Violet 24

by Baigh Queen

  Osh and Smythe exchange a look before both agreeing. I decide to take the lead, going to my left and taking the rink clockwise. I can already see that there’s nothing on the ice except a couple of stray pink mittens someone had dropped.

  I’m walking between the tall metal bleachers and the glass separating the ice. It’s colder here, and I’m silently cursing how quickly everyone left; all of their things are strewn about, making it difficult to tell where McLean may have put the bomb. Duffle bags, coats, sweaters, and shoes are tossed absently around, though I think it’s more from the chaos than the town’s lack of courtesy.

  Smyth takes another left down a gap between the bleachers, walking behind them. Osh goes to walk up the bleachers but I quickly pull her back by the wrist. “Your weight might set it off.”

  She exhales through her nose. “Right.”

  I’m reluctant to let go of her wrist, especially when the desire to hold her hand through this is so strong. We’re both shaking, and my hand works before my brain and wraps around hers. She looks down at it, then meets my gaze. When she squeezes back I can’t even begin to remember that we’re in there looking for a bomb.

  “Smythe, come in,” Bane’s voice cracks over the radio. I jump when Smythe comes back to us, his brow furrowed when he sees we didn’t move as far as him.

  “Smythe here,” the officer replies, fingers grasping the radio.

  “Get out of there,” Bane orders. It’s not his usual order voice; there’s a hint of worry to it. “This one’s on a timer, so get your asses out of there!”

  “A timer?” I say. So McLean really gave up on that copycat thing. He must have realized it wasn’t as easy as he thought after his last one failed, and wanted something a little simpler.

  We’re just entering the lobby when I heard the metallic melody of the lullaby. It surrounds us, making us look at every inch of the lobby to find the source, but there’s no hat. I’m trying to convince myself that there has to be a hat, on display with a little note card, but I know that’s not true. He went with a timer now, so why bother keeping the rest the same?

  “Go!” Smythe orders.

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Osh and I are running ahead of him. I can hear him struggle to run even that distance, huffing and puffing as we make it to the sliding doors and into the warm spring air.

  “Get back!” Osh shouts. “Get back!”

  The crowd has already started moving, and it’s mostly officers that are still close to the building. As soon as they see us they start running too, picking up any stray kids that aren’t being carried or grabbing at people to get them out of the way. I’m falling behind Osh, who takes a quick right to her SUV. Too much time has passed since the lullaby started, and neither of us is going to make it to the safety of the car. So I push off with all I can with little resistance from my body, and tackle her the same way Bane did McLean.

  And then the explosion happens, timed just like the first. My arms wrap around her, pulling her head to my chest and turning as we hit the ground. My right shoulder connects with the ash vault, tearing through my cardigan and into my skin. I hear the crack of concrete, feel the rush of heat, and then my ears are ringing. I’ve curled as much as I can around Osh in an attempt to keep her protected but there’s not much I can do against the ground itself trying to shake us off. We vibrate a moment and each stay as still as possible.

  I keep my eyes squeezed shut. I don’t want to open them and see what’s happening. I can still feel heavy shakes from the earth. I peek open one eye, watching as ash and chunks of concrete fall to the ground. Behind me the SUV’s alarm is blasting, but I barely hear it through the ringing in my ears.

  Osh wiggles in my arms and I loosen up, giving her enough room to reach a hand into her pocket and pull something out. She holds up the keys to her car, clicking on the key fobs faded red button. The alarm stops. I don’t…can’t move my arms until she’s struggling to stand. Only then do I let go.

  Her eyes squint as she crawls to her hands and knees, then puts one foot clean on the ground and rests an elbow on it to help her stand. She does much better than I think I can do, but I try regardless. I can barely get into a sitting position before my right arm starts to scream at me for scraping it along the ground. Why is it the shallow wounds seem to hurt the most?

  Osh snaps her fingers in front of my face. She helps lean me against the car, even though sitting there it’s really only half my back that can rest against the metal. She holds her finger and index finger in a circle and I nod. I plant a hand on the ash vault, pulling my knees up and attempting to stand. Osh sets her arms under my own and hauls me up with shocking strength, but she pushes me against the car to keep me on my feet.

  Her forehead falls against my shoulder as she breathes in and out in forcibly steady breaths. I do the same, chest rising and falling too fast for too many breaths until I start to calm down. I don’t want to turn around just yet to see the destruction; I can already see it beyond Osh’s head.

