But even that seemed like a bad idea at the moment, especially with how fragile she was right now. She literally thought her dead brother was communicating with her from beyond. In any other circumstances, Lucas would’ve rolled his eyes and tried to talk some firm sense into whomever was swallowing that garbage.
But this was different.
This was Alaina.
“Do you want me to keep the phone?” he asked. “I can take it with me, if you want.” He would just power the damn thing off and be done with it.
Alaina’s hands were folded in her lap, her fingers rubbing her knuckles over and over. Her teeth bit into her lip, and he could tell she was struggling with something.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice registering a little sharp. “What are you not telling me?”
She blinked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I just… Yes, maybe you should take it.”
Lucas frowned. “Just what?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Alaina.” She wouldn’t look at him. He put his thumb under her chin and lifted it, forcing her eyes to his. “Tell me.”
“I’ve been obsessed with that phone,” she finally said.
He nodded. This was understandable, the constant worry of what might come through next. All the more reason to turn it off, he thought.
“I’ll take it. You won’t have to see another one of those texts.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Lucas leaned forward a little. “I’m not following.”
She took a deep breath. “Do you know how hard it is to not open everything on that phone and scour it for information?”
He was a little taken aback.
“You haven’t done that yet?” He thought it would’ve been the first thing she’d do.
She shook her head vehemently.
“Why not?” As a private investigator, he would’ve searched every single thing available on that device.
“Because it’s Noah’s,” she said softly. “Because I don’t deserve to know.”
Lucas couldn’t hide his look of disbelief. “Isn’t that why you hired me? To look into the circumstances surrounding his death?”
“Yes.” She gave him a hard look. “And you’ve decided there is no case.”
He said nothing, but the guilt rose inside of him.
She glanced at the phone. “Besides, this isn’t looking into his death. It’s looking into his life.”
“Which is what we sort of need to do since that’s all we have to go on,” he reminded her.
“Are you saying you were wrong?” she asked.
“I’m just saying that his phone represents the opportunity to find out whether or not there is something to go on.”
“It feels like an invasion of privacy,” she said.
Lucas didn’t disagree, but he also knew that investigative work often involved things that might be unpalatable under regular circumstances.
“And I don’t deserve to know,” she added softly.
He almost didn’t hear her. “What?”
Alaina’s voice was louder this time. “I don’t deserve to know.” She sighed. “I was a shitty sister when he was alive. I don’t deserve any part of his life.”
“You keep saying that,” Lucas said, shaking his head. “You’re being way too hard on yourself.”
“No, I’m not.”
His thumb found her chin again. This time he kept it there, mostly to keep her eyes locked on his. But the feel of her skin, the warmth and smoothness of it, made it impossible to even consider breaking contact again.
“You are a good person, Alaina.” His voice was firm. “It’s okay to have regrets, to wish you had done things differently. But you can’t let one season of your life—one very short season—define the entirety of the relationship you had with your brother. It’s not fair to him, and it’s not fair to you.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. “But I wasn’t there for him,” she whispered, her face crumpling. “And it kills me. That he was so, so alone.”
His heart hiccupped. He used his thumb to wipe away a tear streaking down her chin. How he wished he could fix things for her. Fix everything.
“You are a good person,” he repeated. “Don’t let your regrets steer your path going forward. You deserve better.” He used his free arm to wrap around her and she sagged against him, her chest heaving with silent sobs.
He stroked her shoulder, breathed in the scent of her. He wanted to hold her forever, to wrap her in his embrace and never let her go.
But there was something else he was thinking about.
Something that sat a little uncomfortably in his gut.
He’d given her advice that he needed to take himself. His own wounds, his own regrets, often rubbed him raw. There were moments when he wanted to kick himself for walking away from his job on the force, for not sticking around and taking that damn desk job Kellen had offered him. Maybe with enough therapy, with another surgery, with strength training and conditioning, he would’ve been able to pass the physical requirements. Maybe he would’ve found a position in the administration that could be just as satisfying as working the streets.
But he’d made a rash decision. He’d let his anger and his frustration get the best of him and he’d walked. His business was doing fine, but there was always a part of him—and some days it spoke louder than others—that berated his quick decision. What if he’d stayed? How would his life have been different?
The woman in his arms sighed, and his arm instinctively tightened around her.
He knew one way his life would’ve been different.
He wouldn’t be sitting in this tiny, warm bungalow, holding this fragile slip of a woman, offering her not only physical comfort, but words of reassurance, too.
