Kissing Trouble

by Morgana Phoenix

“This is nice,” she murmured. The heat of his body burned through her and she shivered again as goose bumps littered her skin. “You’re so hot.”

  Against her shoulder blades, she felt his chest vibrate with laughter. “You’re only just realizing that?”

  Julie chuckled. “I meant your temperature.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought you meant.” But she could hear the amusement in his voice.

  Grinning, she set her drink down next to his on the round, glass table next to their elbows and closed her eyes. Without the distraction of the coffee, Mason drew her tighter to him, tucking her more securely beneath the blankets and his chest. The tip of his nose brushed her temple.

  “Tell me something,” he murmured.

  “Like what?”

  The shoulder beneath her head jerked. “Anything. Tell me what you’ve been doing the last four years.”

  Julie pulled in a breath, then let it out in a white cloud that vanished almost instantly. “I finished high school. I started university.”

  Mason clicked his tongue. “That’s too simple,” he said. “You were never cut and dry like that, Jewels. Tell me something.”

  She had to really think about it. Any other person would have accepted her response and moved on.

  “I, uh...”

  Her words drifted from her mouth and disappeared in a plume of white right before her eyes. She followed the last of the wisp as the breeze blew and swept it off somewhere to the left.

  Beyond the deck railings, fog lifted off the glistening blades of grass. It swirled like ghosts rising from their graves. She watched as the vapors shifted with the rising light in the distance, parting to give shape to the dark silhouettes.

  But there was one shape, one silhouette, that didn’t make sense. It was in an odd place to be a tree, too thin to be a bush, and it had too many curves to be part of the basketball court.

  Julie straightened, her eyes squinting. The blanket slipped from her shoulders and pooled across her lap. Mason touched her arm lightly in concern.

  “What is it?”

  Blinking rapidly, like it could somehow make her eyesight sharper, Julie frowned. She pointed to the spot.

  “What is that?”

  Against her back, he stiffened. She felt the ripple of his muscles as he shifted higher.

  It was at the edge of the basketball court, just below the left post. It wasn’t moving yet it seemed suspended.

  “What is that?” Mason mimicked her question. He pulled away from her and pushed to his feet. “Stay here,” he told her as he marched to the edge of the deck and peered through the mist.

  It must not have been any clearer from that point, because he cursed and hurried to the stairway.

  Rain began to fall. It soaked through the blanket no longer keeping her warm. Julie stayed frozen to the spot, torn between following him and making sure the children were all right. In the end, she threw back the blanket and plunged after him into the spearing dawn.

  Cold dampness leached through the fabric of her t-shirt and shorts, chilling her already goose pimpled skin. Her feet sunk into wet soil as she crossed the yard to where Mason stood, staring at the shape in the mist.

  It was a girl Julie’s age wearing sneakers, shorts, and a red shirt that was spattered with mud. Dirt and grass and blood stained her bare legs and matted her blonde hair. She stood before them with her mouth gaping and speechless. Eyes the blue-white of spilled milk stared back unseeingly from a face crossed with blue blood vessels and drained of color. She was standing without support and Julie had a horrific image of zombies walking. Yet the girl never moved. She never moaned, or gnashed her teeth. She simply stood there, a little limply, like she was exhausted.

  “Mason?”

  “Get back inside!” he shouted at her.

  Julie didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Her mind was too focused on the image that would forever be seared into her brain.

  The girl was dead. That much was evident. But she was upright, standing before them, motionless as the elements lashed about her, tearing at her clothes and her darkened hair. There was no breath leaving her, while Julie and Mason were building a wall of white with every ragged pant. Her skin wasn’t goose fleshed. In fact, she didn’t seem at all affected by the rain, while Julie could hear the clack of her own chattering teeth over the pounding of her heart.

  “Mason...?”

  “Get inside!” he said again, grabbing her now. He shook her. “Julie!”

  Her cold, stiff fingers grabbed for him. They closed in the fabric of his wet shirt. “What...?”

  He must have realized she wasn’t going anywhere, because he stopped trying to make her. Instead, he licked the rain from his lips and turned back to the girl. He took a tentative step forward, reached through the cold and space and gave the body a quick jab in the shoulder.

  Julie’s grip tightened on his shirt until her knuckles ached. She waited for the girl to come to life and lunge at them. What happened instead made the coffee in Julie’s stomach come up in a thick flood of dark liquid that soaked into the already damp ground when she twisted away: the body swayed.

  No. She rocked weightlessly like a child holding on to the monkey bars and letting their body swing side to side. But her arms hung at her sides, fingers slightly curled, and the nails dirty and chipped. There were bruises along her arms in the shape of violent hands. Part of her shirt was ripped at the hem and there was blood ... most of it had washed away, but it had stained her clothes.

  Then Mason shoved the girl again, harder this time, and her entire body arched back. Her feet slipped from beneath her so she rocked on her heels and then swooped forward once more like she was doing a pelvis thrust.

  That’s when Julie saw it—the perfect red necklace around her long, slender throat and the clear, plastic string tying her to the basketball hoop.

