And yesterday.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat.
He’d held her. Comforted her. Whispered reassuring, calming words to her. He’d told her he cared about her—on more than one occasion. He’d called her his partner, and she didn’t want to admit how easy it was for her to picture them together. As partners.
As a couple.
She huffed out a breath, anger replacing her disbelief.
But she wasn’t angry at Lucas. Well, maybe she was a little. But mostly she was angry with herself. She had no claim to Lucas. None. He wasn’t her boyfriend. They weren’t even dating. She was paying him to be in her life, to help her figure out exactly what had happened with her brother.
So they kissed. So what? She wasn’t going to deny that there was some kind of connection between the two of them, but maybe it was just physical attraction. He was good-looking, and even though she was within inches of being considered a dwarf, she knew men found her attractive.
He’d been kind and supportive, a rock when she needed it. Sure, he’d said all of those sweet things to her, but maybe that was just his way of doing things? She thought about when she’d walked into Mariah’s classroom, how he’d had his arm around her. Maybe that was his MO.
Maybe all women were important to him.
Maybe Alaina really wasn’t anything special at all.
Her cheeks began to burn as she slowly walked back to the front entrance of the school. She had no right to be upset, to be surprised even, at Mariah’s announcement.
Alaina hadn’t dated anyone since high school. Eight long years. A couple of kisses might mean something far different to Lucas than it did to her. As much as she was a professional woman with a successful career, she was acutely aware that she was remarkably naïve when it came to relationships.
And that wasn’t what she and Lucas had.
As much as she might wish otherwise.
They had a business arrangement.
And that was it.
31
Tuesday, March 27th
4:10pm
Lucas was sure he was sitting at the wrong desk.
In the wrong office.
He glanced around the tiny space, surveying the progress Alaina had made in his disaster of a space. Ninety percent of the papers and files had been stowed away; what was left was piled in a neat stack on top of the bookshelf.
Lucas smiled. She was amazing. In more ways than one.
He shifted his attention back to the two folders spread out on his desk. Two new cases had come in overnight, and he was reading the background material his clients had provided. Both were straightforward, similar to cases he’d done in the past: a workman’s comp case for Jerry’s Auto, and a local woman going through a divorce who wanted Lucas to look into whether her wealthy husband was hiding any assets from her.
The divorce case might take some digging, especially if there was a complicated financial history involving shell companies or offshore bank accounts. And the workman’s comp case would require him to tail the worker, to make sure the injuries he’d claimed had happened on the job, and that were keeping him from working, were indeed impacting his life the way he said they were.
Lucas jotted down a couple of notes on the files, and then remembered to mirror those into the documents he’d created on his computer. A smile tugged at his lips. Alaina would be proud that he’d remembered.
His thoughts drifted to his time with Alaina yesterday morning. He’d wanted to stay all day, to never leave her side, but he knew that was unrealistic. For a multitude of reasons.
By the time he left her, he was happy that she seemed like her normal self again. She was remarkably composed about everything that had happened. The smoke grenade. The info he’d found about Lindsay.
His gut tightened and his pulse quickened. The smoke grenade concerned him. He’d questioned her a little about it, and Blaine had filled him in on what she’d told him, too, but he’d made very little headway.
For one, he didn’t want to dwell too much on it, not so soon after it had happened. He knew the last thing he needed to do was treat her with kid gloves, but he also knew that she’d witnessed absolutely nothing when the attack happened. She’d been sound asleep. So waiting a couple of days to ask her about potential suspects, about people who might be guilty of wanting to scare her, to seek revenge, wasn’t going to make a huge difference.
Besides, there was always the possibility that it had just been random vandalism, some punk-ass kids out to wreak a little havoc. Aspen Falls was a tiny, quiet town, but they didn’t live in an insulated bubble. Crimes happened.
His mind went to the messages she’d received from someone pretending to be Noah and he wondered if the two could be connected. Maybe, he thought. But the texts, although frightening, weren’t physical attacks. Those felt like the work of someone looking to get a rise out of Alaina, the same way someone might troll a person online.
Vandalism and the threat of really hurting someone felt like a different story altogether.
He did know one thing, though. When they finally closed the books on Noah’s case—whenever that ended up being—he was going to keep looking into the attack on her house. And he wasn’t going to stop until he found out who did it.
There was a knock on his door and it pushed open.
Lucas looked up, half hoping to see Alaina standing there. He swallowed his disappointment when Blaine stepped across the threshold.
“Hey,” he managed.
Blaine nodded a greeting.
Lucas stared at him, unsmiling. The memory of their last in-person exchange was still fresh in his mind. Sure, they’d chatted on the phone yesterday when Blaine had called to tell him about Alaina, but their conversation had been brief and completely professional.
“Why are you here?” Lucas asked.
Blaine’s face was expressionless as he strode across the small office, stopping just in front of Lucas’s desk. Wordlessly, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a business-size envelope. He dropped it on the desk.