Slowly, Alaina lifted her head. She offered a watery smile, her face streaked with tears, her eyes and nose rosy red from crying.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed red, too, and he wondered if that was from her crying jag or because she was embarrassed at her display of emotion. She certainly sounded that way.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he told her. “Not a single thing.” He glanced at the phone still sitting on the coffee table. “Do you want me to take it?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
His gaze returned to her. “And do you want me to poke around?” Before she could respond, he added, “It might have some clues. I’m not saying it will, but if it does and we don’t look, well…”
They sat in silence for a moment. Harry ambled in from the hallway, yawning, his ears droopy from sleep. He seemed completely oblivious to what had been going on in the house.
Alaina pulled in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to know what you find,” she murmured. When she saw his confused expression, she added, “Not unless it…it has to do with—”
He cut her off. “Understood.”
She breathed a visible sigh of relief.
He shifted his arm so he could lean over and grab the phone. “It’s unlocked, right? You took the facial recognition off?”
She nodded.
He powered off the phone and slid it into his jeans pocket. One problem solved. And potentially dozens of clues to find.
He would do that later, in the privacy of his own home or office. That way, he could take his time poring over everything, and Alaina wouldn’t have to sit through the process. Because it was more than clear that she didn’t want to.
“Thank you for coming over,” she said. She looked and sounded more composed.
“Don’t thank me,” he said. He didn’t want her to feel indebted to him.
“I don’t think comforting and counseling clients is part of your job description.”
She wasn’t wrong.
He gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s not. But I didn’t come running because you were my client. And I didn’t comfort you because you were my client, either.”
“No?�
��
Alaina had shifted a fraction of an inch away from him on the couch, but their thighs were still touching, their shoulders just inches apart.
“No.”
“Then why did you come?”
He hesitated. He could spill right then. Tell her all the reasons why he was sitting with her on her couch, his arm wrapped around her, emotions buzzing through him like bees swarming a hive.
He chose his words carefully. “Because I was worried about you.” He made sure she was looking at him. And then he added, “And because I care about you.”
Her swallow was visible, but to her credit, she didn’t look away.
She said nothing, but the air between them was charged. Heated.
He wanted to kiss her. God, how he wanted to cover her lips with his and make her forget all that was happening.
“Can I ask you a question?” Lucas asked suddenly. “Feel free to say no.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Okay…”
His thigh pressed into hers and he leaned close, so close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. Her eyes were so blue, the deep blue of ten thousand lakes, and he felt a little dizzy, as if he were about to drown in those liquid depths.
He cupped his hand around her neck and touched his nose to hers, poised to ask instead of simply take.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
He’d never asked that question before, not once in his life. He’d kissed plenty of women, but circumstances always dictated to him where and how far to take a relationship or hook-up. He could read people’s desires as easily as he could read their intentions, and he’d always known when to take things to the next level.
But this wasn’t a date. And this wasn’t just any woman. He wanted to be damn sure that he was offering something Alaina wanted.
She didn’t respond with words.
But her lips still answered his question.
26
Monday, March 26th
4:45am
The screams were loud, almost nonstop. Alaina could hear them but the words were unintelligible. Darkness surrounded her, preventing any attempt to find the person who was screaming.
Noah.
The darkness turned to smoke, thick and choking. She sputtered and coughed, and her eyes watered. Something close by was on fire. The stench was unbearable, almost rancid, and she covered her mouth, gagging, still searching for her brother. His screams were loud, so loud, repeating over and over.
She coughed again, and this time, she woke up. Drenched in sweat, the thick comforter she usually tucked to her chin was down around her knees. She shivered, then coughed again.
And suddenly she was wide awake.
Her eyes flew open and she gaped in horror at the smoke seeping under her bedroom door. The screaming from her dream had morphed into another sound: her smoke alarm, screeching loudly. Another sound, too. Barking.
Harry.
She leaped out of bed, almost tripping over the comforter wrapped around her legs. She raced to the door, then paused, remembering to touch the handle before flinging it open. Tentatively, and with a trembling hand, she touched it. It was cool, so she closed her hand around it and yanked it open.
The hallway was filled with smoke. She lifted her shirt, covering her mouth and nose, trying not to gag and choke on the smoke. Harry was kenneled in the kitchen, barking over and over, a sharp warning bark she’d never heard from him before.
She scanned the living room, her eyes watering as she tried to find the source of the smoke. A part of her knew she was wasting time; she was doing all of the wrong things in a fire.
Get out. Leave. Call 911.
Those were the things she knew she was supposed to do. And yet she couldn’t.
She blinked rapidly, her eyes burning from the smoke and the fumes. Harry kept barking and she knew she needed to save him. This time her eyes filled with real tears. Dear God, she couldn’t lose her brother’s dog, too. That would be too much to bear.
She pivoted, intent on heading to the kitchen, when she saw the source of the smoke.
A smoke bomb lay in the middle of her living room, spewing thick gray smoke like an erupting volcano. A fresh gust of cold wind made the smoke swirl like a tornado. Alaina turned and saw the shattered living room window.
