Parrish

by Shannen Crane Camp

  His hands squeezed my back as I kissed him and I could tell that, at least for a moment, he was seriously considering it. But he eventually pulled away from me again. Unfortunately.

  “Not a good idea,” he said, our noses still touching.

  “You know I’m just talking about kissing, right?” I said. “Just wanted to clarify.”

  “And as much as I love kissing you, Brighton and Deacon don’t sleep that heavily. I’m sure they’d hear the door.”

  I paused for a moment, wondering why he was saying that when he didn’t care at all if they knew about us.

  “It doesn’t bother me one bit if they find out about . . . this,” he began, reading my mind once more. “But I know it matters to you.”

  He should have been mad that I was too embarrassed about our relationship to share it with Brighton and Deacon, but here he was, watching out for me and my pointless discretion. Jefferson was definitely different, but it wasn’t in the bad way that everyone else seemed to think. He was loyal and considerate and more thoughtful than I ever was.

  Suddenly, I just wanted to kiss him again, but I restrained myself.

  I looked at him for a moment, admiring the boy who drove me so crazy. “Thank you for telling me everything.”

  “I want you to know everything,” he answered, before rolling onto his back and pulling me close to him so that my head rested on his chest.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by his statement, but I knew that it brought that warm feeling back to my chest.

  “Good night, Sadie,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

  “Good night, Jefferson,” I answered. I decided I’d stay awake until he fell asleep so I could move from his chest. The last thing I needed was to fall asleep in this compromising position and have Brighton question me the next morning.

  Once his breathing slowed, I moved his arm that rested over my shoulders and scooted back to my side of the makeshift floor-bed. With my back against Brighton’s box spring, I watched as Creepy Parrish Number One slept. Suddenly it didn’t seem so weird to me that he watched me sleep at night. It was relaxing to see someone so peaceful when the rest of your life was in slight chaos.

  Watching as Jefferson smiled in his sleep, I let my eyelids droop closed, and then felt his fingers lace through mine as I fell asleep.

  ~

  I wasn’t sure how I had gotten there, but I was standing in some kind of waiting room in front of a receptionist desk. It didn’t quite look like a doctor’s office, even though that would have been my first guess with how clean and neat everything was.

  A bell chimed as the front door opened and a girl walked in. She tapped me on the shoulder, and when I turned to face her, I let a small gasp escape. I was looking at myself. Smiling and wearing a purple shirt I’d never wear in a million years. It was like the mimic had followed me to this office building and was now messing with my mind.

  The girl didn’t speak, but beckoned for me to follow her. I glanced at the receptionist skeptically, thinking the woman wasn’t going to let us just walk into the office with no explanation. Still, I wasn’t in any position to ignore this ghost. Walking behind her, we entered the back offices without the receptionist so much as glancing in our direction.

  I tried to ask the mimic what we were doing, but found that I couldn’t speak. Perfect. I finally got to see a full-bodied apparition and I couldn’t even ask it any questions.

  The mimic pointed to a safe in the office, opened the door, and handed me a large sealed envelope that was heavy with documents.

  She stared at me for a long time in silence, although I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to do.

  I tried to open the envelope, but she placed her hands over mine, stopping me. I was quickly growing frustrated, but there wasn’t much I could do when I had no voice.

  “Sadie?” the mimic finally said, not sounding at all like me. Her voice was a bit deeper than mine, but still feminine. “This is important.”

  And then I woke up.

  Chapter 24

  The drive to New York was laughably short compared to the thirteen-hour days we had been spending in the car. It also didn’t hurt that Kingston, New York, was possibly the cutest city I’d ever seen. There were historic buildings everywhere that I was just itching to investigate, even though we’d have to stick to the old law firm we’d come to find.

  Because of Brighton’s incredible ability to research anything in mere hours, we’d discovered that the law firm of Livingston and Meyer was still thriving in Kingston, even though the title had been changed to simply Meyer Law Offices, since Thatcher Livingston’s claim to the law firm had died with him only four years after the practice moved from Boston to Kingston. Of course, Jefferson was quick to point out that this was extremely suspect, and no one argued with him, since obviously he was right.

  It may have been the easy option to guess that there was some foul play involved with the whole Eva and Thatcher story, but we’d be stupid to completely ignore the facts that were staring us in the face. Thatcher loved his girlfriend enough to move from England to America for her, but they’d only been together about a year before he suddenly packed up and left. Eva followed him to Boston but couldn’t get ahold of him, even when she found out she was pregnant. Then Thatcher and the business partner he’d met on the Queen Mary decided to move their newly founded business from Boston to Kingston for no logical reason that we could find. Eva probably later died in childbirth, and no records for her and Thatcher’s child could be found anywhere. And then, of course, to top it all off, Thatcher Livingston died at the age of thirty-five in his own home in Kingston, New York, from “natural causes.”

  It was like a bad murder mystery.

  “We can all agree that Edward Meyer was a bad guy, right?” Deacon asked.

  He was driving through Kingston as he spoke, squinting his eyes trying to find the law firm.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t run in the family, since the law practice still belongs to the Meyer line,” Brighton responded, looking over at Deacon.

