Текст книги "Tethered Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“He has-a good taste.” She sniffs, unaffected.

“Yeah, that’s great, but he’s looking at me like I’m a cracker and Polly wants it!” I’ve never been so scared of a bird in my life.

“Hot wench!”

Mom grabs the sheet and throws it over the cage again, much to Gio’s displeasure. “I can’t stand the damn thing,” she snaps, storming into the kitchen.

I see I came at a good time.

Nonna waits until Mom is fully out of view before uncovering the bird again. Jesus, he’s gonna have a misconstrued idea of night and day if they keep that up.

“Is-a okay, Gio,” Nonna coos once again, poking her wrinkled finger through the bars.

My eyebrows shoot up, but Gio lovingly rubs the side of his head against her fingertip.

Ooookay. Just when I thought my family couldn’t get any crazier.

“Something-a wrong?” Nonna asks me, sitting on the chair next to the cage.

I eye the creature suspiciously and make my way to the sofa. “Actually, I need to talk to you.”

Gio whistles at me again. Wow. He really is repetitive, huh?

“About the wedding. Devin’s wedding,” I add hurriedly when her eyes light up.

She doesn’t even try to hide her disappointment. “Ah. I see-a. Well?”

Oh God. How do I put this without offending her? Wait. I don’t think I can. I could bundle this in all kinds of Bubble Wrap and it just won’t go down well. Okay. Here goes.

“Amelia came to see me this morning—”

“Aha! She has-a listened about-a the dress?”

“No…”

“She is-a okay-a with-a the menu?”

“Not exactly…”

“She want-a the—”

“She wants you to stop, Nonna!” So that’s a little harsher than I planned. I bite down on the inside of my bottom lip and continue. “She’s overwhelmed. They weren’t planning on a summer wedding. More like…a spring one. At the earliest.”

Nonna waves her hand. “Si, si. It is-a a lot-a to organize! It is-a why she has-a me!”

“She doesn’t want you to organize it. She wants to organize it. In her own time. Like normal people with normal families do.”

Again, she waves her hand, but this time, it is dismissive. “It will-a be fine. I will-a call her and she will-a understand!”

I open my mouth to argue, but she gets up, blows Gio a kiss, and heads out of the living room, causing my words to stick in my throat. Yeah. Devin is gonna have to be the one to stand up to her on that, because clearly, she isn’t willing to listen to me. Oh well. At least she didn’t mention my wedding, right?

Almost didn’t.

I’m about to get up when she shuffles back in. I slowly look up at her, but her eyes are focused pointedly on my left hand.

Well, I thought too soon.

With a scoff, she leaves the room once more.

“Hot wench! Whit-woo!” Gio calls, followed by a squawk and an enthusiastic flap of his wings.

I sigh and turn to him just before I walk out of the door. “You and me are never gonna happen, buddy. Hot wench or not.”

“Hot wench! Hot wench!”

I dreamed all night that I was being chased by an angry, horny hoard of bright-green-and-yellow parrots. Each one had a pair of panties encased in its beak, and every now and then, the incessant flapping of their wings was interrupted by the yell of, “Hot wench!” or a catcall.

It’s the closest thing I’ve had to a nightmare since I was about to graduate high school and dreamed Nonna would turn up naked to embarrass me. Turned out she could do it fully clothed—not that anyone was surprised. Because she wore her Sunday best—which, ten years ago, was much shorter than now. Let’s just say it was a very windy day in June and someone had forgotten her underwear.

It wasn’t me who forgot.

Long story short, horny, panty-carrying parrots are why I woke up at four thirty and decided it wasn’t worth going back to sleep. I’d already tried that shit three times and every time the parrots came back.

I don’t think Gio is good for my health. Or my mom’s, come to think of it.

I’ve been poring over the information Carlton managed to provide for me on both of the missing girls. Toni Thompson, the first girl to go missing, is sixteen years old and, by all accounts, the perfect daughter. She has a three point eight GPA, is on the honor roll, and is one of the best cheerleaders in Holly Woods High, the high school that serves both Holly Woods and some more rural areas of Austin. She’s also on the volleyball team, and according to the report Carlton—hmm. Let’s say borrowed. Yeah, borrowed—from the police department, she is single but last went on a date with Brook Meyers.

The boyfriend of Melissa Samuel, the second missing girl.

