“Call the police and have them go over there. It’ll be faster.”
“Brett,” I said before he could move away. “Why would the return address be from me? The one that arrived at my house didn’t have a return address.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, sweet thing,” he said with a sigh. “But I’ll find out.”
I looked at his phone still in my hand. It could all be a mistake. The box at Mrs. Janowski’s could be filled with nearly anything. So, why did my heart condemn it to be something horrifying?
And who was Carver? I wondered as a message blinked on Brett’s phone. Before my curious eyes could read more, Brett snatched it away. “A client,” he said quickly, turning his back.
At first, I thought Brett’s reaction was a bit odd, but I knew I was feeling jumpy. I’m sure Brett was too.
After making the call to the police, I felt a fraction calmer. They were just across the street and would be to Mrs. Janowski in seconds. But if it was the same kind of package, her house would be a crime scene as well. And with my name on the box, I’d be questioned sooner or later. Most likely sooner. In terms of concerns, it ranked last on my list.
From my place on the couch, I watched Brett. He was across the room, bracing himself on the window he was looking out. I had a feeling he wasn’t even aware of the outside as he spoke to the lawyer. His voice was too low to carry the distance to my ears. That was okay. I didn’t need to hear what was being said. His burdened body language said it all.
I was worried for him. For his family. After turning Annie over to the police, it took Brett a month of seclusion to come to terms with the loss of his sister. What would happen if Annie went free? Would he crumble, or would he relentlessly chase Annie around the states like he had before?
Whatever the future held, I had the nauseating, gut-twisting feeling that Brett would be gone from my life again, if even for a short time. And that was worse than anything that Annie could do to me.
I don’t know how long I was with my thoughts, oblivious to time.
“Well, it’s done,” he said, returning to the couch. “Now we just have to wait and see what happens at the trial.”
“Should we head over to your parents’?”
“Let’s sit here for a few minutes. I need to think.”
We sat together on the couch, my head on his shoulder.
“So, if Annie is in jail, she’s not the one who committed the murder. Why would the police name her?”
“There must have been a reason, something in the box had to suggest it. Perhaps the pictures were of a copycat kill.”
“Who would try to copy her?” I asked. “And why?”
“I don’t know. I still hope the officer is wrong. But, if it’s true, the only reason to copy her at this point is to help her.”
“Who would help her? She’s a murderer.”
“Family. A significant other.”
I raised a brow. “Would you kill and dismember a person for me?” I asked incredulously.
“You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Be serious.” I said, nudging him.
“I was.”
“She didn’t have a significant other when she went to jail. She was dead-set on you.” I cringed at my choice of words again, so completely on mark. Annie was infatuated with Brett. So infatuated, that she wanted me dead. “She still hates me and I doubt she replaced you with another love interest. So, who else would kill for Annie?”
Brett shook his head. “I really don’t know. It could be anyone. We don’t know who she was close to.”
“Come on,” I said, standing from the couch. “Let’s go tell your parents. There’s no sense in postponing. They’ll want to know.”
Brett stood without protest. His shoulders stooped just a little.
* * *
Stewing in a wicker chair on the patio, I waited for Brett to come out. He was inside with Lil and Mike. I had asked if he wanted my help, but he was concerned about how his parents would react to the news.
As I looked up into the cloudless sky, a shadow passed over me. Turning my head to the side, I saw Rand walking toward me. The sun lit behind him, making his shadow long.
“You’re alone?” he asked, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Just waiting. Brett is inside with Lil and Mike.”
“And he left you alone?” His tone as suspicious as his eyes, guarded and wary.
“He needed some time with his parents. We got some news today and it’s not good.”
“What news?” he asked, his thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets, both dirty from work.
“I’ll let Brett tell you.”
He laughed, a cool chuckle. “I’d be better off asking my ex.”
His ex? Emily?
“How would . . . why would you ask her?”
He jutted his chin in the direction of the kitchen. I turned to find a woman I had never seen before. I knew instantly who she was. The way she clung to Brett, hugging him as if she was about to administer the Heimlich maneuver, this was Emily. And just like my instant dislike for Rand, I felt it in tidal waves for Emily.
Rand lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. “Same bullshit every time she sees him,” he muttered behind curling smoke.
For a few moments I watched Brett as he untangled himself.
“She’s interrupting,” I said, wondering if Brett had been able to tell Lil and Mike yet. By the bubbling crocodile tears spilling from Emily’s eyes onto Brett’s shirt, it seemed that he might have. If only the tears didn’t seem forced, I might have felt bad for Emily. Not seeing Lil or Mike, I assumed they ducked away for a moment of reprieve. I hoped they were okay.
Rand’s last muttered words stuck with me, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you marry her, then?”
He flicked the cigarette, sending ashes to the ground. “Nice piece of ass,” was his callous answer. He flicked the cigarette again, eyeing me and setting me on edge. If he didn’t like me, why was he staring at me as if I was . . . no, his stare was angry—violent almost.
