A Deadly Reunion

by Odette C. Bell

  Holy crap, I could have fallen over in uncontrollable laughter at that one. Not worth it?

  Nancy was acting, badly. While Thorne and Denver hadn’t had the displeasure of being with Nancy in drama class, I had, and I recognized every movement, every lilt of her voice, and that knowing flicker deep in her eyes.

  She was playing them.

  But that didn’t matter, because both boys were obviously distracted by the presence of each other and their competition over a woman, that they were too busy to notice.

  I couldn’t take this anymore.

  This town was driving me insane.

  I had to get out.

  “Denver,” Nancy turned her smile on him as she sliced her attention ever so briefly towards me, “what are you doing in this alleyway with Patti?”

  “Just leaving,” Denver said directly.

  I laughed bitterly.

  “That’s a coincidence, because so am I.” I bit hard into my lip to stem the tide of torrid emotion. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “You don’t have a car,” Denver turned all of his attention my way, even though Nancy was patting her hand on his chest. In that moment she could have been trying to kiss him wildly and passionately, but I knew he still wouldn’t have turned away from me.

  “So I’ll hitchhike,” I spat between clenched teeth.

  He snorted.

  “Hey now, Patti, that’s a terrible idea. I couldn’t let you do that,” Thorne said honestly.

  Denver snorted again. “She isn’t going to hitchhike. Despite the act, she is not that stupid.”

  “How the hell would you know? You didn’t talk to me in high school, and now you’ve known me again for barely two-and-a-half days. You have no idea the kinds of risks I take and the kind of life I lead.”

  “Women like you don’t come with any surprises, just disappointments,” Denver scowled around his words.

  Fuck.

  I was going to hit him. No, I was going to throttle him, drag him into the ditch, and then smack him with my handbag until I taught him that misogyny and being an arrogant jerk hadn’t been in favor for the past hundred years.

  “Shit, Denver, shut up. What the hell are you saying?” Thorne waded in.

  “You think I can’t get out of this town? You are dead wrong,” I continued, ignoring Thorne and staring only Denver. “I will find a car.”

  “Hey now, I didn’t mean to interrupt there,” someone said as they awkwardly walked towards the mouth of the alleyway, “but your argument there can be heard from across the street.”

  Thorne and Denver stiffened immediately.

  “I’m very sorry, sir,” both Thorne and Denver said at once.

  The man put his hands up. “You don’t need to apologize to me, but I couldn’t help hearing that you there,” the man – who was fat and balding and had a round, friendly face – pointed at me, “need a car. Well my name is Harvey Richardson, and I own the only dealership in town. If you come in tomorrow morning, I’m sure I can give you a good deal.”

  “I will pay you $50,000 to give me a car tonight. I will double the asking price or triple it if I have to, but I want one right now,” I said.

  Harvey spluttered.

  “I’m serious. Where is your car dealership?”

  “Triple the price?” Harvey looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

  “Show me to your dealership, and I’ll show you to my credit card,” I nodded at him.

  I was not the kind of girl who threw her money around. I was polite and I was private; my parents had taught me that lesson. I never flashed my cash.

  Yet right now it was time to throw my money around.

  I had to get out of Wetlake, anyway I could.

  Denver didn’t say anything. He just looked at me coldly. I imagine if I’d had the time and inclination, I would have realized how complicated his expression was.

  I didn’t care.

  “Patti, what are you doing?” Thorne asked in disbelief.

  “Leaving before I go insane. Look, thank you so much for your help, but I can’t... stay here. I just have to go.” I controlled myself, stemming my tears, but only just. “If you need my statement or anything like that, I will get in touch with my local police station. But I can’t stay another second in this town.”

  “All your stuff is in your hire car,” Thorne pointed out, voice croaking through a clearly dry mouth.

  “I don’t care. The hire company can send my luggage back to me or they can chuck it all in the dumpster.”

  Denver still didn’t say a word.

  Nancy, on the other hand, watched me intently.

  There was such a strange quality behind her gaze that it made my back itch.

  I turned away quickly.

  “It’s dangerous to drive at night,” Thorne began, “especially along roads you don’t know, and especially when you’re not...” he trailed off.

  He was likely going to say something polite like “feeling well.” I’d already driven angry today, and look where that had gotten me? Lost and alone and climbing over railings to get away from innocent cars.

  Well this was different.

  “It’s dangerous to stay in this town,” I spat back.

  It was rude.

  But I just had to get away.

  “I’m sorry,” I swallowed as bitter emotion rose through my tight throat. “Please thank Annabelle. I’ll send her a card or a letter or something. Tell her it’s nothing about her; I just need to leave.”

  I now took several steps forward and nodded at Harvey.

  Harvey’s eyes were wide as he stared around at everybody. He clearly had no idea what was going on.

  “I’m ready,” I placed my hands neatly in front of myself and nodded at him.

  “Ah,” he said, clearly hesitating.

  “I’m sure I can offer someone else $50,000 for a car,” I snapped rudely.

  There I went again, ignoring all of my manners.

