by Tawna Fenske
“By calling the CEO for a maintenance issue?”
He ignores that and starts toward my back door. “Show me. The police are on their way, but I want to see it for myself first.”
That gives me pause. Is there a reason he’d want to check things out before the cops? Or a reason he’s not contacting the PI first?
I don’t ask questions as I hustle through the living room and to the back door. The window beside it overlooks the exact spot we stood just days ago, kissing and touching and edging closer to crossing that line we’d never be able to uncross. Still, it was hot. Hot and sexy and—
“There,” I say, pointing through the window. “Right on the edge.”
Dean stares through the window for a long, long time. I look, too, even though the terrifying image is burned into my brain. At the edge of the deck lies a long, greenish-brown snake. It’s huge, maybe five feet long, but that’s not the worst part.
Looped around its neck is a rubber band cinched tight at the base of a pink balloon. At the other end, tied to the snake’s rattle—yes, rattle—is a blue balloon.
Dean glowers. “That’s fucked up.”
I feel myself shiver, though it’s plenty warm in here. Fucked up barely touches the surface. Even from here, I can read the words scrawled on the bobbing orbs of horror.
Go away.
It’s inked on each balloon in black, blocky handwriting. I shiver again, and Roughneck whines and licks my hand.
Dean’s still staring at the snake. “That’s not alive.”
“I sure as hell hope not. Otherwise, someone wrestled a live rattlesnake just to fuck with me.”
“No, I mean it’s a fake snake.” He points to the tail. “See how that looks rubbery instead of hard?”
“I tried not to look that closely.” But having Dean so close lends me a healthy dose of bravery, so I peer through the window. “Okay, so even if it’s not real, that’s creepy as hell.”
“Agreed.” His brow furrows as he stares through the window. When he looks back at me, his eyes are filled with concern. “You didn’t see anyone?”
“Not a soul.” I shudder again. “Just David Hisslehoff there.”
He snorts. “David Hisselhoff?”
“Seemed like something a Judson kid would name a pet snake. That, or Snake Gyllenhaal. I also considered William Snakespeare or Monty Python.”
“You named it?”
“I had to do something to keep my mind off how damn creepy it is.”
“Glad you could distract yourself.” He looks deep in my eyes, concern etching a trench between his brows. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
I want to say yes, but I can’t bring myself to do it. “Balloons, Dean. Not just the snake, but balloons. How many people know I’m freaked out by balloons?”
He frowns. “I don’t know; how many?”
“Not that many.” I try to think of a number. Phobias aren’t really something I advertise. “A couple dozen people, maybe. Family, of course. Close friends. You.”
“I feel honored.”
“I feel creeped out.” I let go of my dog’s harness, and he instantly starts pawing the door. “What do we do?”
“Lieutenant Lovelin should be here any minute. She was actually just down the road.”
“Is that normal?”
“What do you mean?”
I bite my lip. “I know she’s your top pick for police chief, and I haven’t met her yet. But we’ve been speculating about suspects, and it seems odd a cop would be just standing by. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Right, gotcha.” He considers that. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t live far from here.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” I glance back at the balloon-covered snake and try not to gag.
“We’ll look into it,” he says. “Promise. This will all be okay.”
The crazy thing is, I believe him. Maybe it’s the certainty in his voice. Maybe it’s his big, soothing presence or the heat radiating off his body. I know I’m standing too close to him, and I hate the weakness it signals.
But I can’t bring myself to step back.
He looks into my eyes, probably checking to make sure I’m not about to pass out. As his gaze sweeps over me, I feel my shoulders start to relax. No, relax isn’t the right word. My heart ticks up, but it’s not panic this time. It’s something else.
As I pray he can’t read my mind, I see his hand move. He’s reaching for me, stretching out one huge, capable palm to—what?
The doorbell chimes before I have my answer, and we jump apart like naughty teenagers. Roughneck barks and barrels to the front of the cabin. I jog after him, conscious of Dean right behind me as I reach the door and clip the leash onto my dog’s harness.
