Dead Set

by Melissa Pearl

  Lucas fought a chuckle. Most people comforted each other with hugs and words of reassurance, not with lips and hands and tongues.

  He took another long drink, feeling the warm liquid slide down his throat.

  He’d wanted so much more. He’d wanted to lay her down on that couch and cover her body with his. He’d wanted to kiss every inch of her, to run his hands up and down the length of that exquisite body. To touch her and taste her and feel her…

  Lucas shook his head firmly. He needed to focus, to stop thinking about last night and start thinking about the task at hand.

  He started his computer and then picked up the notebook. A couple of loose pages fluttered to the floor. He leaned down to grab them but someone beat him to it. A girl carrying a to-go cup, a backpack slung over her shoulder, handed him the newspaper clipping and single sheet of notebook paper that had fallen to the floor.

  He said thank you, which was met with an indifferent shrug.

  Lucas opened the document, where he’d recorded some of his notes and findings. He was never consistent about how he worked: sometimes he used pen and paper, sometimes computer, sometimes the Notes app on his phone, but he was trying harder to be more organized. Alaina’s derision over the state of his office and his files might’ve been what prompted him to finally do something about it.

  He transferred all of his random notes into one file, sipping his coffee while he did so.

  Rosie brought him his muffin—she’d told him when he ordered his coffee that they had fresh apple cinnamon ones coming out of the oven in minutes.

  He smiled his thanks, breathing in the delicious aroma.

  “It’s still pretty warm,” she told him. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a dot of white frosting decorated her cheek. She must’ve been in back, frosting cupcakes or cookies when she’d pulled the muffin for him.

  “I’ll be careful,” he told her. It was a lie. He was pretty much ready to devour the entire thing, temperature be damned.

  She glanced at the laptop. “Whatcha working on?”

  “Just a case,” he said.

  She nodded. “You don’t always bring a laptop with you.”

  He was a little surprised that she’d noticed.

  “I know,” he admitted. “I’m trying to…to streamline my process a little. Get more organized.”

  Rosie grinned. “Nothing wrong with that.” She wiped her hands on the half apron tied around her waist. “Guess I should get back at it,” she said, nodding toward the kitchen.

  “Everything good?” Lucas asked. He remembered what Blaine had said the other day, about Rosie settling into her job at Lulu’s.

  Her expression brightened. “Better than good. I’m…” She looked around the coffee shop, at the mismatched chairs and the customers who were visiting with friends or buried in their laptops, using the shop as an office of sorts while they sucked down coffee. “I’m happy,” she finished.

  “With your job or with Blaine?”

  Her smile widened. “Both.”

  Lucas grinned. He was happy things had worked out for her, and that she was finally out from the asshole who had caused her so much grief. She deserved a fresh start, a chance to move on from some poor choices and some really bad luck, and he was glad that both Louanne and Blaine had given her the opportunity to do so.

  She glanced at the newspaper clipping on the table and her expression changed. “Is that the kid who committed suicide?” she asked. “Noah something?”

  “Noah Dans, yes.”

  “So sad,” she murmured.

  Her eyes clouded, and Lucas sensed something, something she wasn’t saying out loud but was telling him with her expression and her body language.

  “Did you know him?” he asked. He doubted it. If their paths had crossed at all, it would’ve been relatively brief. She’d only been in town for a short time.

  “No.” Her eyes were wet and she blinked them rapidly. “It’s just…suicide is never the answer, you know?”

  “Did you know someone who…?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No. Thank God.” She took a deep breath and smoothed her apron again. “I need to get back to the kitchen. Those cupcakes aren’t going to frost themselves.”

  Lucas nodded. “Thanks for the delivery,” he said, pointing to the muffin in front of him.

  “Any time.”

  She headed back to the counter and Lucas watched her, wondering who she had almost lost to suicide. Whomever it was, that person was obviously important to her. He wondered if it was a family member. A friend.

  A voice interrupted his thoughts. “Who are you?”

  He glanced up. The girl who had picked up the papers he’d dropped was standing in front of him, her expression hard.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “And why are you asking questions about Noah?”

  Lucas gave her a good once-over. She was young, a high schooler, with shoulder-length brown hair that was so straight, it looked like she’d taken an iron to it. She was dressed in black jeans and a black jacket. A black beanie hid the top of her head. Black snow boots covered her feet. She looked like a winter ninja.

  “Name’s Lucas,” he said casually. “Who are you?”

  She ignored his question. “How do you know Noah?”

  “I don’t.”

  Her lips flattened. “Then why were you talking about him with that woman?” Her gaze drifted to the table. “And why do you have that article about him?”

