by K. C. Burn
Sweat streaked down Drew’s back. Wyatt and Rob had a couple of window units, but they weren’t on full blast, and the topic was stressing Drew out, so he was more sensitive than usual to the temperature. Or he was just spoiled by how much cooler his house was since Cliff took over the thermostat.
“Is there any chance Andy was murdered?”
Wyatt’s nostrils flared. “And what, you think I did it? What the hell, Drew!”
“No, no.” He’d never thought that. Accidental death from doing something dumb, yeah, that Drew could see, but not the deliberate murder he’d seen in his vision.
“I don’t really know how to explain it. But I’ve started having visions. Psychic visions.” Drew attempted to explain, starting with the first two visions he’d had. “And then, I saw someone topple Andy’s ladder. I don’t believe you’d ever be able to do that to someone.”
Wyatt snorted. “Well, thanks for that.”
The one significant point in the Andy vision was the expensive watch. Drew glanced at Wyatt’s wrists. His brother wasn’t wearing a watch, and he often didn’t, working on the cars all day. The watch had looked well out of a Drummond’s price range unless someone had applied the five-finger discount.
“You don’t have a watch, do you?”
“No watch. It’d just get banged up in the shop. You know that.”
If Drew hadn’t been watching Wyatt so carefully, he would have missed it, but for a split second, Wyatt looked uncomfortable. That minuscule crack in Wyatt’s armor was enough for Drew to realize his brother was lying. About something. He just didn’t know what, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe his brother was a cold-blooded murderer. So what was Wyatt hiding?
“So. You’re letting Cliff Garcia fuck you?”
The unexpected left turn in the conversation didn’t give Drew any chance at all. Embarrassment at his brother’s intrusive question had his cheeks heating up. He also didn’t mistake Wyatt’s wording. His brother had some pretty outdated assumptions about manliness and pitching, which Drew had no interest in trying to explain. Not again.
Wyatt rolled his eyes and swallowed another mouthful of beer. “Never would have guessed him for a fairy. Of course, he’s always been an asshole. Stands to reason he’d love them.”
Drew sputtered. He’d thought he was inured to his brother’s insensitive remarks, but somehow Wyatt had managed to shock him. And piss him off.
“What the fuck, Wyatt? You can’t say shit like that. He’s a cop.”
Wyatt’s shrug was supremely unconcerned, and Drew wanted to slap him, but that way only led to trouble. Besides, Wyatt got too much practice fighting with Rob, either against a shared opponent or with each other.
Drew sighed. He knew better than to get sucked into another pointless argument with his brother. “Rob around?” His other brother had made himself scarce since the bar brawl, guilt making it difficult for Rob to face Drew. Even Drew’s text messages had gone unanswered.
“Nah. I told him about Mrs. Somerset’s job offer, and he decided to pick up some of the work Andy was doing up at the estate.”
Drew blinked. He remembered Helen offering his brothers work, but he couldn’t get past either of them taking her up on it. Maybe the auto shop wasn’t doing as well as he’d thought.
“Is everything okay for you guys?” Because even calling Helen something other than old lady Somerset was somewhat unusual.
Wyatt shrugged. “We’re fine. Rob’ll get over being an asshole eventually. You really serious about Cliff?”
Drew stared at him, trying to figure out if there was some hidden meaning in the question. Was this his brothers trying to make things easier for him and Cliff? No one in town except for he and Kyle would believe they were capable of this sort of sensitivity, but it was possible they were trying to make themselves more…acceptable to Cliff and his mother.
After a moment, he decided there was no harm in admitting the truth and nodded. Even if Cliff was no longer serious about him, after their disastrous lunch date.
Wyatt’s lip curled, just a bit, but Drew knew him well enough to know it wasn’t disgust at Drew having a boyfriend, but irritation at the identity of that boyfriend.
“He better treat you right, or I’ll give him worse than this.” Wyatt pointed at his broken nose.
Drew sighed. Just what he didn’t need. More punches thrown trying to protect his honor. His eyes burned a bit at the realization that he might not have to worry about Cliff sullying that honor after today.
