A Deadly Reunion (15 page)

I wasn’t in my own bed; I wasn’t at the
motel either.

Forcing back the sleep, I swiveled my eyes
to the left and was immediately struck by the incredible view
beyond.

The sun was already peeking above the tall
mountain ranges and sending long lines of glimmering light tracing
along the ragged peaks.

It was such a stark sight that I stared at
it for entirely too long until I remembered where I was and why I
was here.

I stood up, pivoting my head towards the
kitchen.

Thorne wasn’t there, but as I padded across
his worn carpet, I saw a skillet on the gas stove, several eggs
spitting away inside.

Hearing running water, I followed a short
corridor that branched off into several junk-filled rooms.

Turning a corner, I saw Thorne.

Without a shirt on.

“Oh, sorry,” I took a sharp step
backwards.

He was leaning over a sink, shaving, wearing
sweat pants but no shirt.

He glanced my way, tugging the razor over
his soap-covered throat. “It’s fine. I thought you were still
asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I turned, trying to give him some
privacy.

Though Thorne had an incredible physique, I
didn’t want to stand in the door to his bathroom and ogle him while
he shaved.

“Do you mind checking the eggs for me?” he
nodded towards the kitchen.

“Sure,” I mumbled, trundling back down the
corridor. My cheeks felt hot, and hell, they probably were.

Rubbing at them to chase away the flush, I
reached the kitchen and pried at the eggs with a metal spatula.
Before I could decide whether they were done, Thorne walked in,
tugging a shirt over his head. Reaching past me, he grabbed up two
pieces of toast just as they jumped out of the toaster. Chucking
them on two waiting plates, he turned off the gas. “I hope you like
eggs, because that’s all I’ve got. I haven’t had a chance to grab
any groceries for a while; I’ve been kind of busy.”

“It’s fine. They smell great.” I scrunched
my lips together as I tried to think of something else to say.

The truth was, I had nothing but questions
for Thorne, but I realized he wasn’t going to answer any of them.
So instead I trailed into an awkward silence as I picked at the
worn edges of my jacket.

“I thought you’d take the spare bed.” Thorne
scraped the eggs onto the toast, again not exactly placing them so
much as chucking them. He clearly wasn’t a chef, but his food still
smelt great. Then again, maybe he was the one who smelt great: a
mix of shaving gel, fresh herbs, and coffee.

“Do you want to grab the pepper from the
spice rack over there?” He gestured with his spatula.

I obediently picked it up then followed him
over to his very small and very dirty table.

Placing the plates down, he swept away his
piles of paper and maps, and gestured for me to take a seat.

“You sleep okay?” he asked as he pushed a
plate over to me, obviously not caring that the chipped ceramic of
the base scraped over the veneer of the wood.

I nodded. Despite the fact I’d been cold and
the couch had been lumpy, as soon as I’d allowed my eyes to close,
they hadn’t opened again until morning.

Late morning if the height of the sun was
anything to go by.

“I’ve got to apologize for the mess again.
I’m really not used to visitors. The only people I get coming
around are my dad when he’s here to help with a fallen-down tree or
my mum when she has left over casserole.”

I smiled.

“Not really the most glamorous of bachelors,
am I?” Thorne chuckled through a swallow.

Though his observation seemed innocent,
there was a hint of something else flickering behind his eyes.

Defensiveness.

I recognized it; I’d felt it myself so many
times before.

It was the sense that others were judging
you for something you were comfortable with. Thorne had clearly
chosen his current lifestyle, and while it lacked sizzle and style,
he appeared to enjoy it. That wouldn’t stop him from realizing a
lot of people would turn their noses up at the piles of tools and
maps, and their mother dragging around leftovers every Sunday.

I didn’t answer; instead I took a bite of my
eggs. I realized how delicious they were just as my stomach
reminded me how freaking hungry I was.

I’d hardly eaten at all yesterday.

“These are great,” I managed between
mouthfuls.

