by Raven Snow
After putting my purchase in the car, I took Hope to a local coffee shop, ordering a hot chocolate for her and a tea for me. The waitress was dressed in a witch hat with striped stockings. She wished us a "spooky day." My lips quirked, and I returned the greeting.
"My mom says you're a witch," Hope said. She seemed to want me to tell her that was silly, that her mom was a liar.
"Guilty as charged." I took a sip, watching her reaction.
She made a face. "I don't believe you."
"I don't blame you."
We sat in silence for a moment, and I ordered a couple of scones to go with the drinks. After all, bacon is hardly a well-rounded breakfast. Growing girls need carbs and fruit. I also figured the sweet might make Hope a little bit more agreeable.
If only it was legal to get her drunk. That's what I did whenever her mother was being difficult.
She stared at her mug, stirring intently. "My dad doesn't call anymore. He used to call all the time." Her eyes narrowed, glancing up at me. "It's that guy's fault. He moved in, and my dad stopped calling."
I became very interested with my tea. There wasn't a diplomatic way to tell a ten-year-old that her father had stopped calling because he was an ass, and not because her mom got a new boyfriend. But I didn't say any of that. It would've been too harsh.
"Maybe that's true, Hope. I wouldn't know."
Her eyes were like daggers. "He left Mom, but he still loves me."
I inclined my head. "Just like your mom loves Peter, right?"
It was truly strange to call him Peter, like he was a person instead of a demon sent from hell to torment me. But I was a good actor, and I was almost positive Hope didn't see the distaste on my face.
"You don't like him, either."
Maybe I wasn't that good of an actor.
"Not particularly, no. But he makes your mom very happy."
Hope snorted and started studying her hot chocolate again. I was a little torn what to do, and with a sigh, I realized I'd have to open up if I wanted her to.
"I grew up in Miami with your mom, did you know that?" She nodded. "Well, my life was a little bit different from hers. My mom was an addict."
Hope blinked, and I could tell I had her attention. Talking about this was like picking at an old scar that wanted to be left alone, so I made it brief and to the point.
"I like to think she did the best she could, but her best wasn't always good enough. For a long time, I didn't know where she was most of the time. I went hungry some, but, luckily my mom managed to keep a roof over my head. A lot of kids in my neighborhood weren't that fortunate."
"Did you hate her?"
There wasn't an easy answer to that, so I just put it aside.
"She died when I was about sixteen, and I never got the chance to tell her how much she hurt me over the years." I took a deep breath. "But now I think that's a good thing."
"Why?" Hope's lower lip trembled.
I looked at her for a moment. "Part of being an adult is putting the needs of others before your own. And I'm glad my last words to her weren't something angry or hateful, all over stuff you just can't change."
Ruffling Hope's hair the way I did to Cooper, I continued, "Your mom loves you very much, and she'd put your happiness before hers in a heartbeat. But maybe she doesn't have to this time, yeah?"
Hope didn't say much about it, but after we were done with our scones and hot drinks, she told me to take her back to Vic's. Redirecting our course, I didn't say anything, though as soon as she was out of sight I knew I'd do a little victory dance.
I'd done parenting like a boss this morning.
Nancy was waiting for me when I got back to the house, tapping her foot impatiently on the front porch. The look she shot me should have knocked me over dead.
"Did you forget about your hair appointment?"
"Hair appointment?"
"We need to figure out what kind of hair style we're doing for the wedding. Makeup too," she said, exasperated.
I kept my dark hair in a pixie cut. What kind of style could they do with that? But Nancy looked fit to be tied, so I didn't say a word, getting in her car without complaint.
All the stylists greeted Nancy like an old friend and looked at me doubtfully. My hair was dirty, un-brushed, and the last time I put product in it was some time in the late 90s. I was the urchin in their midst, and they were all wondering who had the arduous task of beautifying me.
It turned out to be a flamboyant man with artificially white hair that I sort of liked. But then, the green wig has been working so well for me. Why mess with perfection?
