Page 23

23

Tallus

D iem snoozed with me encased in his arms. I hardly knew how to process the events of that morning. The shared shower. The sex. Something had changed in Diem. His walls had come down, and his uncertainty had abated.

When he woke, I helped him dress and encouraged him to take more pills. He didn’t ask for whiskey, and I didn’t offer. By eleven, we were out the door, cabbing it to the rental car location where Delaney had set us up with new wheels that turned out to be a newer model four-door Jeep that seemed to tickle Diem’s fancy.

Of course, he insisted on driving despite the stiffness in his shoulder and neck, making it difficult to turn his head. I didn’t argue. We had mutually agreed that visiting Nicholas was top of our agenda since the teens would be in school until later in the afternoon.

As Diem took us toward the kennel, I considered what we knew about the case and every angle of our suspicions. Something niggled at me, but I couldn’t put a finger on it, and no matter how slowly or meticulously I revisited the information we’d discovered, I couldn’t figure out what caused the disquiet.

Driving up the gravel drive, we were met by an eruption of barking from the outdoor pen. The dogs in the yard all gathered by the fence again, curious to see who had come to visit.

The weather was clear that morning. Bright skies and a beaming sun hung above us. If not for the cold, it might have been a beautiful day. The temperature, however, hovered near freezing, and the north wind persisted.

Nicholas emerged from the barn like before, dressed in a heavy canvas coat, tattered jeans, muddy boots, and a black tuque pulled down far enough to cover his ears. He scrutinized the vehicle until Diem got out. Recognition crossed Nicholas’s face.

From within the barn, a dog yipped. A moment later, Echo raced outside and aimed directly for Diem, tail wagging in a frenzy.

The suggestion of a smile crossed Diem’s face as he crouched to be at her level, giving her a generous petting and cooing to her in a voice I didn’t think was possible from my surly boyfriend.

“Yer back,” Nicholas commented, hands perched on his hips as he watched his dog maul Diem. “To what do I owe this… pleasure?”

“We were hoping you would have time to chat,” I said when Diem didn’t register the question.

Nicholas whistled through his teeth. “Enough, Echo. Leave the man alone.”

She didn’t listen and continued to bounce around Diem, sniffing and licking his face. At one point, she stilled and focused on his shoulder. She yipped once and whined.

Diem rose to his feet with a look of pain and rested one hand on the canine’s head. “I’m all right, girl. Just a little bump.”

Bump my ass. Echo knew it too. She leaned her head against Diem’s leg and peered up at him like he was the only person in the universe.

“Christ,” Nicholas said with a laugh. “I’m gonna pack her stuff, and you can take her home. Never seen her like this before.”

I smothered a smile when Diem scowled at the suggestion. “I don’t like dogs.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Is your old man around this morning?” Diem asked instead.

Nicholas’s humor faded. “No. He buggered off around eight. Took Chett to school since he was running behind. Haven’t seen him since. Why?”

Diem straightened, aiming to look intimidating, but when he moved to cross his arms over his chest, he winced, choosing to keep them at his sides instead. “Last time we were here,” he said through gritted teeth, “you sounded upset to learn your brother might have been hanging out in the woods. You warned him to stay out of them. Why is that?”

Nicholas seemed confused and shuffled his feet, glancing between us. “I told you. Teenagers tend to find trouble in those woods.”

“Find trouble how? You mean find themselves pushed over embankments into the river and drown?”

Nicholas worked his jaw but didn’t answer.

“What if I told you your brother has been spending a lot of time at a cabin at the back of Londyn and Loyal Brydges’ property? What if I told you he was involved in a secret club whose goals are to perfect murders to make them look like accidents? And what if I told you someone in that club wrote a story eerily similar to what happened to Weston before the kid ended up in the river?”

I couldn’t read what lived behind Nicholas’s eyes. He guarded whatever it was with tight control, but his fingers flexed and clenched more than once, and his jaw ticked under the strain of gnashed teeth.

“When did your brother form a friendship with Loyal Brydges?” I asked after too much time had passed without him speaking. “They don’t seem the type to be friends.”

Heaving a sigh, Nicholas glanced at the yard, then up the driveway toward the road. “This past summer. The library hired them both to tutor a few elementary school kids in town. Since Covid shut down the world a few years back, a slew of local children haven’t been able to catch up academically.”