I should’ve run into the kitchen and hid behind Brett, but I was too tired. Tired of hate, tired of running, tired of death. Suddenly, Rand ceased to scare me, not when Annie might be set free. Unless he put hands on me, he was as dangerous as the smoke wisping from the corner of his mouth.
“Then be glad you divorced her,” I said.
“She divorced me. Took me for everything.”
I nodded.
“What?” he asked. “No snide comment?”
I frowned. “No, were you expecting one?” Had I ever made a snide comment to him the few times our paths had crossed?
He almost smiled. It was as if a crack in his armor allowed a glimpse of the man underneath. I wasn’t sure I liked that man either. But it didn't matter.
Annie.
I cursed silently, feeling the hot sting of tears behind my eyes. No! Don't cry! Don't give in to tears. They don’t help. And they weren’t for the man standing coldly in front of me. Annie had done that. In one instant, in one escaped thought, she reduced me to tears.
I quickly wiped the moisture from my eyes, not wanting to look weak in front of Rand, not when his teeth were beginning to grind on his cigarette.
He spit out the shreds, cursing. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not!”
He wiped tobacco from his scowling mouth. “I didn’t touch you.”
“I know,” I said, confused.
“I didn’t touch you or anything. Stop crying!”
“I’m not crying!” By that time, it was the truth. More indignant than anything else, I scowled back.
He cursed and stalked back to his house.
I was left confused, but relieved he had left.
Taking a calming breath, I glanced over my shoulder to spy into the kitchen. Brett was alone, arms braced on the counter. Knowing he might need a few minutes to regroup, I sank into the chair, contemplating. Brett would come out in a lit
tle while, and I was afraid. Not of the newest development with Annie; no I was terrified of that. But I was afraid of Brett’s reaction. Would he relentlessly chase after the killer like he did with Annie? It was selfish of me to want him to stay beside me, but the outcome could be different this time. If Annie was released, he’d be after two killers.
I sucked in a shuddered breath. There was no use worrying about it yet. Annie was still behind bars, and the prosecution would do their best to make sure she stayed there. Maybe they could prove she paid for someone to kill for her. It might not be a copycat at all, but a hired assassin.
While the body was dismembered, and different from Annie’s normal methods, there was something that tipped the police. The cause of death could have been by a sledgehammer. It could still work to Annie’s advantage. As soon as it reached the court’s ears, it’d feed doubt. Annie was smart. And the prosecution had to prove beyond a doubt. Doubt was already breeding.
A movement along the fence caught my eye. Emily moved quickly to the gap and disappeared into Rand’s domain. She was pretty with her long, silver-blonde hair and delicate features. Had it not been for the shrewd, calculative look in her light-blue eyes when she’d spied the fence opening, I might have given her a chance to redeem her first impression.
I sighed, knowing my reaction was just my own petty jealously.
At the slight scraping noise of the sliding glass door, I turned to find Brett stepping outside, his eyes carving the path that Emily had just taken.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He tore his gaze from the fence. “Yes.”
“Were you able to speak with your parents before being interrupted?”
“You saw that?”
“Hard to miss.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t be sorry. Did you tell them?”
“Yeah.” He cupped his jaw, rubbing it.
I didn’t have to ask if they took the news well. No one would. “Surprised to see Emily?”
“Not really. Just annoyed.” He took a seat next to me, the wicker chair creaking underneath him. “I left a message for the lawyer to call me back as soon as possible. I thought of a few questions while talking with my parents.”
“Do you think he’ll be able to prepare an argument?”
“It depends what they find in forensics. But they might not have information in time before defense bites in.” He took my hand. “Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”
I smiled weakly. “That’s becoming my motto.”
“Mars,” he started hesitantly, only to stop.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“What?” I nudged him.
“I was . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a breath he had been keeping. “From T’s description, those boxes weren’t that big. I mean, they were big, but not . . .”
“Not big enough for an entire body.”
“Or half.”
“There’s going to be another box, isn’t there?”
“At least.”
“More?”
“Call your parents, Kym, whoever you can think of. Warn them about any boxes that might come. If this murder was meant to spread the word, then there will be many more deliveries.”
A rock lodged at the back of my throat, choking me. All I could think of was the poor victim, scattered around. No one deserved such a fate.
Brett rubbed my shoulder. “It will be okay.”
“Not for the victim.”
“No, unfortunately. Let the police worry about the victim for now. Call Kym first.”
“Why Kym?”
“Annie had seen you together at Kym’s bachelorette party. She has all of Kym’s information from the reservation.”
A groan bubbled from the pit of my stomach. “I’ll call everyone now, but I’ll leave Kym for last. I have a feeling the call to her will take the longest.”
He leaned over and kissed my temple. “While you do that, I’ll make calls too.”
“To who?”
“T and the police. Maybe the lawyer again.” He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone will have answers yet, but it’s better than nothing.” He stood and walked to the door. “Do you want to come in where it’s cooler?”