“They come from my own chickens. And there’s
garlic and dill and parsley from the garden. I can’t say the oil is
mine; that comes from the supermarket. But the bread is locally
made.”

“Wow, you could start your own boutique
B&B here; people would empty their wallets for rustic food like
this where I come from.”

“I don’t think I’d pass the standards; my
entire house is a tripping hazard. But thanks for the compliment
anyway.”

As soon as I finished my eggs, Thorne
disappeared into the kitchen and grabbed me a steaming hot mug of
coffee.

I immediately took a sip, despite the heat
rising off it. “Wow, do you happen to grow your own coffee too?
Because this is great.”

Thorne laughed. “No, owing to the fact
coffee is a tropical crop. The milk is local though, and there’s a
little honey in it from one of my hives.”

“You have hives?”

Thorne laughed again. “As in the bees, not
the blisters. But yeah, they’re out back.”

I indulged in another long sip of coffee,
enjoying the bouquet and getting lost in the steam as it played
across my cheeks and nose.

Looking up, I saw that Thorne was glancing
my way, a half-smile shaking up his lips.

“What?” I wiped my nose in case it was
covered in milk or egg.

“
Nothing. I just...” he rested back in his
chair and scratched his head, “didn’t think a city girl like you
would appreciate a breakfast like this.”

“Homegrown eggs and honey fresh out of a
hive? Are you nuts? Of course I’m loving this. It beats the nasty
sandwich I picked up from the motel yesterday.”

We dwindled into silence as I continued to
drink my coffee. Occasionally I would glance over Thorne’s shoulder
and get lost in the view again.

Then occasionally I would glance back and
get lost in an entirely different view.

Thorne Scott – a home-cooking, rugged,
mountain man with stubble to match and a stomach you could strike a
match on. He had a distracting and deservedly good physique, but he
was smoother than most of the buff guys I met in the city and a
heck of a lot less lumpy. Thorne didn’t get his definition and
muscles by sweating madly while staring at himself in the mirror
and pumping iron. He got it by working – by trekking through the
mountains and lugging lumber around his yard.

Sure, his face had a bit more sun damage and
a lot less moisturizer than you’d find on a city boy, but I didn’t
mind one bit.

Thorne was the genuine article.

A genuine article who was now sitting across
the small table from me and industriously staring at his empty
plate rather than glancing my way.

I was suddenly struck by how... different
he was. Not just from the boy I’d crushed on during all of high
school, but your usual stereotype of a classically good-looking
guy.

He was charming, but he sure as heck wasn’t
confident – or at least not the kind of impenetrable confidence you
found in your average city slicker with cash to burn and wild times
on his mind.

Humble.

That’s it. That was the perfect word for
Thorne Scott. He was full of this rugged, country decency.

He wanted to do the right thing by you.

That’s why he’d tried to reassure me the
postcard meant nothing, and that’s why he’d offered me his own
house rather than letting me drive in the dark through roads I
barely remembered and my GPS often mistook for fields.

He desperately wanted to do the right thing
by me.

I was thawing out something quick, and
trying hard not to let it show.

“
So... you want to give that statement and
get on your way?” He nodded to the door.

“
Yeah... of course. But...
thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Patti. I feel I
owe it to you. I know it must seem I didn’t take that postcard
seriously, but I just wanted to put your mind at ease. If anything
else had come up, I would have acted on it immediately.”

I offered him a commiserating and gentle
smile as I realized how tired he looked. “I know. And I’m sorry for
overreacting.”

“Oh hell, there you go again, apologizing
for something you shouldn’t be. You were scared, and you had every
right to be. I should have tried harder,” he stopped midway through
his sentence.

He was thinking about the murders, wasn’t
he? And whatever he’d found in Nancy’s room.

A lump formed in my throat, and no matter
how hard I tried, I could not swallow it down.

“We should get going. Then you’ll have
plenty of daylight for your long drive.” He gestured to the full
sun streaming in through the windows behind him.

It was time to head home, so why wasn’t I
jumping for my keys and racing out to my car?

“
How... about I do the dishes?” I stood
up.

