by Shyla Colt
“Like shit.”
“Why? I thought we both agreed this was the best way to deal with your unusual attachments.” She frowned. He dark eyes silently dissected him. He felt like a frog pinned to a table.
“I turned their world upside down. Returning just reminds me of how much it’s no longer my world. Everything has changed, including Carey and Vannah.” A wistful longing for the sweet girl who wanted to be a teacher and wore free-flowing gowns struck him.
“You knew your death affected them both greatly.” Her voice was cold and distant. The robotic response jarred his ears like nails on a chalkboard. She’d been otherworldly for so long she’d forgotten what being human truly felt like. But he never had. That was the problem. It was impossible to enjoy Heaven when your heart and your mind were stuck on the day-to day. He’d spent an unhealthy amount of time viewing their lives like a movie played on a big screen.
“Yes, but seeing it from a distance and experiencing it for myself are two totally different things.” Clark shook his head.
“Hmmm. Do you wish to continue? We can remove you from the situation. Wipe their memories until this is nothing but an unpleasant dream.”
“No.”
“Very well then, remember the rules. Don’t tell them too much about the afterlife, never use your powers to harm another, unless you want to barred from Heaven’s gates, and summon me should you need help or grow weary of this … place.” Her lips curled up in disgust. “Now I must go. I have to go, others to check in with.”
He nodded. They definitely threw you in the deep end and expected you to learn to swim if you wanted to survive. Gone as suddenly as she came, she left Clark alone again.
***
Carey took her to a bar on the outskirts of town where they could blend in to the crowd. Shooters was what he liked to think of as an upper-class dive bar. They weren’t fancy but the place was clean, the bathroom didn’t look as if you’d catch an S.T.D from breathing the air, and the service was fast and friendly. It was the perfect place to drink in the middle of the day in nice clothing without batting an eyelash. Last thing they wanted was an audience for their forced reunion. Seated across from her at a table for two in the back, he studied her. Never in a million years would he have imagined Savannah West would grow up to be smoking hot.
Ebony tresses fell just below her shoulders. Her tall frame was slender but muscular, like Michelle Rodriguez if she’d been dipped in chocolate and gained five inches. It screwed with his head, having his cock strain against his pants for the childhood best friend who’d bailed when he needed her most. The waitress returned with a tray, setting a bucket of beer and two shots of straight whiskey on the table.
“Here you go. I’ll be back to check on you two later.”
“Thanks,” he peered at her name tag, “Mandy.”
The girl gave a muted smile. Her brown eyes darted toward a silent Savannah. He could see her mentally trying to figure out their relationship. Under other circumstances, he’d be amused.
“Of course.” Mandy walked off. Savannah tossed back her shot like a pro.
“Aaah.” She hissed through her teeth. “It always burns so good.” Her delicate pink tongue darted out to lick her lips.
Fuck.
He arched a brow. “Drink a lot?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, sending strands of black silk flying. A layer fell into her eyes, marring her buttoned-up agent style. His mind began to form images of what she’d look like out of the black slacks and conservative button up shirt. Would her underwear be as bland? It was all too easy to see her curves highlighted in a black corset and thong.
“Gotta stay sharp and keep the reflexes up.” Her answer pulled him from his lustful haze.
I seriously need to get laid. Apparently six months is too long.
“You see a lot of time in the field?” Swirling his shot glass, he watched the amber liquid shift.
“Not usually, but you know they shuffle us around like a deck of cards when necessary.”
He nodded. “You have a partner though, right?”
“Yeah. Are we gonna keep bullshitting?”
“Jesus, Savannah.” He pushed air out through his teeth. So much for polite conversation. The cold tone put a halt to the massive swelling of his cock. Wah Wah Wah played in his head.
“It was a simple question.” She shrugged.
“It was a copout.” Refusing to let her put her wall back up as though she hadn’t been shaken to her core twenty minutes earlier, he called her out.
“Why?” The haughty look she issued rankled. He wanted to wipe the expression off her face. Peel back the persona she wore like a shield and retrieve the Vannah he knew still existed, held hostage inside her, like Rapunzel in her tower.
“Because you’re acting like we just met.” Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward.
“No.” She shook her head. “But we’re not besties either. We don’t know each other anymore.”
“You really believe that?” The dismissive words wounded. Sure, over the years they’d changed, but stranger, seemed a pretty harsh label for two people who’d known each other since they were in diapers.
“You don’t?” She arched an eyebrow. “You said yourself I’d changed.”
“I can’t work with you like this.” I don’t like this new Savannah one bit.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“This is personal. I can’t pretend otherwise. How can you?” he whispered.
The walls she hid behind collapsed. The dark abyss of pain visible in her deep brown orbs was a revelation.
“I have to. Emotions make you sloppy and vulnerable. If I get lost in my own head on this one, I’ll be of no use to anyone. I’ve waited far too long to do that. Don’t think for a moment this isn’t ripping me to shreds on the inside. You have your way of dealing, and I have mine. I’m not saying it’s right, but it gets me by.”
