1 Portrait of a Dead Guy

by Larissa Reinhart

  “Did he kick you?” I strained to hear Luke’s low rumble, then shrank back when he touched my tender cheek.

  “In the face, too?” His rumble crept to a growl.

  “Is my face messed up?” My hands flew to my face, but it made my shoulders ache so I let them drift to the ground once again.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll do. Can’t mess up that pretty face too bad.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” My voice cracked. “Ronny said I was a little nothing.”

  “You’re too much of a mess to be nothing. Now, your hair is pretty interesting. You got little flowers stuck all in it. And some dirt and grass, too. You look like a blonde hedgehog.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I mumbled and heard him snort. “You want to tell me how you found me?”

  “Weren’t too hard to spot with your tail stuck in the air pointing straight to heaven.”

  “No, how did you know I was out here?”

  “Long story, hon.”

  I threaded my fingers through his. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  “The Sheriff used the vehicle’s LoJack system JB installs on every expensive dealer car. The LoJack uses radio waves for the police to track stolen vehicles. That part was a piece of cake.” Luke spoke to the trees while I searched his face for some glimmer of emotion within the deadpan delivery. “Lucky for you Maksim Avtakin reported your disappearance from his house. Said some drawings and a chat with Todd McIntosh tipped him off you might be in trouble. They located McIntosh’s Civic in the dealership parking lot. Video surveillance showed you and Ronny leaving together in the Lincoln.”

  “I guess I owe the Bear an apology.”

  A smug look hovered underneath Luke’s serious countenance. “The apprehension was successful thanks to a concussion and injury to the perp’s leg, which looked like buckshot graze. I volunteered to find you, which Sheriff Thompson allowed,” he muttered the final two words, “for once.”

  “Why are you talking like a cop?” I struggled to sit up, but Luke gave me a gentle shove back to the ground.

  “Five years as a Military Police Investigator will do that to you.” He fixed his eyes back on the forest and shrugged off the statement.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know.” He leaned forward, letting his arms dangle over bent knees. His long fingers picked at a crushed flower.

  With a need to steady my nerves and clear my head, I stared at the pines above me, swaying in the slight breezes. When wind pushed through the waving thin columns, the whooshing sound always reminded me of the ocean. Which made me think of Tybee Island, Savannah’s local beach, and some rollicking Luke and I had done there.

  “I think you like secrets, that’s what I think,” I said. “You never want to tell me anything. If you keep your thoughts to yourself, you don’t have to get close to anyone.”

  “You watch too much daytime TV. I just know when to keep my mouth shut. As soon as Sheriff Thompson heard I was looking for a job, he was all over me to apply for deputy in Forks County.”

  “Work around Halo? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Forget I even mentioned it. It’s bad enough I spent all those years pushing papers in the Army for petty theft violations when I wanted to do CID. Criminal Investigation Special Agent. Then I got out and found out I had to go through the Police Academy and start all over again. I’m going to be forty before I get to detective.”

  He slapped his boots. “You think I wanted to move back to this crappy town to throw my stepbrother and his buddies in the can every other weekend?”

  “We would be proud to have you serve in Forks County. Halo’s a great town to live in.”

  “I don’t want to work in the boondocks. I’m going to apply in a city, maybe Atlanta.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Halo. We had two murders in the last couple weeks. That’s as good as Atlanta.” I glanced at my battered body. “Almost three murders, actually.

  “Anyway, I think you’re afraid that working in Halo means settling down. Or just settling. You need to forgive your momma and JB and find some peace.”

  “Stop analyzing me. Do you really want to get into this now? Can’t you just act like a normal victim and lay here until the ambulance arrives?”

  “I am not a victim,” I said, ignoring my body’s obvious distress. “I just helped the sheriff catch a criminal.”

  “A minute ago you were trussed up like a hog ready for slaughter. I have never met anybody so foolhardy in my life. Shooting someone with your hands tied like that? You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself.” His eyes held the color of a thunderstorm. “It was easier to be half a world away, trying to remain ignorant to what went on in your crazy life.”

  The wail of an ambulance siren startled me and Luke stood, brushing pine needles off his pants.

  “My life is none of your business.”

  “Don’t I know it. I don’t know why that idiot stood you up in Vegas, but I wished he had married you and taken you out of the picture. It would make my life a hell of a lot simpler.”

  He leaned over, kissed me, and spun toward the road, waving to flag down the ambulance.

  I can’t say my jaw didn’t drop, my toes didn’t curl, and my insides didn’t heat enough to fire some pottery. But I did recover enough from the flip-flop of my emotions to turn toward his retreating back and spit out a last word.

  “For the last freaking time. I was not stood up in Vegas!”

  NINETEEN

  I smiled wide, hoping I didn’t have Everlasting Ruby Red lipstick on my teeth. My hair looked good for once and not flying around my head like an electroshock case. Casey had straightened and shellacked it into submission. I yanked the straps of my bra back to my shoulders and took a final peek at my aquamarine toenails for chips in the polish.

  Casey nearly pushed me through the door. “Let’s get this over with. I want some of that champagne.”

