A Deadly Reunion (6 page)

“Oh no, you’re quite wrong; the reunion
hasn’t been canceled. It’s just been moved.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Annabelle is holding a memorial for James,
and everybody who cared about him will be there,” Nancy smiled.

It was a challenge, and it was a relatively
clear one. Everyone who had cared about James Wood would be at his
memorial. Meaning that everyone who didn’t give a shit about James
and hardly remembered him would be callous enough to leave
beforehand.

“It is being held later today, and now you
can’t tell me that you’ve got to rush off to get back to your work
when this might be your last chance to respect the memory of one of
our classmates.” As Nancy stood there, her countenance changed. She
no longer looked so fake. She looked calculating. And it was a
wholly scary thing to witness.

Knowing full well I was being manipulated, I
casually glanced at the kid and saw that he was watching the two of
us with obvious interest. Presumably, it wasn’t every day that a
leopard print cleavage had an argument with a customer.

Knowing I was being indecently sarcastic and
mean to Nancy in my mind, I found myself doing something I
shouldn’t. I gave a nod. “I will see if I can be there.”

Reacting almost immediately, Nancy leaned
over the counter and snatched my keys up. Handing them over to me,
she dangled them in her fingers a few inches in front of my
face.

Raising both my eyebrows, I didn’t snatch
them back from her.

“You’ll be needing these, sweetie,” with
that, she dropped them into my hand and turned back to distract the
kid again.

My cheeks were hot, my heart was beating
hard, and my teeth were so clenched that I would need a team of
dentists to pry them open again. Yet without another word, I walked
out of reception with my keys and handbag.

Though I wanted to throttle something, and
that something was Nancy, I held myself together until I got all
the way over to my car. I opened the door, sat inside, rested my
hands on the steering wheel, and gave out a low, barely audible
scream.

I should never have returned to this stupid
little town, and be damned if I would ever come back here
again.

My mother had convinced me to attend my
reunion, based on the allure of finding out what all my old
classmates had grown into. Well the allure was gone; the mystery
had dried up. The most popular girl in school had gone on from
being a mild bitch to being a world-class one, and my teenage crush
had dropped from being the best thing since sliced bread to being
an exceedingly irritating source of questions wrapped up in fine
muscles and a cheap suit.

Striking the steering wheel softly, I
fumbled in my bag, grabbed out my keys, stuck them in the ignition,
turned it on, and began to drive.

I was in half a mood to just leave and mail
the keys back to the motel with a trite note explaining that I had
been incapable of handing them back on the day because a staff
member had been inappropriately distracted.

I ordinarily didn’t like to get people in
trouble, but today I was not myself.

Yet instead of driving back to the highway
and heading on out of town, for a while there, I just toured the
streets. I was usually the kind of driver who wanted to know
exactly where I was going beforehand. I hated the idea of turning
down an unknown street to find myself in some dark side alley. And
when it came to Wetlake City, while it didn’t have side alleys, it
sure did have creepy dirt roads that led to abandoned huts and
cabins in the woods. Yet today was different. Today I just needed
to drive. So I did.

I was surprised by how much of the town came
back to me while I was touring around the streets. A glimpse of a
house on a distant hill would bring up a memory of a time I’d been
walking with my father, or the old sign of a shop would remind me
of some winter’s day spent trundling through the snow-covered
streets, rugged up in every scarf and sweater my mother had managed
to cram over my head.

With the stereo on low, I quickly realized I
was driving to an old track that wound up into the ranges behind
Wetlake. I hadn’t been hiking for years – I lived smack bang in the
middle of a bustling metropolis – but the memory of the fresh air
and the forests suddenly got to me with a pang of powerful
nostalgia.

Even though I wasn’t prepared in the least,
didn’t have proper walking shoes, and only had a half bottle of
water in my car, I quickly reached the old dirt road where the
track started from, pulled over under the trees, and jumped out of
my car.

Muscling my suitcase into the trunk, I
grabbed my phone, shrugged into a jacket, and picked up my bottle
of water. Zipping my keys into my pocket, I hid my bag underneath
the front seat, and headed off along the track.