“Vannah, that’s no way to live.” Gentler now that he understood, he softened his voice.
“Well, if we crack this, maybe I won’t have to.” She cleared her throat.” Enough with the heart-to-heart. Tell me what you know.”
He tossed back his shot, breathed through the trail of fire left in the whiskey’s wake, and began. “Not much more than you. Clark showed up this morning like he never left. I thought I was still drunk from the night before, at first. Then I sobered, and he remained. Once he moved something and I touched him, I couldn’t deny it. He mentioned you were in danger. I knew I was going to do what he said regardless, whether I was going stark-raving mad or not.” She opened her mouth to speak and he shook his head. “If the position was reversed and I needed help, would you come?”
“Yeah, I would. You can’t be best friends with someone for twenty-one years and forget them in ten. At least I can’t.”
“Exactly.” He grabbed a beer from the bucket, popped the top, and slid it across to her before he opened his own.
“What did Clark say?” The anxiety in her tone wasn’t lost on him.
“Not much. He said the kidnappers were back and there was a lot we didn’t know. I guess it’ll be coming to light soon.” Trailing a finger through the condensation on the bottle, he watched the water separate to avoid the inquiring gaze looking for answers he couldn’t provide.
“Did he say how or when?” Impatience sharpened her words.
He lifted the brown bottle, took a long draw, and shook his head. “He said they’d come to us.”
“Oh my God, they want to finish what they started.” Her eyes widened. He could see the wheels in her head spin.
“How can you know that?” he asked, unable to follow the path she’d taken to get there.
“I’m taking an educated guess. It’s the only reason they’d have for coming back now—to tie loose ends. Perhaps this will allow them to complete their ritual.”
“Ritual?” How could she get all of this from a letter and a tarot card?
“Serial killers have a variety of reasons why they kill. Some are opportunistic, where there’s a driving force but no real game plan. Others have more specific requirements. They’re re-enacting some trauma that happened in their life , or an ideal they wish to leave by. It may not make sense to us, because to them it’s very real. Their way of righting a wrong or giving meaning to their life. .” Her tone was matter-of-fact as she spoke with an intensity that showed how much she enjoyed her job. Their conversation seemed out of place here among the popular music playing over the speakers and the trivial conversation taking place around them. College students filled the surrounding tables, drinking, chatting, and blowing off steam.
His gaze scanned the room and it hit him. They were the only somber couple here. A song with a hard-hitting bass came on and the couple beside them walked over to the tiny area designated as a dance floor. The lithe woman with cocoa skin pressed her round ass into her partner as he wrapped his arms around her waist and they moved as one to the beat.
Carey envied them. His cock stirred and he forced his mind back to the topic at hand. “You think this is one of those re-enacting cases?” he asked.
“Maybe.” A thoughtful expression settled over her face. “I’ll never forget that freakish clown outfit… now I wonder if it tied in to the ritual. I know they didn’t travel with the carnival—the police hit a dead end with that. Perhaps the kidnappers scout out the carnivals. See where they’ll be moving to and follow, ride their tailcoats.” She placed her tongue in her cheek.
Releasing a sigh, he shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“There are all just theories, nothing concrete, but it’s a start.”
He was impressed. It was easy to see why she was good at what she did.
“How would you try to make a connection between what happened and other cases?”
“First I’d need to get my hands on our case file, and then I’d search using people taken from carnivals or circus acts. Perhaps it has something to do with that.” Her body twitched. “I knew clowns were creepy, but I never knew they killed outside of the movies.”
He couldn’t say he’d watched IT lately. “I can get you the case files.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
Now she cares. “Being next in line for sheriff in a small town does have some perks, city slicker.”
She smirked. “We don’t have to play the whose-is-bigger game, Carey. I don’t even have a penis.” No, but I bet your pussy is delicious.
“Which is a good thing, considering metaphorically speaking, you trump me being F.B.I. and all.”
“You know I don’t see it like that. We’re all law enforcement agents looking to keep the peace and gain victims justice.”
“If that’s true, why go for the F.B.I.?”
“Because I had my heart set on criminal profiling. I knew going through the Bureau and putting in my time was the best way to go.”
“When did you know it was what you wanted to do?” Curious to know how someone went from dreaming of becoming a teacher to a federal agent, he focused in on her words, trying to read between the lines.
“After I got through with my sessions with my psychologist I started to get really into human psychology. How the mind works and what events in our past shape who we’ll be. I wanted answers beyond what she could give me. I didn’t like the ‘sometimes bad things happen to good people’ bit I was being force-fed. I wanted—no, I needed to do more.” Swinging her beer toward him, she asked, “What about you? Carey Carr a cop?”
“I know, I know. When I lost Clark I just saw how pointless the stupid shit I did was. The time for teenage rebellion was gone. I dropped out of school not too long after you transferred. It just wasn’t the place I needed to be. I spent a period lost, confused, and hurting. But when I pulled it together I knew I wanted to help pick up the pieces of Dale, make people feel safe again and stop wasting potential and time, you know?”
