He hopped out of his car, zipping his jacket up to his chin and adjusting his hat. His gloves were already on.
He hurried to the entrance and staked out a position to the right of the door. A couple of kids eyed him curiously as they made their way past, but most ignored him, hurrying to get to the warmth of the heated building. He thought he saw Hannah Sears, her pink hair visible under a white hat, but then realized it was just a girl with a pink scarf wrapped around her neck.
Lucas spotted Lindsay almost immediately. She was walking alone, her bag slung over one shoulder. Her eyes were on her phone as she made her way to the doors. She still had her black jacket and black knit hat, but her jeans were blue today.
Lucas stepped out in front of her and she almost bumped into him. Her eyes traveled the length of him, a mild look of shock and confusion registering on her face when she realized who was standing in front of her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I was hoping I could talk to you.”
She stiffened. “Why?”
“I have some questions about you and Noah.”
She scowled. “There is no me and Noah.”
She stepped to the side, intent on walking around Lucas, but he moved with her, blocking her path.
Her scowl deepened. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I told you, I have a couple questions for you,” Lucas said mildly. “It’ll take five minutes, tops.” He glanced at his watch. “Bell doesn’t ring for twenty minutes, so you have plenty of time to get to class.”
“I don’t have five minutes,” she told him, her dark eyes glittering.
“I suggest you make time.” His voice had a harder edge now. “Because I found something that needs explaining.”
“You’re trespassing,” she said. She got up on her tiptoes and scanned the thin crowd of people coming in from the parking lot. “You’re not supposed to be on school grounds. I’m finding the security guard.”
“I saw the message you sent to Noah. On Instagram.”
Lindsay froze.
Lucas leaned close, his voice dropping. “Who hurt you, Lindsay? Who was that message about?”
The anger dissipated from her expression. Instead, she looked worried. Fearful, even.
She tugged at the long braid hanging over her shoulder, her fingers holding tightly to the tail. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Lucas exhaled. He needed to be patient, to not be his overbearing self. This girl didn’t want to talk, and going into bullying mode wasn’t going to do squat.
He tried gentling his voice and his expression. “Did someone hurt you?”
She wouldn’t look at him. But after a few seconds, she gave the slightest of nods.
Lucas’s pulse quickened. He reminded himself to go slow, to not push.
“And Noah knew about it, right?”
Another slight nod.
“He wanted you to report it?”
She still wasn’t looking at him, but Lucas could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She nodded again.
Lucas kept mental track of the questions he was asking. “Did you? Report it?”
Lindsay looked to her boots. She subtly shook her head.
Lucas was ready to pounce with questions, but a backpack hit him in the kidney. Not a hard jab, and not intentional—at least he didn’t think it was—but it was enough to get his attention.
He turned around. Jack Whitman and a couple of his friends were walking by, in heavy discussion about the weekend basketball tournament in Osseo. Lucas recognized one of them, the dark-haired kid from the gym.
“Sorry, man,” Jack said automatically. But then he registered who he’d just bumped into and the friendly smile vanished.
Jack glanced at Lindsay and then back at Lucas.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
Lucas said nothing. Lindsay looked quickly at Jack before shifting her attention back to the sidewalk. Her eyes were still wet with unshed tears.
“Is he giving you trouble?” Jack asked Lindsay.
She didn’t respond.
“Why the fuck is she crying, man?” Jack asked.
“Jack, don’t—” Lindsay began.
He ignored her. He stared pointedly at Lucas, challenging him. “Leave her alone.”
A muscle in Lucas’s jaw twitched but he kept his cool. “And if I don’t?”
The flash of uncertainty on Jack’s face disappeared so fast Lucas thought he might’ve imagined it.
Jack grabbed Lindsay’s arm. “You should stop trolling jail bait,” he said to Lucas. “And you should get off school property before I report you.” He smiled thinly. “Unless you want one of your old buddies on the force to lock you up.”
He tugged on Lindsay’s arm, and Lucas watched as he and his friends led her into school.
28
Monday, March 26th
7:30am
“Can you tell us what happened?”
Officer Hartford’s voice was gentle as he sat with Alaina on her living room couch.
She stared at the far wall, not making eye contact. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting alone, the wind blowing in through the broken window, the darkness shifting to daylight.
It could’ve been minutes. Hours. Days.
“Ms. Dans?”
Blaine’s voice was sharper this time and Alaina blinked.
“What?” she said.
Blaine Hartford was sitting next to her on the couch, dressed in uniform, looking at her with obvious concern.
“What happened?”
Alaina blinked again. She had a question of her own. “How did you get here?”
He frowned. “Our patrol car…”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, did I call you? Did I…” She looked around, her eyes landing on the black smoke bomb still in the center of her living room. “Did I report this?”