“Ha? No, you don’t have to do that. Because
to do the dishes, you’re going to have to find the sink first. And
that’s going to be an archaeological dig through last week’s plates
and bowls.”

Laughing, I grabbed his plate before he
could stop me. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. But
seriously, just leave the dishes. We have to get you to the station
so you can give your statement and finally get back home, ha?”

I nodded. Slowly.

I wanted to say that I’d changed my mind,
and that I’d give Wetlake another chance, anything for another one
of Thorne’s breakfasts.

I didn’t get the opportunity though.

We both turned as we heard a car pull up the
long dirt driveway.

Thorne’s brow crumpled heavily. “I know that
ain’t my mum; she doesn’t make casseroles on the weekend.”

I laughed at his lame joke and followed him
as he walked towards the door.

He opened it without pause. Then he
stopped.

So did I.

And so did Denver as he stood there on the
other side of the door, hand clasped into a loose fist as he looked
ready to knock.

Shit.

Denver.

He looked right at me, and I knew exactly
what he was thinking.

I’d moved on from one brother quick smart to
the next.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Thorne
asked pointedly.

It took Denver a few seconds to stop staring
at me. “I had to come and tell you in person.”

“What?”

“A Federal task force is being created. This
is no longer solely a local matter. From now on, you’ll be working
with the FBI.”

“What?”

“These murders involved interstate
travelers, and the sequence of events thus far suggests the
activities of a serial killer; both of these are Federal matters
and fall under the jurisdiction of the FBI.”

“I don’t need to be told the law, Denver,”
Thorne snapped.

“You’re taking the case from the Wetlake
police?” I asked quietly from behind Thorne, already lost.

“No.” Denver barely glanced my way. “This is
not the movies. The FBI doesn’t and can’t sweep in and take an
investigation from local law enforcement. We have been called in to
assist though, and we will be starting up a task force.”

“I don’t need your help,” Thorne spat back.
“We can do this on our own.”

“Don’t be such an ass; this isn’t about you.
We have a potential serial killer on our hands. The only way to
catch this guy and to do it quick enough is to draw on Federal
resources.” Denver’s expression went beyond stony; he was
glacial.

“Guys,” I said quietly.

“You think we can’t handle this?” Thorne let
go of the door and stepped closer to his brother.

“Guys,” I raised my voice.

“How many times do I have to tell you, this
is not about you. And yes, you can’t handle this alone. US law is
explicit on that one. This matter crosses state borders and is far
bigger than Wetlake. You’ve already had two interstate travelers
brutally murdered. Are you going to wait until there’s another one
until you accept you need every resource we can give you?” Denver
flicked his gaze to me and then quickly returned his furious
attention to his brother.

He’d glanced my way only for a split
second.

The effect on me was instant though – I
grabbed a hand to my mouth as a powerful wave of sickness rushed
through me.

Another one? A serial killer? Shit. Did
Denver still think I’d be next?

Thorne practically hissed at his brother,
but didn’t say another word.

“Now, I didn’t mean to interrupt you two—”
Denver began.

“I was just sleeping on the couch,” I
announced immediately and really awkwardly.

In fact, Thorne looked around blinking at my
rather stressed assertion.

I coughed as I felt my cheeks turn bright
red and tried to compose myself. “Ah... I was just on my way to the
police station to give a statement.”

“And then she’s heading out of town,” Thorne
filled in, his tone unreadable.

“Yeah,” I agreed in perhaps the dodgiest
tone I’d ever used. Clearing my throat, I nodded my head
repeatedly.

Christ, there was nothing going on between
Thorne and me – or at least not yet – but here I was frothing at
the mouth in my attempts to allay Denver’s fears.

Not done making an ass out of myself, I
tugged my hair over my shoulder and promptly got my ring stuck in
it.

“Right, whatever,” Denver managed, his
glacial stare thawing slightly, but still decidedly edgy and mean.
“It’s a good idea to get out of town, but you’re going to have to
share details of where you’re headed.”