I was well aware of all the risks. Clearly
the track hadn’t been well maintained, I was walking on my own,
there were always concealed dips and holes just waiting to break
your ankle, and hell, that wasn’t even to mention the wild animals.
Yet right now, I needed to get away.

So I did.

Enjoying the sound of my shoes crunching
over the dirt and twigs and stones and bracken, I took a deep
breath of air and let it push hard against my chest.

There was always a musty, wet smell in the
air, and it was something you never appreciated in the city. Sure
there might be a park or two, and if you were lucky enough, you
could have a few plants in a window box outside your kitchen
window, but there was something about being out in a forest that
could not be replicated.

In a suitably nostalgic and dazed mood, I
continued to walk. Though I fancied I could have tackled at least
the first section up to one of the smaller lakes along the mountain
range, I wasn’t that stupid, and within an hour, I turned around
and headed back to my car.

The walk was uneventful and exactly what I
needed. I didn’t pass another soul, and though I occasionally heard
the shuffle of leaves and the shake of a bush as some woodland
creature darted away from me, fortunately I wasn’t set upon by
bears or cougars or ax men.

Feeling placid and far calmer than I had all
morning, I wasn’t paying attention to the path ahead of me.

The path coiled like a snake through the
dense forest, making it impossible to see too far ahead.

So it wasn’t that much of a surprise when I
failed to see someone walking my way. Neither was it that much of a
surprise when they rumbled out a quick “hello,” and it made me jump
with fright.

Back in high school, I’d been renowned for
being easily startled. You could creep up on me, say hello, and I
would jump off my chair and promptly fall in a pile by your feet.
Yet I liked to think that now, as an adult, I was unflappable.

Apparently I wasn’t.

I hadn’t been joking when I’d said these
woods were treacherous. The terrain was uneven. There were holes,
dips, and short valleys – and god knows there were sharp cliffs to
make it all the more dangerous. You could trip on roots, boulders,
even particularly tough sections of bracken.

As I jumped with fright, I stumbled.

I didn’t stop there though. As I pitched to
the side, the ground gave away sharply to my left, leading down to
a steep, rock-covered cliff. As I scrabbled for purchase, I tried
to grab hold of a section of bracken, but it didn’t work.

I tumbled over the edge.

Everything happened so fast. Just a
flash.

I saw the sharp incline to my side, felt
myself tipping towards it, and then it stopped.

Or rather, I stopped.

Somebody grabbed me.

That someone thrust their shoulder into
mine, and then wrapped their hand around my middle, locked me in
place, and easily tugged me back over the edge.

My breath was trapped in my chest, my heart
was beating at one million miles an hour, and my mouth was so dry
that I would never swallow again. Yet I did have the presence of
mind to look up into the face of my savior.

At first, I didn’t recognize them. The jaw,
the smoldering, pale-brown eyes, and the rugged cheekbones took me
aback.

Helping me to my feet, the man stepped to my
side, still holding onto my shoulder with one large hand as he
nodded my way. “You okay?”

“Thorne?”

“That’s right, Patti Smith. It’s me, Thorne.
Now you okay?”

Dear god, it was the Thorne Scott. The other
brother. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him at the reunion, and
had only seen him from afar, but now I indulged in the close-up
look, and it took my breath away.

“It’s pretty dangerous to walk these woods
on your own. I saw your hire car on the side of the road, and I
decided to come and take a look.” He was dressed in a police
uniform, and he took a moment to cross his arms as he looked me up
and down. It was not a smoldering look; he wasn’t checking me out,
or maybe he was, but not with any romantic purpose in mind. There
was a stiff, disapproving edge to his gaze, and he even followed it
up by shaking his head. “Do you know the number of unprepared
tourists we have to save from these ranges every year?”

I clenched my teeth together, shifted my
lips around them, and let out a tight breath. “Too many?”

He nodded. Then those stiff lips of his
turned up into a smile. And boy was it a nice one. It was the kind
of move you only ever saw on TV or in the movies. The kind of grin
that would set a quick pulse of nerves traveling through your
middle and end up making you a giddy mess at a guy’s feet.