“No.” Blaine pointed at the window. “We’ve just been dealing with a call-out in the area, and noticed the broken window when we drove by.”
“We?” She didn’t know why this was important, but she knew that he was speaking in plural, and she saw only one person sitting next to her.
“Officer Moss, my partner,” Blaine said.
“Was my door unlocked, too?”
Blaine’s eyes clouded. “No,” he said slowly. “You answered the door. You don’t remember?”
Wordlessly, Alaina shook her head.
“Where is he?” she asked. When Blaine gave her a blank look, she added, “Your partner.”
Right on cue, the front door opened and Ollie stepped inside holding a thin piece of plywood.
“Found this out in your garage,” he told Alaina. “You mind if I put it up outside? Keep that wind from blowing in?” He smiled. “I took the liberty of looking around out there. Found a drill that should do the trick.”
She just stared at him.
“Uh, are you cool with that?” he asked uncertainly. “I mean, we can wait. But right now, your heater is trying to warm up all of Aspen Falls…”
Alaina tried to snap out of whatever fog she was in. “Yes, of course.”
Ollie gave her a thumbs-up with his free hand and headed back outside. A couple of minutes later, they heard the whirring sound of the drill and the grinding noise as the screws bored their way into the wood siding.
Blaine cleared his throat and Alaina shifted her attention from the noise outside back to him. The room was already getting warmer now that the plywood was halfway bolted in place.
“Any idea what happened here?” Blaine asked.
Alaina pointed to the smoke bomb. “That happened.”
Blaine nodded.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A smoke grenade,” he told her. He looked at it for a minute. “Police have them on hand, but this looks like a military grade one.” He shifted his attention back to her. “You didn’t see anyone outside? A vehicle drive away?”
Alaina shook her head, remembering the dream she’d had just prior to waking up. She winced as the images and sounds came rushing back at her.
Blaine’s brow furrowed and he jotted something down on a small pad of paper. “Nothing at all?”
“I didn’t hear it,” she said. “The window break, I mean. When I woke up, the living room was full of smoke. The smoke detector was going off. I thought the house was on fire.”
He winced at her words. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been a scary thing to wake up to.”
She rubbed her temple. She could feel a headache coming on.
“Any idea who might’ve done this?” Blaine asked her.
She closed her eyes. “No.”
“No strained relationships?”
She thought of her father. He might’ve kicked her out of the house eight years ago, and she knew he still harbored anger toward her, but she doubted he was capable of doing such a thing.
“No,” she finally responded.
Blaine gave her a weird look—probably because of the amount of time it took her to answer his question.
He continued. “Any past clients or contractors?” he asked. “People who might have been upset about your purchases?”
Alaina frowned. “I’m not following.”
“You buy foreclosed homes and flip them, correct?”
She nodded.
“Did any of those sales force people out of their homes? Perhaps someone might’ve harbored some resentment, maybe said something at a closing.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I only buy vacant homes. The owners are long gone before I get involved.”
Blaine scribbled on his notepad. “Okay, but that might be a source, right? If someone was forced to move and then they saw their home was purchased by you?”
“I guess,” Alaina said.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was beginning to feel a little like her normal self again. She didn’t know if this was because Blaine was there, or because it was light outside, or simply because the window was now boarded up and the heat was actually serving its purpose, warming the interior of her house. Whatever the reason, she didn’t feel so hollowed out, so distant from herself and her emotions, which was how she’d felt immediately after attacking the smoke bomb with the fire extinguisher. She’d sat on the couch for what felt like hours, almost as if she were having some out-of-body experience.
Blaine sighed and she refocused her attention on him.
“What?” she asked.
He offered a small smile. “There’s not a lot to go on, I’m afraid,” he told her. “We can check with neighbors, see if anyone saw anything outside. Make or model of a car, or if someone was walking around in the neighborhood.” He paused. “Do you remember what time you woke up? Did you look at a clock or anything?”
“Five o’clock.”
His eyebrows lifted, and she could tell he was surprised by her quick response.
“My alarm started going off,” she explained. “It’s set for five on Monday mornings.”
He nodded and jotted this down.
“Alright,” he said, folding the cover over the notepad. “We’ll dust that,” he said, nodding at the grenade. “See if there are any prints on it.” He stood up. “You want me to call anyone for you?”
“Call anyone?” she echoed.
“To come over,” he said. “I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable being here by yourself.”
She felt irritation ignite in her belly. Was he seriously suggesting she couldn’t take care of herself? That she needed someone to come over and babysit her? She’d been on her own for eight years, thank you very much. There were a lot of things she’d learned over that time, but the one thing she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that she could take care of herself.