“I do. It was a mess here for awhile.” His gaze shifted to the bustling bar, but his mind went back to the past. A lingering sadness had tinged everyone and everything in town the rest of the year. Parents held their children a little tighter. Kids went in when the sun went down. An unspoken curfew had been issued for teens. The campus issued a buddy system mandate and passed out pamphlets about being aware of your surroundings and how to escape an attacker, along with a rash of self-defense classes and speakers. It would help bring some comfort for others, never him.
“How long are you here for?” he asked, eager to change the subject when pain appeared in the depths of her eyes.
“Just through the weekend. I had a half day today. I’ll drive back Sunday to be at work Monday.”
“You staying at your parents’ place?”
“Yeah, it would crush them if I didn’t. Speaking of my parents, I should probably head home soon.” A quick look at the bucket told him they’d worked their way through the half dozen. Any more alcohol and driving might get iffy.
“Why don’t you stop by the station tomorrow and take a look at some files? Everyone knows you. It wouldn’t be strange if you stopped in to chat and look over some unsolved cases. I know it’s not much but it beats sitting around waiting for Clark to pop back in.”
“Agreed, sounds like a plan. Any particular time?”
“I’m open. Let’s exchange numbers.”
He pulled out his smart phone and she followed suit. They exchanged phone numbers and he settled the tab. Out in the parking lot they paused by their cars. The soft scent of honeysuckle teased his nose. He wanted to move closer and inhale deep. Silence stretched between them, and he found himself at a loss. This was the first time they’d had a civil conversation since everything happened. It felt good. Not quite the same as before but nice nonetheless.
“You seem to like bluntness, so I’m going to come right out and ask. When this is over are you driving back off into the sunset and forgetting about me again?”
She winced. “I deserved that. No, I want to work our way back to where we once were if you’re game.”
“I am.” He drank in her beauty. It was like an episode of The Twilight zone. Perhaps this was how it had been for Clark. The boy had been in love with her since the twelfth grade.
“Good, I’m looking forward to it.” An almost shy smile graced her lips. He couldn’t help the answering smile that formed. Look at us making nice.
“I am too, Vannah.” He’d had plenty of friends over the years, male and female, but none had come close to Clark or Vannah.
Pausing with her hand on the door, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “This really happened right? We saw Clark today?”
“Unless we’ve both flown off the deep end at the same time, yeah, I think we did.” He nodded. As the heat of the moment faded and the day came to a close, doubt crept in.
“I don’t know that I believe in ghosts Carey.”
“Worst-case scenario. We look into the case and come up with Zilch, right?”
“Right.” She nodded.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He watched her until she was buckled up and drove off. You could never be too careful and to say he had an overprotective streak a mile long when it came to her would be a gross understatement. When he turned and got into his black sedan, he flinched. Clark sat in the passenger seat. His expression was stoic and his eyes stormy. It’s definitely real, Vannah.
“You like her, don’t you?” Clark asked. His lips were flattened into a straight line, and his nostrils flared.
“It’s Vannah. Of course I like her.”
“Yes, but its different now. I saw how you looked at her. There was nothing brotherly about it.” Clark jerked his head in the direction Vannah had gone. The possessiveness made Carey want to take a step back. His mannerisms screamed, ‘back off’.
Carey cleared his throat. “Clark she’s gorgeous, and I’m not blind. So, yeah, I looked.”
“Don’t do that,” he snapped.
> “Do what?” Carey shook his head, lost.
“Lie to me.”
“Clark, I don’t even know who she is right now. We’re two people trying to keep our heads above water.”
“It’s okay, Carey. If she was going to be with anyone, I’d want it to be you.” His hollow tone didn’t sit right.
“You’re jumping the gun there—”
“No, I don’t think I am. The air between the two of you practically sizzled.”
“With anger.” Most of the woman’s responses were hot and cold, tinged with anger or colored by pain.
“Hmmm.” The doubtful expression on Clark’s face earned an eye roll.
Carey turned on the ignition and digested what his brother said. “Please don’t try to play ghost matchmaker.”
Clark burst into laughter. “Oh I’ve missed you something fierce.”
“Ditto, little brother, ditto. Can you … talk about where you were?”
“No, just that I was happy and taken care of.”
“That’s good enough for me.” There were a million questions he wanted to ask Clark but right now his brain was shot. Too much had happened in such a short amount of time. Right now his twin was back and really that was all that mattered, even if they did have their work cut out for them.
Chapter Three
She stood at the kitchen counter mixing a blend of cream and sugar in her coffee. Dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a gray shirt from the academy, she was struck silent by how good it felt to be home. Her job was so all-encompassing that by the time she surfaced for air, long chunks of time had flown by. If her best friend didn’t also work in the same office she’d be lonely indeed.
“It’s good to have you home, sweetheart.” Her mother padded over in a pair of pink slippers and a matching bathrobe.
“Morning, Mama. It’s good to be home.” Savannah bent to hug her close, inhaled the scent of soap and coconut hair product.
“Could’ve fooled me the way you stay away,” her mother grumbled as they pulled apart.
“You know I just get caught up in my work.”