  Lucas picked up his coffee. It was clear she’d been eavesdropping on his conversation with Rosie.

  “I’m friends with Alaina. His sister.”

  “So?” She was combative. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  She was a spitfire; he’d give her that.

  “Who are you?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he said, “I told you my name…”

  She chewed her lip. “Lindsay.”

  He tried to keep his expression neutral, but inside, his mind was racing. Lindsay. This was Lindsay Hopkins. Noah’s English partner.

  “And what are you doing here?” he asked casually. “It’s Friday. Midmorning. Isn’t school in session?”

  Her smile was thin. “Yes.”

  “Decided not to go?”

  She nodded.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be there,” she said simply.

  Her answers were brief, but at least she was giving him some. He wanted to keep her talking, to ask her questions, but he knew he was going to need to give her a little something to prompt her to stay.

  “His sister asked me to look into what happened to him.”

  Lindsay’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  He watched her carefully. “She has some questions about what happened.”

  “He killed himself.” Her voice was flat. Hollow.

  Lucas nodded in acknowledgment.

  “So what is there to look into?” she asked.

  “I think she just wants answers,” Lucas said. “They weren’t terribly close over the last few years. She’s significantly older. She wants to learn what she can about what he might’ve been going through, the circumstances that might’ve led to him making this…this choice.”

  Lindsay glanced down, toeing the floor with her boot. “He was going through a rough time.”

  Lucas nodded, steadying his reaction. “How so?”

  “Just normal high school shit,” she said.

  He waited for her to elaborate, but she just blew at a strand of wayward hair.

  “You were friends, right?” Lucas asked.

  She hesitated before nodding.

  “Was he depressed?”

  “Every high school kid is depressed.”

  “Fair enough,” Lucas said. “Did you think he was depressed enough to be suicidal? Did he ever say anything to you that made you worry he might do something drastic?”

  Lindsay wouldn’t look at him. She g
azed around the coffee shop.

  “No,” she finally said.

  Lucas didn’t believe her. “You sure?”

  She finally turned his way. The hardened expression was gone, and for a split second she looked worried. Scared.

  “I just… I can’t believe he did it.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t understand.”

  “Why do you think he did it?” Lucas asked.

  She bit her lip and looked to the ceiling, blinking hard to keep the tears from falling. “I don’t know,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “I don’t know. But I wish he hadn’t.” Her breath was ragged, her expression as raw and as honest as her words. “I…I miss him.”

  Lucas felt a pang of sympathy. “I’m sure you do.”

  He thought about the things he knew for certain when it came to Noah Dans, and the things that were just speculation. The girl standing in front of him wasn’t telling him much with her words, but it was impossible not to hear what she was saying.

  She was telling him that Noah Dans had killed himself.

  He had committed suicide.

  This girl had known Noah, perhaps better than anyone. She might not want to be forthcoming with details, but she was essentially telling Lucas everything he needed to know.

  “I’m sorry he’s gone,” Lucas said quietly.

  Lindsay wiped at her eyes, even though no tears had fallen. “I am, too.” She looked right at Lucas. “Because life is hell without him.”

  20

  Friday, March 23rd

  11:45am

  Alaina stood in the middle of the office, a satisfied smile on her face.

  She’d spent the last couple of hours in Lucas’s office, continuing to try to put it in some semblance of order. She’d worked like a demon that morning, preferring to focus on the tidal wave of papers so her thoughts wouldn’t drift to what had happened the night before.

  Who was she kidding?

  She sighed. She could file and organize paperwork with her eyes closed. Nothing was going to keep her from going back to the kiss she’d shared with Lucas.

  She’d had too much to drink. She’d be the first to admit it. Not fall-down drunk, but definitely beyond tipsy. And she readily admitted to herself that she had made the first move.

  But he’d responded. Hell yes, had he responded. Butterflies exploded in her stomach as she relived their kiss. The feel of his mouth on hers, his hands sliding down her back, across her stomach…

  It had been so long since she’d been touched. Since she’d felt wanted.

  That was her fault. She knew this. She’d been so busy with working and trying to prove herself, not just to her father but to an industry dominated by men, that she’d put her personal life on the back burner for years.

  She didn’t know why she’d finally broken last night. Sure, they’d shared some intimate details of their lives, and yes, the alcohol definitely had something to do with her lack of inhibition.

  But there was something else.

  She trusted Lucas. And she was attracted to him. Ridiculously so. The looks he gave her, the words he spoke, the charged atmosphere every time she was near him—all of it created a heady combination of want and desire and outright need.