“What’s that?” Lucas asked, making no move to reach for it.
“Open it and see for yourself.”
Lucas hesitated. Blaine waited, his hands now shoved in his pockets.
Lucas picked up the envelope and opened it.
“I ran the prints,” Blaine said as Lucas’s eyes scanned the report. “Most came back inconclusive, but there was one that came back positive. For Garrett Grimmer.”
Garrett Grimmer. Lucas studied one of the sheets of paper. He recognized the picture of the kid. It was Jack Whitman’s dark-haired friend, the one from the gym when Lucas had first confronted Jack about his signature in Noah’s yearbook.
Lucas looked at his friend. “Why are his prints in the system?”
Blaine shrugged. “He was picked up in the fall. Public intoxication, vandalism. He copped a plea and did some community service.”
Lucas stared at the report in front of him. His hand was steady and he knew his voice was calm, but his mind was reeling.
Why were Garrett’s prints on Noah’s window? Were they friends? He’d found nothing to indicate this.
Lucas knew exactly what he needed to do: hop on social media to see what he could track down about this kid and his potential connection to Noah.
But most importantly, he needed to go and talk to him.
Because he had questions.
Questions that needed answering, and questions that he was pretty sure only Garrett could provide answers to.
“Look, I’m sorry about the other day,” Blaine said. “At the station.”
“It’s fine.” He kept his eyes on the report.
Blaine frowned. “No, it’s not. My comments were out of line.”
“Water under the bridge,” Lucas murmured.
Blaine looked to the ceiling and sighed. “Can you just accept my apology, please? I shouldn’t have said that about you. The whole cop thing.”
Lucas sa
id nothing, dropping the report onto his desk and finally looking at his friend.
“You’re doing good work as a PI,” Blaine said. “I sort of envy the freedom you have.”
Lucas snorted. “The freedom?”
Blaine nodded. “You’re your own boss. You answer to yourself. And you pretty much decide what rules you’re going to follow. Within reason, of course,” he added with a smile.
Lucas gave him a slight grin.
“As much as being a cop is great, we’re bogged down by the bureaucracy and the paperwork. You know that.”
Lucas couldn’t argue with Blaine on that one.
“So yeah.” Blaine’s smile was wider now. “You have it pretty good, my friend.”
Lucas picked up the paper. “Thanks for doing this.”
Blaine’s brow furrowed. “Wanna tell me what you think? Of what’s going on?” He bit his lip. “And if you don’t, that’s okay, too.”
Lucas hesitated. He’d already shared what he knew with Blaine and had been soundly ridiculed for thinking there was anything more to Noah’s death than flat-out suicide.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But I think I need to talk to this Garrett kid to find out why he was going in and out of Noah’s bedroom.”
Blaine nodded. His teeth were still worrying his lower lip.
“What?” Lucas asked with a frown. “You know something?”
“No,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I just…” He glanced down at the floor.
“What?” Lucas repeated.
His friend looked back up at him and sighed. “I’m sorry I was an ass about this case.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. “I’ve been a dick every time you’ve talked about it.”
Lucas didn’t dispute this because it was true.
“And I—” Blaine stopped, swallowing hard. “There’s a reason why this is hard for me. This situation.”
Lucas cocked his head. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Blaine’s hand went to his head, and he ripped off the gray beanie he was wearing. His fingers dove into his hair, raking through the short strands over and over again. “I…I was Noah once upon a time.”
Lucas stared at Blaine. “What?”
“I…” His voice fell to a whisper. “I thought about killing myself once. Like very seriously considered it.”
Lucas’s mouth dropped open.
“It was back in high school.” Blaine wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were focused on the wall behind Lucas, and they had sort of glazed over. “I was the kid everyone picked on. And one day I just decided I’d had enough. The pain—” He choked on the word. He cleared his throat. “I was all set to do it. Had the gun in my hand.”
Lucas’s eyes felt like they were ready to pop out of their sockets.
“I was seconds away, man. Literally. I was ready to just end everything.” He took a steadying breath. “But someone stopped me. Someone helped me realize what a mistake it would be. They convinced me that life was worth living. Was worth fighting for.”
“Holy shit,” Lucas breathed, his voice barely audible. He looked at his friend. Blaine was still standing tall, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I…I had no idea.”
“No one does,” Blaine said simply. “I’ve never told anyone before.”
Lucas let that sink in.
“So why did you tell me?” he asked.
Blaine thought for a moment. “Because I owed it to you. You’ve been a good friend. My best friend, if we want to cue all the sentimental shit. You asked for my help with something and I blew you off.” He shook his head. “No, I did more than that. I dismissed you. I was a complete ass.”
“You could’ve just stopped at the apology,” Lucas said. “You didn’t have to tell me all of this.”