Fortunately, I managed to stay on mine for
now. I’d already had enough tumbles for today, thank you – or at
least enough tumbles in the dirt.

I managed a shy little smile at that
thought.

Thorne hadn’t exactly lived in his brother’s
shadow throughout high school; both Scott brothers had been equally
as handsome and equally as popular, and both totally out of my
reach. Yet Denver had always had an extra charming quality that saw
him scoot just a notch above Thorne in the desirability stakes.

Well things changed with time, a fact
underlined by how far down Denver Scott had managed to travel in my
esteem.

“Do you need a hand getting back to your
car, ma’am?”

I fancied I needed a hand, but not for that.
As I entertained that particularly dirty thought, I had to stifle a
giggle. Yes, a giggle. And let me tell you, I was not the kind of
girl that giggled. Sultry laughs? Yes. Bursts of seductive mirth?
You bet you. Giggling? Hell no. I wasn’t in high school
anymore.

I eventually managed to shake my head. “I’m
not exactly a tourist, Thorne. I used to walk these ranges with my
father.”

“So you know all about the bears, the
cougars, the treacherous potholes, the sudden cliffs, the snakes in
summer, the loose boulders,” he began.

I put a hand up. “Yes, I know all about
them.”

“How about dehydration and walking in
unsuitable footwear?” He glanced at my rather simple flats.

I bit hard into my lips and tried for a
smile. “I know all about those too.”

He nodded. He didn’t look convinced, but
damn did he look charming. “Well, Patti Smith, I’m still going to
ask you again – do you need a hand getting back to your car?”

“Why do I get the feeling that if I say no,
you’re going to handcuff me and drag me back there anyway?”

He launched into another one of those
smiles. I say launch, because it was a sudden and powerful move.
Those lips of his spread up, pushing his cheeks high into his eyes
and making them dazzle all the more. “That depends. If you make a
move on me, I may have no choice but to restrain you.”

Damn... there was some serious flirtation
to go along with that smile apparently.

Not exactly a rookie at this, I gave an
appropriate smile in return. “I think I’ve already got dirty enough
for one day.”

Thorne let out a laugh, and I joined in.

“So, how long has it been since you’ve been
back?” he nodded at me.

“To my car? About two hours.”

“I see you went away and you got a sharp
wit, Patti. What else did you pick up in the big wide world out
there?”

Oh my, there were so many ways to answer
that question: some honest and some downright seductive. Instead, I
paused and I waited for the right answer to bubble up from my
subconscious: “a life.”

“Now hold on a second, I think you already
had one of those before you left. Or are you one of those people
who hated high school so much any thought of ever returning to the
dreadful scene of the crime is enough to curl your toes?”

I tried to look deliberately thoughtful.
“Well, it doesn’t exactly curl my toes, but I can’t say I’ve
enjoyed the experience so far.” My voice bottomed out at the end,
for obvious reasons. Visions of a dead body in the rose bushes came
slamming back to my mind, and all ideas of flirting with Thorne
burned away.

A moment of silence passed between us. “Are
you okay?” he managed as he stared at the ground only to look up
sharply and dazzle me with those pale eyes of his.

“If by okay are you asking did I expect to
come back to the scene of my horrible high school only to find a
dead body in the rose bushes? Then no.”

“I’m sorry,” he answered simply. He didn’t
ask me a question; he didn’t try to change the subject; he just
apologized and offered a low nod. “Are you planning on heading out
after your walk?”

“Do you mean to dinner?”

“Damn, Patti Smith, you went away and you
got direct. I didn’t mean dinner, but a good police officer knows
how to react to surprises. There is a nice little Vietnamese place
behind the police station. Dinner aside, what I actually meant is
are you heading out of Wetlake; are you going home?”

Going home. I seriously did want to go home.
In fact, until I’d run into Thorne, only to be buffeted back by his
sheer attractiveness, that had been my plan. A short walk followed
by an exceedingly long drive. Now I teetered there on the spot with
the promise of Vietnamese making me second-guess myself.