I sip my second mug of coffee and read further. Apparently, Toni’s mom remembered his name, because once she found out he was eighteen, she forbade barely sixteen Toni from seeing him any further. Toni apparently agreed, according to the interview Drake did, and as far as her mom is concerned, that was that.

Yeah. If Toni never saw Brook again, then I’m a virgin.

I grab Melissa’s report. I already know most of this from the TV report, but I wonder if there’s anything from Drake’s interview with her parents. About Brook.

I want to think it’s a coincidence. After all, they all attend Holly Woods High. Let’s be honest, when you’re that age, unless you’re head-over-heels, madly in love with your high school sweetheart, you’re gonna date around like you’re a bee in a garden center. As long as you don’t get around like a bee in a garden center. And if you’re going to, make sure you’re protected.

Safety first and all that.

Damn it, Noelle. Focus your ass.

I take another sip of coffee and skim through the rest of the report. According to Suzie Samuel, her mom, Melissa’s relationship with Brook is relatively new. She thinks they’ve been dating for around two months, but exclusively for just over one. Another mom not happy about it, but it seems like Suzie took the route where she spoke about everything with Melissa and pretended to agree. Melissa’s date of birth also shows that she’ll be seventeen in a couple of weeks, so that could be another reason…

This is where I’m getting confused. Like Toni, Melissa is at the top of her academic game. She’s holding a high GPA, on the honor roll, and applying to two Ivy League colleges, and the others she’s planning on aren’t exactly easy targets, either.

Why would these two girls date the troublemaker known as Brook Meyers? Is it really the bad-boy thing?

The files Carlton has dug up on Brook are extensive and confusing. His police record is the longest non-record I’ve ever seen. He must be the biggest legal criminal I’ve ever met in my life… But only because I don’t personally know any politicians. That and I’m trying to be nicer to Mayor McDougall.

Note that I said: trying.

Jesus. I really shouldn’t get up at four thirty. It really messes with my concentration.

I pick my coffee mug up, but it’s empty. I should make another… But, given my already hyperactive focus, it’s probably best I don’t. Also, the coffee machine is on the other side of the kitchen, and I’m, well… I’m not exactly comfy, but my butt isn’t numb enough for me to care yet.

Back to Brook’s list of misdemeanors that don’t seem to be misdemeanors at all.

Yowza. This kid has been arrested more times than those chicks in porn movies that get screwed by “police officers.”

Not that I know much about that. Ahem.

In all seriousness, of which I don’t have much, he has a seriously impressive list of naughties he’s never been charged for. Like, shit. I’m almost jealous of his skill. Graffiti in the park, attempted car robbery, slashing tires, general vandalism, indecent expo—

Oh. Apparently, he had sex with someone up against a tree in the middle of the local park, but by the time the police got there, he was gone. And he’s eighteen. I’m not sure if I’m horrified or kind of impressed by his bravery.

By the looks of things, he’s gotten away with everything he’s been involved in because there’s never been any ironclad evidence. For the graffiti, he never touched a spray can. He just happened to be there. Same with the slashed tires—he never touched a knife. No fingerprints, no DNA, just eyewitness accounts that put him in the places with the proven culprits that could simply be coincidence.

Coincidence is likely what’s tying these disappearances together. He’s a kid. It’s not as if he’s been arrested for rape or assault in the past. It’s a damn big jump from maybe-graffiti and watching tires be cut. It’s a rare switch for someone to make, especially someone as young as he is. If he had assault on his record, then it’d maybe be a different story. Still…

I glance at the clock. It’s seven. Wow. It’s a wonder I’m still awake.

Oh, no. That wonder will be coffee. Hmm.

I pick my phone up and dial Drake’s number before I can think it through. He’s probably going to kill me for subjecting him to a full conversation right as his alarm has just gone off, and then he’s going to dismember me for discussing an open case—which, despite his request for information, I am not allowed to do anymore—but oh well.

I figure he dragged me into this in the first place. He knew I’d read these files. I’m too nosy for my own good. Although it has been proven in the past that my nosiness has been for everyone else’s good, because it seems to come with a great murderer identifier.

“If you’re callin’ me this early, it can’t be good,” Drake says gruffly.

Damn. That sleepy voice.

I shiver. “Maybe I just want to say good morning.”

“Nope. You’re never this cheery this early. What’s wrong?”

“Ah, fuck. You’re smarter on a morning that I give you credit for, Detective.”

He yawns. “It’s why you call me Detective.”

