Epiphany, p.10
Epiphany, page 10
17. Moonlighter
I stared at the spread of food on the table, and my stomach turned. Nothing looked appetizing.
“Kinda weird when you think about it,” Mike said.
“What is?” I tilted my head up and met his deep brown eyes.
“All of this,” he said, gesturing toward the smorgasbord. “Like anyone is up to eating after…” Mouth pressed into a hard line, he shook his head. Mike was as vain as he was buff. Six and I had often joked about how he used enough gel to supply a cheerleading squad for a year. His dirty-blond hair fell flat against his forehead now, unspoiled by the usual goo, and the pallor of his skin made him look older than his thirty-five years.
“I know what you mean. I don’t have much of an appetite.” I forked a piece of ham anyway and dropped it onto my plate. Maybe going through the motions would get me through the reception. I glimpsed Six’s mother across the room. Her sons—all five of them—surrounded her as she dabbed her red-rimmed eyes, and I remembered Six telling me how she’d gotten her name.
I have five older brothers and a mom who thought trendy names were in.
I scanned the rest of the room, surprised to spot Judd, Christie, and even Brad. The number of people who’d shown up was testament to Six’s popularity. So why would anyone want to hurt her? I stiffened, shivering at the sudden idea that it could be anyone. Would her killer have the nerve to show his face here? There were so many strange faces it was impossible to tell if any were out of place.
“Are you sure you’re ready to come back to work tonight? You still seem shaken.”
“I need to do something other than sit in my apartment. Besides, I know how short staffed we’ve been, with me and…with me gone.” Her name jammed in my throat. I swallowed hard and glanced at him. “It couldn’t have been easy on you either, but you’ve gone into work every night.”
“It’s my job. I’m the manager.” His tone was all business. Mike wasn’t one to show weakness, but I suspected Six’s death had hit him as hard as me. “And we haven’t been overwhelmed with customers lately,” he added. “The slow business gave me time to train the new guy.”
“You found someone already?” My stomach clenched at the thought of someone filling her position so soon.
“Yeah, the guy doesn’t have experience, but he’s proven to be a quick study. My options weren’t good. People aren’t exactly jumping at the chance to work at the Pour House these days.” He gave me a searching look. “Are you sure you’re ready to come back?”
“I’m sure.”
“If you’re sure.”
Sometime later, after a tearful conversation with Six’s mother and all five of her brothers, Mike and I finally began the hour drive back to Watcher’s Point. We arrived at the Pour House a few hours into our shift.
I stood immobile in the entrance, trying to wrap my mind around the sight before my eyes. The “new guy” Mike had hired was Aidan. He stood behind the counter mixing a drink and making easy conversation with a woman seated at the bar. It rankled that the woman was Christie. She must have come straight to the bar upon leaving Six’s memorial.
“You hired him?” I stared at Mike with wide eyes. This isn’t happening. Oh my God, this isn’t happening.
He shrugged. “I was desperate.” He rested his hand at my back and propelled me forward. “I’ll cover the front. Maybe you should take a few and talk this out with him.”
I approached the bar, gaze darting back and forth between Aidan and Christie. They caught sight of me about the same time, and she laughed at something he said, though what really bugged me was how she set her grabby hand on his arm. I gritted my teeth. Jealousy was such a petty emotion, but I was honest enough to call it for what it was. Honest enough to know it was ridiculous. I didn’t hold claim on Aidan. So what if he’d kissed me deliriously hot on the cold slab of his kitchen counter?
I marched around the bar, ignoring the smirk Christie sent my way. “We need to talk,” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the back. As soon as we were alone, I let go of him.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
I raised my brows. “You tell me. You’re the one moonlighting as a bartender.” I paused, distracted by the black T-shirt he wore, hiding the muscles I knew were underneath. “At the bar where I just happen to work.”
“Moonlighting?” With a grin, he leaned against the door of the walk-in cooler. “Doesn’t the term ‘moonlighting’ imply a day job?”
“You know what I mean. You’re a reporter, so what are you doing working here?”
“No, I was a reporter. Now I’m a bartender.”
My simmering emotions boiled over, and I let the words fly without thinking. “Six was killed just a few days ago. How you’re able to stand here and joke about taking her place is beyond me.”
His amusement vanished. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you, but you left me no choice. I told you to leave town.”
“So…what? You’re here to play bodyguard now?”
“I’m here to make sure you’re safe.”
“I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.” I folded my arms and mimicked his words from the night of Halloween. “Twenty-three should make me a big girl now.”
His gaze drifted down my body, straying a second too long on my breasts, before jerking back to my face. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.” He pushed away from the cooler and narrowed the distance between us. “This maniac, Mackenzie…he’s got something against me. He’s always been one step ahead. I’ve drawn too much attention to you and finding Six the other night didn’t help.”
“So what are you saying? That he’s gonna come after me next?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I shook my head, even as intuition that he could be right prickled the back of my neck. “That’s crazy. Besides, I don’t think the police leaked our names to the media. Six’s mother didn’t know we’d found her.”
“I asked McFayden to keep your name out of it. He’s worried about you too.”
