Kissing Trouble

by Morgana Phoenix

  “Someone was trying to get in,” he murmured.

  “But what is it?” she cried. “Why is it red?”

  Deep down, she knew exactly what it was. There were many shades of red in the world, but blood had a unique hue that could be mistaken for nothing else.

  “Call the police,” Mason instructed firmly. “Tell them to get here quickly. Their evidence is about to wash away with the rain.”

  Julie didn’t need to be told twice. She sprinted for the phone and was dialing when Shaun strolled into the room, duffle bag in hand.

  “What’s going on?” He looked from Julie to Mason.

  His bag made a thump when he dropped it down next to Luis’s by the door and joined Mason by the glass.

  Mason told him, all the while pointing to the mark. Shaun said something that Julie couldn’t hear over the phone ringing in ear.

  The dispatcher that picked up was a woman and as soon as Julie gave the address, her helpful tone changed to curt and dismissive. It infuriated Julie to the point that she almost cussed the woman out.

  “Someone will be there in a few hours,” the woman told her.

  “That isn’t good enough,” Julie retorted. “It’s raining. The handprint won’t be there by the—”

  “Look, unless there’s a body to go along with this bloody handprint, or there’s an ax wielding maniac outside the door, we have other people who need our help. We will get to you when we can.”

  The line went dead before Julie could protest. She slammed the receiver down and growled in her throat.

  “What happened?” Mason asked, coming to stand next to her.

  “They’ll get here when they get here!” she snapped, mimicking the dispatcher’s tone. “This is unbelievable. I hate this place!”

  “Hey.” Mason took her shoulders lightly and pulled her to him.

  She let herself be cradled against his chest. She burrowed there, letting his warmth—and the dampness of his clothes—soak into her. Her eyes closed and mashed her face into his shoulder.

  “It’s all right,” Mason murmured into her ear. His hand lightly stroked her hair. “This was probably just another stupid prank.”

  “But that’s blood,” she whispered into the soft material of his shirt. She raised her head to peer into his face. “They were trying to get in.”

  “But they didn’t,” he pointed out.

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” she cried. “What if Wendy was right last night? What if she did see someone with a body?”

  “I didn’t see anyone when I checked.”

  “Why are you so calm about this?” she demanded, feeling her desperation melt into anger.

  “Because there’s nothing I can do, except wait for the people in charge to do their job.”

  “You know that’s not true.” Shaun stomped to the island. “We can do something.”

  “No!” Mason rounded on him. “No, we swore we were done with that.”

  “With what?” Julie asked.

  “Getting even,” Mason answered. “I’m not doing that anymore. Our retaliation is what caused this. It’s why I can’t go into town, why the police refuse to do anything. I’m done with that.”

  “It’s the only way to get respect!” Shaun argued. “Show those fuckers they can’t mess with us.”

  Mason just shook his head. “No, I won’t.”

  With a snarl, Shaun threw up his hands and stormed from the kitchen. They heard his boots pound against hardwood as he hit the hallway and disappeared upstairs.

  Then there was silence broken only by the soft rush of rain hitting the roof and windows.

  “Do you think I should hunt the person down and teach him a lesson?” Mason fixed her with his questioning gaze.

  Julie shook her head even without thinking about it. “No.”

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied by her response. “I’m done with those days, Jewels. I’m not a little kid anymore. That’s not how I want to be known.”

  She took his hand. “I know.”

  The gesture seemed to surprise him. He lowered his face and surveyed their joined hands with interest. His head tipped to the side a moment before he twisted his wrist and threaded his fingers through hers.

  “You should get ready,” she told him. “I think the rain’s going to pick up soon and you won’t be able to put the tent up if it gets too heavy.”

  Her words penetrated whatever thought he appeared to be having. His head came up, his expression dogged. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Not after that.”

  “But Shaun...”

  “Let Shaun say whatever he wants. You’re more important than some stupid camping trip.”

  Her heart jumped in her chest and she felt a warm trickle work its way up her body.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  She lowered her gaze to the collar of his shirt. “For being relieved.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “That I’m not going?”

  Julie nodded.

  He chuckled, pulled her closer, and pressed a kiss just between her eyebrows, smoothing the wrinkles there. “I never wanted to go in the first place.”

  With a short exhale, Julie leaned into him and closed her eyes.

  The police didn’t arrive until two hours later. Sheriff Reynolds was at the head, wide brim hat collecting rain. He yanked it off and shook it once he was under the front porch awning. Behind him, two officers stood quiet and solemn, like they didn’t think this worthy of their time. One of them had a field kit on him.

  Julie ignored their hard looks and widened the door for them to enter.

  “Ms. Brewer.” Sheriff Reynolds stomped in first, knocking mud and dirt across the floor with his boots. “We heard you had a situation.”

  Julie nodded. “Thank you for coming.”

  No one said anything. Nor did anyone bother removing their boots as they followed her down the hall and into the kitchen.

  Mason had pushed the patio umbrella against the window, using the fabric to block most of the rain from completely washing away the handprint. But still, most of it was already gone.

  “What are we looking at, Ms. Brewer?” Sheriff Reynolds asked, his shrewd gaze moving over the wall of glass.