  If my mother had been here, she would have tutted and reminded me that no one likes arrogant, wealthy jerks.

  “No, no, come this way,” Harvey waved me forward.

  I nodded one last time at Thorne and tried to ignore the conflicted and hurt look crumpling his features.

  I didn’t even turn to look at Denver though.

  Because screw Denver.

  Chapter 14

  It was ten o’clock at night and I was buying a car in Wetlake. When I say car, I mean enormous pickup truck. This was a small town, after all, and they didn’t exactly sell nice, zippy, hatchbacks.

  Picking the newest truck in Harvey’s fleet, it took under an hour to get the finance and papers sorted. When Harvey realized I was for real, and actually had the money, things went extremely smoothly.

  He also had the dignity not to ask me what the hell had been going on between me and Denver and Thorne Scott. He just made me a cup of coffee, asked to see my driver’s license, and chatted about banal things like the weather as we signed the papers.

  Not once did we mention the reunion and not once did we mention the murders.

  Though I half expected Thorne to drive over to the dealership to try to get me to stop from leaving again, he didn’t.

  I’d hurt him, hadn’t I?

  As for Denver, who knew where he was. Probably wrapped up snug in Nancy’s arms, I thought snidely. Yet as soon as I thought it, I quickly chided myself; it was a bitchy thing to think and it was undoubtedly wrong.

  Denver was a lot of things, but he appeared to be immune to Nancy’s charms.

  He was just doing his job.

  As I walked out of the car dealership swinging the keys on my finger and waving at Harvey, I repeated that to myself.

  Denver was just doing his job.

  I was the one being the epic bitch here. I wasn’t cutting him any slack. I wasn’t factoring in that he would be under immense pressure and responsibility.

  I was just snapping, rubbing my money in his face, and running.
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  Feeling exceedingly sorry for myself but still quite angry, I got in the truck and gunned the engine.

  I wasn’t used to engines that roared and made the whole vehicle shake from underneath you, but briefly it made me smile.

  Then I had to start driving the thing, and I promptly realized that it was a lot bigger than the small cars I was used to.

  Half expecting a roadblock of Scott boys, I was sure to take a circuitous root out of town.

  In fact, as I did, I swore I saw Thorne at one point, driving around, no doubt looking for me.

  Even though I’d hurt him, clearly he still knew how to do his job. He was just so exceedingly respectful and diligent. The kind of guy who always lived by his morals and who always did what was right. Likely, the thought of me paying triple for a truck I could hardly drive and heading out along the dangerous, winding roads of Wetlake in the middle of the night horrified him.

  Well I avoided him.

  I had to get out of here.

  Though I realized how much of a bitch I was being for leaving Annabelle without a word and Thorne without a smile and a genuine thank you, I couldn’t stay another second in this town.

  Between Scott boys and murders, this place was shredding from me every sense of power and self-worth I’d built up over the years.

  Sniffing hard at that thought and rubbing my nose, I returned my hands to the steering wheel, sat up straight in the car, and got ready for a very long drive.

  Fortunately, I’d charged my phone, and I could use the GPS map to direct me out of Wetlake, though I wasn’t dumb enough to trust it entirely. If I asked it to direct me to the nearest town, it would probably take me to the nearest quarry or pit or cliff or wolf-infested valley instead.

  I would just have to drive until I hit one of the main roads, and then I could use the signs to direct me to a place I could stay. I’d call into some motel, get a couple of hours’ shuteye, and then continue my drive.

  Or would I?

  Just as I rooted around in my bag for my bottle of water, my hand rubbed against something metal.

  The keys.

  My motel keys.

  Damn.

  Though I could try to post them, I didn’t know how the motel would feel about that. Could they rent out the room while knowing I still had a set of keys to it? Would that breach some kind of security protocol for them?

  Probably.

  Also, they’d likely charge me through the teeth for not returning the keys on time.

  Then again, I’d just paid triple for a truck I would never drive once I’d made it home.

  Still bothered by the idea of having the motel keys, I started to slow down.

  And okay, maybe it wasn’t because of the motel keys.

  Maybe it was because of unfinished business at the motel.

  Denver.

  I hated leaving a relationship angry. I was the kind of person who wanted to fix something when it broke – the second it broke. I didn’t like to leave wounds festering.

  Denver wasn’t your average wound though, and he certainly couldn’t be fixed with a direct and mature conversation.

  Still, I found myself slowing down.

  Fuck. I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand as I pulled to the side of the road.

  I needed to say sorry, didn’t I?

  I was being the world’s biggest bitch.

  Due to the stress of the situation and my own horrible personality, I wasn’t cutting him the slack he deserved.

  While I could run away from the murders in an exceedingly expensive truck, he had to stay here and deal with them.

  He had the responsibility to stop anyone else from being killed, and even though I knew most of my reunion buddies would be fleeing Wetlake like rats from a sinking ship, the serial killer could follow them.

  I swore again. Bitterly.

  Then I swore some more as I turned the truck around.

  All I had to do was go up to his motel room, knock on the door, say sorry, and leave.

  I knew he wouldn’t accept my apology, but I had to give it a try.

