by Raven Snow
"You're a wonderful man, Wyatt Bennett."
"So they tell me."
"Who's they?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Women," he said simply, tugging on a strand of my hair. "Lots and lots of women. I have to beat them off with a stick, you know."
Tugging him up the stairs by his tie, I said, "Let me know if you ever need any help with that."
The halls were dark and mostly deserted. The kids wouldn't be back from break for a little while yet, which is why my class had chosen now to have the reunion: more set-up time. I walked into the state-of-the-art gym, and though it was filled with tables, streamers, and balloons, I instantly felt like I should be running laps.
As it was late, there were only three people working on the decorations, and I recognized them all immediately. Hannah Workman—former valedictorian—was bent over a flask. Her frizzy hair looked even wilder than it used to, and she was unsteady on her long legs. She still wore glasses, though they were distinctly cooler than I remembered them being in high school. I also didn't remember her being a lush but things change.
The only one working—a shapely woman I almost didn't recognize—was Suzy Quillen. The reason I almost hadn’t put two and two together was the fact that she'd lost about one hundred pounds, making everything about her look different. She was a bit red in the face and was frantically tying balloons.
The next, sitting as far away from Hannah as he could get, was my cousin. He was stocky and dark next to my tall and pale—something I'd never found completely fair. The smile he always wore had dimmed a little, and he kept glancing around suspiciously.
When Connor spotted me, he sprang from his seat and ran over to me, squeezing the life out of me in a big hug that was almost painful. "Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think you weren't going to come."
As he pulled back, I realized he had cuts on his face. "How'd you get those?" I asked, motioning to them.
He shook his head, paling. "Not here."
As Connor dragged me and Wyatt from the room, I waved at both Suzy and Hannah. Suzy returned my greeting with the quickest nod I'd ever seen, and Hannah almost fell out of her seat trying to wave back.
When we were alone outside the gym, he turned on Wyatt. "Why the hell did you bring a cop?"
I was allowed to give Wyatt crap about being a cop; no one else was.
"I love him, and he stays," I said firmly. Connor blinked in surprise, which pissed me off even more. "What, is it so hard to believe I might have someone?"
To his credit, he recovered quickly. "Er, no, I've just never heard you use the ‘L’ word."
I wasn't in the mood anymore for small talk. "Why do you think someone is trying to kill you? Does it have anything to do with owning half the gas stations in this town?"
"Heard about that, did you? Well, I'll be the first to admit I haven't made many friends in my business, but−"
"Suspects later, crime now."
He looked around to make sure no one was around to hear, then leaned close to me. "Some strange things have been happening to me these past couple of weeks—violent stuff. A couple of nights ago, I was working in the gym, and a metal ladder fell on top of me."
"I'm going home now."
He caught my arm, hissing, "It crumbled into a million pieces in the air, all the screws coming out at once."
I bit my lip, thinking that over. "Maybe I'll stay."
"Then, a little bit before that, I was just relaxing with a bottle of beer in my hands, and the bottle exploded!"
"That sounds more like a grip issue," Wyatt said dryly. He put up with the hocus-pocus from me, but he didn't owe my cousin any slack.
Connor shook his head vehemently. "I barely touched it. That's how I got the cuts all over my face."
"Pieces would have had to be going pretty fast to do that," I mused.
"Exactly!" He gulped. "And then, I've had this constant feeling that someone is watching me. It's really getting to me, Harper. I see drive-bys, drug deals gone bad, and all kinds of street violence on a daily basis, but this? This otherworldly crap is gonna do me in, I swear."
"Alright, calm down," I said, patting him on the shoulder.
"Don't tell me to calm down!"
Wyatt stepped between us, earning him a glare from both of us.
“You're not taking this seriously enough," Connor said. "Maybe I should've called that grandmother of yours. Now, she's got a reputation."
"Let's not be hasty," I said quickly, picturing Gran flying down here by broom. "You don't need Gran. Just stop freaking out on me."
