Page 10

10

Diem

I lay awake for hours that night, studiously aware of every inch of the king-size bed both occupied and not occupied by our bodies. My power-bottom boyfriend had ridden me until I’d lost my fucking mind. Any remaining brain cells capable of arguing about our sleeping arrangements had been fried, so somehow, I’d wound up sharing a bed with Tallus. Rather, I’d wound up occupying the same space on the bed with Tallus while the rest of it remained unused.

I replayed the bath and orgasm to avoid focusing on the proximity of Tallus’s slumbering body—flat up against me for anyone curious as to why I was wide-eyed and practicing breathing exercises.

When the fun ended, before my heart rate returned to normal, Tallus had rested his head on my shoulder, hooked his leg with mine, and draped an arm across my chest. Then, he’d fallen asleep.

I was stuck. Not that I couldn’t physically move him aside. I could, but it wasn’t the answer. More importantly, I didn’t want to. I liked him there. His heat. His scent. His presence.

So I counted to ten, breathing in and out, taking stock of the shapes in the darkened room and trying to identify them, listening to the ice storm rattling the windowpanes, and adjusting to the weight and permanence of Tallus in my life.

I needed to make this connection okay and find comfort in it. But the more I thought, the more I wanted to squirm away.

Sleep evaded me. Every now and then, I drifted, but fear of dreams returning jerked me back to consciousness more than once. I didn’t know what would happen if I woke suddenly from nightmares with Tallus in my arms. Would I recognize him? Would I register the body beside me as a threat?

What if I hurt him unintentionally?

I’d rather die.

So I fought the pull of sleep and spent half the night giving myself pep talks, reminding myself I was okay. This was normal. Every hour that passed was one more to be proud of. I was doing it. Sort of. We were side by side in a bed. Snuggling, in essence. I wasn’t sleeping, but it was something.

If I could stave off the anxiety attack until the sun came up, I would have won the battle.

At close to dawn, exhaustion swung a knockout punch and took me out. I couldn’t have been asleep twenty minutes when the entire fucking house started chiming like it was the goddamn ringing of the apocalypse. I wasn’t the only one blasted from unconsciousness. Tallus and I both flew off the bed in a state of fight or flight. Him scrambling frantically to hide from the threat while I dropped into a fighting stance, fists raised.

Only as the remains of sleep dissipated did I realize what was happening.

The grandfather clock cuckooed, a tiny yellow bird popping in and out of its roost. The mountain of blankets in the corner binged and bonged with such clamor it physically moved. From the rest of the house, other out-of-sync clocks dinged and donged and chirped and screamed the hour. The cacophony was a deafening assault on the senses.

Tallus covered his ears and shouted, “Whelp, good morning, sunshine. Hope you didn’t want to sleep in.”

It was the second morning in a row we’d experienced Ivory Lace’s wake-up call. Getting torn from sleep to the racket was enough to make the most docile of nuns go on a murdering rampage, and I was not the most docile of nuns.

As suddenly as the noise started, it ended. In the immediate silence, my ears rang, and I needed another minute for my heart to stop racing and my muscles to uncoil. I landed on my ass in relief, naked as the day I was born. The wooden candlestick clutched in my fist was a mystery. I didn’t remember grabbing it, but it proved I was a fighter, not a flighter.

When I could think straight, I threw the candlestick aside and fumbled to my feet, snagging discarded jeans off the floor and putting them on. My jerky movements telegraphed my anger. My insides vibrated, and little old Ivory Lace herself was going to die. I was going to kill her. A hundred scenarios played in my mind of how I might make it happen.

“That’s it. I’m fucking done with this place. Get dressed. We’re checking out right fucking now.”

“But… why?” Tallus blinked with innocent perplexity.