She raced into the kitchen, fumbling through the darkened room as she hunted for the fire extinguisher she kept under the sink. Her hand encountered the solid metal canister and she raced back into the living room, pulling the pin as she did so. Using both hands, she aimed the extinguisher at the smoking canister on the floor and pressed the trigger. The kickback took her by surprise as the stream of white foam burst forth. She tried to steady her aim, to keep it on the bomb, and finally, after what felt like hours, the smoke subsided.
She dropped onto the couch, cradling the extinguisher in her arms. It was cold and heavy against her chest. The heater hummed loudly, kicking in at full force with the rush of icy air pouring in through the broken window. Alaina didn’t notice the cold, didn’t even shiver in her thin knit pants and T-shirt, sockless.
She didn’t hear Harry barking anymore, but a new sound momentarily caught her attention. The sound of her alarm going off.
It was five o’clock, the time she always set to wake up on a Monday. The dark sky always insisted it was still night at this time of year, and the streetlight outside was in agreement, its bulb providing the only light in Alaina’s living room. It cast an eerie glow in the room, the smoke particles suspended in the beams of light.
She still sat there, frozen, even when the smell of fresh coffee brewing began to compete with the lingering aroma of smoke. But that was dissipating, thanks to the wind howling through the window.
Alaina knew she should get up. She should check on Harry, make sure he was okay. She should let him see her so he would know she was okay.
She should call the police.
Someone had thrown that smoke bomb into her house on purpose. It was no accident.
She should call Lucas.
But she did none of those things.
She just sat.
No tears.
No anger.
No anything.
27
Monday, March 26th
7:05am
The last time Lucas had sat outside a high school this early in the morning, he’d been attending it.
He glanced at the clock on his dash and sighed. He couldn’t believe how early kids had to get to school these days. He knew why: Aspen Falls had a limited number of buses and a limited number of bus drivers. Ensuring kids who required busing got to school meant staggered start times for the elementary, middle and high schools. And the high schoolers had gotten the short end of the stick with their 7:45 start time.
He sipped his coffee and adjusted the heat pumping out of the vents, dialing it down just a notch. He was getting warm, but it was easier to turn down the heat than to wrestle out of his jacket. Besides, he was getting out of the car any minute. Just as soon as he saw Lindsay Hopkins.
His gut tightened, and he reached for the extra phone sitting on his passenger seat.
He swiped the screen and pulled up the message that had caught his attention the night before.
He’d left Alaina’s and, after stopping for a few groceries, had gone home and started digging. He’d needed to, to get his mind off her.
And he’d found something almost immediately.
Noah’s texts had been wiped, and most of his social media had been, too. Lucas had looked at Noah’s Facebook account in the early days of the investigation–that was how he’d found Connor’s and Carmen’s names—but that account had looked abandoned. The last post Noah made had been almost a year earlier. This hadn’t surprised Lucas too much, as most teens were opting to use other social media platforms. Noah had SnapChat and Instagram on his phone, with profiles for both, but there was nothing visible on either app. Of course, SnapChat posts disappeared after twenty-four hours, so Lucas hadn’t expec
ted to find much there unless he’d saved conversations. But Noah’s Instagram profile was empty, too. It looked as though he’d never posted a single thing.
Lucas had closed those apps and started looking through other more obscure ones, games and stuff, hoping there might be some clues.
Nothing.
Frustrated, he’d set it aside. He made a quick dinner and watched the Timberwolves game—hockey wasn’t on—and spent more time thinking about the heated kiss he’d shared with Alaina than the action on the court.
He’d picked up the phone after the game, intending to give it one more go-through before officially writing it off. This time when he opened Instagram, he poked around a little more. Found the Direct Message icon and clicked that.
And then froze.
Because there was one message there, a message dated five weeks earlier.
When Noah had still been alive.
He opened it.
I told him. I told him you and I talked. And that I was going to report his sorry ass. Thank you for giving me the courage to stand up to him. Thank you for being there for me when no one else was.
He looked at the sender’s account.
A single name. Lin.
He clicked through to the profile.
The profile picture was a pencil drawing of the scales of justice.
And the posts were all inspirational quotes. All about justice and revenge and facing fears and keeping strong.
There was one follower.
Noah.
Lucas didn’t find it hard to put two and two together. If he had to bet money, he would guess that the person behind the account was Lindsay Hopkins.
And that was why he was at school the next morning, bright and early, ready to intercept her before she made her way into the building.
The first students’ cars began arriving, pulling into the student parking lot. He knew from his years as a police officer that the only entrance unlocked in the morning was the main one, so at least he knew he was looking in the right place.
Dead Set Page 16