He led me to the washing tub, pushing me back until my head was in the bowl. His hands dug into the part of my skull that Nancy had bashed in with a bat, and I winced. He paid me no mind, shampooing and conditioning what little hair I had within an inch of its life.
The next chair they sat me in was facing a mirror, so I could watch Nancy and my stylist argued over cuts and styles. The circles under my eyes were extreme, and I played with the skin there for a moment, wondering if they had anything strong enough to cover those.
In the end, they slicked back my hair with product, and a woman brought over a pretty, white headband with pearls and flowers on it. That same woman went to work on my makeup, putting what felt like pounds of it on every available inch of my face.
When she was done with that, the head ornament went on. It matched my dress perfectly, and when I put it on, I looked beautiful. I tried to enjoy the sensation, though it was disconcerting to look in the mirror and not recognize yourself.
"You look so beautiful, Harper," Nancy whispered to me, wiping away a stray tear. "Wyatt's just going to die when he sees you."
"Hopefully not. The life insurance doesn't kick in until after we say ‘I do.’"
"Oh, you're just too much."
The stylists wrote down everything that they did and assured Nancy that they'd be ready to make me presentable tomorrow morning. It seemed I'd be getting up at the ass crack of dawn again. I was actually losing track of how many times I'd done that this week.
"Should have just done it in that closet," I muttered, kicking myself for not taking Wyatt up on that deal when I had the chance.
Of course, had I gone through with it, Nancy would've taken a bat to my head for a whole different reason. Far be it from me to ruin her chance at being the mother of the bride.
When Nancy dropped me off at home, I practically had to rip Cooper off my leg, so I could leave again. The photographer's apartment had long been abandoned by the police, and neighbors had probably lost interest, so it was the perfect time for me to snoop.
"But you just got home," Cooper said, biting his lip. "I want to go with you."
Cooper, like his father, loved mysteries. But unlike his father, he wasn't of legal age, and I didn't think it appropriate to take him to break into a crime scene. If we ended up in jail together, it wouldn't shine a positive light on my parenting skills.
"When are you coming back?" he asked as I tried to shut the door between us.
"Never."
"I'm telling Dad."
On that note, I ran to the car before he could tattle to Wyatt. He had enough to worry about without planning to bail me out of jail this afternoon. In any case, I was pretty sure I wouldn't get caught. Famous last words.
There weren't a lot of apartments in Waresville, because housing wasn't expensive in this part of Florida. Most people, even singles, just opted to invest in the housing market. Most people had spent their whole lives here, too, and knew they weren't going anywhere–unless it was in a body bag.
It appeared my photographer didn't have that commitment, though, because his was one of the cheaper apartments in the small complex. I had to take a couple flights of stairs to get there, looking for the yellow crime scene tape. When I did, I was happily surprised to see the door unlocked.
Once inside, I immediately saw a note on the table by the front door. The handwriting was familiar, but I
couldn't quite place it until I read the whole thing.
Think of this as an early wedding present. P.S. I have patrol units checking up on this property every half an hour. Better be quick.
It was from that awful Officer Kosher, and I snarled. Since I didn't know when the last patrol was, something he'd obviously planned, my time was limited. Hurrying to search the place, I didn't bother being gentle. The apartment was trashed anyway.
The deadbolt on the door was broken, meaning someone had smashed their way in. Any of the brothers would have had the strength to do that, so it wasn't an important clue.
Tables and chairs were overturned; knickknacks were on the floor or broken. The guy had definitely fought back before being dragged out of here. I was sort of proud of our photographer.
The bathroom and the bedroom were untouched, meaning he was taken in the kitchen/living room area. But as to what that told me about the case, if anything, I wasn't sure.
Hearing a car pull up outside, I cursed under my breath and peeked out the window. Sure enough, a couple of uniformed police officers were headed my way, laughing and joking with one another.