Roughneck takes this as a cue we’re going for a walk and proceeds to lose his shit all over again.
“Sorry, my dog’s a little keyed up,” I shout through the door before pulling it open. “He’s harmless, I promise.”
“No problem.” The woman on my front porch smiles, tawny hair glinting in the sunshine. She wears a friendly smile and a cop uniform that she fills out like a dream. I do my best to ignore the pinch of envy in my gut as she extends her hand. “I’m Lieutenant Amy Lovelin.”
“Vanessa Vincent.” I shake her hand before stepping aside to let her in. “Come on in. I’ll take you through to the back.”
“Thanks.” She nods at Dean. “Good to see you again. Sounds like there’s been more drama.”
Dean doesn’t try to hide his grimace. “If you call a balloon-covered snake drama, then yeah.”
She smiles and adjusts her grip on the black bag she’s carrying. “Hardly the weirdest thing I’ve seen in the line of duty.”
That statement alone is enough to make me love her, and my fandom surges when she glances down at my howling dog and smiles. “And who do we have here?”
“This is Roughneck, and I swear he’s really friendly. He just sounds awful.”
“Roughneck? From Tia’s place?” She bends down to pet him, and my dog goes crazy licking and wagging. “Hey, buddy. Good to see you again.”
Roughneck melts down completely, groaning with joy as she rubs his belly. I’m guessing Amy Lovelin has this effect on lots of guys. “I take it you know each other?”
Amy scratches behind his ears, laughing when he tries to lick her nose. “I was part of the crew that helped capture him. Tia let me read to him a couple times once he got settled.”
“Anything he especially liked?” And now I’m the weirdo who takes book recommendations for her dog.
Amy isn’t fazed. “He did seem to like the Bill Cameron crime novel I read him. “Then he ripped the head off a doll and spread the guts all over his pen. I switched to romance novels after that.”
“No wonder he’s such a lover.” I scratch him behind one ear while Amy gives him a good booty rub.
“You’ve come a long way, buddy.” She gives him one last pet and straightens up. “You want to fill me in on what’s happening?”
“Right, of course.” Dread curdles my gut. “You probably want to see the…the…”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say the s-word.” She offers a sympathetic smile. “My mom hates them so much that we’re only allowed to call them rattlebears.”
Dean quirks an eyebrow. “Rattlebears?”
“I guess bears are less scary-sounding than…well, the other animal.” Amy smiles at my dog. “Maybe ‘rattlepup’ would be more comforting?”
I laugh and wrap his leash around my hand. “It’s okay, I’m not freaked out by the word.” Just by the animal itself. “Sorry, this whole thing probably seems silly to you.”
“Not at all,” she says. “I’m already invested in what’s happening out here, though this does seem like a strange twist.”
Dean shoves his hands in his pockets. “It seemed like an odd thing to call the cops for, but considering what’s written on the balloons....”
“Absolutely.” She picks up
her black bag. “Let’s take a look.”
We all troop through my cabin, Roughneck trotting along beside us. When we get to the door, Amy peers out the window. “Thank God it’s just plastic,” she says. “I’ve never dusted a snake corpse for prints before.”
“Small blessings.” I grip Roughneck’s leash a little tighter.
Amy pushes the door open and steps through. She sets down the black bag and extracts a pair of rubber gloves, which she promptly snaps into place. “You haven’t touched anything, correct?”
“Correct.” I can’t suppress another shudder. “No amount of money is enough to convince me to touch anything going on out there right now.”
Dean reaches down and laces his fingers through mine, giving my hand a squeeze. “We haven’t set foot outside.”
“Excellent, I’ll keep an eye out for footprints.” She frowns, scanning the desert dirt and my small patch of neatly-mowed grass. “Not likely we’ll see anything, but you never know.”
“Want us to wait here?” Dean asks.