  Jefferson and I sat in the back seat of the Jeep. When I thought it was safe, I’d give his hand a squeeze or throw a smile in his direction. I’d become completely pathetic.

  “Do you think the current owner knows his great-great-grandpa is a murderous liar?” Jefferson said.

  He had really taken our theory on the story to heart, which meant he was determined to solve the mystery and prove that he was right. He had also taken the supposed treachery very personally, for some reason. I wasn’t sure why he’d decided to become so attached to two people we’d never met, but he was definitely on their side. Had I been a completely illogical person, I would have thought Thatcher had come back from the dead to avenge his own murder.

  “His name is Anthony Meyer,” Brighton said, “and I don’t think we should barge into the law firm accusing his ancestor of murder.”

  “What if Anthony Meyer is our mysterious beneficiary and he only hired us to see how easy it is to uncover the truth about his family, and once we get to the end of this trail, he’s going to kill us all?” I asked, using an overly dramatic tone and widening my eyes in mock shock.

  “You’re adorable when you’re happy,” Jefferson said, and I instantly removed my hand from his and leaned away from him, praying that Brighton and Deacon hadn’t heard his remark. “And not nearly as affectionate, apparently. Duly noted.”

  I shook my head at him incredulously. He was awful at being subtle. He just grinned right back, enjoying my discomfort.

  “If that’s the case, I hope he at least pays us before we die,” Deacon said. “I’d really like to know what it’s like to be rich, even if it’s just for a minute.”

  Jefferson shifted in his seat at this comment but didn’t say anything. He had an aversion to money.

  “I don’t think we should lead off with the whole ghost thing when we talk to Mr. Meyer,” Brighton said, trying to keep us focused.
<
br />   “Maybe we can say we’re history buffs and we want to learn more about the beginnings of the law firm?” I asked.

  “That doesn’t sound made up at all,” Deacon said.

  “I don’t hear you coming up with any brilliant ideas,” I shot back.

  “It’s because he’s afraid the receptionist might be a woman and he wouldn’t be able to say anything,” Brighton said.

  “And you’re afraid the receptionist might be a human being, so that would rule you out for the speaking parts,” he retorted, grinning over at her.

  “Touché,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender.

  “Sadie can do the talking,” Jefferson said.

  It wasn’t really a question or a command; he was simply telling us what was going to happen. I looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Why can’t you talk to them?” I asked.

  “I don’t talk to lawyers.”

  “Or doctors,” Deacon said under his breath, even though we all heard him. “Or politicians . . .”

  “I’ll talk to them,” I sighed.

  We pulled up outside of the law firm and parked along the busy street out front.

  The little brick building was gorgeous and obviously very old, although it was quite a bit smaller than I had anticipated. At least our area to investigate would be manageable.

  “I don’t feel like I’m dressed properly to talk to a bunch of lawyers,” I said. Why did I always insist on wearing my jean shorts? They didn’t exactly scream “respectable.”

  “I have a dress you can wear,” Jefferson said with a wicked grin, referring to the frumpy “period costumes” he always forced me into for our investigations.

  “Hard pass on that idea,” I answered.

  “I think I’ve got a bandage dress in my bag,” Brighton said.

  “Bandage dress?” I repeated skeptically. “Like the ones that are all strappy and super form-fitting and . . . hot?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “I think that sounds like a good idea,” Jefferson said, making me want to elbow him. He still wore the wicked grin that made me blush.

  “Brighton, I don’t know how many times we have to go over this, but I’m built like a twelve-year-old boy. Not everyone looks like a super model like you.”

  “You’re petite; there’s a difference.” She was trying to defend me. It wasn’t working. “You’ll fill it out fine . . . except maybe in the hips . . . and if it’s too baggy on you, we can just stuff your bra or something.”

  “Jefferson, I want you to kill me right now,” I said, completely mortified. “You can’t tell me you haven’t already planned how you would do it.”

  “Well, yeah, I’ve planned it out, but where are we going to get wedding clothes and goblets for a blood ritual at this time of day?”

  We all stopped arguing at that statement and turned to face Jefferson. Brighton stared at him with her mouth slightly agape. I had been joking around with him. Sadly, I wasn’t so sure he was joking and, not for the first time, I wondered why I liked such a psychopath who might kill me at any moment . . . in wedding clothes, apparently.

  “I’ll just grab that dress out of my bag,” Brighton finally said, breaking up the awkward silence as Jefferson just smiled at me with his head tilted to the side in that impossible angle.

  “You know I’m scared you might actually kill me one day, right?” I asked him in a low tone.

  “Sadie, I would never do anything to hurt you. I’m going to spend my life making you happy, even if it kills me.”

  “Gross. I’m still in the car, mate,” Deacon said.

  I could only hope he thought his cousin was joking, although I did have to wonder how much Jefferson had already told him.

  “Here,” Brighton said, thrusting the dress and some shoes through the open window in the back of the Jeep.

  The pastel pink bandage dress was made out of some kind of stretchy material that would hug the curves of someone like Brighton in a very attractive way. On me, it would probably just look like a baggy arm warmer.