“What’s wrong?”
Oh fuck no. Drew wasn’t about to talk to Wyatt about his relationship problems. Was he? Yet Kyle had made himself scarce, the bastard, and Drew desperately wanted someone to talk to. Wyatt had been surprisingly cool about Drew’s newfound abilities, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe his brother would care to hear about his “fairy” problems.
“Nothing.”
“Trouble in your big, gay paradise already?”
“Just a fight.” Drew rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He wasn’t going to cry in front of his brother. He just wasn’t.
“Hey.” Wyatt knocked his arm with the beer bottle, which was chilly enough to make Drew flinch.
“What?” Drew glared at his brother, hoping Wyatt would mistake his upset for anger.
“Talk to him.” Wyatt sounded so serious, almost knowledgeable about the topic, even though Wyatt had never had a serious girlfriend. Nor had Rob, for that matter.
“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” Drew hated that his voice sounded so sad and defeated, but all his energy was expended in keeping the tears at bay.
“The guy’s a bit of a hothead, and I might hate him even more, knowing he’s corrupting my little brother, but he’s…a good guy.” Wyatt’s words were drawn out as though it pained him to admit Cliff wasn’t the devil incarnate. “Give it some time; then make him listen to you. Because we’ve seen fighting doesn’t work.”
As if the unaccustomed compassion had made him uncomfortable, Wyatt’s gaze bounced away from Drew as he stood up and stretched. “I need to take a piss. When I’m done, I’m going to order a pizza. You can stay if you want.”
“Uh, sure. Okay.” Drew didn’t much want to go back to his own place, not when the sheets still smelled like sex and Cliff had imprinted his entire house with memories.
The weirdest thing had been Wyatt and his unexpected insight. Drew hadn’t realized Wyatt had been so aware that their parents’ relationship had been a piece of shit, with the constant fighting—because there was no doubt that was what Wyatt had been referring to. Oddly enough, Wyatt was probably right about how to deal with Cliff. Despite the painful knee-jerk reaction, once Cliff had had some time to consider Drew’s story, he might relent. After all, they’d been through this same thing with his mother’s reading.
The big question was whether Drew should wait for Cliff to come home—assuming he didn’t crash at Scott’s place—or show up at the film site again and insist Cliff talk to him.
* * * *
With his blunder weighing heavily on his mind, Cliff couldn’t stop fidgeting. He wanted to tell the crew to hurry the fuck up. And seriously, this had to be the most boring shift he’d ever had the misfortune to endure, each hour taking forever. He checked his watch constantly, but the seconds crawled by, taunting him. Not even watching his mother refuse yet again to film an interview, and Brett’s subsequent pouting, was enough to give him any satisfaction.
Honestly, he was surprised that his mother’s belief in the supernatural hadn’t outweighed any outdated consideration of vulgarity. Still, seeing Brett thwarted made him want to cheer his mother on.
He glanced over at Scott and made a split-second decision. “Do you know where Andy was found?”
“Back of the main house.”
Cliff stretched and made a show of looking casual. “Things look quiet right now. I think I’ll wander by the house, make sure no one is sneaking around.” Cliff wouldn’t ha
ve fooled a five-year-old with that blatant lie.
“Sounds good. I’ll cover for you out here.” Scott didn’t say a word about what exactly Cliff would be checking out—namely the potential crime scene—but the knowledge was there in his eyes. Knowledge and support.
Cliff owed it to himself, and the man he was falling for, to at least look, even if giving Drew’s theory any credence made him feel like an idiot. If by some crazy twist of fate Drew was right about the murder, Andy deserved justice. And certainly not because Andy’s spirit would otherwise be destined to roam the overgrown vegetation behind Cliff’s family home.
Full sundown wasn’t for another couple of hours, but the tangled mass of the side yard was in full shadow. His mother hadn’t been lying about her inability to find a decent groundskeeper. The area between the house and the wilder parts of the estate was almost indistinguishable. The side yard was positively murky. Good privacy for the bedrooms on this side of the house, including where his boyhood room had been, but it also meant that those rooms would be dark even in the daytime.