  By the time the sheriff was called, Julie had calmed herself just enough to get the three Vance children packed into their rooms with promises of cake if they stayed put. She made sure they had everything before hurrying downstairs to pace the foyer. She could hear Shaun, Luis, and Mason arguing in the kitchen. They were trying to be quiet, but there was no mistaking the path of their arguments.

  Shaun didn’t think they should have called the sheriff. “We’ll get blamed!” was his reasoning.

  It made her wonder if maybe he was guilty. It made her wonder if maybe ... but as quickly as the thought always came, she shoved it away. Not because she had this great fondness for Shaun, but because she couldn’t believe Mason and Luis would be friends with a killer.

  A killer...

  Her stomach roiled. Her classes had covered cadavers by going on field trips to the morgue. The woman on the slab had been gray, like a painting that wasn’t finished. A few of her classmates had been sick, but Julie had kept her composure ... until the incision had been made. Yet in no way had that prepared her for the sight outside.

  “Hey.” Mason darkened the doorway leading into the kitchen. “You okay?”

  Julie laughed sharply. “No, not even a little. I don’t...” She broke off and forced ten fingers back through her hair.

  He crossed to her and took her hands. His were warm and steady, so unlike hers.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he told her calmly.

  “Are you insane?” she hissed. “Did you not see ... are you going to tell me that that is normal, too? Like those kittens and the handprint? Was this a prank, too?”

  His face was grim, but determined. “I don’t know what that was,” he confessed quietly. “In the past, we’ve found dead birds on the porch and a few dead mice, but...” he trailed off, rocking his head slowly from side to side.

  “It’s the same person,” she murmured. “It has to be. The fishing wire used to string the body to the basketball hoop is the same as the one used that first day. I’m sure of it.”

  Mason nodded. “You could be right.”

  Julie drew in a deep breath, relieved he
hadn’t called her crazy. “I’m taking the children home tomorrow,” she told him. “I won’t keep them here. Not after that.”

  She expected an argument. She expected him to assure her it wouldn’t happen again. She wasn’t expecting acceptance.

  “I’ll help you get ready in the morning.”

  Their conversation was halted when a knock sounded on the front doors. Julie shared a glance with Mason before leaving him to answer it.

  Sheriff Reynolds swept into the foyer. Three uniformed police officers followed.

  “Yard,” was all she could muster to say.

  The officers disappeared in the direction of her jerked chin, leaving her alone with Sheriff Reynolds.

  The older man tipped his face back, peered down the length of his nose at Julie, and narrowed his eyes. “You all right?”

  Julie felt her eyes sting and she had to blink several times to keep the tears in check. She shook her head mutely.

  The sheriff shifted his weight. “I’m going to need to ask you some questions, Ms. Brewer.”

  Swallowing, Julie nodded. “I know.”

  With a jerk of his head in a nod, a satisfied gesture that they were on the same page, he stalked past her and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Julie paused just long enough to wipe her hands on the rough grains of her jeans before following the group to the back doors.

  Sheriff Reynolds made no pithy remark. There was no malice or annoyance in his eyes as he broke through the light drizzle to where the solitary figure hung, eyes vacant.

  Julie stayed on the porch, hugging herself and watching from a distance as the body was examined and eventually cut from its strings. A medical examiner was called, who arrived in a black van to take the body away while the officers did a search of the grounds.

  The sun was just fading slowly over the horizon beyond the lake when Sheriff Reynolds finally turned his attention on Julie. And while she had nothing to be guilty about, Julie couldn’t help but feel a stab of it in her chest. What if he didn’t believe they had nothing to do with that murder?

  “Ms. Brewer, I would like to ask you those questions now if you’re ready?”

  It was stated as a question, but she knew better.

  She nodded, and watched as he dragged free his notepad and pen from his pocket. Raindrops darkened the pages, smeared the ink. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Over his shoulder, she could see the other officers talking to Mason, Shaun, and Luis. Mason was talking. Shaun stood mute and definite, while Luis looked like he was two seconds away from fainting or throwing up. He was a shade of green that Julie was positive a normal person should never reach.

  “Ms. Brewer?” Sheriff Reynolds said again.

  Her attention went back to the grim-faced man watching her. She took a deep breath, more to steady herself than anything else.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she whispered. “Mason and I were on the back deck—”

  “You and Mason?” he interrupted. “Mr. Nelson and Mr. Ryan weren’t there?”

  “No,” she said. Julie took another gulping breath when her voice wavered. “But Luis didn’t do this,” she said firmly. “Whoever put those kittens across the door our first morning—”

  “I’m just trying to get the picture, Ms. Brewer,” he said evenly. “I need to make sure I have all the facts. Please, continue.”

  Willing herself to remain calm and rational, Julie started again. “We were on the deck when I looked up and saw the body.”

  “And do you recognize the diseased?”

  Julie shook her head. “No.”

  “Do you have any idea who would do something like this?”

  Again, she shook her head. “No.”

  “You said Mr. Ryan wasn’t there,” he tapped his pen on his pad. “Where was he?”

  “His room ... I think.”

  Sheriff Reynolds raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

  “Well, he usually sleeps until noon and most mornings Mason and I are the only ones awake at that hour.”

  “So you were with Mr. Brody the entire time.”

