Page 4 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“I invited Harrison out to dinner because I”—my voice cracks and settles into barely a whisper, but I continue despite the discomfort—“I wanted to say thank you for his help and to get to know him, but it turns out Danny had also invited his friend Sam.”

“Oooh, McHottie Sam Stone, PI,” Dusty says dreamily. “He should totally have his own TV show.”

“Right?” I huff. “So we ended up on an unintentional double date.”

“How did Prickles handle that?” Dusty snorts in amusement.

“I don’t think Harrison knew what to do with Sam, he was…” I trail off, thinking back to that night. “Something was going on with Harrison last night. He was flustered and not his usual cool, collected self.”

“Are you sure that didn’t have something to do with PI McHottie? He’s enough to make all the boys weak in the knees.”

“No that wasn’t it.” I frown. “I think it had something to do with this weird storm.”

“How so?”

“When we were in the restaurant, the atmosphere felt off. Heavy, like the air weighed too much. It made my skin prickle and my ears buzz. Sam seemed to notice it too, but Harrison seemed to be really affected by it. He was pale and shaky, and his hands… you know how he did the electricity thing with his hands last week when he shocked us in order to separate us?”

Dusty huffs. “Bit hard to forget. My hair was still smoking an hour later.”

“Well, it was a bit like that. His hands were sparking, but he didn’t seem to have control over it. I doubt he’d have ever exposed himself like that in a public place on purpose. Then the power cut out and the restaurant went dark”–I pause as my throat throbs painfully and take a sip of my luke warm tea but it doesn’t help much–“and next thing I know, Harrison runs outside into the pouring rain and stops dead in the middle of the street, frozen. He’d have been hit by a car if Sam hadn’t pulled him out of the way.”

Dusty frowns and turns her head to stare at the rain pelting against the window. “Hmm, maybe he was affected by the storm.”

“What do you mean?”

“This storm isn’t natural.” Dusty looks back at me, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “I heard the grown-ups talking about it upstairs. They don’t know what’s causing it either.”

“That’s… worrying.”

Dusty shakes her head. “I don’t know, it’s feels like…”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re waiting, like something big’s coming.” Her eyes go distant for a moment, and it’s unusual to see her so pensive. Suddenly, she shakes her head and blows out a breath. “Ignore me. You know dramatic is my middle name. I’m sure it’s just some freak of nature. It’ll all blow over soon and everything will go back to normal.”

I continue to stare at her as her words sink in and leave the barest hint of dread sitting in my belly.

“What?” Her eyes narrow at my expression.

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Tris, when has it ever been nothing?”

I release a slow breath. “It’s just I had this strange dream last week. It was just after Mrs Abernathy found Beau and they’d gone into the light.”

“What was the dream?”

“I was at White’s in Mayfair.”

“White’s?” She scoffs. “They’re so stuck up their own pompous arses they’d never let riffraff like us through the door.”

“I know. I’ve never even had an inclination towards going somewhere so snooty, but there I was, sitting at a fancy table in my pjs and bare feet, and there was this guy.” Dusty’s brows rise slowly, and she smirks. “Shut up, it wasn’t like that.” I start coughing again.

“Sorry, honey, are you alright?” Her brow creases in concern.

“I’m okay.” I wave her off while the coughing fit subsides. When I can at last draw in a breath, I try to swallow past the razor blades in my throat.

“Tell me about this guy in your dream.”