Yeah. That’s the reason.

“You also only call me that when you’re pissing me off or you’re preparing to.”

He’s starting to get to know me too well. I might have to cut him loose.

“Now that isn’t fair,” I say. “I call you all sorts of things. Honey, handsome…”

“Asshole, dickhead, bastard…”

“I say them in the nicest way. Just like you do when you call me a bitch.”

“Yeah. I wish I could agree with that. Chances are, if I’m calling you a bitch, you’re being one.” Sheets rustling come down the phone, and I grin.

Hard to argue with the truth. I wear my bitch badge with pride.

“What do you want, Noelle?”

“Did you interview the boyfriend yet?”

“How did I know you were gonna say that?” he grumbles, and the toilet flushes in the background.

“Did you just pee on the phone with me?”

Silence.

“Now, I’m hoping you peed on the phone with me,” I say hesitantly. Wow. This relationship is going at warp speed.

“How much coffee have you had already? Wait, why are you even up this early to harass me?”

“Since when was your girlfriend calling you at seven in the morning harassing—wait. Never mind.” I scratch my forehead. “Well, did you?”

“No. I’m talking to him this morning. I’m sure Carlton will be able to give you the full transcript by dinnertime.” He doesn’t exactly sound happy about that…

“Ah, I see you have a problem with his information-finding skills now.”

“Nope.” Drawers shut in the background, and Drake yawns again. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes. In the interest of full disclosure, you should know I’ve been up since four thirty after being sleep terrorized by horny, panty-wielding parrots, and I promise to give back the files Carlton borrowed.”

Drake is quiet for a long moment, and since there’s no background noise, I imagine he’s standing in the middle of his bedroom, trying to process that sentence. And I imagine he’s doing it in his underwear, because if I’m imagining him, that fine body is not clothed.

“I have no idea how to respond to that, so I’m going to say you’ve had way too much coffee.”

“Possibly. But it’s all true. Panty-wielding parrots are no joke.”

“You’re gonna have to explain that to me tonight. Maybe. I don’t even know if I want to know about fucking panty-wielding parrots.”

I sigh heavily and rest my chin in my hand. “I wish I didn’t.”

Holly Woods Summer Fair is one of my favorite times of the year. Mostly because of my addiction to sweet things, and it happens to come with an abundance of those. Not to mention Rosie and Melanie have stalls right next to each other, and both of them sell their most popular sweet treats.

This year, Melanie has the most amazing strawberry shortcake cupcakes, and Rosie has a brand-new berry pie that no one seems to be able to figure out.

It’s like a sugar addict’s heaven.

I also love the smell. Of candy apples and cotton candy, and burgers and hot dogs, and let’s just all accept now that no amount of time on the treadmill is gonna make up for the next two weeks. If I make peace with that now, I won’t hate myself at the end of the month.

Okay. I will. I’ll fucking hate myself for eating so much gooey goodness, but hey. I’m gonna do it anyway. At least I’m ready to hate myself.

I saunter through the stalls, having swapped my workday high heels for thick-heeled cowboy boots. The fields the fair spreads out on are hired out to the council by the farmer who owns them, and the council in turn hires it out to the travelers that provide most of it. The field with the stalls is separated from the fair field by an open gate, but rides and stalls are rammed right up against the gates running between them. Every inch of space is used.

For fifty weeks of the year, I forget how diverse our little town is. Alonso is here somewhere with his freshly made pizza, and between the cultural wares of the travelers and other things, there are several mystical stores. One of which obviously belongs to Dina White, Holly Woods’ own mythical expert.

Or so they say. Witches and ghosts and things aren’t really something I’ve ever taken an interest in. I think that stems from the time my brothers forced me into the old, abandoned theater on the edge of town after they’d filled my nine-year-old mind with stories of the otherworldly. Their subsequent tricks have scarred me for life.

Bek is different. I know she regularly goes into Dina’s store—heck, I don’t even know its name—and buys candles. She also has a few crystal things because “they’re pretty.”

Yeah, well, so are shoes. And I can use those puppies.

I feel like I should probably wander over there, but I’m kind of a chicken and scared I’ll end up buying something out of politeness. Because, despite my affinity for bitchiness, I am actually a genuinely nice person. I just have to, you know. Like you.

Okay. I’m not a total bitch. I’m more…strong-willed. Yeah, strong-willed. I like that. I need to make a note to tell Drake that. And my brothers. And my grandmother. And my employees.