  Julie nodded. “Yes.”

  Carefully, he closed his notepad and surveyed her with narrowed eyes. “Ms. Brewer, can you tell me what you think happened here?”

  It baffled her, but she did her best to answer. “From what I could see, the victim was strangled by the fishing wire.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Spoken like a true newbie. But you would be wrong. The victim was stabbed, in the back, before being strung up.”

  Julie blinked. Her gaze swung to the basketball hoops. “The blood on her clothes...”

  He stuffed his pad and pen into his pocket. “The medical examiner says she was killed elsewhere and then brought here.”

  She frowned. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through.”

  “Exactly.” He shifted his rail thin body. “Now, what sort of person would go through that kind of trouble?”

  Julie shrugged. “Psychopaths?”

  “Yes, but why? Why here when they could have easily tossed the body into the lake or buried it?”

  “It’s hard to determine the mind of a psychopath. There are a great number of reasons why—”

  Sheriff Reynolds chuckled. “You’re talking like a book, Ms. Brewer.”

  Her tongue snuck out to dampen her lips. “To prove a point? To frighten us? To warn us?”

  “Correct, now can you tell me why someone would want to do any of those things to you?”

  Julie shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Maybe he believed her, or maybe he didn’t. It was hard to tell when he said nothing as he pushed past her into the house.

  Julie stayed with her shoulder against the frame as the officer interrogating Mason pulled back and started towards the house. The two with Shaun and Luis remained, looking none too pleased by Shaun’s defiant muteness and whatever they’re getting from Luis.

  “You should sleep.” Mason reached her.

  Julie’s laugh was hollow. “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep.”

  His gentle fingers closed over hers and he drew her into the warmth of the kitchen. He continued to hold her hand, gently massaging blood through the stiffness.

  “I’ll keep you safe, Julie,” he murmured quietly.

  “Mason, I—” His fingers ghosted over her lips, pinning her words to her lips.

  “Get some sleep,” he urged softly. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

  “I’m just...” She scratched furiously at her brow, trying to peel away the furrow that wouldn’t lift. “Why, Mason? Why is someone doing this?” She pressed her lips together, holding them firm to restrain their tremble before speaking again. “You can’t tell me this is all because of you and something you did when you were a kid. This goes beyond ... they killed someone.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Jewels.” The frustration was blinding behind his eyes. “I know I did some pretty shitty things as a kid, but...” He forced his fingers back through his hair and stole a glance in the direction of the yard. “I never hurt anyone. I never killed anyone. People hate me, but not this much. I don’t know anyone who would do this.”

  She believed him even as part of her wanted to hate him for putting her and the kids through this. And while she knew it was irrational, that he had nothing to do with the girl hanging from the basketball hoop, she needed to hate someone.

  Shaun and Luis climbed the steps to the back porch with the two officers at their heels. Mason and Julie stepped aside as the group entered the kitchen.

  One of the officers closed the door and turned to face them. “Sheriff Reynolds asks that you don’t leave town until this matter is dealt with.”

  Julie’s jaw dropped. “What? No! I’m taking the kids home tomorrow and I’m not coming back to this place—”

  The officer was unmoved by her outburst. “This is a murder investigation, ma’am.
No one is leaving town until we’ve caught the person responsible.”

  “Well, this is clearly a hit on us,” she expressed hotly. “If we stay, who’s to say the psychopath won’t come back and do the same to us? We are in danger.”

  “For all we know, one of you is responsible,” the second officer supplied, without heat.

  “What officer Brennon is trying to say is that we might have further questions for you,” the first officer explained.

  “I’m not letting the kids stay here another day,” Julie said sharply.

  “Then perhaps you should call someone to come get them,” Officer Brennon suggested. “Staying in town is not a suggestion. You will get arrested if you leave.”

  “You can’t do that!” She looked to Mason. “Can he do that?”

  “We can.” Sheriff Reynolds returned. “We will also need the keys to your cars.”

  “Our cars? Why—”

  Sheriff Reynolds closed the distance with long, slow strides. “Someone moved that body here. They would need a car to accomplish that.”

  “We didn’t do this,” Julie protested.

  “Then you won’t mind surrendering your keys,” Officer Brennen retorted with a smugness that made Julie want to hit him.

  “No.” Shaun widened his stance. He folded his arms over his chest and glowered at the officers. “You need a warrant for that.”

  “Actually, we don’t,” Sheriff Reynolds replied. “This property is our crime scene and we have rights to everything on it. If you get in our way, you’re disrupting an ongoing investigation and I will arrest you. Now keys, please.”

  Not for the first time, Julie wished she’d gone into law rather than forensics. One didn’t teach the other. It wasn’t her job to know the loops that was the intricately woven system, only what she saw when she looked at a crime scene.

  After exchanging apprehensive glances with Mason, Julie left to grab her keys from her room. Mason was handing over his own set when she returned. Sheriff Reynolds passed his to Officer Brennen. Her set went to the second officer. He pocketed it almost immediately, like he was afraid she might lunge after him and snatch them back.

  “Get Moe here,” Sheriff Reynolds instructed. “Tell him there’s two cars that need picking up.”