  “Where exactly am I supposed to change?” I asked.

  “I’ll turn around,” Jefferson said much too seriously.

  It was the little twitch in the corner of his mouth that gave him away.

  “Yeah, that’s definitely not going to happen.”

  “There’s a gas station across the street,” Brighton said. “If you can brave the germ-filled bathroom, you can change there. Just don’t put your bare feet on the floor, okay?”

  “I promise,” I answered.

  As I got out of the car and walked across the street to the gas station, I wasn’t sure I really had any intention of keeping that promise, but I knew it would be better to put Brighton’s mind at ease.,

  It didn’t take long for me to get into the dress, although it took several minutes of mental pep talks to actually leave the gas station in the ridiculous outfit. Luckily, because the material was so stretchy, the dress wasn’t baggy on me. In fact, had I not known better, I would have said that it was almost flattering. Of course, that was only because I hadn’t seen it on Brighton before, so I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to look like.

  The nude heels she’d given me to wear were incredibly high, and I almost broke my ankles five times as I walked back over to the car across the busy street. I knew Brighton was good at dressing like the normal popular girl she looked like, but I just couldn’t imagine someone as clumsy and paranoid as her walking around in heels this high.

  As I approached the Jeep, I could see Jefferson watching me, his green eyes even wider than normal as he did nothing to hide his shock. It was a bit insulting, really. He shouldn’t have been that surprised that I could look like a girl.

  “Sade,” Brighton called in amazement. “Look at you! You’ve got a chest!”

  “Please stop. Right now,” I begged, hoping my cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

  “And hips,” she went on, ignoring my pleas. “Who knew you had such a cute little figure under all of those jeans and T-shirts?”

  “Brighton, I’m begging you.”

  “Wait, I’m confused. Is Sadie supposed to be seducing this guy?” Deacon asked.

  “Shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “I’m trying to look like a prospective, possibly wealthy client.”

  “Be serious,” Deacon began. “You’re trying to seduce him, huh?”

  I laughed with a shake of my head and went to throw my clothes through the window into the back seat with Jefferson. He still hadn’t said anything, but continued to stare at me, looking slightly confused. I wasn’t quite sure what he could possibly be confused by.

  “Should we give her an earpiece?” Brighton asked Deacon.

  “I’m on it.” He got out of the Jeep with Brighton to pull some equipment out of the back.

  “You know, that look of shock on your face is a little insulting,” I whispered to Jefferson, placing my elbows on the open window and leaning into the backseat. “I don’t look that different, do I?”

  “You’re just . . . I mean . . .” he said, stumbling over his words in an adorable way.

  As insulted as I was, it was kind of nice to have such a powerful effect on him. Maybe Brighton was on to something with the whole “dressing so people will like you” thing.

  “I’ll come back later, once you’ve found a way to stop digging your own grave,” I said.

  “Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?” he asked, not joking at all.

  “Very,” I answered, careful to quickly step out of his reach just as he leaned over to kiss me.

  Unfortunately, I stepped backward into the busy street, thinking more about being playful than my very perilous surroundings. Luckily, Jefferson leaned out the window, grabbed my arm and forcefully pulled me back against the Jeep as a car came speeding by, honking at me and cursing.

  “Please don’t get yourself killed,” he said
, his tone gentle, but serious. “It would utterly destroy me.”

  I looked at him for a moment, wishing I knew how he could just flip on that “intensity switch” at the drop of a hat. It was a little jarring.

  “Sorry,” I breathed, too shocked by his sudden honesty to make a snarky comeback.

  “We’re going to get you all wired up, Sade,” Brighton called, beckoning for me to join her at the back of the Jeep.

  “Probably not something you want to shout right outside of a law firm,” Deacon said, nudging her with his elbow and making her turn a violent shade of pink.

  Jefferson kept his eyes locked on me and gave my arm a tight squeeze before letting me go, pursing his lips as he watched me walk away. The boy was a little too intense for his own good and I had to wonder if I’d ever get used to it.

  “Earpiece,” Brighton said, handing over the small device. “And mic,” she added, giving me the tiny pin that I placed on the pink dress. “Don’t talk about ghosts at all. These are lawyers. Just talk about wanting to submit a claim with them and casually bring up the name change that the law firm underwent. Say you noticed it when researching the firm. Maybe ask about the history in a non-suspicious way. I’ll keep the boys quiet for you.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” I answered sarcastically, giving Brighton a little shrug as I began walking toward the entrance to the law firm.

  “Oh, and Sade?” she called.

  I stopped and looked at her with raised eyebrows as she grinned and went on.

  “You’re kind of a babe.”

  Chapter 25

  I was already off balance when I entered the law firm because, like a five-year-old, I had pushed the door repeatedly in an attempt to open it before glancing down at the big “pull” sign located right by the handle. Trying not die of embarrassment, I slowly pulled the door open, and walked into the front waiting room.

  “Do you need me to come help you with the door?” Deacon joked over my earpiece. I was ignoring him in favor of something more pressing, though.