I went to the back window, looking at the rickety fire escape. It seemed to be rusted through, swaying slightly in the wind. Sending up a short prayer, I jumped onto it, feeling it move under my weight.
Exploding forward, I ran down the stairs as fast as I could, trying not to put too much pressure on one spot for long. I must not have been too good at it though, because my feet went through an especially rusty part of the stairs, sending me plummeting.
In a mad surge, I was able to hang onto one of the supporting bars, but it was too far away from the stairs to climb back up, and if I jumped, I'd just go through the compromised structure below me.
Hanging at least twenty feet from the ground, I looked down as the officers ran around the building to where I was. They blinked up at me for a moment, dumbfounded.
"Hello, boys," I said easily, though my muscles were screaming. "How about a hand?"
Chapter Nine
After helping me down, the officers put me in cuffs and drove me to the station. Luckily, Wyatt was using his vacation days, so he was in when they made me do the perp walk. Maybe I was biased, but I thought I made the cuffs look good.
Kosher was waiting for me in the holding room with a cell just for me. He pushed me in and slammed the door, obviously taking great pleasure in seeing me like this. So much so, that I was wondering if I should charge. This wasn't a free show, after all.
"Spending the day before your wedding in jail," he said. "You sure know how to do things in style."
I turned my nose up at him, refusing to play his little game, and he eventually left me alone.
My many arrests prepared me for the boredom of spending hours behind bars, but with the wedding tomorrow, I couldn't quite sit still and relax. And in that jail cell, there was nothing to do but think. Suddenly, I wished I hadn't sent Kosher away—a sign of true insanity.
Part of me was so excited, it made it hard to breathe. Tomorrow, I was going to stand up in front of all those people and make Wyatt my husband. Not only would I wear his ring, I thought, looking at my bright green engagement stone, he'd wear mine. We'd be a real family.
There was fear, too, about not being good enough for him or Cooper. I was a bit of a destructive force, and I didn't want that to touch them or their lives. I loved them too much.
The majority of it, though, was Wyatt's family. I'd never really had a family of my own, and I wanted too badly to be a part of this one. The rejection of certain individuals hurt, and I was afraid of getting up there and being hurt worse than I ever had been before.
Before I could really start to panic over my state of affairs, Vic showed up outside my cell door with the key to unlock it. I could see that the sun was low in the sky, and I raised a critical eyebrow at her. She couldn't have gotten here a little sooner?
"I was getting my hair done," she said guilty. "Didn't see the call."
“Well, as long as your hair looks good, I suppose it’s alright to abandon your best friend.”
“That about sums it up, yeah,” she said. “I brought you your dress, though.”
True to her word, Vic had stuffed a tasteful, black cocktail dress that Nancy had bought for me for the rehearsal dinner. It wasn't actually that bad, especially when I paired it with some sky high, BDSM heels. They were black leather with painful looking spikes for decoration. It took the outfit up a notch.
"You missed the rehearsal," she said on the way to the church. "We're running it down after dinner now."
"I bet Nancy's pleased."
"I've seen her happier."
My mother-in-law had closed Charlotte's for the night, bringing in only her favorite staff to cook and wait on us. When Vic and I arrived, she pinned me with a stare that made me very uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, seeming to let it go, and then gave me a hug that was a little painful.
"Where were you?" Wyatt asked once I was by his side again. "I tried your cell."
"Jail," I said, echoing an earlier conversation.
Wyatt paused. "I think it's just Peter's way of saying congratulations."
"Then he must be ecstatic for me."
We sat down at our regular table for a few minutes, while everyone socialized and had drinks. I could see Kosher in the crowd, and I flipped him the bird. Even that awful man couldn't keep my eyes off Wyatt for long.
The waiters had hung a bunch of twinkly lights, making the overall feel very romantic. Wyatt smiled at me, stroking my hand absently.
"Remember the first time I took you here?"
"Vaguely."
He grinned. "You looked so beautiful. Made it hard to keep my hands to myself."