“For now. I’ll let you know when you can come out.” Amy strides across the deck, surveying her surroundings as she moves. Even if she were wearing street clothes, there’s something about her posture that screams “cop.” I can see why Dean wants to hire her. We stay fixed in the open doorway, watching her work. Even Roughneck seems mesmerized.
Amy slips a small camera out of her pocket, firing off a few images before she stoops down for a closer look. I watch her a moment longer before turning to Dean. “Sorry to drag you out here. I feel a little silly knowing it’s fake.”
“You have every right to be freaked out,” he says. “Hell, I’m freaked out.”
He holds out his arm, and I get distracted by big hands and ropey forearm muscles before realizing he’s showing me goosebumps. “Same,” I murmur, lifting my own arm. The one not attached to the hand he’s still holding.
Dean smiles, and there go the goosebumps again. I tear my attention off him and direct it back outside where Amy is busy inspecting the balloons. I keep my voice low, not entirely sure why. “You think this is tied to the other stuff?”
Dean hesitates. “Yeah. I do.”
I don’t want to ask the next question, but I have to. “It’s directed at me, right? I mean, it has to be.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Why don’t we wait and see what the police think.”
Which is not the same as a denial. I know that. He knows that.
But who the hell would target me like this? I comb my brain for thoughts on who I’ve pissed off recently. My breakup with Raleigh wasn’t pretty, but I can’t see him setting out to scare me. Besides, Val said she saw him in Paris. It doesn’t add up.
Outside, Amy is shoving the snake into an oversized evidence bag. The balloons are still inflated, and even though I know the snake’s not real, it makes my skin crawl.
Seeing us watching her, Amy holds up a finger. “One second. Let me log this into evidence, and I’ll be right back.”
“Is it okay for us to come out?” Dean asks.
“Sure, it’s clear,” she says. “Just try not to touch anything.”
I glance down to where Dean’s still gripping my hand. I don’t think he notices, and I also don’t think that’s what she means by touching, but I still feel guilty. The pleasure of feeling his skin against mine far outweighs the guilt, so I say nothing.
Dean gives my hand another squeeze. “Want to go out? It might help with the closure or something.”
“You sound like you’ve been talking to Mari.”
He gives me an odd look. “I have, actually.”
Before I can ask, he lets go of my hand and strides out onto the deck ahead of me. I wrap Roughneck’s leash around my wrist and follow. I don’t know why I’m scanning the deck like there’s something Amy might have missed. I’m sure she did a thorough job, but I can’t help feeling creeped out. Like someone’s watching me.
Or maybe that’s Dean. His eyes sweep over me as I follow Roughneck to the edge of the deck. Amy comes back around the house, blessedly snake-free. She’s got a notepad in one hand and slips a pen out of her pocket as she climbs the steps to the deck.
“I’m not seeing any trace of prints, but we’ll see what the lab says.” She clicks her pen a couple times. “Have you noticed anything else unusual around here?”
“More unusual than a fake snake covered in balloons?” I shake my head. “Not really.”
“What about those cabins over there.” She waves a hand toward the bank of them just south of mine. “Anyone living there yet?”
“A few are occupied,” Dean says. “Lana’s in that one, and Mari’s on the far end. A couple of our new shopkeepers were going to start moving in this week.”
“How about beyond that?” She’s still scribbling on her notepad. “Past the trees over there. That’s the edge of Tia’s place, right?”
“That’s right.” Dean’s voice sounds tight.
“Okay, good.” Amy does some more scribbling, then looks up. “I’ll want to speak with anyone who could have seen anything.”
“Of course.” Dean clears his throat. “So you think this is more than a prank?”
Amy’s pale eyes study his face. “I think in the context of the other things you’ve had happening out here, we need to examine all angles.”
I bite my lip. “Should I be worried?” I hate how my voice shakes when I ask it. I hate even more that I have to ask.
Amy doesn’t say no right away. Or at all. “You should be cautious,” she says. “But this guy here can help protect you.”