He looked a little sheepish at that. "Sorry, Harp. I haven't been sleeping very well." Running his fingers through his hair in exasperation, he said, "This isn't exactly how I wanted our reunion to go."
"Let's just start over." I gave him a quick hug; our family wasn't very affectionate.
Well, it appeared I was on a case. Gran didn't owe Connor anything, but I was sure she'd come down here just to annoy me. And I didn't think I could take that kind of collision of worlds at this point, so there was nothing to do but to solve it.
We left shortly after that, and Wyatt looked less than pleased at my resolve. "You should leave it to the cops."
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it. If you get into trouble down here, I won't be able to bail you out. The word of a small town cop doesn't mean much to the Miami police department."
His tone was bitter near the end, and it made me stop and take notice. "Why'd you stay in Waresville?" I asked. "After your time with the military was up, why come back? You could've been a great, big city detective."
He shrugged. "The job's about the people you protect, and the people in Waresville are the best in the world, in my opinion. Besides, I hadn't been home too long before I found out my ex-wife was pregnant with Cooper." He paused. "Maybe if he'd never came along, I would've tried something else—something bigger."
I snuggled closer while he drove us to our hotel not far from the school. "Well, I happen to think you made an excellent choice."
"Yeah?"
"If you hadn't stayed in Waresville," I reminded him, "you never would've met me."
He led me upstairs to our room, the two of us giggling like kids the whole way. Before he turned off the lights and joined me in bed, he said, "Best decision I ever made."
Chapter Four
I woke up the next morning to Cooper's voice, which, I'll admit, was a nice surprise. Still half-asleep, I smiled and snuggled deeper into the covers, hoping for just a few more minutes before the day started as Cooper's surrogate mom.
Then, I was up, tripping over the messy sheets in my haste to get out of bed. Looking around the room for Coop, I only saw Wyatt sitting at a computer screen, and a realization dawned on me. Good mood ruined, I stomped over to where father and son were talking, grabbing the cup of coffee from Wyatt's hands and downing it like a shot.
He raised his eyebrows. "Good morning, sunshine."
Peering at the computer screen that held Cooper's face, I mused over the wonder of modern technology. Personally, I liked to stay in the 70s. It was a much groovier time, but I could see the benefits of the twenty-first century.
"Shouldn't you be at school or something?" I asked Cooper.
"School isn't for another hour," he said, rolling his eyes. Then, he leaned forward, looking incensed. "Have you figured out who's trying to kill your cousin?"
"Jury's still out on whether or not anyone's trying to kill him. A few freak incidents do not an attempted murder make."
Cooper looked disappointed, and Wyatt nodded. "We'll probably just end up leaving this one to the police."
Shaking my head behind Wyatt's back, I mouthed, "No, we won't."
After we had bidden Cooper goodbye, Wyatt got dressed in clean clothes, and I moseyed around in the ones I'd been wearing yesterday. With living out of a suitcase, I didn't think it necessary to change everyday. Plus, if I changed, I'd probably be expected to shower too.
"Where to?" Wyatt asked once we were in the car. "You're the lead investigator here." He didn't sound the least bit pleased, which made me smile.
"Lead investigator on a nonexistent case; I'm moving up in the world. Back to the school, I suppose. May as well check out the scene of the crimes while no one's around."
After texting my cousin to get the location of the broken down ladder, we headed around the school to where they kept the garbage. Wyatt was in a suit and had no experience dumpster diving, so I hauled my butt over the side and waded in.
Surprisingly, the smell wasn't that bad—it didn't smell like roses, mind you. Seemed like even the trash at Hanover was better than the trash everywhere else. After a good twenty minutes of Wyatt wrinkling his nose in distaste, probably at the thought of having me in his car, I found the last piece of the ladder and threw it out of the dumpster.
Wyatt offered me a hand out, but I knew how much his suit cost, so I declined, scaling the thing like some kind of monkey. It made me feel very ninja-like, but only until I realized the smell was following me. I probably looked like some kind of sewer person.