“Why? Why? Because if I don’t get away from the dead flower scent, the pink ruffles and frills, and the mind-grating clocks that all rang simultaneously at seven in the fucking morning, you’ll either need to check me into a mental institution, or we’ll be having conjugal visits in a concrete room while being watched over by a pervert guard named Lenny because I’ll be in prison for the rest of my fucking life, and god help me Tallus, if I’m going to prison for murder, I really thought it would be for killing my father, not a geriatric named fucking Ivory.”

“Guns, sweetie, you seem testy this morning.”

“Testy? Testy? I seem testy? I’m not testy. I’m about to go atomic is what I am.”

“Whoa.” Tallus approached, hands displayed long before he entered my bubble. “Okay. I hear you. At ease, soldier. Touch incoming. Prepare thyself.”

“Tallus. I can’t—”

“You can.” He cupped my face and drew me down for a soft kiss. Immediately, the tension in my shoulders released, and I closed my eyes. If I whimpered, no one had to know, and I was certain Tallus would respect my manliness and deny it ever happened.

Breaking free too soon, Tallus ran the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“You slept beside me all night. Do you realize that?”

My cheeks burned. “I… I did.”

“Did you actually sleep?”

“No… A little… Not well.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you probably don’t want to partake in Ivory’s family-style breakfast gathering with the rest of the guests this morning.”

I growled, nostrils flaring, and Tallus chuckled. “Didn’t think so. Come on. Get dressed. Since Delaney is footing the bill, you can take me out for eggs and toast.”

Tallus talked me out of packing my bag and signing out, claiming we might need to stay in town longer. I objected, stating it would be a cold day in hell before I stayed another night at the house of horrors, but Tallus promised to chat with Ivory and fix the clock issue.

The winter storm from the previous night had left the town coated in a layer of thick ice. Bare tree branches and electrical wires running from pole to pole glistened in the sunlight, crystalized in the frozen landscape. Traffic was thin, tires crunching as vehicles slowly moved along the roads. The radio announced a long list of closures, including schools. Slick lanes and sidewalks made me thankful for the Jeep’s four-wheel drive.

We found a cheap local diner, open despite the weather. A few towns people had gathered for food and gossip. Every conversation revolved around the winter storm.

“Heard it’s supposed to melt by this afternoon. Gonna be a high of eight today.”

“I heard it was gonna snow more. We ain’t gonna see a thaw until spring.”

“The Farmers’ Almanac predicted this.”

“Worst winter since the 1970s.”

We chose a quiet booth and ordered. Tallus monopolized the conversation since I was still processing us having shared a bed and the aftereffects of our impertinent wake-up call at seven a.m. My system was rattled, and my head pounded from lack of sleep. The diner’s strong coffee wasn’t hitting the mark. I preferred getting caffeine from soft drinks, specifically Dr Pepper, but it wasn’t on the menu, so I suffered.

“Where do you think bored high school students with a snow day hang out in this town?” Tallus smeared jelly on a wedge of toast. “I mean, there’s only one high school, so chances are, if we can chase down a few teenagers, we can still get some answers, right?”

The school closure put a damper on our plans, but Tallus was determined to make the best of our time.

“Library, maybe?” I mumbled.

“Ah, Guns, you’re cute. I know Weston told his mother he was going to hang out at the library, but you know that was a lie, right? The library is akin to school, and I can tell you right now, no kid with a spontaneous day off is thinking, you know what I’d like to do today? Extra schoolwork. Off to the library I go.”

Gnawing the crusty end of his toast, Tallus pulled up Google Maps on his phone, studying the overlay of the town and all the potential hot spots.

I had half a mind to tell Delaney her theory was wrong. If I didn’t loathe the police with every fiber of my being, I might have suggested popping into the local station and chatting with whoever had looked into the mother’s suspicions. But that wasn’t happening. At least, not yet.

“Oh my god.” Tallus dropped his phone face down on the table. “It must suck to be a teenager in this town. There is literally nowhere to hang out.”

