I wanted to argue that it still could, but it seemed like adding to a conversation going nowhere. “What do you need to know?” I rubbed my forehead to ward off what I was certain would flower into a raging headache.
“Has your grandfather said anything about Roy since you’ve been back?”
The question caught me off guard. “You can’t think he had anything to do with this. My grandfather is many things, but he’s no murderer.”
“I don’t have a choice but to follow the clues.” Hunter was firm. “Your grandfather had a relationship with the victim. Now, granted, Roy had a particular personality. People everywhere hated him because he was a cranky old pervert who said inappropriate things to any female he crossed paths with. I have to start somewhere.”
“I don’t know what his relationship was with my grandfather,” I said. “I wasn’t around for any of that. I’ve been ... busy.”
“You mean you tried to separate yourself from this world,” Hunter countered. “I get it. I understand. You separated yourself from me, so I get it better than most. You were still in touch with your family, though. Did they mention your grandfather arguing with Roy?”
I shook my head, my heart pinging at the naked emotion that briefly took over his features. He shuttered it quickly, which was to be expected, but it wasn’t fast enough that I could stop the guilt from bubbling up and grabbing me by the throat.
“I didn’t want to leave you.” The words were out of my mouth before I thought better of them. “I wanted you to come with me. You wouldn’t.”
“I couldn’t,” he said, looking away from me. “I didn’t have the money to leave.”
“And I couldn’t stay.”
Briefly, his eyes filled with sadness. Then he collected himself. “Try to think if you remember your family telling you any stories about Roy while you were gone. It’s important. Someone obviously cared enough to kill him — and in a hard way.”
“You still haven’t told me how he died.”
“Someone stabbed him at least three times.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know if I remember anything.”
“Thank you.” Hunter pushed himself to a standing position. “I need to talk to the other workers. We’re done here.”
And just like that, I’d been dismissed. If I was hoping things between us would thaw, at least be friendly, our brief interaction was enough to dissuade me of that notion. We weren’t going to be friends, or even friendly. Whatever we had years ago was long gone, and it was time to accept that.
MY FAMILY IS BIG BUT CLOSE. I was an only child, but I had a bevy of cousins, all of whom might as well have been siblings given the way we were raised. My Aunt Lottie always joked that it didn’t matter which kids you took with you after a family event, you simply had to leave with the same number. Most of the adults in the family took that to heart. Of all my cousins, I was closest with Alice. In addition to being David’s sister, she was close to me in age. We spent a lot of time hanging out while growing up. It didn’t surprise me that she was the first to darken my doorstep once the restaurant had closed for the night.
“I brought whiskey,” she announced, brandishing a bottle as I opened the door.
She was small, not even five feet, and had one of those ski-slope noses that made her face look young and pixie-ish.
“Whiskey, huh?” I took the bottle and studied the label as she pushed inside the apartment. “I could use a shot — or three.”
“I figured you could.” Alice was all smiles as she glanced around. “Where’s all your stuff?”
I followed her gaze, frowning at the three boxes in the corner. “That’s all the stuff I have.”
“But ... that’s nothing.”
“Yeah, well, I spent years moving around,” I reminded her. “It’s better to pack light when you’re doing all that moving. Over the years, I learned that things were a bad idea.”
“I love things.” Alice threw herself on the couch, a throwback from my grandparents’ house. Years ago, they’d bought new furniture and the old stuff had migrated to the apartment. It was orange velour — and ugly. Luckily it was also comfortable. “I can’t get enough of things.”
“I never would’ve guessed that about you,” I teased, moving into the kitchen. The floor plan of the apartment was simple. The living room was long and rectangular, opening into the kitchen, which was one step up. On the far side of the kitchen was a small balcony that led down to the alley and back of the restaurant, to exactly where I’d found Roy’s body. In winter, the steps were too treacherous to even consider. Bedrooms were on either end of the apartment, one with an attached bathroom. It was pretty basic, but I was grateful to have a roof over my head at all.
“How long do you plan on staying?” Alice asked, moving to the sliding glass door to monitor the activity in the alley.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to try writing again?”
“I never stopped trying to write. I just ... couldn’t make it work.” I struggled to keep the bite from my voice but wasn’t entirely successful. “I don’t really want to talk about the writing.”
“Fair enough.” Alice had one of those faces that reflected mayhem whether she was thinking evil thoughts or not. To an outside observer, she looked innocent and chaste. I’d known her most of my life, however. I knew better. “You do know that Hunter is down there?”
The question made me scowl, so I buried my head in the freezer searching for ice cubes to hide my reaction. “I’m well aware. He interviewed me. I found the body.”
“I heard.” I turned back with two glasses. Alice pursed her lips and regarded me with wide eyes. “I used to have a huge crush on Hunter when we were kids.”
“How could I have missed it? You swore you were going to curse me when I started dating him.”
“That’s because I loved him and thought you stole him from me.”