“I’ll come in a few minutes.”
He flicked a glance at the fence before nodding. “Just don’t stay out too long. It’s hot.”
As soon as he slid the door closed, I pulled out my phone, wondering who to call first. Since Dad was on a motorcycle tour with the Comets, discovering the secrets of wormholes in space, I dialed Mom and asked her to keep an eye out for packages sent to either her or Dad. She was at the salon, so she wasn’t able to ask many questions, the dryer loud in her ear. She threatened to call later.
After phoning Hank and Jack, I texted Evan. Feeling uneasy about calling him, I opted for the chicken’s path and sent a message to not open any boxes that might come from me or were unmarked. I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want him to worry, but I had to warn him. Annie knew about Evan too. Whether she knew we’d had an intimate relationship, I didn’t know.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I stood to head inside. The call to Kym would take a while and I’d rather not melt into a puddle on the deck.
“Mars!”
To my dismay, I looked over to find Rand and Emily crossing the yard. I waited until they reached me. I knew the low, gravelly voice came from Rand. Why he would want to talk to me after our last conversation was beyond comprehension, but I’d know why soon.
As they drew closer, Emily’s eyes were quick to assess. I’m sure mine were doing the same, and I felt like a fool. I had so many other fires, she was barely a puff of Rand’s cigarette smoke. But I judged anyway and felt the stinging scratch of self-consciousness.
Rand stepped close, peering down his nose at me, his cigarette breath within smelling distance. “You haven’t met your predecessor yet. Emily was preoccupied in the kitchen.”
Predecessor? His choice of words grated. But I held out my hand to Emily. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mars.”
She sniffed and let her limp hand graze mine. “What kind of name is Mars?”
“It's short for Marsalla. If you’ll both excuse me, I have a call to make.”
She sniffed again.
“Mars, wait.” Rand said. “What’s going on?” The smidgen of concern in his voice had me rooted to my spot.
“Didn’t Emily tell you?”
She sniffed and turned her head. Did she have allergies, or was she just snobbish?
“She only heard the tail end. Something about Annie possibly getting out of jail.”
I nodded. “It’s possible.”
“How?”
“There’s been another murder. Brett and I think she’ll plead that she’s innocent of all prior murders.”
“A copycat?”
“Looks that way. But, the copycat . . . well, he or she deviated from Annie’s normal method.”
“That’s good, then.”
I shrugged. “It might not be enough.” I headed to the door. “I really need to make a call. If you want more information, I’m sure Brett will fill you in. It was nice to meet you, Emily,” I lied.
She sniffed and turned her head.
“If you need a tissue, I’m sure there are some inside,” I said.
Rand snickered and turned, taking long strides back to his house. He left Emily still sniffing at the air like a prairie dog. I smothered a curse and fled to the cool kitchen, shutting the door behind me. Not bothering or caring to see her reaction, I jogged up the stairs to Brett’s room and snapped the door closed. Leaning against it, I let out a breath.
Kym. I had to call Kym.
Glancing longingly at the bed, I padded over to it and crawled on top, letting the comforter cushion my stressed body. The wrestler looked down at me from the ceiling. “
At least your enemies are fake TV personalities,” I muttered.
Eyelids heavy, I thought a quick text to Kym would suffice for now, with a promise to call soon, of course.
Sending the text, I closed my eyes.
* * *
When I next opened my eyes, it was to a dark room. The comforter I had fallen asleep on was now on top of me, tucked under my chin and around my sides in tight mummy fashion. Brett. Raising my heavy, groggy head, I leaned back, bracing against my elbows.
What time is it?
With fumbling hands, I searched for my phone. It’d been at my side when I fell asleep. Where the heck did it go? Did it fall on the floor? Tossing back the covers, I felt my way to the light switch next to the door. My toe caught on something hard, tripping me. I fell to the floor with a thud, limbs flailing awkwardly as I tried to right myself from the unexpected fall.
What the hell did I trip over? I wondered as I felt for the object. As far as I recalled there was nothing but carpeting from the bed to the door. I certainly didn’t trip on the carpeting, although it was occasionally known to happen. No, this was more like a box.
Box?
Chapter 6
Shrieking, I half crawled, half ran to the door. Flinging it open, I dashed into the hallway and down the stairs, skidding to a stop in the kitchen where the family, including Rand and Emily, were eating dinner.
“Mars, are you okay? You look a little pale,” Lil said, slowly standing.
Brett frowned. “You do look pale. I was going to wake you for dinner but you were sleeping so soundly.”
“I . . .” I looked around the table, all widened eyes on me. I probably looked a fright. It was what I felt like too. “Brett, can I see you a moment?” I asked, jerking my head toward the stairs.
His frown deepened as he stood and followed me up to his room. I heard an indignant sniff but ignored it. At Brett’s door, I stalled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I tripped on something.”
“I should have left the light on. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t on furniture. I would’ve found the light switch, had it not been for . . . Brett, I think there’s a box.”
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