I grunted as he stole a piece of bacon off my plate. His food was gone. The man was a Hoover vacuum when it came to meals, not something people suspected of a man his size. Tallus could eat me under the table, and if I didn’t keep up with his pace, he tended to help me finish my food without asking.

“I don’t know what to suggest,” he said, finishing the last mouthful of coffee and moving in to steal another slice of bacon. I feigned stabbing his hand with a fork, and he chuckled, retracting the limb instead.

Before I could broach the subject of heading home when the roads were salted, a group of six teens tumbled noisily through the doors. Each member of the group carried a useless backpack.

They gathered at a far booth, squishing three to a side on bench seating meant for two. Their boisterous entry turned heads.

I narrowed my eyes, taking them in as Tallus nudged my foot under the table. “Well, what do you know? Our problem solved itself. Isn’t that the guy who was in the cafeteria last night?”

“Yes.” His pale blond hair and chiseled features were a dead giveaway. “And I think that’s the girl. The one sitting with her back to us, wearing a knitted hat.”

Tallus studied her for a moment but only agreed when she spun to glance around the diner in search of the waitstaff.

“You’re right. How do you want to handle this?” he asked.

I was about to suggest another round of coffee so we could listen in on their conversation and devise a plan, but the familiar boy noticed us. At first, he blanched, seeming confused as though struggling to make the connection. Then, his face broke into what I liked to call a politician’s smile, and he waved, causing a few other teens from the table to glance in our direction.

There would be no spying on the menu today.

Still waiting for direction, Tallus said, “D? Should we talk to them?”

“Hang on.” I moved to stand, and Tallus touched my hand.

“You should let me take this. I’m more their age.”

“At some point, you’ll need to accept that you left your teens behind almost a decade ago and that thirty is around the corner.”

“Ouch. Rude. I’m a young twenty-seven. I still have several long years before the dreaded thirties.”

The waitress approached the teens with a pad of paper and pencil, ready to take orders. I jumped to my feet and rapped the table. “Come on. I have an idea.”

The group was in the midst of reeling off their drink requests when I moved in behind the scrawny middle-aged woman serving them. I towered above her, and the teens’ attention shifted to me.

The waitress turned and craned her neck to meet my eyes, clearly unsure why I was intruding on her job.

Ignoring her, I spoke to the teens. “I need information. If you agree to chat with me, I’ll buy your drinks. If you give me something useful, I’ll pay for your meals too. We got a deal?”

Blinking, wide eyes peered up from youthful pimply faces.

“You know what I love about you, D?” Tallus said from behind me. “You don’t bullshit people. Threats and bribes. Plain and simple.”

I looked among the upturned faces for some sign of intelligence. Fucking teenagers were the bane of my existence. “Are y’all deaf?”

Tallus cleared his throat. “Patience, oh great one. Don’t scare them, or we get nowhere.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

The waitress, clearly unsure where to put herself, shifted her attention from me to the group. “I can come back.”

“Stay.” I barked.

She didn’t move.

“Well? Do we have a deal?”

It was the blond politician-smiling boy who answered, speaking to his friends. “These guys are investigators. Londyn and I met them yesterday after school.”

Tallus shoved in front of me. “Whoa. Did you say Londyn?”

“Yeah.” He nodded to the blonde-haired girl across the table from him. “My sister.”

Tallus whipped around to face her. “We’ve heard about you. I mean, it has to be you. There can’t possibly be two Londyn’s in this small town. You were dating Weston Mandel, right?”

“I…” Londyn glanced at her brother. The girl was as doe-eyed and blank-faced as she’d been the previous day. Delaney’s assessment was spot on. Not much happening between the ears for Londyn Brydges.

“Do we have a deal?” I interjected before Tallus rolled out of control.

“By all means, gentlemen. We have nowhere to be, and I’m not one to turn down free food and drinks. What do you guys think?” the brother asked his friends. “Mind chatting with these fine folks?”

They all agreed, and once their orders were placed, the waitress scurried off like she couldn’t wait to be somewhere else.

