Odette C. Bell - Ladies in Luck - An Unlucky Reunion Page 3

  “We’re all from high school. This is the Wetlake City High School Reunion,” I made my voice slow and clear, and was ready to draw out paper and pen from my purse in case I had to scribble pictures for the guy.

  He was clearly tanked already, which was quite an achievement considering it wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

  One of his lips kinked up. “I knew that. But aren’t you… oh yeah,” he suddenly shot me a snide smile.

  I allowed one of my eyebrows to press up slowly.

  I knew what was coming next.

  “Holy crap, yeah, I remember now. You’re the geek from the football game. The chick who lost her pants in front of the whole class.” He was now snorting with laughter, one of his nostrils kind of flapping back and forth with the force of his move.

  Needless to say, it was unattractive. Manic even.

  “You must be so embarrassed; I bet everyone is bringing up that story,” he actually thumbed away a tear of laughter.

  I didn’t react.

  I waited until his fits of laughter died down, and then I shot him a smile. A killer smile. One that I let spread slowly and deliberately across my lips.

  I’d been dealing with this story all day, though thankfully most of my class mates were now discrete enough and mature enough to talk of grownup things like finance and wine instead. This guy, however, was not. He appeared gleeful in his attempt to rub my nose in a past mistake.

  He was about to realize he was walking into a trap.

  His eyebrows crumpled for a second. “I bet you’ve never lived that down,” he tried again, though with a heck of a lot less bluster.

  He obviously knew something was up; I wasn’t reacting how I should be.

  “How did it even happen?” he gave another laugh, but his heart was no longer in it, and it tapered out with a nervous hiccup-sound at the end.

  I kept my killer smile on my lips, and then let my hair trail over my shoulder as I slowly inclined my head to the side.

  He gave one more hiccup-like laugh, but it was nervous and short.

  I replied with a slow blink, taking the time to insure my eyelashes touched.

  “I… ah,” he began.

  He’d lost.

  It was as simply as that. He’d started off trying to insult me by rubbing my nose in a past shame, but now he was sipping at his beer awkwardly as he kept shooting a distracted glance at my smile.

  “I got over it by growing up,” I pushed my lips higher and wider, letting my eyes sparkle as I did, “and now I take my pants off only when the company is right. Nice talking to you.” I gave him a quick wave. “And that’s a lovely suit,” I added as I turned, brushed my hair over my shoulder, and walked off.

  Though the party was loud, I was certain I heard him splutter.

  That was the second guy I’d made splutter today, and the party was only just getting underway.

  As I found a rare section of sunny grass and sipped at my wine in silence, I got a tad thoughtful.

  And what did I think of?

  Oh, a certain football game all the way back in my senior year.

  Chapter 4

  Withdrawing into the silence of my memories, I didn’t hear someone walk up behind me.

  “You still don’t have your nametag on,” a man said as he approached.

  I didn’t need to turn to find out who it was; there was only one person at this party who was so fixated on nametags.

  I flashed a quick and not-so-friendly smile as I turned. “Denver, are you back to question me senseless?”

  “This is not me questioning you senseless, Patti, believe you me. Should I ever want to extract information from you, I’ll be very effective. This is me socializing.”

  “And this is me going for a walk,” I waved at him as I headed out over the grass.

  “Are you running away again?” he trotted up behind me.

  “No, I’m just taking a stroll through my old school grounds.”

  “You don’t seem the type to feel nostalgic. In fact, you look like the type to advise people never to live in the past.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  That line sounded familiar.

  “I imagine you would advise people to stop living in their memories and start living in the real world instead,” he continued.

  Though I’d picked up a healthy pace as I stalked across the lawn, Denver matched it easily.

  He was like a bad dream I couldn’t shake off. Which was highly ironic considering he had been my perfect dream all through high school. When I’d imagined Denver Scott, I’d conjured up pictures of oiled muscles and sultry glances, not a constantly questioning fly in a suit buzzing by my ear.

  “Hold on… ,” I slowed down. A tight breath caught my chest, and my shawl slipped a bit, revealing my stylish neckline.

  Denver dropped his gaze for a second, and then looked back at me pointedly. “I’ve read your books. Okay, no, I read excerpts of them off the Net.”

  “What?”

  “You’re Lara Scott, right? Famous self-help author? You live in D.C. with two dogs and a goldfish?”

  “H-how the hell do you know that? I write under a pen name—”

  “I’m a Federal Agent,” he answered with a completely even expression.

  “Wait… what? You used some fancy Government database to look me up? Did you hack into my tax files?”

  He kept that perfectly blank look on his face for a few more seconds, and then broke into a full grin. Laughing, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Hacked into your tax files? I’m not in the movies. No, I just used my questioning skills to ask Annabelle, and then I looked you up on my phone.”

  My mouth dropped open and it stayed there until I forced myself to give a proper cough. “Well—”

  “Yeah?”

  Christ, I didn’t remember Denver being this annoying in high school. Either I’d been oblivious—which was entirely possible—or the guy had changed, big time.