I tightened my arms around myself. “You’ve been busy talking to people about me, I see. What did you tell Mike?”
“The truth.”
“You told him we found Six?”
“I told him everything.”
My stomach plummeted. When he said everything, did he mean everything? “You didn’t tell him about my dreams…”
“I needed him to hire me.” He had the grace to look guilty. “He didn’t buy the hiking story. I’m sorry.”
My jaw unhinged, and disbelief caught in my throat, a strangled gasp. “I’ve told only one person besides you and the sheriff. One person. I told you because I trusted you, and believe me, trusting people isn’t something I do lightly these days.” I jabbed his chest with a finger. “And for good reason, you jerk!”
He grabbed my hand. “You wouldn’t listen to me.” His mouth parted, eyes stalling on my lips, and I knew he remembered too. The heat between us, the electric current of attraction fusing our tongues together. This was why I was so upset, I realized. He had a way of tipping the ground from under my feet, playing with my emotions with his push-and-pull tactics, but he was too stubborn to admit that something explosive spiraled around us with binding force.
“I did listen,” I said, keenly aware of his fingers wrapped around mine. “Just because I didn’t agree with you doesn’t give you the right to talk to my boss behind my back.”
“Someone’s gotta watch out for you.” He let out a rough breath. “And Mike doesn’t have any connections to Boise. I checked before telling him anything. You work for him. Six worked for him. Considering what’s happened, he should know how serious this is.”
I yanked from his grasp, taking a page from his instruction manual on retreat-mode. “It wasn’t your place to tell anyone.”
“I know, but I had to make a call. I’m worried about you.”
“I need to get to work.” I whirled around and pushed through the doors. Christie still wasted perfectly good space at the bar, and Judd sat on the stool next to her. Judging from the glare Christie aimed at him, they were headed to off-again status.
“You good out here?” Mike asked.
I nodded without meeting his eyes. “Yeah, we’ve got it covered. Thanks.”
“Holler if you need anything. I’ll be in the back.”
The place was next to empty. Two people chatted over the pool table, and another man sat in front of a video poker machine, feeding it twenties as if he had them to spare. Every few seconds he tugged at his collar.
I pasted a smile on my face and approached Judd and Christie. “Can I get you guys anything?”
“You can kick him out.” Christie pursed her glossy lips and sneered in Judd’s direction.
“Don’t mind her,” he slurred. “I still haven’t figured out how to pull the stick from ‘er ass.”
You and me both, buddy.
The doors swished open behind me, and instinctively, I knew it was Aidan. “We’re not done talking,” he whispered into my ear. His breath tickled my neck, igniting an uncontrollable fire in my belly. His arm brushed mine, and I cursed my body’s reaction to his proximity and considered quitting on the spot.
How could Mike expect me to work in such tight quarters with Aidan? My manager was a few marbles short of an Aggravation game, no doubt about it.
“Later,” I said, suddenly distracted by Christie’s murderous expression.
Aidan nodded. “Everything okay here?” Apparently, he’d picked up on the tension between Judd and his girlfriend too.
The deputy smelled like a brewery. “Everything’s A-okay, right, Christie?”
“Go fuck yourself!” She hopped down from the barstool and stalked toward the door.
“Come on, baby. I said I was sorry!” Judd rolled his eyes and went after her.
The man sitting at the video poker machine glanced up, and the two playing pool paused long enough to watch Judd and his girlfriend disappear into the thickening fog. The door swooshed shut behind them, pushing a drift of frigid air into the bar. The pool players returned to their game, and the lone man buried his nose in the spinning reels of his machine. I still couldn’t bring myself to face Aidan head on.
“Will you forgive me?” he asked.
I ignored him and began clearing the glasses Christie and Judd had abandoned.
“It’s gonna be a long night,” he muttered with a sigh.
I couldn’t help but agree. The crowd at the Pour House was non-existent. Slower than slow. I wasn’t surprised when Mike sent us home two hours before closing time.
Aidan waited for me while I gathered my purse and coat. “Did you drive to work?” he asked.
“I rode in with Mike after the memorial. What about you? I didn’t see your car in the lot.”
Aidan opened the door for me, and we stepped into the fog. “I walked.”
“You must like walking.”
“Does this mean you’re talking to me again?”
I pulled my coat tighter and fought off a wave of nervousness. “Maybe.” Staying mad at him was useless—about as useless as forgetting that damn kiss. “Thanks for walking me home.” I finally looked at him. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the brown paper bag he carried.
“Oh, this?” He lifted the bag. “I’ll show you when we get to your apartment.”
Silence stretched between us for a block. “Was it everything you’d dreamed of?” I asked.
“What?”
“Serving the drunken population of Watcher’s Point.”
His deep laugh tickled my insides in a funny way. “It exceeded my expectations. Of course, working alongside you helped.”
My apartment came into view, and I hastened my stride to the doorstep. My hands, as cold as ice cubes, fumbled with the keys.
Aidan’s fingers closed over mine, and our eyes met. We stared at each other for a beat, the moment laden with something significant, though neither of us were willing to put a name to it. “Let me. I want to check your apartment anyway.” He took the keys and unlocked the door on the first try.