Cliff pulled out his flashlight, feeling a little bit foolish for the sudden spurt of relief when the strong beam lit up the area, the vegetation losing all sinister aspects.
Once he’d finished apologizing and Drew forgave him, Cliff was going to spank Drew for making him freak out like this.
There wasn’t much to see. It wasn’t overgrown enough to provide much protection from the torrential rains. Cliff was certain he could tell where Andy had fallen and then been the recipient of emergency services. The grass was slightly trampled and the soil flattened. Nearby, there were two rectangular imprints where the ladder had rested. Presumably those indents survived because they’d been so deep from supporting Andy in the sandy loam. At the far end of the house, in the most overgrown area, were two larger rectangular imprints, still fairly clear, as this patch of lawn was the most protected. From the dimensions, they were probably where Andy had put his toolbox and a small cooler, likely choosing the same spots for those items each day. There were a few more of the ladder imprints along the back wall of the house.
At least that narrowed down the area where Andy had been working. Cliff swept the flashlight beam over the ground and into the base of the shrubs and hibiscus plants, which were never going to bloom again without sunlight. Granted, he wasn’t a detective, but he wasn’t stupid either, and he’d been present at a number of crime scenes. There was nothing out of place. Nothing that gave any indication of foul play, not even the few cigarette butts scattered around that his mother would have bitched about if she’d seen. Andy was a smoker, and all these seemed to be the same brand, which presumably Andy smoked.
Cliff rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, the overgrowth making things more hot and humid, despite the shade. Finally he shone the flashlight up the side of the house. Hell, he hadn’t spoken to his mother long enough to even find out what sort of work she’d been having Andy do. The beam of light caught some distinctive leaves. Apparently Andy hadn’t been hired to tame the out-of-control bougainvillea and jasmine vines, or if he had, he’d done a piss-poor job, because vines were creeping everywhere, creating a junglelike atmosphere. Made it doubly hard to find snakes or wandering gators in this gloom.
Huh. Andy had been drinking before he fell. Seeing a snake or gator, especially for a northerner, might have startled him enough to have fallen. Cliff would present that as an alternate theory to Drew, see if he couldn’t get Drew to admit his imagination was just running away with him.
Then the aimless wandering of his flashlight beam caught the gleam of black-coated wire. He flicked off the flashlight. The wire was virtually invisible. Turning the flashlight on again, he tried to follow the wire’s path. He couldn’t think of anything that would require wiring out here. Not of that type anyway. It sure didn’t look like the green outdoor wiring people used for patio lighting.
Heedless of potential serpents or arachnids, he pushed into what had once been flowerbeds, jasmine curling about his head. He couldn’t quite reach the wire above his head, but he was mostly able to follow it. It seemed to attach to the house in the vicinity of the windows on the second floor and possibly continued up to the third floor, although the light wasn’t strong enough to see for sure. It could be some sort of shoddy home security system, but if his mother had decided to install something, Cliff couldn’t see her hiring the local handyman to do it. Regardless, he didn’t think any home security system in the world used wiring like this. It looked like the wiring they used on bombs on TV or the kind on ceiling fans that never seemed to attach to anything at all.
This time he followed the path of the wire down. Back in a wild tangle of foliage he found a battery pack and what looked like a control board for a remote control car, wrapped in plastic.
Pulling back, he plucked leaves out of his hair and brushed dirt off his uniform as he considered what he’d found. There wasn’t any doubt that Andy was responsible for whatever it was. Unfortunately, Cliff didn’t know exactly what the wires were for.
First thing to do—rule out that it was actually legitimate. Which meant talking to his mother. He brushed at his uniform again before heading around to the front door.
Morales’s black vehicle was parked in the drive. Cliff shuddered. The thought of his mother and the mayor doing anything, even kissing, squicked him out something fierce. Nevertheless, he needed answers now. He needed all the information he could gather before he laid himself at Drew’s mercy.