  We entered into an open room of waiting guests in a beautiful gallery in Virginia Highlands, one of Atlanta’s funkier old neighborhoods. My old classmate Shelia worked at this gallery, host to a collection of Georgia illustrators and artists I admired.

  When Shelia learned of my recent misadventures, she asked me to display in her collective show. Fascinated by the strange tale and quick to see a marketing gimmick, she made use of my unfortunate incidents. With her magical gallery girl abilities and a strange sense of humor, she concocted a hip theme blending me with the edgier pieces of other emerging artists. Now my work was for sale under the collective title “Transcending Permanence.”

  Whatever the hell that means.

  Scanning the room for Shelia, I spotted Uncle Will, Grandpa, and Cody languishing next to an angel-themed assemblage, appearing one beer away from tearing off their ties and tossing suit jackets over the sculpture. A few steps away, Todd strummed a rhythm on his pants leg to an internal melody. I could sense the eyes of the locals flicking over the three bumpkins and the beefcake that is Todd. I scurried to placate my entourage before our redneck roots became too evident.

  “How much longer?” Cody whined. “You said there would be girls here, but they’re not exactly my type.”

  “Be supportive, son,” Uncle Will said. “This is a big deal for Cherry.”

  “Come on. Let’s get some drinks.” Casey drifted toward the makeshift bar. Cody followed Casey, pulling off his tie to shove into his jacket pocket.

  I steered Todd toward Dustin the portrait.

  “Because of the exhibition I didn’t have time to do this properly, but I wanted to thank you for your help during,” I paused, hunting for an easy phrase to describe my investigation of Dustin’s murder, “the Ronny Price thing.”

  “No problem, baby.” Grasping my waist, Todd pulled me until my toes dragged t
he floor, then planted a soft kiss on my mouth.

  Once I found my footing, I punched him in the arm.

  “Don’t blame a guy. You looked like you wanted me to kiss you.”

  “I was just trying to express my thanks.”

  “I appreciate your gratitude, which is a little unusual, so I thought I’d test the situation.” He grinned, and again I wondered if I misjudged his intelligence. Before I could remark, Sheila walked up.

  “Cherry,” said Shelia, her voice full of gallery flair. “You’ll be glad to know your buyer for Dustin is a friend. Let me find some champagne so we can celebrate.”

  “Say again?” I called, but Shelia had slipped into the crowd.

  “It is an odd subject, but I’m glad you found good use for Dustin’s portrait.” Max ran a finger down the edge of the frame. “And the quality is fine.”

  “Hey, Mr. Max, you came,” Todd said, then turned to me. “I invited him. Dude’s really into art. I’ll let y’all catch up and grab a beer. I’m not into champagne.”

  “Bear, thank you for coming,” I said trying to hide my embarrassment. It’s not every day I accuse a man of murder and kidnapping. I quickly started to babble. “And yes, after all that happened, JB and Wanda turned it down. They said it was in poor taste. Luckily, when Shelia saw the painting, she insisted on putting it in the show. Sometimes the art crowd can be a little strange.”

  “Strange, but one of personal significance to me. If you continue painting, perhaps one day your earlier works will acquire financial relevance.”

  “Personal significance?”

  “I gambled on two young men whose scruples I thought I could cultivate. I misjudged Dustin’s eagerness to assist me when he was actually stealing from my clients to blackmail them. With the help of his mother, no less. And I misjudged the depth of Ronny Price’s greed and desperation. Because I did, those young men lost their lives.”

  “So your gambling days are over?”

  “Does that disappoint you?” A small smile quirked his mouth. “I received the feeling you enjoyed trying to catch me as the villain.”

  “I noticed you didn’t answer the question.”

  “Neither did you.”

  “Touché.”

  He retrieved a shopping bag from the floor and handed it to me. “This is yours, I think.”

  “How wonderful,” Shelia mock-squealed, returning with three champagne flutes and forcing them into our hands. “A gift from your newest collector.” Shelia tapped our glasses with hers in a quick, rehearsed move. “To a long and prosperous relationship between the two of you.”

  Max threw the champagne down the back of his throat and tossed the glass back to Shelia. With another strange, short bow, he growled “Artist” and turned to stride out the gallery. Shelia traipsed after him, clutching the glasses while delivering a quick speech about payment and delivery.

  “Still intent on harassing Max Avtaikin, I see,” said a chuckling voice over my shoulder. “But the look on your face was priceless.” A hand snaked around my body and grasped the champagne glass.

  I dropped the bag on the floor and spun around, bumping into Luke’s arm as he brought the glass to his mouth. Champagne rained over the two of us.

  “When are you going to stop sneaking over my —” My voice choked off as I stared at Luke’s shaved head. All those beautiful curls. Gone. I forced my open mouthed shock into a friendlier expression.

  “I’ve got a towel in the truck,” he said and gave me a gentle shove toward the door. “I’ve got something to show you anyway.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m done for the day and thought I’d come see the show. Mom told me about it.” He ran his hand over his shorn head. “Come on, before the sheriff spots me.”