“You were twelve.”
“Yes, but an old twelve.”
“He was sixteen,” I pointed out. “No matter how much you loved him, he was never going to love you back without going to jail.”
“Yes, but you’re being rational.” Alice accepted her glass and twisted the cap from the bottle. “Do you have something to mix with this?”
“Diet Coke.”
She made a face. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Or you could go downstairs and use the pop machine in the kitchen,” I reminded her.
She brightened considerably. “That’s a great idea.”
I was relieved for the few minutes she was gone, which gave me a chance to collect myself. I knew coming home would be difficult. I left on a cloud, thinking I’d succeeded where so many others had failed. All anyone who grew up in Shadow Hills wanted was to get away from the town. I thought I had, and yet I hadn’t been happy.
I traveled. I enjoyed it. I always thought about home, though. I always wondered what might have been if I’d opted not to cut ties with my past.
And, yes, I thought about Hunter. When we’d separated after graduation it was with the intention that we would somehow make things work, even if it was over a distance. That’s probably the goal of every high school romance, though. You fall so fast and so hard, and losing the other person you’ve made the center of your world seems unthinkable — until it happens.
It didn’t happen all at once for Hunter and me. I didn’t get an epiphany one day and say, “I need to break up with him.” It was little things over the course of my first year of college. By the end, when we reunited in the summer, I realized we no longer had anything in common. That didn’t mean the love was gone. It was there, and we tried to recapture the magic, but we broke up before sophomore year. It gutted us both. I made one last-ditch effort at the time. I wanted him to accompany me back to college. I didn’t know how I was going to find a place for us to be together. I simply knew I didn’t want to let him go.
He was a realist even then, tearful when he explained why
it wouldn’t work. To me, he wasn’t trying. I was bitter ... and angry ... and that was my last summer in Shadow Hills. I refused to return because I didn’t want to accidentally run into him.
Over the years, I realized he was right. We were far too young to make the necessary effort. Both of us were emotionally disabled, but in different ways. I was from a codependent family and, while self-sufficient, I’d never really been on my own. He lived with an alcoholic father and a fearful mother who never once stepped in to protect him. We were doomed from the start. Yet I often thought of him. Perhaps it was because none of the men I dated during my travels ever piqued my interest for the long haul. Ultimately it didn’t matter. All I knew now was that it hurt to look at him.
“So, what’s the plan?” Alice asked when she returned with her soda. “Are you just hanging out here until you write another book that sells?”
She assumed I could write another book that would sell. I wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know if I have a plan. Right now, I need to survive.” I sank onto the couch and sipped my whiskey and Diet Coke. It wasn’t exactly the drink of champions, but it would do in a pinch. “As for Hunter, well, I’ll never be sorry we dated.”
“But it’s over, right?”
I was instantly suspicious. “Why do you care?”
She shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Maybe I want to ask him out. I’m an adult. The age difference isn’t a big thing. He might be interested.”
The notion made my stomach churn. “I’d rather you didn’t. Can’t you find someone else to date?”
“Do you still have feelings for him?” She looked smug enough that I couldn’t maintain eye contact.
“Of course not. We were in high school.”
“That doesn’t mean the feelings you shared weren’t real.”
Part of me wanted to believe that. The other part knew it was best to let it go. “So ... what do you want to do?” Changing the subject felt like the best option. “I don’t have the cable hooked up yet. There are some old board games in the closet.”
“Games?” Alice furrowed her brow. “What games?”
“There’s that old Ouija board we used to play with as kids, the one our mothers kept catching us with and insisting was too dangerous for us to use.”
Alice’s expression brightened. “I forgot all about that stupid board. Where did it even come from?”
“I don’t know. Let me get it.” I left her in the living room and rummaged through the hallway closet until I came up with the board and planchette. When I returned to the table, Alice’s eyes were keen as she blew away a layer of dust from the board.
“Man, this thing must’ve been locked in there for years.” She ran her fingertips over the board. “This doesn’t look like the one they sell in stores.”
“It doesn’t,” I agreed, plopping the planchette in the middle of the letters. “I think it’s homemade.”
“I wonder who made it.” Alice leaned closer and studied the letters. “Hey, this thing is carved out of actual wood.”
“I know. It’s good work. I bet it’s worth money if we found the right collector.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to sell it?”
“It’s not mine to sell.”
“I bet no one even knows it’s up here,” Alice said. “If you need money ... .”
I shook my head. “I’m not completely destitute.” Close, but I could still feed myself — as long as I had access to the restaurant. I had no intention of selling family belongings until I hadn’t eaten for at least a week. “Let’s ask it a few questions.”
“Okay.” Alice was agreeable as she sipped her drink before moving her fingers to the planchette. “What should we ask it?”
I shrugged.
“Maybe we should ask if you’re ever going to write another book that sells.”