  I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to tell him off for looking me up, but I figured that would just elicit yet more questions from him. Instead, I turned, shook my head, and marched off towards the front of the school.

  There was a lovely, large rose garden just before the front door. It was the only feature of Wetlake High that I liked. Many a walk home from school had started with taking the time to sniff the roses.

  Well, now a strange, tangy scent was filling the air instead.

  It smelt a little like expensive cologne mixed with a sharp, chemical smell.

  “Is there any reason you’re following me?” I finally challenged Denver as we headed straight for the school doors.

  “Yep. I’m trying to avoid the rest of the people at this party. I never really wanted to come; my mother forced me to. I personally can’t think of anything worse than going back to high school.”

  I slowed down. Despite the fact I still wanted to be irritated at the guy, I flicked my gaze over to him.

  He didn’t look like he was lying.

  “What? You think I’m joking? You think you’re the only one who wanted to get away from this place?”

  “Hold on, everybody loved you in high school. You were the most popular guy, you got great marks, and everyone was dead sure you would go on to become an astronaut, then the president, and then emperor of the universe.”

  He snorted, and he sounded mildly pissed. “I don’t want to be an astronaut, and I could think of nothing worse than going into politics. As for emperor of the universe, I’m sure it pays better than working for the Government, but I bet the dental plan is lousy.”

  I now came to a full stop. I was standing near the rose bushes, and though the front doors to the school were just behind me, I no longer made a dash for them.

  Denver had caught my attention.

  “You look surprised, Patti Smith. You want to know a secret? I hated high school, and I hate being back here. You may be fine with people bringing up your moment at the football game, but I loathe hearing storie
s about my past. I felt like punching the last guy that reminded me of my stupid antics, conquests, and awards. I was a shit in high school. I’m not proud of the girl’s I jilted and the stories I spread. I have moved on though, so why the hell can’t everyone else?”

  I pressed my lips together, and I calmed the hell down.

  Denver was not acting. He clearly hated being here far more than I did. While my life had been only on the up since high school, no matter what Denver had achieved, it couldn’t measure up to the heights that had been imagined for him.

  “You want to walk around the back of the school, and then surreptitiously make our way to the car park?”

  “Ah—”

  Before he could ask whether I was propositioning him, I tutted. “Calm down. I wasn’t going to suggest we have a quick snog behind the gym. I figure we can leave, and then maybe I can buy you a coffee and offer you some advice about moving on; I do write self-help books, after all.”

  He let out a snort. Thankfully, it seemed to lift his soured expression. “You know, Patti, you’re kind of arrogant.”

  “Oh no, confident. Plus, you’re really pushy and kind of a jerk. So I figure we’re even.”

  He snorted again.

  I waved him on as I took a step forward.

  As I took another step, something stuck to my heel.

  I was standing on the gravel that surrounded the rose bushes.

  I looked down and lifted my heel.

  Red.

  Raising my chin, I saw a trail of it leading up to the rose bush.

  “What the—” I began.

  Then I screamed.

  Loudly.

  I also jerked backwards, as if I’d been shot.

  There was a body, covered in blood, thrown under the rose bushes.

  I kept stumbling backwards until my heel snagged on the gravel, my knee twisted in, and I fell back.

  I didn’t hit the ground.

  Denver wrapped his arms around me and propped me up. “Patti? What the hell’s wrong?”

  My whole body felt cold as blood drained from my face and limbs. I was shaking and my mouth was achingly dry.

  I couldn’t move my eyes; I couldn’t even blink. My gaze was fixed on the rose bushes and the bloody body within. I could see torn pants, a blood-soaked shirt, and two shoes covered in mud.

  “Patti?” Denver demanded again.

  “Th-there’s… there’s a dead body in the roses.”

  “What… ? Fuck,” Denver jerked away from me and took several rushed steps forward. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knee and angled his head forward. I watched it bob out of view behind the leaves as he surveyed the corpse. “Oh god,” he said in a whisper.

  Everything was happening so fast. My heart was in my throat, and my hands were slicked with sweat.

  “Go and get my brother,” Denver jumped up and took several steps back, only turning from the body at the last moment. “He’s a local police officer. Patti?”

  I was staring at the body. I couldn’t shift back, and god knows I couldn’t close my eyes.

  I heard Denver pull out his phone, and listened as he called the police. Then he walked up to me and pulled me back with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  After that, all hell broke loose.

  People came to check out the scream they’d heard, and pretty soon Denver was holding back a line of gawking onlookers.

  At some point, Denver sat me down on the steps of the school, furled his jacket around my shoulders, and told me to stay put.

  The police arrived, and I remember the lights of the squad cars as if they’d been burnt into my retinas.

  The rest of the day was a complete blur. Eventually I was taken to the local police station to give my statement. At many points I was handed cups of tea. Yet finally I was allowed to go home.

  That night I had the longest shower ever. I stood there, under the rushing water, feeling the droplets banging against my shoulders, face, and neck. I stared through my sopping hair at the white shower curtain, tracing random shapes through the steam playing up its surface.

  Once I was out I didn’t even bother drying my hair; I simply flopped down on my bed. With wide-open eyes, I stared up at the ceiling and tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

  I had overcome a lot in my life, and I had achieved far more.