  The officers are up and moving more people to safety. They were far enough away to not feel as much of the blast, but I’m sure the earthquake that followed was enough to knock people off balance. Bane’s already locked McLean in a cruiser, and Smythe is there rubbing at the back of his neck. There’s some blood on the back of his uniform, and based on the number of tiny rocks, chunks of metal and concrete lying about he was hit with something like shrapnel.

  With one deep exhale I lean my head on the car.

  “Angus is not going to know what to do with me now,” Osh says. Her head lifts. “Or you.”

  “Me?” I question. Her arms are still keeping me pinned against the car, even if I can stand on my own. Her face inches from mine, while caked in dirt and dust, makes me nervous. Even after nearly getting blown up for the second time this week I’m nervous.

  Osh nods but doesn’t elaborate.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone was hurt,” I quickly say to change the subject. Osh rolls away from me and leans against the car as well. I take another deep breath and let her take in the world around her. It feels like there needs to be dark clouds in the sky, maybe a few strips of lightning dashing through them, but all we have is a beautifully clear day. I relish the feeling of the wind against my face, and thank whoever decided the smoke would not blow towards me this time. I add, “I bet Manhattan is going to get me a bodyguard when she hears about this.”

  “I think I’m going to go halfsies on it with her,” Osh admits. “You certainly know how to find trouble, Miss Weaver.”

  Honestly, not the first time I’ve heard that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Another day, another bomb, another scratchy blanket. I’d never thought reporting on crimes would lead to this—sure I may have played with the idea of interviewing serial killers, but I never thought I would be in two explosions in the same week. I pull the blanket Lily has put over my shoulders tighter around me, finding that I really am cold and starting to shiver. I’m sitting on the edge of the ambulance, my toes just barely touching the debris littered ground, and watching the chaos around me.

  The police are wandering around the area looking for pieces of the bomb, doing the same thing as before. They’re setting little cards with numbers on the ground, some of them keeping the few citizens that stuck around back. The bomb squad and backup that came from Vineville are a lot harder on the civilians than the deputy’s, and I can already see the glares shooting between Smythe and Swanson. I gulp and blink, taking a deep breath when Lily pats my leg. “You wanna go see the doc yet?”

  “Nah,” I say. I do, I so so do. But I’m waiting for Osh to finish talking to her coworkers in…wherever it is she’s from. I only realize then that I don’t know where her office is, and make a mental note to ask but I’m not sure if I’ve just forgotten. A rock did smack me in the head as I was tackling her to the ground. I better not have another concussion…

  “Incoming,” Lily mutters. She hops off the back of the ambulance a
s Bane makes his way over. He isn’t a bulldozer this time, cutting his way through the throng of officers, but rather takes his time to walk around them. He’s avoiding them. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him avoid anyone while walking, and wonder briefly if he’s nervous around the big city folks.

  His jaw is clenched when he stops in front of me. I grip the blanket a little tighter. “Here to tell me it was just a fireworks accident?”

  Bane’s jaw shifts. “I was going to ask if you were all right, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Oh that’s uh…” I can’t bring myself to say sweet or nice.

  “Yeah,” Bane agrees. “He’s already singing.”

  I perk up, at least as much as my fatigue lets me. Straightening my back, I still don’t make it up to his shoulders. “He’s confessed? I guess getting taken down by you would make just about anyone confess to their crimes, huh?”

  I manage to get a small smile out of the man. “You shoulda heard the things I was told in high school—you woulda loved it for your gossip blog.”

  My mouth gapes. “I did not run a gossip blog! It was an informative blog about the going-ons in the school and the town.”

  Bane chuckles and nods. “Sure.” When the silence falls over us again he clears his throat. “This isn’t for your new blog, but if you want a quote or whatever you call it…” I arch my brows, already anticipating what he’s about to say. “You can call Swanson.”

  My brows arch. “Thanks.”

  “And don’t investigate things on your own from now on,” he orders, crossing his arms as he widens his stance. “You could have gotten yourself and your girlfriend killed.”

  I blink, trying to think of who he could be talking about when my eyes focus on Osh in her brown leather jacket behind him. She changed quickly out of her long red coat into something clean; I think she did it so she could get more information from the Vineville squad. I make a mental note to remember that in the future; a clean reporter is a good reporter, right? Osh is already walking over as she stuffs her phone into her pocket, her pace fast despite nearly getting blown up. “She’s not my…I mean she’s—I—we—just…ah…”

  “Right,” Bane says. Osh sets a hand on his bicep.