This time, when he walked in, the tension was still there, but Mayor Morales didn’t leave. In fact, he looked like he was going to be staying for dinner. An intimate, couple’s dinner. Ick.
Cliff wasn’t ready to explain anything right now, especially to his old high school principal, but he didn’t know how to get the man out of the way.
“Cliff, dear, is something wrong?”
He hesitated for a moment, but he really didn’t want to risk spreading a rumor that involved his own mother, despite their differences.
“No, nothing, I just want to check something out upstairs.” Cliff raced up the stairs before his mother could ask any questions.
He started in the spare room first. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to look in his own room, because he hadn’t set foot in it since he’d left town. Whether his mother had left it exactly the same or entirely revamped it, both notions were equally troubling.
The spare room had updated curtains and bedspread, but the heavy furniture passed down through the Somerset family remained the same. Hot as blazes, though, and stuffy enough to indicate it hadn’t seen use in a while. If the mayor was spending the night—and another little shudder ran down Cliff’s spine at the idea—he definitely wasn’t staying in here. A fresh coat of paint on the window frame seemed to indicate that perhaps Andy had been responsible for replacing the windows. Yet something wasn’t quite right.
Cliff walked straight to the window and inspected it before flipping the latch and opening it. Nothing seemed out of place, except the vegetation was really overgrown. His mother might not have noticed how bad it was, since the master bedroom, bathroom, and sitting room were situated at the front of the house. Sliding his hands down the side of the house, he was able to feel the wires he’d seen while standing in the yard.
He paced the room, rubbing his temples. He could go check the other rooms, but there didn’t seem to be much doubt about what he’d find. The windows had been wired for something. His mother might be all for creating work in town for townspeople, but even with that mantra, Cliff couldn’t imagine her being foolish enough to pay for a security system that relied on a laughably amateur setup.
Cliff inspected the window frame itself, looking for some trace of the sensors he normally associated with security systems, and found nothing. Nor did he remember seeing any sort of keypad at the front door.
What the hell were those wires for? He paced some more while his mind whirled.
Every scenario he could
imagine, he had to disregard as ludicrous, except for one. Even that, he might not have considered if it weren’t for his mother telling him on the phone about increased spectral activity right before he’d moved back. In the very rooms where he’d seen new wiring. He suspected the attic might be similarly wired, since his mother had mentioned the spirits were more restless up there as well.
There was only one person who had anything to gain from an artificial haunting, and it sure as shit wasn’t his mother.
The muscles in his jaw tightened up so fast that pain streaked through his temples. He slammed the window shut and flipped the latch to the locked position.
“Honey, what’s going on?” His mother appeared in the doorway, the mayor standing just behind her.
Cliff’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath that utterly failed at being calming. “Just need to go see a man about a haunting.”
“What?”
Cliff ignored his mother’s question and pushed past the mayor to get to the staircase. Brett was going to pay for involving his mother in this horseshit.
Chapter Nineteen
Outside his mother’s house, Cliff loped toward the outbuildings where Phantoms was filming. Thank fuck they hadn’t done any interior shots of his childhood home nor managed to convince his mother to do an interview.
Like a predator, he prowled around the building, searching for the asshole celebrity star of the worst fucking show in the entire world. He was vaguely aware of his mother and the mayor following him, but they soon fell behind.
As soon as he spotted Brett’s perfectly styled hair, Cliff made straight for him, tunnel vision muting Scott calling his name and several of Brett’s underlings trying to keep him from interrupting the take. What a fucking laugh. Like Phantoms was some sort of earth-shattering truth or a Hollywood blockbuster.
Cliff walked right under the bright, hot lights, relishing Brett’s look of shock, before he twisted Brett’s collar in his fist and pushed him back against the weathered wood slats of the building. Be better to do this without all the onlookers, but Cliff was too focused on Brett to clear the crowd. Scott was there, making sure no one tried anything stupid. Cliff didn’t want to have to shoot anyone today.