“Pull up a chair,” Guy Smiley said, motioning to available seats at an empty table. “How can we help you on this fine snow day.”

Tallus grabbed a chair and put himself at their level—the buddy, the pal, the I’m-your-friend. I chose to stand, figuring a looming presence might encourage less bullshit and more cooperation. Our tactics conflicted, and it was immediately clear that Tallus’s nonthreatening approach was better.

He introduced himself and offered to shake their hands. Guy Smiley’s name was Loyal. Fucking Loyal. If he didn’t grow up to be a real politician one day, it would be a missed opportunity.

“I should have guessed you were siblings when we met yesterday,” Tallus said. “You look alike.”

“They’re twins,” a boxy kid next to Londyn said. He had a short stature and the body of an athlete. I would bet money he played on the high school football team. His leather jacket sported an emblem of a dog gnawing what looked like a chunk of wood, the words Bark Boss embroidered under it. It didn’t sound like a team name, but what did I know.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Duke Wilson. How about you, big guy? You know, since we’re sharing.”

“Diem.”

The only other girl at the table smirked. “Like, Carpe Diem? O.M.G, did you guys ever see that movie with those boarding school kids? My dad was watching it the other day. It’s, like, really old, but there’s this teacher who—”

“Oh, Captain, my captain,” Loyal said, interrupting and saluting me with a wink like it was a joke we were both in on.

“Yes!” The girl squealed at an inhuman decibel. “That’s the one.”

“I saw that,” said the boy on her other side as he doodled on a napkin. “It’s a Robin Williams flick. It was okay. Dated.”

Likely sensing my fraying control, Tallus spoke. “Hang on. Let me get names straight.” He pointed at the twins. “Londyn and Loyal.” He motioned to the guy next to Londyn. “Duke.” He pointed to the squealy girl beside Loyal.

“Noel,” she said. Noel’s mahogany hair had been ironed flat. Her long bangs partly blocked her left eye. She wore unnecessary makeup and thick lip gloss that shimmered like the ice outside. The way she cozied close to Loyal, I guessed they might be an item.

The boy on her other side, who was busy sketching anime figures onto a napkin, called himself Chett. Chett wore a forehead full of pimples and wireframed glasses that kept slipping down his nose while he worked, forcing him to nudge them back in place every few minutes. He had poured a small mound of sugar from the dispenser onto the table beside his art and continuously licked the tip of his baby finger and dunked it into the grains before licking it off.

The last of the group, and the only one who had yet to speak, called himself Atlas. Atlas had the watchful eyes of a hawk but the shaggy presence of a Highland cow. When he shared his name, the deep, resonant tone of his voice caught me off guard. Unlike the other three teen boys, Atlas’s voice had undergone the full change of adulthood. He sounded much older than he appeared.

The waitress delivered drinks—an array of pop, coffee, and orange juice. When she left again, Noel asked, “So what’s this about?”

Tallus checked in to see how I wanted to handle the situation. Knowing he would likely make better progress with the teens, I nodded for him to proceed, but Loyal spoke before Tallus got a chance.

“The captain and our friend Tallus here have been hired by West’s mom to investigate his accident. I’m guessing she didn’t like what the police had to say, am I right?”

I glared at the kid for the uncalled-for nickname, but his remark showed intuition, so I bit back a comment.

“Yes,” Tallus confirmed. “She asked us to look into some things.” To Londyn, he said, “And you two were dating, isn’t that right?”

Londyn nodded, all doe-eyed and pouty again as though she had momentarily forgotten her boyfriend was in the hospital on life support, waiting for his mother to pull the plug.

“And why the fuck didn’t you mention that yesterday?” I blurted.

Tallus elbowed me in the thigh when Londyn shriveled. “Ignore him. He has a clock spring up his ass, and it cuckoos without warning.”

I choked back a noise that was dangerously close to a laugh, earning a wicked grin from my boyfriend. “I’ve got your number, Guns. Now control the bear and let me do the talking.”