Nicholas tore his tuque off and scratched his messy mop of brown hair before replacing it. “Loyal’s a pompous little shit, in my opinion. Never liked him. But he’s smart and popular. I told Chett to be careful, but my brother’s always been a bit of a book nerd in school. Other than Weston, he didn’t have many friends. So when Loyal started asking him to hang out, well…”

Nicholas shrugged as though it was self-explanatory before continuing. “I told him he was being used. I warned him to stay away. Not to trust Loyal.” He glanced in the direction of the woods and river in the distance. “I suspected he was up to no good. Lots of secrets lately. Taking off at all hours. His grades have been slipping, and he’s vague about where he’s going when he leaves the house. I’m not exactly his parent, so tying him down isn’t easy. If the school calls, they never want to deal with me. They’d rather talk to an irresponsible drunk.”

“Does your father share your concerns for your brother?” I asked.

Nicholas huffed and whistled for Echo again, slapping his thigh, but the dog was determined to stay by Diem’s side, especially since my boyfriend wouldn’t stop petting her.

“Not much pings on Dad’s radar anymore. I mentioned my concerns about Chett once, but to be honest, Dad’s not an easy man to talk to. I told you he’s been lost in the bottle since he was fired from his job five years ago. Now he skulks around town, trying to stir shit up with rumors and finger-pointing at neighbors. Don’t know how many times the cops have dragged him home to sober up. He’s lost the respect of everyone. As for Chett and me? We’re the unfortunate offspring of the town drunk. I don’t need their pity.”

“What did your dad do for work?” Diem asked.

“Why? Does it matter?”

“Answer the question.”

Nicholas didn’t quite roll his eyes, but the expression conveyed the same irritation. “He was a commissioning editor at Publishaven in Toronto. Used to commute back and forth to the city until Covid hit. When the world shut down, he was forced to work remotely, but he didn’t do well with that. I don’t know the details, but things got rough between him and his boss. Mom would shout at him constantly. I was finishing high school remotely at the time, so I had my own things to worry about.

“Dad opened the kennel not too long after, from boredom, I think, but his good pal Jim Beam warmed his bed most nights and accompanied him into his home office every morning. He spiraled. Mom got fed up and left with a sidepiece she’d been fucking around with for years. Dad got worse, lost his job, and started dating Jim full-time. I quit school to run what he started.”

Nicholas motioned to the large penned-in yard. “The end. What money he wasn’t forced to pay my mother in alimony, he drank. Now he takes whatever shit jobs he can get, which isn’t much in this small town.”

Publishaven? A commissioning editor?

A group of teens working to perfect their writing in the mystery and thriller genre.

My mind spun. Was it connected? Did the kids have a private tutor in the form of a man who’d once been employed at a publishing house? Jesus.

I absorbed the details as Diem asked, “Does your father have any connection with Hugh Abercrombie at the high school? Has he helped with his English classes or writing clubs? Done any guest-speaking about publishing? Can you think of any reason for him roaming the wooded area of the Abercrombie property?”

A stitch in Nicholas’s brow told me no. “I have no idea. I… Honestly, I’m not sure Dad has it in him to share his literary skills with high school students anymore. My father might have been a smart man at one time, but those days are behind him. Why?”

I glanced at Diem, who stared down at Echo, deep contemplation etched on his face. Since I wasn’t sure what Diem wanted to share with Nicholas, I waited to see what direction he would take, observing rather than interfering.

He asked one more question. “Does your brother aspire to be an author or to follow your dad’s path into publishing?”

Nicholas shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t know. Chett’s sixteen. I’d be happy if he could learn to think for himself for a change and stop hanging with the wrong crowd.”

Diem ended the interview by crouching and saying goodbye to Echo.

The dog sniffed his injured shoulder and whimpered again before licking Diem’s face. Watching the two of them was remarkable. Diem could grump and growl all he wanted, but he didn’t hate dogs.

Nicholas noticed, too, and when Diem got to his feet, he said, “She could use a good home. She’s well-bred and highly trainable.”

Diem ignored the comment and grunted for me to get in the Jeep.

“Do you have a card?” I asked Nicholas.

“Tallus.” The low rumble of Diem’s tone didn’t affect me.

“In case we have more questions, Guns. Relax.” I winked at Nicholas, who must have understood what I wasn’t saying.

Nicholas found a card in his wallet and handed it over with a hint of a smile. I put the card in my pocket for later. “Thanks.”