Never mind.

“You look like you’re fixin’ to cause trouble.”

I smile at the deep voice and turn. “I don’t cause trouble. It finds me. You should know that by now.”

Drake grins, his arms folded across his chest. His white shirt is as well-fitting as always, stretched across his biceps, and the sleeves are rolled to just above his elbows. He’s missing the tie, and I don’t blame him. It is kinda hot out.

“Hmm,” he hums. “That’s why you’re wandering around here by yourself.”

“I was looking for you, actually,” I lie.

His raised eyebrow tells me he’s seen right through me.

Yep. Gonna have to cut him loose. I’m starting to think I’m not nearly as mysterious as I thought. He, however…

“You were checking out the food stalls, weren’t you?” he asks, a twinkle of laughter brightening his ice-blue eyes.

I lick my lips. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean.”

“No?” He smirks and reaches for me. He slowly wipes his thumb over the corner of my mouth, holding my gaze, then pulls it back and holds it in front of me.

There’s a telltale sign of deep-red sauce on it. The tiniest amount, mind you.

“Then what’s this? Berry lipstick?”

Dammit, Rosie’s pie. I knew I shouldn’t have been her guinea pig.

I drop my head back like a petulant child. “Ugh, okay. I had pie for dinner. I’m an adult. I can make bad life choices like that.” Although, if you ask me, there’s nothing bad about pie for dinner. Which is why no one did, or will, ask me. “Rosie made one to see if it bakes as well in the trailer as in the café and I just happened to be there.”

Drake wipes his thumb on his black pants, still smiling. “Did you save me any?”

I snort and start walking.

His laughter catches up with me as he does. He tugs on a lock of my hair. “Just kiddin’, cupcake. I’m not that dumb. I know you’ll never save me pie. Or cake.”

“Thank God. It’s so much easier when we’re on the same page about that stuff.” I shoot him a half smile.

“Rosie will though.”

“Only because Miss Rosie is sweet on you and the way you compliment her every time you walk through the door.” I elbow him lightly.

Rosie is in her early fifties, completely gray, and the kindest woman I’ve ever met.

“I’m just bein’ a gentleman.”

I give him a suspicious smile, and the one he returns makes my stomach flip.

One thing is for sure. I will never get used to the way he makes me feel.

“Sooo…” I hook my thumbs over the belt loops of my shorts. “Did you speak to Brook Meyers?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Drake mutters. “Always an ulterior motive with you.”

“I’ll buy you pie.”

“Add a blow job and I’ll consider it.”

“That’s so childish.”

“So is your pie bribe.”

“Whatever. You know I’ll find out anyway. You may as well just tell me—”

“Or you’re gonna bug the shit outta me until I do because you know I can’t leave until everyone is ready for the opening tomorrow,” he interrupts me, finishing with a deep sigh. “You’re a real fuckin’ pain in the ass. You know that, Noelle?”

I smile sweetly.

He cuts his eyes to me, attempting an annoyed expression, so I just add extra cheese to my smile. He gives up. He’s not nearly as grumpy as he used to be. Well, sometimes.

“Brook Meyers is fully alibi’d. He’s not even close to a suspect, despite his connection to both girls.”

Well, damn. I hate it when alibis check out. “That sucks.”

“He claimed not to have dated Toni for weeks, and he was the one who called Suzie to see if Melissa had left without him. He got stuck in the traffic on the highway after that crash and was late to the airport to get her. He tried calling her when he knew she’d landed, but her phone wasn’t on, which is why he called Suzie. He figured her phone was out of battery and that Melissa would call home from the airport.”

“But she never did,” I say softly. My stomach sinks.

“Not yet,” Drake responds resolutely. “Teenagers go missing all the time then come back perfectly fine.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into his side. “They’ll be all right, sweetheart. Toni has been rebelling since her parents told her they were divorcing, so she’s probably hiding out somewhere to gather herself, and we won’t know when Melissa left the airport or if she was alone until we get the security tapes. They’re dragging their asses, and even then, we’ll be lucky to get them before Austin does.”

“Who’s leading it there?”

Drake’s lips tighten. “Messina.”

Ahhh, the famous Giorgio Messina, my one-time blind date courtesy of Nonna and seemingly the bane of both Drake’s and Trent’s existences. I’ve never understood the feud they seem to have going, and if I’m honest, I’m maybe a little afraid to ask. I initially thought their…dislike…of him was because of the date thing, but I’ve since realized that it runs a little deeper than that.

