t mind. It borders on illegal, though, and once the captain saw all those yellow books in the seat of our car and asked what century I was living in. Fi lied and told him she was taking them home to her mother. I figured she was either embarrassed or having some fun at the captain’s expense. We never brought it up, though. Once, about a million years ago, my father said you should never trust a cop that lies. That was before he walked out on us and started up a new family in New York. I think that’s why I warmed up to Charlie so fast. It appears we have the same father.

I hit a red light just before I get to the complex and lean into the steering wheel, trying to get a better look at the building Gabby and Charlie call home. I’ve never been behind the gate. I’m guessing they have two bedrooms. It might be awkward for Charlie to invite me back. I’ve known Gabby for eight years now. She’s practically a third sister to me. Nope. I’m pretty sure I’ll never see the inside of Charlie’s bedroom. I shake my head for even entertaining the thought. Hell, I’d take on those awkward feelings just to see it. Charlie is worth an awkward glace or two from Gabby.

I shoot a quick glance to the telephone pole across the street and my heart stops. There she is in black and white. Lizzy pointing that dazzling smile right at me like an accusation. Her eyes squinted into half-moons, annunciating the early signs of crow’s feet in each corner. She hated them. She swore she would be a Botox princess before the year was through, but she never got a chance. The light changes, and I hit the gas aggressively, causing the wheels to spin out. That damn picture guts me every time. It’s just something you don’t get used to. You never stop looking for a loved one. You never give yourself permission to fully enjoy life again because it’s a betrayal. This entire afternoon is a betrayal. I’m the worst brother in the world because I’m actually looking forward to it.

I take the turn and spot Charlie ready to go, her dark hair up in a ponytail, light roots, an odd combination, but she’s beautiful. Natural beauty, too. They don’t make them like that anymore. Light hazel eyes that make you want to fall into them, swim around in their maple syrup goodness. I wanted to say innocence, but there’s an underlining knowing about her. She’s an old soul. That might be the reason she’s taken my mind hostage so quickly. That or the fact I haven’t gotten laid in over a year might play into it.

“Hey!” She breezes into the truck with a pair of black yoga pants hugging her every curve, a matching tank top and white sweater tied around her waist. But it’s her bulging cleavage my eyes sink to. Try as I might to fight it, there’s no help for me in that area. “It’s supposed to hit the high sixties today, but I always get hot when I walk.” She opens her tote bag my way. “I brought water for the both of us. I haven’t hiked in so long. I used to love the ridges on the east side of—” Her mouth remains open a second too long as she stops mid-flight. “Connecticut.” She blinks my way.

We continue our conversation on hiking, about the natural springs we’re headed out to. She lets me know that Gabby was ecstatic about our pancake standoff.

I can’t help but laugh as I pull into a space at the base of the trail. “In that case, I’ll have to challenge you to a rematch.”

“Ha! Match accepted.” She bites down on her lower lip before getting out of the truck, and a part of me wants to believe she’s seducing me.

“Secret Falls, huh?” She sinks a pink Conrad ball cap over her head and hitches her bag over her shoulder. “You think we’ll see a rainbow?”

“This isn’t Hawaii, so no promises, but I think I can guarantee you a damn good time.” Crap. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Please.” She averts her gaze skyward as she skips ahead of me. Her chest expands as she takes in a full breath. “I’m already having a damn good time”—she motions me forward with a tick of her head—“with you.”

And just like that, Charlie manages to dissolve the clouds that have hung heavy in my life for over a year, spearing a shot of sunshine my way—so bright and heated, I’m afraid it might be fatal.

The trailhead that leads to the Secret Falls is set on an incline, just steep enough to let your muscles know you’ve been somewhere. Cedars and evergreens cling to the cliff side where rows and rows of leafy ferns spread wide like wings guiding us to our ultimate destination. The sky is blotched a dark ominous gray, the earth already damp and muddy.

“I guess I should confess. I haven’t walked this trail in years,” I start as I lead us through the underbrush as the trail narrows to a razor’s edge. The ridge below us sits about six feet down. It wouldn’t kill you if you fell, but if you landed the right way, it could snap your leg like a candy cane. “I don’t remember it being a tightrope.”

“I guess a quick picnic in a meadow is firmly off the table.” She laughs while balancing herself with both arms spread wide. “But don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m enjoying this far more than I thought possible. I guess I have a confession of my own. I’m not much of a hiker. But this is really fun.” Her left shoe sinks into the mud, clear to her ankle, and she plucks it out as the ground suctions out a belch. “And I spoke too soon.” Her eyes brighten the world around me as she glances my way with a smile.

Easy. That’s the first word I would use to describe Charlie Neville. And fun. I can’t remember feeling so relaxed around a girl before, so natural.

I offer her a hand, and she takes it as I navigate us carefully through the chokehold of strangulating ferns, the sticky black mud, thick as molasses.

My foot sinks into a slimy pit, and my sneaker damn near slips off. “Shit,” I hiss, pulling my foot out slowly.

“It looks like the earth is hungry. Maybe I should toss the PB&Js I brought at it and it’ll leave us alone.”

“You made PB&Js? Man. First pancakes and now this? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hitting hard on my stomach.”

“You know what they say. The fastest way to a man’s heart is through the hole you bear in his esophagus.”

We share a quick laugh at her play on words. Charlie gives my hand a firm tug, and I cinch my fingers around hers. She feels soft, fragile, and her skin smells like honey and her hair like wildflowers. It’s almost a shame at how quickly I’ve taken to her. But she makes me forget the world. She interrupts the quickened intervals that Lizzy’s face pops into my mind. That poster of hers is tattooed over my gray matter. That’s how I see her now. A two-dimensional impression. About once a week, I look at pictures of her on my phone. I’m ashamed to say I don’t have many, but the ones I do have help to jog my memory as to what she really looked like. Especially the one where she’s staring me down. At the end of the day, Lizzy could be a handful, thus the quickie divorce—thus just about everything that went wrong in her life. And who the hell knows? It might just be why she’s missing.

The rain starts in, a light peppering at first, then a full-blown assault with knife-like shards, an entire barrage of broken glass spraying down from heaven. Maybe this is how I die, in the wilderness, a thousand paper cuts by way of heavy rains. That’s what I get for having a good time while my sister lingers in some unknowable abyss.

“We’re going to drown!” Charlie screams through laughter, and I laugh right along with her as I pull us under the shelter of an old umbrella-like oak. A river picks up from nowhere, whipping around our ankles at thirty miles an hour, sending rocks and branches hurling against my legs, tearing my skin open as easy as gutting a fish.

Charlie’s legs give out with the current and I give her hand a quick yank, pulling her over to me, looping my arm around her waist. The rush of water swells three feet in a span of two minutes.