I followed him inside then pulled the door shut, warding off the cold. I was glad I’d had the foresight to turn up the thermostat. I rubbed my hands together and waited for warmth to seep in. “Looking for the boogeyman?”
“The boogeyman is child’s play.” He turned on a lamp and started removing items from his mysterious bag.
“You gonna let me in on the secret now? What’s all that?”
“Window alarms, sticks for the tracks, extra locks for your door.” He upended the bag. “And two cans of mace. Keep one with you and the other on your nightstand.”
A warm sense of safety spread through me. “Thank you.” Those two words were insufficient at expressing what I wanted to say, at how his thoughtful concern chipped at the ice enclosing my heart.
“You’re welcome. Do you know how to use a gun? I can get you one.”
“That’s not a good idea. I’d probably end up shooting myself.” I gestured to the items he’d laid out. “It means a lot that you’re doing this, but is this really necessary? I mean, what makes you think he’ll come after me?”
“I’m not taking any chances.” He grabbed several of the items. “And since you won’t leave town…guess I’d better get started.” He headed into the bedroom, and I followed suit. Stalling in the doorway, he searched for the light switch for a few seconds before flipping it on, then took a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop.
I bumped into his back. “What’s wrong?”
When he didn’t answer, I peeked around him…and wished I hadn’t.
Someone had left a photo of a woman’s naked, tortured body on my lavender comforter.
18. Hook and Bait
I was dreaming. Conscious people didn’t suspend over someone like a balloon, pulled along for the ride like a silent spectator. It wasn’t normal. Then again, normal people didn’t see the stuff I did in my dreams. My momentum slowed, and I watched Aidan pull into the garage of a single-level stucco home. He closed the garage door, concealing his silver BMW as two preschool-aged kids approached his front stoop while their smiling mothers waited on the sidewalk. The sun dipped toward the horizon, its last rays painting the mountain range a stunning burnt orange. The kids were getting a head start on trick-or-treating. Raggedy Ann stood back as the brave-faced pirate rapped on the front door.
Aidan entered the house through the kitchen. His hair was shorter than the careless length he wore now, his eyes bloodshot and weary. He halted at the counter and stood unmoving, lifeless as a pillar at Stonehenge. The two trick-or-treaters knocked a second time but were either ignored or simply not heard.
In a fit of rage, he grabbed a plate from the sink and hurled it at the wall. The rest of the dishes joined the first, and glass shattered and rained everywhere. He stared at the mess, as broken as the shards glinting on his floor.
“Aidan—” My voice cracked on his name.
Of course, he didn’t hear me. He strode from the room, stomping through the house and kicking anything in sight as a slew of obscenities filled the air. He reached the bedroom only to come to an abrupt stop. The room was alight with candles, and a banner reading “Happy Birthday” hung above the four-poster bed.
On the comforter sat a note.
No, not a note…a birthday card.
Aidan picked it up, and a photo fell out. He gripped the image, knuckles turning white as he stared at a woman with tangled dark hair. In the photo, she was still alive, her wide eyes full of horror as she stared into the camera lens with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands were restrained, her naked breasts burned.
Aidan’s eyes overflowed, drops of despair drenching his face, creeping past unshaven cheeks. He flipped the card open, read the words I wasn’t able to decipher, and fled the house.
I flew overhead, my invisible string carrying me along as he sped down the highway. He must have been doing ninety, maybe more. The darkening foothills grew larger as we spanned the distance. He pulled off the road, came to a screeching stop, and left the door open in his haste to take off running. Every so often he halted long enough to glance at the birthday card. Whatever was written there must have led him here, to this place in the middle of nowhere.
By the time brush gave way to spotted trees, the sun had disappeared from the sky. Aidan didn’t have a flashlight, though it didn’t slow him down. He kept moving, stepping over rocky terrain, climbing higher, lower, and higher still. I tasted his fear, almost choked on it. I wanted to pull him back and embrace him, tell him not to go any further.
I knew what he was going to find.
A lone tree came into view, its branches streaking the night like thick snakes reaching for heaven. My heart stopped. A slim figure hung from one of the lower limbs.
“Deb!” His scream ricocheted through every cell in my body. I reached for him as he struggled to cut the rope, ached to hold him when he fell to the ground under the weight of his wife’s limp body.
I grasped nothing but air, existing in a state of helplessness, condemned to watch while he tried to breathe life back into her lungs, as if his love alone could bring about a miracle. He finally gave up and gathered her into his arms, buried his face in her hair, and cried for the longest time…
I shot up in bed with a choked gasp, my feet tangled in the sheets as sweat drenched my back. A figure stood in the doorway blocking the light from the hall. I didn’t immediately recognize Aidan’s guest bedroom. All at once the details of the previous night flooded back. Finding the picture of Aidan’s wife on my bed, then the subsequent hours spent at the sheriff’s station—it all blended with the echoes of my venture into his past. My gut insisted I’d witnessed the truth, history without embellishment. I’d wanted to see Aidan in my dreams, and now I had. How ironic that I’d give anything to erase the knowledge from my mind because his pain lanced as deeply as my own.