I do know that, if Holly Woods PD doesn’t have to work with any branch of the Austin PD, they won’t, just in case they find themselves teamed up with Detective Messina. So I can’t even imagine how well it went down the day Melissa disappeared and they found themselves working with him.

“Would he really be an ass if there were something that could forward the investigation?” I ask, doubting it a little myself.

“We’re leading Toni’s since she disappeared in town.” Drake lowers his voice. “Technically, no one knows where Melissa went missing, so we’re sharing that right now.”

“I don’t want to think about this, but what if they’re connected?”

“Then he has to hand us everything.” He shrugs. “All we have is that Toni was seen with a guy with dark hair. It doesn’t exactly narrow it down. For all anyone knows, the guy she was seen with was me.”

I quirk an eyebrow. I see the point he’s making. “Guy with dark hair” isn’t exactly the most descriptive, and it probably encompasses eighty percent of Holly Woods, with the inclusion of the travelers, who arrived a few days before this all happened.

“Have you thought about—”

Drake sharply shakes his head, and I shut up. Don’t ask about that here. Got it. He swerves me around the corner and into the area where most of the mystical-type stores are set up. I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose—being a realist strikes again.

“Don’t look so offended,” he mutters, tugging me close to him. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Here?”

“No, the other side of town,” he drawls, clearly unimpressed with my powers of deduction. He pulls me toward a stall decorated with various religious items, many I recognize as Catholic but none like I’ve ever seen before. “Hey, Alex. This is Noelle.”

A chill threads down my spine the second the guy—Alex—turns around. His eyes are so dark that they’re almost black, and the light lines at their corners age him to his midthirties. I can’t decide if they’re laughter lines or frown lines, but his raven-colored hair is cut relatively short and combed back from his angular face. His jaw is sharp, his lips pursed, and he wipes his hands on his pants as he steps to the front of the stall and casts his eerie gaze over me.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

I eye his hand warily before steeling myself and taking it. “Oh, it’s Noelle. It’s nice to meet you too.” Wow. I hope my words don’t give my lie away. I wanna get the hell away from here. “Interesting stall.”

Alex steps from the shadows, but it doesn’t detract from the way they play across his chiseled cheekbones. He’d be damn attractive if he didn’t scare the eggs out of my ovaries. “Yes, you sound very interested.”

I narrow my eyes as the light lilt of an accent hits my ears. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

His smile grows slowly. Predatorily, almost. “We’re from everywhere, Noelle. Pretty name, by the way. French, isn’t it?”

“Yes. My mother’s way of forever annoying my grandmother.” I drop my eyes to the rosaries decorating a portion of the table.

They’re intricately designed, and the only one I’ve ever seen like this is the one Nonna keeps locked away. It’s the one she was given as a baby.

“Do you like them?” Alex asks, motioning. “They’re from Italy.”

“Blessed by the Pope, I assume.” That comes out drier than I thought it would.

To my surprise, Alex chuckles. “If they were blessed by him, I’d be selling them for a lot more.”

I smile tightly.

“Alex sells religious items from the various countries around the world,” Drake puts in, presumably to stop me from being further offensive.

What? Sometimes, it slips out. My brain-to-mouth filter got lost when it smelled cupcakes.

“I spend six months with the fair, and the other six, I spend traveling the world,” Alex explains.

I slide my gaze over his other items. I couldn’t tell you what half of them were if you handed me a phone with Google open on the browser. “Must be nice.”

“Depends on how you define ‘nice.’” He smirks, and that chill catches my spine again.

I refrain from shivering. Just.

“You have a lot of rosaries,” I observe, stepping closer to Drake. “Anyone would think you’re Italian.”

His smirk changes to a gentle smile, but there’s no softness to his gaze. “What gave it away?”

“A woman never reveals her secrets.” I meet his eyes for a moment then turn to Drake. “I have to get back. Mike’s sending me a case file he needs help with.”

Drake frowns at my lie but doesn’t say anything against it. “All right. I’ll call you when I’m done here.” He kisses me and releases me.

“It was nice to meet you, Alex,” I lie again. Pinocchio would be proud.

“And you,” he says slowly, as if he’s calculating my every word and ripping every syllable apart.

I walk away from his stall, my gut churning and the undeniable sense of being watched crawling over me until I’m securely out of view.