Sniffing, I said, "I was just there to pump you for information."
"I would have let you do just about anything to me."
I leaned in under the pretense of fixing his collar, and said lowly, "You did."
"Come on, love birds," Wyatt's dad said, pulling us up and over to the long table that had been set up.
"Your dad makes a pretty good chaperone," I whispered to Wyatt as we sat down.
"I know," he said bitterly.
The servers were on us like white on rice, always keeping our glasses full. Since it was on Nancy’s dime, I had the steak, and it melted in my mouth. Wyatt laughed at all the happy tummy sounds I was making, stopping every few minutes to wipe my face with his napkin.
His mother protested, “You’ll ruin her makeup.”
“And the sauce won’t?” he asked.
About halfway through the night, I leaned over, and said, “Hey, we’re getting married.”
“I know.”
The sparkle in his eye made my knees go weak and did funny things to my heart, so it was a good thing I was sitting. He squeezed my knee under the table.
“It’s gonna be a wild ride, that’s for sure,” I said.
He kissed me firmly on the mouth, ignoring the catcalls and whistling. “It already is.”
I rode with Vic on the way to the church, and it was just as well. I didn’t know if I could be trusted to keep my hands to myself.
When we got there, the decorations were half up, and there was a snack table in the corner. Nancy looked at it ruefully, saying that it was supposed to tide us over until dinner, but she guessed it could be a late night snack. I wasted no time, bee lining towards the fancy cheese.
But we weren’t there to eat, as my mother-in-law reminded us, and she soon had us all in our places—Wyatt at the altar, me hiding somewhere in the back. The rest of the people falling somewhere in-between.
Vic was the first to go down, escorted by Charles. She’d had a little more wine since arriving at the church, and her straight line looked more like a zig zag. Only Charles’ firm grip on her kept my maid of honor on her feet and heading in the right direction.
When they took their places at the front, Vic whisper-yelled to Wyatt, “Lookin’ prett
y hot, mister.”
The people in the pews shared a giggle, and everyone but me missed Oliver walking down, hanging onto Liam and making eyes at him the whole way. Liam, to his credit, didn’t look too offended, taking it in good humor.
Jeb, looking dapper and huge in a tux, walked down next to Wyatt’s best friend, Keith Stellerman, and there was no arm holding. I had to stifle a laugh at the sour look on Stellerman’s face, who considered himself a lady’s man. I didn’t consider him much of a man at all, but I couldn’t deny he’d been a good friend to Wyatt.
Still, it had been my idea to send him down with Jeb.
Amber and Tom went down last, and there wasn’t any funny business between those two. Not legal yet, she blushed at the attention from all the guests and at being on Tom’s arm, who wasn’t lacking in the looks department.
I didn’t have time to worry that there was no one walking me down the aisle because Wyatt was waiting for me. Taking a deep breath, I went to him, trying not to notice all the eyes on me and whether they were friendly or not.
There was no priest. Hopefully, Nancy figured something out by tomorrow. I wasn’t worried, though. If Nancy was in charge of the U.S., we’d have eradicated famine, war, and cancer by now. She was efficient to the max.
I held Wyatt’s hand, and he beamed at me, lighting up my insides. We stood there for a moment before Nancy stood up, shaking her head.
“I think these pews are too close together, Harper,” she said. “Your dress is very grand.”
Grand must’ve been code for poufy. She took my directions and rushed off to where the dress was stashed, screaming at Wyatt to keep his eyes closed the whole way. He rolled them at me, and I covered them for him. Neither of us needed Nancy’s wrath.
A minute or two after she disappeared, we heard a blood curdling scream. I dropped my hands, and then we were all moving to the back closest where the sounds of distress had come from.
Standing in the middle of the hallway was Nancy, tears streaking down her face. She had in her hands the white dress in her hand, though it was no longer white. Someone had poured red wine all over it, making the garment look like it’d been through war.