  Either he was deliberately avoiding the fact that there was an umbrella against the window, or he thought that was normal.

  “Right there.” Julie pointed straight at the handprint.

  The two officers moved in, eyes squinting.

  Sheriff Reynolds never budged. He twisted his frame around the officers and moved a short distance away, digging out his notepad.

  “When did you discover the item in question?” he asked.

  “A little after lunch,” she answered. “I was in the kitchen making cookies—”

  “Why so late?” He tipped his head back and peered down the length of his nose at her. “We might have had more of a print if you had called us earlier.”

  Her teeth creaked under the force of her gritting. “I didn’t notice it until that time. I called you immediately ... two hours ago.”

  The sheriff tapped his pen on his open pad. “Miss. Brewer, do you know who the handprint belongs to?”

  Julie frowned. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have called you if—”

  He took an unexpected step forward, dropped his voice. “You can tell us if it was one of those boys,” he told her quietly, his gaze drilling into hers. “If they’ve threatened you—”

  “They had nothing to do with this!” she snapped, jerking back. “We don’t know who did it.”

  The officers were prying open the door and moving the umbrella aside to examine the print better.

  “Ms. Brewer—”

  “Sheriff,” she interrupted sharply. “Mason isn’t the kid he used to be. He’s trying to change his life. I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  The sheriff seemed to consider this a moment while he studied her face.
>
  “Ms. Brewer,” he said finally. “Do you know how long I’ve been doing this?” He didn’t wait for a response. “A damn hell of a long time. I have been shot, stabbed, and nearly run over more times than I can count. In this line of work, you don’t ever know what sort of person you’re going to come up against, but I have learned one thing. Do you know what that is, Ms. Brewer?”

  Julie shook her head.

  “That they never change their spots.” He searched her eyes a long moment before continuing. “They might claim they aren’t what they used to be, but trust me, they are always the same. Mason Brody and Shaun Ryan, hell, I’m surprised they’re not doing life in some maximum prison for being serial killers.”

  Julie stared at him, appalled. “That’s a bit of a leap,” she said. “A few dumb kids pulling stupid tricks—”

  “That’s how it starts, Ms. Brewer. A few stupid pranks, then they’re boosting cars, breaking into houses, and eventually ... murder.”

  Julie sucked in a deep, calming breath. “Sheriff Reynolds, I grew up with Mason and Shaun, and believe me when I tell you, I have no love for Shaun. I might even think he’s the antichrist—” This got a snort from him. “—but I know Mason. He’s not capable of hurting anyone.”

  The sheriff’s eyes widened. Then he burst into a fit of broken laughter, like his lungs weren’t used to it.

  “Ms. Brewer.” He straightened, wiped a tear. “I can give you a list as long as I am of people Mason Brody has hurt.”

  “I meant physically,” she muttered.

  “Me too.” He glanced in the direction of his officers dusting and peeling prints off the glass, seemed to consider something, then looked back to her. “Ms. Brewer, I think you’re a decent person and I think you’re just trying to do your job and enjoy your summer with those kids, so I’m going to give you a bit of advice.” He folded his pad and tucked it and the pen into his breast pocket. “Leave and forget Mason Brody. You are in the middle of something you will never be able to control and you will get hurt.”

  Julie swallowed hard. “Who is doing this and why can’t you stop them?”

  He watched her with something akin to pity on his wrinkled face. “I would have to arrest the entire town. It would be the only way to stop this.”

  She left him after that and moved to brew a fresh pot of coffee while the officers hovered around the glass.

  Reynolds’s words continued to play through the other million questions already plaguing her. Her hands trembled as she brought out mugs. Years of her mother’s training propelled her to draw out three extra mugs and set them on the island. She poured herself one while she waited for them to finish and tell her what to do, because she had no idea. She considered calling Maureen, telling her she quit and wanted to return home, but she forced herself to wait until the cops had given her information to pass on; Maureen wouldn’t justify a few bad happenings as a reason to leave.

  Maureen wasn’t a bad parent. She loved her kids. But it was common knowledge that Maureen Vance was the sort of woman who believed having a beautiful home with a picket fence and two point five children was expected, but so was passing those kids off for lots of mommy time. Unless the person terrorizing them was standing over them with a bloody knife, Maureen would most likely find an excuse to keep them there while she sorted things out. And while Julie understood Maureen was under a great deal of stress with the divorce and all, she couldn’t help feeling frustrated and disgusted by the woman. But just as quickly as the feeling came, she pushed it away.

  “Ms. Brewer?” Sheriff Reynolds approached the island. “Have you noticed anything odd the last twenty-four hours?”

  She started to shake her head when she remembered. “Wendy thought she saw someone outside her window last night. She said...” she trailed off.

  “Yes?”

  Julie took a deep breath and started again. “She thought they were dragging a body across the yard.”

  The sheriff crossed his arms and blinked at her. “You didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

  Julie shook her head. “I checked. There was no one out there.”

  “Where is the girl?”

  Julie stiffened. “Is that necessary? I’m trying to keep the kids away from this.”