  What the hell, I thought, and picked up the bag to trot after Luke. We wandered down the sidewalk and around the building to a small lot where he parked his black pickup. Two seconds later, Luke pinned me against the passenger door. I clutched the shopping bag with one hand and the back of his prickly, shaved head with the other.

  We kissed as if he was going off to war and might never return. When we finally pulled apart, I slid down the door. Luke caught me before my ankles collapsed in my too high heels.

  “What did you want to show me?” I choked out.

  “That. And I really like those shoes.” Luke sighed and rested his lips on my temple. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, savoring the pounding pulse that matched mine.

  My palm ached, and I realized I was still gripping the shopping bag. I opened my hand and allowed the bag to drop to the ground.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s from Bear,” I said. “I mean Mr. Max. My newest patron slash old nemesis.”

  Luke tore open the bag. “It’s your green purse. Why did he have that?”

  I grabbed the chartreuse messenger bag and yanked out my sketchpad. My fingers flipped the pages. “Where are my drawings of Dustin’s swag and the stolen coins?” All that remained were the paper entrails left on the spiral. “Sonofabitch. I knew that stuff was related to his gambling den. It’s still on.”

  “What’s still on? Pictures of the evidence you withheld?”

  I waved him off and shoved the sketchpad back into my duffel. “I was going to turn the stuff in eventually. Nobody asked me for it.”

  “I did.”

  “You weren’t part of the sheriff’s team any more than I was. You’re lucky I didn’t report you to Uncle Will. I bet he warned you to stay clear of your stepbrother’s murder.”

  “Of course he did.” His mouth didn’t turn up, but his eyes smiled. He took a step closer, fixing me back against the truck.

  I pushed against his chest. “Are you staying in Atlanta?”

  Luke sighed. “Atlanta Police are making cutbacks. Sheriff Thompson got me into the new academy class anyway, so you’re looking at Forks County’s newest deputy. I need a job, and he promised me if another opportunity in the city came up, he’d let me go. He’d already done the background checks and everything. My mom’s thrilled to pieces.” His sigh deepened. “I guess you were right. I need to spend some time with her. She lost Dustin after trying her best. JB isn’t going to be much of a comfort.”

  “Checking for skeletons,” I murmured, remembering Luke’s argument with Uncle Will. I slid my hands around his waist to palm his back. “I’m proud of you.”

  A kiss landed against my ear. “He already knows my skeletons. Everybody knows everybody’s skeletons in Halo.”

  “We didn’t know Ronny Price’s.” I blinked slowly so he could get the full effect of my Shimmer-Glow eye shadow in Hellacious Heliotrope.

  “Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me then.” He grinned and nudged my leg with his knee. “So what’s going on with you and the drummer?”

  “His name is Todd.”

  “I know. Todd McIntosh. You still seeing him? I saw him kissing you in the gallery.”

  “Like you care. Why’re you making out with me in a parking lot if you’re worried about Todd McIntosh?”

  The dimples flashed. He gave me one of those sizzling, lazy grins that does a number on all women over fifteen with eyes in their head.

  “I thought that if I were working in the county, maybe you’d give me another chance.”

  “You going to hang your hat up in Halo then?”

  “I’m not making promises to stay in Halo forever.” His lips hung millimeters over mine. “But I promise to pay the check at the Waffle House.”

  I closed my eyes, escaping the intensity of his smoky gaze, and reexamined the risks and rewards that rode along with dating Luke Harper.

  “Cherry, tell your brain to shut up so I can kiss you.”

  His lips descended and an explosion of
color rioted in my brain, cutting off my internal monitor.

  It took me a few minutes to find words again, but I worked them out along with a sly smile. “I was thinking about getting a dog, but I guess you’ll do for now.”

  If I could have captured Luke’s grin on canvas at that moment, I’d have sold it as a masterpiece. But we got back to business instead.

  And by business, I’m not talking about selling paintings.

  Reader’s Discussion Guide

  1. Many of the characters assume a stereotype, while others break the cliche. For example, Cherry is a classically trained artist bordering on snobbish about art, yet she clings to her redneck roots and likes to wear bedazzled clothes. What other examples can you find in the book?

  2. Luke accuses Cherry of vigilantism. Do you agree with him? How do you feel about gun-toting heroines?

  3. Throughout the story, there is a theme of parental failure. Can you give examples of this theme using different characters? How does it affect their behavior and attitudes?

  4. What kind of backstory can you imagine about Cherry’s absentee mother? Toward what end do you see this storyline continuing?

  5. Casey says about Halo, “appearances mean more than fact.” How does this play into the murder?

  6. Is Shawna a kind of character you love to hate or did you have sympathy for her?

  7. If you could have a talent of any character in the book, it would be...

  8. Cherry suspects Todd of pulling a “dumb blonde” act on her. Do you think he’s smarter than he lets on? If yes, what would be his reasoning?

  9. As a Halo outsider, Max Avtaikin appears respected by some, looked down upon by others. He also appears both brutish and sophisticated at various times during the story. Do you see him as a criminal? Where does he fall in the roles of villains and heroes?