“I know,” Blaine said, nodding. “But I wanted to. I needed to. You see, every time you brought up Noah, all these thoughts came rushing at me. That it could’ve been me. That I could’ve been the one a family was burying, was grieving over. It was like PTSD or something. I just didn’t even want to think about that kid. Because he reminded me too much of…me.”
Lucas watched the emotions play across his friend’s face.
“I’m glad it wasn’t you,” Lucas said quietly.
Blaine managed a small smile. “Me, too.”
“And I’m glad whoever it was that talked you out of it was there when they were.”
“Me, too,” Blaine repeated, more emphatically this time. He pointed at the report. “You think this kid might know something? You want us to get involved on this?”
Lucas knew what he was asking. Did he want to bring the police in?
He shook his head.
“No,” he told his friend. “I don’t know what, if anything, this means. But I’m going to find out.”
Blaine nodded. “Alright. You let me know what you need.”
Lucas smiled. “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t thank me,” Blaine said.
He left, and Lucas’s gaze returned to the sheet of paper Blaine had delivered. He didn’t know what this development meant—if it meant anything, really—but it was definitely another piece of the puzzle.
He reached for his phone, intending to do a quick search of social media to see just what he might be able to find out about Garrett Grimmer. But before he opened his browser, he paused.
There was something he needed to do first.
Something that was more important.
He needed to call Alaina and let her know what he had just found out.
32
Tuesday, March 27th
7:10pm
The game had ended at least a half hour ago.
The gym was now empty, the custodian the only one still in the cavernous room, emptying trash cans and cleaning the floor before locking it up for the night.
But Alaina wasn’t going anywhere.
She’d raced back to the school as soon as she’d gotten off the phone with Lucas.
Garrett Grimmer. Her mind turned his name over and over again. She didn’t know much about him, but there were two indisputable facts she kept returning to. One, he was Rob Grimmer’s son. And two, his fingerprints had been on her brother’s window.
Those were the only things she knew. But she was about to find out a whole lot more.
Alaina glanced at the closed door she was standing next to. The team was still in the locker room, but she knew they’d be coming out sooner or later. It had been a close game—they’d lost because of a three-pointer just before the final buzzer—but they’d played sloppy all night. She wasn’t a huge basketball fan, and her mind had been on everything but the game, but even she knew that they’d made a ton of unnecessary fouls and had turned over the ball so many times, the home crowd had actually started booing them.
The door finally pushed open, and Alaina watched as boys filed out of the room, dressed in their warm-ups and freshly showered. The smell of shampoo and soap wafted out with them and she searched the sea of tall boys. She’d done a quick scan of social media accounts and knew who she was looking for.
The locker room door banged shut and Alaina frowned. Garrett hadn’t come out. Had she missed him somehow? Was there another exit to the room?
She took a step toward the door when it pushed open again.
Garrett strode out, a gym bag in one hand, his car keys in the other. Another boy was walking with him, and she recognized him right away. Jack, the kid who had stopped to talk to Mariah Coates. Alaina tried to remember if Garrett had been one of the guys with him that afternoon, but she was drawing a blank. She shook her head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Garrett and his fingerprints.
Alaina’s insides twisted, and she tried to take a deep breath but she couldn’t inflate her lungs. She stepped in front of Garrett, blocking his path.
“I need to talk to you.” Her voice sounded frail, even to her own ears.
Garrett’s eyebrow
raised. “Oh yeah? What about?” His eyes roamed over her body, and even though she was dressed in a thick winter coat that hit her mid-thigh, she knew he was trying to imagine what she looked like without it on. Probably without anything on.
“Why were you in my brother’s bedroom?” she demanded.
Garrett looked a little taken aback. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“My brother,” she repeated. Her voice was stronger now. “Why were you in his room?”
Garrett tried to move past her but Alaina stepped in closer, her eyes barely at his chest level.
He grinned, almost as if he were amused by the whole situation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His insolence, his indifference, was maddening. She’d lost her brother, dammit, and she wanted answers. This kid’s prints had been in his room, and he was acting as though he didn’t have a clue as to what she was talking about.
“You’re lying!” she said, her voice rising. She fought the tears that were threatening. “What did you do to my brother?”
Garrett’s expression faltered.
“What did you do to my brother?” she screamed.
The door burst open and the coach came flying out of the locker room.
“What’s going on out here?” he demanded, his gaze shifting from Alaina to his players.
Her chest heaved, and she tried to get her emotions under control.
“This lady just started accusing us of all this crap,” Garrett told his coach. “She’s insane, man.”
The coach looked at his player. “You know her?”
“Never seen her before in my life.”
The coach studied Alaina, a deep frown on his face. “The game ended a half hour ago,” he said. “If you don’t know these boys, I suggest you leave.”
Alaina struggled to find the words she needed. “But—”
“No buts,” the coach said gruffly, shaking his head. “You’re harassing my players.”
Dead Set Page 19