  This was different.

  For the love of god, there had been a dead body in the rose bushes.

  With that haunting thought chasing through my mind, I finally closed my eyes, and somewhere around midnight, I fell into a restless sleep.

  Chapter 5

  I woke up to a persistent knock at the door. Feeling exceedingly sleepy and perfectly irritable, I flopped a hand over my face and whispered for them to go away. When they didn’t, I chucked the covers off the bed and stamped over to the door.

  “Yes?” I snapped.

  I had no idea who would be knocking on my door at this time in the morning, but I figured it couldn’t be the police. I assumed that at least they would announce themselves; whoever was knocking mercilessly on my door hadn’t yet said a word.

  “Yes?” I snapped again, finally leaning over and undoing the lock before yanking the door open.

  I expected to face management, or maybe some brash kid out for kicks, trying to stop disturbed women from getting their beauty sleep.

  I saw nothing.

  Nothing.

  There was nobody there.

  At first confusion swelled and broke against me like a powerful wave over the shore.

  Had I just imagined that knock?

  Had the murder yesterday affected me so much that I was now hallucinating?

  Before I became totally scared at the state of my own mind, I looked down.

  There was something just in front of my doorstep.

  Something blue and shiny.

  I’d seen it before.

  It was a pin.

  Sinking my teeth hard into my bottom lip, I placed my hands on my knees and gently lowered myself down. With a hesitant move, I plucked the pin up and twirled it around in my fingers.

  Was it the same pin I had seen outside the back of the motel yesterday? Or was this just… a coincidence?

  I had no idea what to think, and considering the current state of my mind, every thought centered on murder, depravity, and danger.

  A sudden sweat racing across my brow, I jerked up a little too quickly, tucking the pin nervously into my hand.

  Before I could turn and rush back to bed and hide under the covers, I heard someone clear their throat.

  I snapped my head around quickly.

  It took me a moment, but I saw Denver walking cautiously across the car park towards me.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, without so much as a hello.

  Though I’d only become reacquainted with Denver Scott in the past twenty-four hours, I was starting to realize this man did not have any time for pleasantries. Working as an agent for the FBI had obviously sapped that right out of him. Every breath he took was accompanied by a question or an accusation. Rumbling through his tone right now were both.

  I stiffened defensively, the pin still tucked away and hidden firmly by my palm and fingers.

  Denver walked all the way up to me, casually jumping the distance from the gravel of the car park to the concrete step of the motel porch. When he finally reached my door, he gave a low nod. While it wasn’t affable, it certainly wasn’t as determined and cold as most of his other movements were. “Are you okay?”

  I gave a heavy swallow, shrugged my shoulders, and let my gaze drift towards the floor.

  Okay?

  Were you meant to be okay after you had seen a murder?

  That guy had been mangled in the bushes. Though I hadn’t seen the body up close, I had seen the blood. I’d stepped in it.

  I wasn’t okay, that was the short answer; the long answer was that I had no idea when or if I would be okay again.

  Maybe I let my
complex, horrid emotions play across my face, because Denver softened his expression once again.

  He stared at his feet, and then finally glanced my way. “James Wood.”

  I looked up at him. What was that meant to mean? Had he already forgotten my name?

  Before I could ask him, he let out a tense breath through his clenched teeth. “That was the name of the man… ,” he couldn’t look at me.

  In the rose bushes.

  God, he didn’t have to finish off his sentence; in that moment, a cold, dreadful sweat broke across my entire back, and my whole body gave the most violent of shudders.

  That memory was still so guttural and fresh; it felt as if someone had carved it into my very heart. Though that sounded corny, it was the truth. I’d never experienced something so inescapable before.

  I found myself nodding, entirely too quickly, and for entirely too long.

  Denver gave another harsh swallow. He brought his hand up and began by rubbing the bridge of his nose, and then he sighed heavily and flopped it across his hair, tracing it over the back of his head and letting it drop finally to his side. “It was in the paper this morning.”

  I nodded again. Then I stopped nodding. I narrowed my eyes sharply.

  James Wood. I knew that name.

  It hit me in a rush. He’d been in my English class and my history class too. A fairly garrulous kid, he’d always been getting into trouble. He’d never done anything too dumb, though. While he had been a bit of an idiot, he’d been a relatively harmless one.

  He would have stepped on a few toes, and god knows he would have broken a few hearts, but that was all in the past.

  Now he was dead.

  “According to the article in the paper, the investigation is still undergoing,” Denver continued, glancing over my shoulder at my open door.

  “Wouldn’t you know that anyway? Aren’t you… doing the investigation?”

  He flicked his gaze quickly down. It lingered over what I was wearing for a short moment before he shook his head.

  I was still in my pajamas, wasn’t I?

  I’d kind of forgotten that.

  Considering the night I’d had, I hadn’t thrown on anything special for bed. I was in an old pair of gray shorts and a tattered black singlet. In the right mood and the right lighting that could be attractive. When you were feeling bedraggled and overcome, it wasn’t.