I start to argue that I don’t need a man’s protection when Amy bends to scratch Roughneck’s ears. “You’re looking out for your mom, aren’t you? That’s a good boy.”
“He is a good boy,” I agree. And the fact that Amy Lovelin recognizes it makes me extra eager to hire her. “I’m sure he barked his head off at whoever did this.”
“Nice job, buddy.” She gives him one last scratch and straightens. “Here’s my card.” She hands it to me before nodding at Dean. “Obviously, Dean and I have been in communication, but you’re welcome to reach out anytime.”
“Thank you.” Dean glances at me. “It’s hard not to want to take this personally.”
Amy turns and trails her gaze over the field, scanning like she might have missed something. “It’s noteworthy that this message was so tailored to Vanessa’s fears,” she says. “Snakes are a common enough phobia, but balloons?”
“Right.” I glance at Dean, a little surprised he told her about that. Was it when he called this in, or in one of their other conversations? “It does seem pretty obvious someone’s targeting me.”
Dean folds his arms over his chest. “Not necessarily. Plenty of other stuff has been directed at the rest of us.”
“Is there anything you haven’t mentioned yet?” Amy clicks her pen again. “Anything that could be connected?”
Dean hesitates. “Not that I can think of.”
“We’ve been trying to think of anyone who might have an axe to grind with any of us,” I tell her. “Neighbors, ex-colleagues, former cult members, that sort of thing.”
Amy cocks her head. “Any leads?”
Dean shoves his hands in his pockets “Not really.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and put it in writing,” she says. “Make a list. Everyone, not just the two of you. Your brothers and sisters—have them do it, too. Maybe there are things we haven’t considered.”
“All right.” I grip my dog’s leash as he tugs me toward a tree he’d desperately love to water. “Thank you for coming out here so quickly.”
“No problem.” She glances at Dean. “I signed the contract, by the way. Ms. Judson—Mari, I mean—she should have everything she needs to get the ball rolling.”
Surprise flashes on Dean’s face. “That’s terrific.” He grasps her hand in a firm shake. “Glad to have you joining the team.”
“Likewise.”
Amy turns and smiles at me. “Vanessa. I look forward to working with you.”
“Same.” My brain flashes on an image of girls’ nights with Amy and Tia and the Judson sisters, and I feel pathetic and hopeful at the same time. “It’ll be great to have you here.”
She smiles and shoves her notepad in her pocket. “I’m looking forward to it.” With a quick wave, she steps back and down the three stairs leading to the grass. “Stay safe, you two.”
And then she’s gone, moving around the corner to the front of the house. I listen for the sound of her car starting, not sure if she’s heading home or going to go interview people in neighboring cabins.
Either way, Dean and I are alone again. Alone and right back on the deck where we kissed a few days ago. I bite my lip, grateful he can’t read my mind.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, and I nearly choke.
“I’m thinking I need to let Roughneck water his favorite tree.” Moving past him, I let my dog lead me down the steps.
Dean follows, ambling across the grass toward me. “Seriously, are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, just a little rattled.” I wince. “Bad word choice.”
“We probably need to get your mind off the rattlesnake thing.”
I start to ask what he means by that, then stop. Nothing. He means nothing. Stop trying to read something into this.
I move around the tree, letting Roughneck get a good sniff. “You told Lieutenant Lovelin about my balloon phobia?”
“It seemed relevant.” His brow creases. “I’m sorry, was it a secret?”
“No. I’m just not used to having other people speak for me.” Actually, I’m very used to it, which is probably why it’s bugging me. “It wasn’t a secret,” I reiterate. “I just prefer to represent myself.”
He looks at me for a few beats, then nods. “Understood.”
And now I feel like an asshole. I touch his arm, softening a little. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge.”
“No, I get it. This whole thing is creepy.”
Roughneck’s made a full circle around the tree, wrapping his leash all the way around the trunk. I follow after him, doing my best to stay focused on tending my dog instead of the heat of Dean’s body so close to mine.