  “The agency has decided that we don’t need to stick around on this one,” she reveals.

  “Figured,” Bane grunts.

  “Do you mind if I talk with Gwen a moment?” Osh asks. “Then I’ll answer your questions.”

  Bane nods and starts to walk away when he hesitates. “Take your time. Questions can wait until tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Osh replies. Bane’s footsteps are heavy again as he walks back to the large crime scene, and this time he marches through the throng of people. Each and every one of the Vineville officers move for him.

  Osh turns to me. “And thank you for what you did. That was…incredibly stupid.”

  I throw my hands in the air and jump off the back of the ambulance. “All right, is everyone just coming up to tell me I’m stupid and need to find another career? ‘Cause that is just mean after all I—” My rant is cut short by Osh’s lips pressed against mine. Her lips are soft, with bit of a stickiness to them from her lipstick. My eyes stay open for longer than I’d like to admit as she places her hands on my cheeks to keep me there. Not that I was about to move, mind you. When I finally close my eyes and inhale, I’m surrounded by her watery fresh perfume.

  Osh pulls away first, leaving me stunned. She adds, “Thank you for saving my life.” She reaches into her pocket as I’m still caught in a stunned silence, and holds a business card out to me. “And try not to lose this one, okay?”

  I take it with a shaky nod. “Yeah, totally.”

  “My friends are interested in meeting you,” Osh says, “I think they might be interested in hiring you as their new PR person since the current one is becoming a junior investigator.”

  My brain is smoking trying to find the words—or any words—for my mouth to voice but it can’t. I want to pretend it’s because of the bomb and the hit to the head, but I’m certain it’s the kiss. Even now I’m having trouble looking away from the fading plum lipstick on Osh’s lips. So when my brain finally gets its shit together it manages to find the single word, “Cool.”

  Osh smiles. “Cool. I’ll see you around.” She leans to the right. “And you too, Lily.”

  “See you!” Lily calls from around the ambulance. I jump at her voice as she appears beside the open doors and waves at Osh.

  A loud ringing makes us all jump, and for a moment I think it’s just in my ears when Osh pulls her phone out of her pocket and answers. She smiles at me and holds up a finger, wandering away.

  “Well you’re certainly popular,” a voice says. I nearly scream and whirl to find Brett on my right. He’s casually leaning against the door of the ambulance, hands in his pockets. “Bane gives you a smile, a beautiful woman kisses you, I’m kinda jealous.”

  “I’m sure if you ask nicely Bane would be more than happy to—“

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” Brett orders. I laugh, despite myself, when I remember that Brett is still mad at me. With everything that happened in the past twelve hours I forgot that we were in a fight. If one could call it a fight. “So I guess I have to be nice to you again because you were in another explosion, huh?”

  “No,” I tell him. When I look at him his eyes are sad, his lips pouting out a bit in spite of his humorous tone. “Let’s just stick to the less than witty banter. I like that.”

  A grin lights up his face. “Deal.”

  “Can we hug now?” Lily asks.

  I twist my neck to see her clasping her hands together. “No.”

  “But you nearly died and I just—I could use a hug.”

  “Yeah, let’s hug it out,” Brett says, opening his arms wide. “You haven’t even apologized to me for being such a—“

  “Okay, I’m sorry just don’t hug me!” I say. They both have their arms open now and come at me from either side, wrapping my in a bear hug. “No! I’m sorry please let go! I’m concussed, you shouldn’t hug a concussed person.”

  “Too late,” Brett says. I feel his chin rest on the top of my head while Lily’s rests against my shoulder. She sighs.

  I groan between them but don’t struggle to push them off. It’s not like I would win that fight anyway, even if neither of them are squeezing me hard. Still… I pat their arms with one hand and hold up the card Osh gave me with my other.

  I’m expecting her number to be on it but instead it’s a business card for Angus Sharpe, CEO of Sharpe Investigations Consulting Agency. On the back there’s a small note, in Osh’s scribbly handwriting.

  Call him.

  Sneak Peek at Rouge 52

  About the Author

  With a fascination for the morbid and taboo, Queen has too many books on her shelves that detail how to properly kill a person. She finally took her love of crime and mystery and turned it into something productive with her Goderich Girl series.

  You can often find her tweeting about the pitfalls of procrastination @bqueenwrites, or hunched over her computer reading manga.

  Online Details

  Website: www.bqueenwrites.wordpress.com

  Twitter: @bqueenwrites

  Instagram: @bqueenwrites

  Patreon coming soon!