I glared at her. “Or maybe we should ask if you’ll ever stop going after the men I’ve dated.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I know. Let’s ask if you and Hunter will get back together.”
I moved to withdraw my fingers from the planchette but she anticipated the move and grabbed my hand.
“You can’t pull away now,” she argued. “We just started. You can ask it an embarrassing question about me next.”
“Why do you get to start?” I was reticent as I rested my fingers next to hers. I didn’t want to ask the board about Hunter. I feared my subconscious would somehow force me to move the planchette and answer in a way that would embarrass me.
“Because I said so.” Alice sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. “Okay, here we go. Spirits of the other world, we beseech you,” she started in dramatic fashion.
“Spirits of the other world?” That sounded ridiculous.
She ignored me. “We call upon the higher power,” she offered. “We call to the four corners of magic. We call upon the Goddess.”
I was confused. “How do you know there are four corners of magic?”
“I saw it on television.”
Oh, well, that explained it.
“Close your eyes,” she ordered in her most authoritative voice. “I’m serious. I want to know what’s going to happen with you and Hunter.”
“Nothing is going to happen.”
“I don’t believe that.” She was insistent. “Will Hunter and Stormy make it two weeks before they tear each other’s clothes off, or will it be longer?”
My eyes snapped open. “I can’t believe you asked that.” I jerked my fingers from the planchette. “You’re not playing right. I don’t want to ask that question.”
“You’re just afraid of the answer,” Alice countered, keeping her hands on the planchette. “In fact ... .” She trailed off, her eyes moving back to the board. Her expression changed such that I couldn’t force myself to look away.
The planchette was zipping across the board at a fantastic rate. I wished I’d found the strength to keep my eyes focused somewhere else. Heck, anywhere else would do.
“What’s happening?” I asked, my mouth going dry.
“I don’t know.” Alice looked around, bewildered. “Are you doing that?”
The look I shot her was withering. “Um ... obviously not.” I wiggled my fingers for emphasis. “I’m not touching it.”
“Someone has to be doing it.” Alice was firm. “That’s not normal.”
“Oh, you think?” My heart rate ratcheted up a notch when the planchette increased its speed. “What is it doing?”
“I don’t know. I ... .” Alice didn’t finish as the planchette flew off the board and smacked into the wall, a small puff of light emanating from the contact point. It almost looked like purple sparkles, gone as soon as it appeared.
“What just happened?” Alice’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I have no idea. I don’t know what that was.”
“Should we try again?”
“Are you crazy?” I almost screeched. “We have to get rid of the demon board and never play with it again. You don’t keep messing around with something that moves on its own.”
“Hunter moves on his own and you want to mess with him.”
I extended a warning finger. “I will kill you if you don’t stop saying stuff like that.”
“I think the board might kill me first,” Alice argued. “What should we do with it? You won’t be able to sleep if it’s in the apartment after what it just did.”
She had a point. “We could hide it in the storage shed once Hunter leaves,” I said.
“That’s a good idea. What do we do until then?”
I inclined my head toward the whiskey bottle. “One guess.”
She exhaled heavily and then nodded. “I guess I’ve had worse offers. Drinking it is ... just as soon as we lock this board under a blanket so the spirits can’t crawl through and get to us.”
I’d never heard anything more ludicrous. “Good idea.”
4
Four
I woke with a raging hangover, wanting nothi
ng more than to roll over, bury my head under the covers, and spend the entire day wallowing in misery. That wasn’t an option, though. I had the breakfast shift with Grandpa, which meant I had to get up and, more importantly, get moving. Reporting late wasn’t an option. There was no excuse he would buy.
Scenes from the previous evening flitted through my head as I showered. I remembered sneaking down to the storage building with Alice once we were certain Hunter had left. When we realized the shed was locked, we had to go back inside to find the keys. Neither of us wanted to be left alone with the Ouija board, so we did everything together. It took us almost a full hour to stash the board. I couldn’t even remember what hiding spot we’d finally selected.
I applied only minimal makeup before throwing my blond hair back in a bun and heading downstairs. Grandpa had already done the majority of the prep work. The look he shot me as I headed for the coffee pot wasn’t difficult to interpret.
“Late night?”
I nodded, almost groaning in delight at the scent of fresh coffee. “Later than I planned.”
“Hunter?”
I almost coughed the coffee through my nose in surprise. “No. Why would you think that?”
He shrugged, amusement lighting his dark eyes. “Just wondered. You two were attached at the hip for a time.”
“Something I believe you hated.”
“I didn’t hate it. I just thought you were young to be so attached to one boy. You had dreams that were always going to take you out of Shadow Hills.”
I regarded him for a long moment, unsure if my head was in the right place to get into a heavy discussion. “He said something similar yesterday.”
“He always was a pragmatic kid. I guess he would have to be, growing up the way he did.”
He’d opened the door, and I had a few questions that needed answering. “What happened to his father?”
“He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Sinfully Delicious Page 4