  The sheriff didn’t seem the least bit sympathetic by her request. If anything, it only seemed to further irritate him. “Ms. Brewer, if you want us to do our job properly ... we need the girl.”

  She knew from her studies what would happen next, what needed to happen. She knew in order to solve a crime, all witnesses needed to be interviewed and every piece of evidence was a potential clue to solving the case. But she really didn’t want the children involved.

  “Okay,” she whispered at last.

  She left the kitchen to find Wendy. The entire group was sitting in the living room, watching The Goonies. Mason looked up when she stepped over the threshold. His eyebrow arched in question.

  It had been her idea to keep Mason out of the kitchen while the officer did their investigation. She thought maybe they would work harder in solving the handprint if Mason wasn’t pissing them off with his presence.

  “Wendy?”

  Snuggled between Mason and Rick, Wendy popped her head up. Julie waved her over. Mason started to rise, but Julie shook her head.

  “They want to ask her a few questions.”

  That was probably the wrong thing to tell him, because he was up despite her protest and following.

  Sheriff Reynolds was waiting at the island, a coffee mug in hand. He looked up when they entered.

  “Do you have any cream?” he asked.

  After ushering Wendy onto a stool, Julie yanked open the fridge and pulled out the creamer. She set it on the counter and watched as he poured a healthy amount into his cup. He stirred, rapped the spoon against the lip, and set it aside before turning the full force of his gaze on Wendy, who sat small and motionless in her seat. She seemed to shrink as the sheriff’s hard stare bore into her.

  “Wendy Vance.” He took a sip of his coffee and smacked his lips. “I hear you had yourself an adventure last night.”

  Wendy said nothing. Her gaze flitted over to Julie. Then back to the sheriff.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened.” It wasn’t a question, or a request.

  When Wendy looked to Julie again, Julie nodded encouragingly.

  “Am I in trouble?” she asked.

  “No!” Julie said, only to be cut off by Sheriff Reynolds.

  “That depends,” he said. “Are you going to lie to me?”

  Wendy’s eyes widened. “No!”

  “All right then.” Sheriff Reynolds put his mug down and pulled out his pen and pad. “Tell me the truth.”

  Wendy recounted the story exactly as she had earlier that morning. Reynolds jotted every word down, making the appropriate humming noises cops made. When Wendy finished, he tapped his pen to the white coils across the top of the pad.

  “Show me.”

  They led the sheriff upstairs to Wendy’s room and watched him amble to the window and peer out. He stood surveying the backyard a solid ten minutes before he seemed to come to some inner conclusion and turned to them.

  “I’m going to call a few more officers in,” he told them. “Get that yard checked.” He stole a peek at his watch. “You might want to put on a fresh pot. This may take a while.”

  He stomped past them and disappeared back downstairs. Julie looked to Mason, who stood with one shoulder against the frame, and found him glowering after the sheriff.

  “I have a feeling this is going to take a while,” she sighed, moving to stand next to him. “I should call Maureen. Let her know what’s going on.”

  Mason nodded. “I’ll watch the kids. Maybe take them for ice cream or something.”

  Julie blinked. “Do you think they’ll let you leave?”

  He shrugged and pushed away from the frame. “Don’t care.”

  “Hey, wait!” she called after him when he s
tarted towards the stairs. “I want ice cream.”

  Mason smirked. “Sorry, babe. You get to answer questions.” At her pout, he walked back and tapped her lightly under the chin. “Maybe I’ll bring you something back.” His grin broadened. He nipped his bottom lip between his teeth and closed his long fingers in her hair. With a light tug, he tipped her face up to his and let his mouth hover dangerously over hers. “If you’re a good girl.”

  It was as though he had caressed every inch of her with those words. She shivered and felt his grip tighten. She was pulled more securely against him and shoved back simultaneously until she was braced against the cold frame of the door. He followed her, molding all that taut, warm flesh against her, trapping her so completely. Almost instinctively, her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, right along his waistline.

  “I want to kiss you,” he murmured. His gaze dropped to her mouth, already parted and waiting for him. “But I don’t trust myself, not when my bedroom is just across the hall.”

  Julie moistened her lips, not to be enticing, but to chase away the dryness he was causing. The gesture seemed to draw a sharp breath from him.

  “Maybe later?” she whispered. “When the police leave?”

  He lifted his attention away from her mouth to fixate on her eyes. “You can count on it.”

  With a last look, that cut the air in her chest, he pulled back and offered her his hand. She slipped her trembling fingers through his and let him guide her downstairs.

  The officers made no protest when Mason packed the kids up and took them out for ice cream. Shaun went with them, but Luis stayed with Julie. He said it was because he didn’t like ice cream, but she didn’t believe him. Who didn’t like ice cream? She had a feeling it was because Mason asked him to stay with her. Whatever the reason, she was glad for his presence, especially when the entire place was swarmed by police officials and crime scene investigators. They were actually regular officer with field kits. But Julie stood on the back porch and watched them as they scored the yard, searching for signs of freshly turned earth, or anything else that might explain the handprint.

  Sheriff Reynolds was right in the thick of things, walking the field and barking orders. There was no mistaking who the man in charge was.