I shut up because I knew what was good for me.

To Londyn, Tallus said, “I know this is a difficult conversation, but do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Don’t go upsetting her.” Duke glared down the table at Tallus. “She’s had a tough go, man. She doesn’t need you making it worse.”

Loyal held up a calming hand to Duke. “She’s fine. We’re all hurting, and this guy knows that. Right?”

Tallus confirmed.

Loyal nodded to his sister, and I couldn’t tell if he was reassuring her or giving her permission to talk.

“I’m okay. You can ask questions.”

Tallus rephrased the question I’d already asked, turning it into a statement. “You didn’t tell us Weston was your boyfriend when we ran into you last night.”

Londyn cast her attention to her brother and back to Tallus. “No.”

“To be fair.” Loyal held up a finger. “You didn’t ask.”

“We asked if you knew Weston,” I said.

“And we confirmed that everyone knows Weston. That’s the god-honest truth. He’s head of the newspaper. He’s a familiar face.”

“Well, Mr. Smarty Pants, you could have—” Another elbow, precariously close to the goods, made me curse. “Christ. You’ve got bony fucking elbows. Would you quit.”

“You’ve got a big flappy mouth. Stick a sock in the yapper, or I’ll miss your thigh next time.” To Londyn, Tallus said, “According to Weston’s mother, you were with him the Sunday afternoon of his accident.”

“Before. I was with him before. We were hanging out.” Londyn’s meek voice was barely audible. She clutched her hands together, pale cheeks flush.

“Where were you hanging out?”

Chett’s attention shifted from his drawing to Londyn. Duke watched her brother as though waiting for Loyal to step in. Noel observed the conversation as she quietly sipped her juice.

Atlas stared at me from under an unkempt fringe.

I stared right back because it would be a cold day in hell when a cocky teenager thought they could intimidate me.

“We were at the library,” Londyn said, answering Tallus’s question. “We parted ways at two thirty so he could get to the school for his meeting with the newspaper. He’s the assistant editor and helps run it, so he likes to get there early.”

“You didn’t go with him?”

“I don’t write for the newspaper. I’m… not a great writer.”

“Don’t talk down about yourself,” Loyal said. “What have I told you?”

Londyn gnawed her lip and stared at the table, her cheeks bearing hot pink circles. Loyal reached out and playfully tugged one of her braids. “Smile.”

Londyn smiled bashfully and swatted his hand away. She met Duke’s gaze, who also offered her a warm smile.

I couldn’t read the nonverbal teenage nonsense and hoped Tallus was making sense of it.

“Are you all friends with Weston?” I asked, glaring again at Atlas, whose blasé attitude was starting to grate on my nerves.

Duke raised a hand like he was in school. “I, for one, was not Weston’s friend.”

“Duke,” Londyn admonished with a whine. “Don’t be mean.”

“I wasn’t. I knew him. We hung out sometimes when in groups, but we weren’t friends.” Duke shrugged. “It’s not a crime. I didn’t say we were enemies.”

Chett huffed and resumed drawing, singing a version of a Rick Springfield song but changing the name. “’Cause she was Weston’s girl…”

“Shut up, asshole.” Duke smacked Chett’s hand, sending the pencil skittering across the table and tearing the napkin he was drawing on.

“You fucking jerk.”

“Stop it,” I snarled. “What about you, Picasso? Are you friends with Weston?”

Chett shoved his glasses up his nose, two hot points of red surfacing on his cheeks as he glared daggers at Duke.

Noel answered for him. “Chett and Weston have been best friends since Weston moved here. Attached at the hip. I only met Weston this year when he joined the club.”

“Club?” Tallus asked. “Would this be the writing club? What was it called again?”

I was about to answer when a chorus of voices chimed in simultaneously. Five of the six teens said, “The Whodunnits?”

The last voice, a meek and mild Londyn, said, “The Murder Club.”