  And if he wasn’t there, then... I’d write him a note.

  Anything to preserve my sense of dignity and morality.

  Using my phone to navigate back to the motel, it only sent me on a few wild goose chases before I pulled up into the car park.

  It was dead quiet.

  It took me a long time to muster up the courage to open the door and jump down from my monstrosity of a vehicle.

  There were a few porch lights on around the reception building, but I doubted anyone was actually staffing the counter at this time of night.

  “Right...” I trailed off, shaking my head so strenuously I could have snapped a neck muscle.

  I forced myself to close the door of my car.

  Bringing my bag over my shoulder, I locked the car and I slowly, ever so slowly made my way across the car park, onto the grass, and up onto the porch.

  I’d already figured out which room was Denver’s. He hadn’t told me, but I’d seen him returning to it several times.

  Right now I walked over to it morosely, as if I were on a death march.

  My shoulders had never been so rounded, my stride never so weak, and my heart never so heavy with a potent mix of fright and shame.

  I wanted to tell myself that I couldn’t reason with a man like Denver, and that men like Denver didn’t deserve apologies.

  He’d brought this on himself.

  If he’d only been nicer, like his brother, then I wouldn’t have snapped at him and I wouldn’t have left in a huff.

  As soon as I thought that, I heard my mother’s disembodied voice saying there was never a reason to be rude.

  I made it up to his door.

  I think I stood there for a full five minutes, swallowing, staring back at my car, and staring over at the door.

  I brought my hand up.

  I got ready to knock.

  I let my hand drop.

  I took a step away, still staring at the door.

  “Are you going to knock on that thing?” Denver asked from behind me.

  I yelped, stuffing my hands over my mouth so my scream didn’t carry.

  I turned to see him behind me, his head leaning to the side as he stared my way. “What are you doing here?”

  Reluctantly I pulled my hands from my mouth. Fumbling through my bag, I pulled out my motel keys. “I have to return these.”

  “Reception is closed. It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

  “I’ll just put them under their door then,” I managed, stuttering through my every word.

  “Reception is over there,” he pointed across the lawn.

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “That,” he pointed at the door behind me, “is my room.”

  Yes, I knew that too.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Which was stupid.

  It made me seem meek and suspicious at the same time.

  Pushing my hair from my face, I turned and took a step towards reception. “I guess I’ll return these... and leave.”

  “Before you’ve apologized?”

  “Excuse me?” I turned over my shoulder to face him.

  “You came here to apologize. You haven’t done it yet,” he pointed out coldly.

  I swallowed stiffly, my throat dry and tight. I shook my head.

  “Oh, so why are you knocking on my door?” he asked, his voice so deep and rumbling that it shook through my belly. “You after something else?”

  Both my eyebrows raised in a snap.

  “If you are, you should start with an apology.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You are a callous jerk.”

  He sniffed. “I know. And you are arrogant, self-assured, and out of your depth.”

  “Out of my depth?” I tilted my head to the side, somewhat like a snake, and stared at him severely. “What’s that meant to mean?”

  “It means that you spend your life writing bo
oks, spending money, and never dealing with the darker side of humanity.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “Why are you so fixated on what I earn?”

  “Why did you just change the subject? Why are you knocking on my door?”

  “Oh, is this your door?” I asked with feigned sincerity. “I didn’t realize. I thought it belonged to somebody who’s owed an apology. Not somebody who is such a world-class ass that they deserve everything they get.”

  “So you are here to apologize? Because you aren’t doing a very good job.”

  “Are you enjoying this?” I gestured between us. “Because I’m not. I just want to leave this town.”

  “Guess what, so do I,” he spat bitterly. Extremely bitterly. The stress and the pressure seemed to break through in that moment. “But I can’t, not until we stop the killer. You get to turn around, flash your money, buy a truck, and flee from your problems. I have to stay here.”

  I dropped my gaze.

  “I’m trying to do everything I can, but it ain’t easy. I’ve got a brother who legitimately hates me, a town who discusses every single detail of a case they shouldn’t know anything about, a serial killer whose methods don’t make any sense, and to top it all off this strange woman from high school who drives me wild.”

  I’d opened my mouth in preparation to shout at him, but I spluttered instead.

  “You didn’t think I could be honest, did you? Well there you go, Patti, you’re about to leave, so what’s the harm? You drive me wild. I don’t know why. And it doesn’t matter.”

  I was blushing and tingling all over.

  “It might be my acerbic personality,” I tried through a tight breath.

  “It’s not that,” he shook his head resolutely. “You’re only acerbic when you’re pushed. The rest of the time you pleasantly cynical.”

  No one had ever described me as pleasantly cynical before.

  “Then I guess it’s my looks. Maybe you go for homely, girl-next-door dimples.”

  He shook his head. “The girl next door to me was Stacey Clarke, and she grew up to be a model.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Maybe it’s my money? No one else in this town can stop talking about it.”

  “I’ve saved since I started working. I invest, and I squirrel away what I don’t have to spend on suits and food. Now I’m not saying I have as much as you do, but I can get by. It’s not your money.”