"Looks like your cousin was right," Wyatt said, looking at the pieces of the ladder. "This thing is in a million pieces."
"Didn't find a single screw in there, either, and if there were any, I would've found them."
He shuddered. "I believe you. So, someone took all the screws out? That doesn't seem very supernatural to me."
"It does to me."
If every single screw was missing, there was no way the ladder could've stayed up on its own to fall down on Connor. Someone must have been holding it up without being anywhere near it. They'd have also had to have the power to make it fall at a moment's notice. Very witchy stuff right there.
I was roused from my musing by Wyatt picking stray pieces of trash and banana peels from my exposed skin. His expression was so torn and helpless, like his worst fear had been realized—me covered in enough filth to dirty everything in Waresville. I could only imagine how hard this was on him.
Swatting his hand away, I headed over to where they kept the hose, handing it to Wyatt without a word.
His gaze flickered between me and the hose for a moment. "This is a test, right?"
"Oh, just hose me down. I've had worse."
The water was frigid despite the Miami heat, and it seemed to have all the power to blast straight to my soul. Shivering profusely, I watched as Wyatt enjoyed getting every last bit of dirty off of me, his expression one of rapture. At least one of us was enjoying themselves.
The hose clicked off just as someone came around the building. They said my name and ran over, stopping just short when they saw what kind of state I was in.
It was Victoria Casey.
In high school, she'd been the stereotypical cheerleader: popular, beautiful, and mean. To be fair, her torment of me hadn't been unprovoked. The details were fuzzy to me now, but I seemed to remember something about her brand new, white sweater and my bright red soda.
For that incident and a couple less memorable ones, she'd tortured me all throughout high school. Seeing her now was like a slap in the face. One, because I shouldn't care about some girl that picked on me a decade ago. And two, because said girl was seeing me looking like a drowned rat.
At least she looked different too. The blonde hair was the same, but where she had once been built like a model, she now resembled an NFL linebacker. It was half funny and half intimidating. Now she could probably do real physical harm to me.
"Harper! I didn't know you were coming into town." She smiled at me, and it was real, which just made me want to gag.
When I said nothing, standing there with my mouth open, she turned to Wyatt. "Who's this?"
Still, no words escaped me, a very rare occurrence, so Wyatt introduced himself. "Wyatt Bennett. Harper's boyfriend."
Her eyes widened as she took in all of Wyatt's very attractive body, suit, and face. It was no doubt the shock of a lifetime that this man would want to tie himself to the class reject. I wondered if she'd survive it—fingers crossed for no.
She shook Wyatt’s hand, and there was a slightly dazed look in her eyes that I really couldn’t blame her for. He still had that effect on me from time to time.
“Victoria. Harper and I were friends in high school.”
My eyes bulged out of my head at that, but neither of them seemed to notice. “What do you do now?”
Wyatt’s manners were one of the most annoying qualities about him. He had this whole “southern gentleman” thing going on, and it frequently pissed me off. Mostly because of how hard it was to make him swear and because of moments like this. I was ready to bounce, but he was too busy being polite to notice.
“My husband and—well, I’m in real-estate. And I’m a mother.”
She didn’t smile at the last part, and part of me wanted to stick around and solve that little mystery. But, mostly, I just wanted to leave.
“Did you two have children?”
Wyatt said yes at the same time I said no, and he shot me a puzzled look. With my eyes, I signaled that I wanted to leave, and he rolled his.
“He has one,” I said quickly, “and I just act as the occasional bad influence.”
“You haven’t changed much,” she said with a smile.
“Nope,” I said quickly, dragging Wyatt away. “Gee, that was stimulating. See you in another ten years.”
Just before we were completely out of sight of Victoria, Connor popped up in front of me, and I almost punched him on principle. This was worse than living in a small town.
“Isn’t there any place else for you people to be?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that any way to treat your favorite cousin?”