But a voice inside her head whispered its objection to that. It needled her about her response to that morning’s crisis, and how she’d glued herself to the couch, frozen into inaction.
And she knew, if she were being honest with herself, that there was someone he could call. Someone who would instantly make her feel better. Safer.
Lucas.
“Alaina?”
She gave her head a quick shake, trying to eradicate the voice and the thoughts it was creating.
Blaine was standing at the front door, his hand on the knob. “I can call Lucas,” he suggested gently. “If you want me to.”
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. It was as if he’d read her mind. Were her feelings that obvious? Had she accidentally said his name out loud?
“He mentioned that he was working with you on your brother’s—” He stopped. “On your brother’s case.”
Relief flooded her. Her secret—was that what it was?—was safe.
“He is.” She cleared her throat and nodded.
“He’s usually a pretty good listener,” Blaine told her. “If you’re looking for that.”
She was looking for that. And a lot more.
She did want Lucas to come over. Needed him.
But her fear of looking weak and vulnerable won out. Blaine had suggested she might not want to be alone, and she’d immediately bucked at this. She knew, even in the state she was in, that she was overreacting, He’d made the suggestion because it was the type of thing he would say to anyone who’d experienced something distressing. It wasn’t a judgment on her character, on her coping abilities.
But still. She was hardwired to be defensive, to put up her guard, to make sure she was proving herself, in whatever situation she was in.
Did she want Lucas to come over and wrap her in his arms and whisper that everything was going to be okay?
Yes. She wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted anything more.
But she wasn’t going to admit it.
And she sure as hell wasn’t going to act on it.
“Did you want me to call him?” Blaine asked.
Alaina hesitated, then shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
29
Monday, March 26th
8:05am
Lucas’s fist hurt from pounding.
He stood outside on Alaina’s doorstep, his knuckles raw and his emotions out of control. Blaine had called him ten minutes earlier, had given him a brief run-down of what had happened at Alaina’s. Lucas had just left the high school and was heading to Lulu’s for a cup of much-needed coffee when he whipped a U-turn in the middle of the road and raced to Alaina’s instead.
The boarded-up window was the first thing he saw when he pulled to the curb. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of it. Who the hell had thrown a smoke grenade through Alaina’s window? And why?
But those weren’t the only questions racing through his brain.
He knocked harder. He was ready to kick the door in if she didn’t answer soon.
“Alaina!” he yelled. “Open up!”
No, the question that superseded all else, the question that was literally tearing him apart, was simple: why hadn’t she called him?
The door opened a crack and he pushed it wide. Alaina stood there, a look of shock on her face at his forcefulness.
He was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry,” he said as the color drained from her face.
It was just after eight o’clock and she was in pajamas, her hair mussed from sleep. She wore no makeup, and the dark circles under her eyes became more pronounced as she paled.
She was still beautiful. Hauntingly so.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, feeling like an ass for pounding so hard and then shoving the door open. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her any more distress. She’d already been through enough. More than enough.
She took a couple of breaths, and he could see her chest rising and falling under the thin fabric of her shirt. “It’s alright.”
His eyes devoured her, raking over every inch of her, trying to make sure she was all in one piece. Before he could stop himself, he reached for her, pulling her i
n for a swift hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered before releasing her.
Alaina looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. “I’m…I’m fine.”
She took a step back and he strode into the house, his head swiveling every which way, taking everything in. The interior smelled like smoke, but there was no lingering haze. This made sense, considering the window had been busted open.
“What happened?” He moved through the room, inspecting every inch of space, his anger over what he saw, what had been done to her, growing by the second.
“Why are you here?”
He turned to look at her. “What do you mean, why am I here? I’m here because someone threw a fucking smoke grenade through your window.”
She swallowed, and guilt twisted his insides. He knew he shouldn’t be taking out his anger and frustration with the situation on her. None of this was her fault.
“No, I mean, why did you come?” she asked. “How did you find out?”
His jaw tightened. “Blaine told me.”
Alaina folded her arms across her chest. “I told him I didn’t need anyone to come over.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“He asked if I wanted someone to come and I told him no.”
She looked irritated, but it was no match for how Lucas was feeling.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.
“Why would I?”
He gaped at her.
“Besides, I didn’t call anyone,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your buddy and his partner were out on patrol. They saw the window and stopped.”
“Alaina, you should’ve called me. As soon as it happened.”
Her brow puckered. “Why? You’re not the police, Lucas. What could you have done?”
Her words were like a punch to the stomach. He didn’t need for her to remind him of this. He lived with that knowledge every single day. He swallowed, trying to keep those ugly emotions from bubbling to the surface.
It was a mistake. He should’ve let those through. Because newer ones—stronger ones—erupted inside of him.
Dead Set Page 17