“Suddenly, I have no doubts that someone wants to kill you.”
He nodded to the truck. “I was just going to run home and get something to eat. Suzy Q’s about to blow a fuse, because I took a little break from decorating.”
I winced, remembering the horrible nickname the former class fatty had earned herself. Naming her after a snack cake had been truly horrible, and I was glad I’d never called her that.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” Wyatt asked.
Connor waved him off. “Suzy won’t mind if I take a little break.”
Shooting Vic a wary glance, I readily agreed to drive off with Connor. Anything was better than pretending I’d ever been friends with Queen Victoria—even hanging out with my now paranoid cousin.
Just before we reached the parking lot, I spotted a piece of ladder that hadn’t been in the garbage. Without attracting my cousin’s notice, I walked closer to it, noting that more than a few strands of blonde hair were caught in the corners. Pursing my lips, I hurried to catch up with my guys.
In an act of total sexism, I was made to sit in the middle, crushed by two men who thought they could take up as much space as they wanted. Usually, I enjoyed being smashed up against my Wyatt, but this was like the threesome from hell.
As we turned toward the ritzy suburbs, I shifted in my seat. “Guessing you don’t live in the city anymore.”
“Traded in the rat hole for a place on Wealthy Lane. I’ve been staying a few blocks over since the divorce.”
Wealthy Lane was what we used to call the row of mansions near the school. I remembered walking by them some nights, when myself or one of my friends couldn’t sleep. They’d seemed impossibly large and fancy, like they were from a whole different world from the one I lived in.
“Divorce?” I guess I should’ve figured that Connor had gotten married at some point. I was pretty much the only one who hadn’t.
Now Connor was the one shifting in his seat, and he shot me a look I couldn’t decipher. “Remember Hannah Workman?”
“Sure, we saw her the other night in the gym.” To Wyatt, I said, “She was the class valedictorian, and—wait, you married Hannah Workman?”
“It just kind of happened.”
I sat there in s
tunned silence while we pulled up to the sensible, but stylish, two-floor home my cousin was “just staying in since the divorce.” It felt very much like I was in some parallel world where the rich, genius Hannah had married my average and poor cousin while he built up his gas station empire.
The house was pretty low on furniture—just the necessities. Everything was of high quality, but didn’t really go together. At least Connor’s decorating sense hadn’t gotten any better. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he’d gotten a sense of style too.
“You don’t have kids, do you?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he said, pulling out stuff to make sandwiches.
I grabbed a package of cold cuts, smiling at the butcher’s name on the packaging. All the meat was from the same place in the city that we’d shopped at as kids. I smiled.
I bit into a sandwich and talked with my mouth full, earning me a horrified glance from Wyatt. “Maybe the stress of the divorce is making you paranoid.”
“Divorces can be stressful,” Wyatt agreed.
Connor got this predatory look in his eyes as he stared Wyatt down. It was the same look he’d had when Sammy Duncan pushed me off the monkey bars in third grade.
“So, you’ve been divorced.”
Wyatt didn’t back down from a challenge easily. “My wife walked out on me and my son about six years ago.”
After that, Connor was the one doing the backing down, and he apologized with earnest. I sat back and watched the whole show, enjoying my sandwich and the free testosterone competition. It was as close to cock fighting as we’d get in the suburbs.
I could see the gears shifting in Connor’s head, and I knew he was going back to the subject of this not being all in his head when our lunch was interrupted.
First, a single pair of shutters flapped open and closed, banging against the window, making it shudder in its frame, and then slamming against the outside wall of the house. The noise was horrible, and three heads snapped toward it, our eyes widening and narrowing as it continued.
Then, all hell broke loose.
Chapter Five
The windows and shutter from every window in this very naturally-lit house were torn from their places, screeching as they were ripped free. The doors were next, and I watched them fly clear across the street, crushing a neighbor’s car when it had the audacity to get in the way.