  It was as simple as that.

  The door creaked and she whirled around.

  Lucas was standing there, his bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was slightly tousled, his cowlick standing almost straight up. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and she wondered what it would feel like to have his cheeks and chin graze her skin.

  He smiled. “Hey there.”

  She managed what she hoped was a neutral smile, but inside, the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering like mad.

  She forced herself to take a deep breath, to get her feelings under control. The last thing she needed was for it to be weird, the whole day-after thing. They hadn’t slept together—she’d lamented that after he left, then was grateful they hadn’t, and had just now wished for it again—but the situation still had the potential to be awkward.

  Their relationship was supposed to be professional. She’d hired him to perform a service. Kissing her hadn’t been in the contract. And she certainly shouldn’t be wondering what his stubble would feel like against her naked skin.

  She was good at compartmentalizing. Focusing on the individual pieces of her life. She needed to do that now.

  Like, immediately.

  “It looks really good in here,” he said as he stepped inside. He made his way across the room and dropped his bag on his now-clean desktop. “I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made.”

  She accepted the compliment with a nod.

  He sat down at his desk. Alaina watched him. He looked…unsettled, and her heart started jackhammering again. A flurry of thoughts flooded her, all of them deeply uncomfortable, and all of them shattering her attempt to keep her focus on their professional relationship.

  Was he going to bring up last night? Had she misread him? Was he going to tell her that they needed to keep things professional?

  Embarrassment flooded her.

  “I met Lindsay.”

  Her eyes widened. That was not what she’d been expecting. “What? How?”

  “I was at Lulu’s,” Lucas said. “I dropped some papers and she picked them up while she was walking by. And then Rosie stopped by my table and we chatted for a bit. Noah came up in conversation. As soon as Rosie went back to the front counter, the girl came back and demanded to know why I was talking about Noah.”

  Alaina’s heart was still galloping, but for a different reason this time.

  “Did she say anything?” she asked eagerly.

  Lucas hesitated, and Alaina marched across the tiny office until she was directly in front of him, with only the desk between them. She wasn’t thinking about kissing him or touching him. She was back to the real reason she’d contacted him in the first place.

  “What did she say?” she demanded.

  His expression clouded. “Noah killed himself, Alaina.” His voice was soft but adamant.

  His words were like a slap to her face. She shook her head, almost as if she were trying to clear her ears. “Excuse me?”

  “It was a suicide.”

  The words reverberated through her. She folded her arms across her chest, her fingernails snagging on the nubby fabric of her sweater. “How do you know? What did she say?”

  He sighed. “It was everything she didn’t say.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Lucas was quiet. He picked up a pencil and began to tap it against the desk, and Alaina had to force herself not to lean over and snatch it out of his hands.

  “What about the broken lock?” she said. “The dirt on the window ledge? The boot prints by his window?”

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” he said quietly.

  “It proves someone was there!” Her voice sounded unnaturally high, even to her own ears.

  “Yes, it does,” Lucas admitted, and Alaina looked at him triumphantly. Her face fell when he added, “But it could’ve been Noah. He might’ve gotten locked out of the house. He might’ve walked over to his window. Busted the lock. Crawled through and left the dirt on the ledge.” His eyes were locked on hers. “It could’ve happened three weeks ago or three months ago.”

  “Not the boot prints,” she pointed out desperately.

  He shook his head. “No, not the boot prints. Those were probably within the last few weeks. But it’s not enough to go on.”

  “So find more!”

  He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know that there is much more.”

  Her jaw dropped. She stared at him in disbelief. “So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “I’m not giving up—”

  “Yes you are.” Her eyes filled with tears and she furiously wiped them away.

  “I’m not giving up.” There was an edge to his voice. “I’m just saying—”


  “Don’t parse words with me,” she snapped. “Is this investigation over or not?”

  He sighed. “I don’t think there’s anywhere else for it to go.”

  She shook her head in disgust. She couldn’t believe what he was telling her. She didn’t want to believe it. But there was no other way to interpret his words.

  “Fine,” she clipped.

  She looked around the room, finally locating her purse and coat. She stalked toward them, grabbing them both. She didn’t bother putting her coat on. Her emotions were out of control. She had to get out of there.

  “Alaina—”

  “Don’t!” She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to listen to anything he had to say. “You know, for someone who wants to prove himself, who doesn’t want to be a failure, you’ve done a pretty shitty job.”

  Alaina didn’t wait to see any emotion register on his face. She stormed out of the office, making sure she slammed the door hard behind her.

  Lucas was giving up.

  She swallowed, fighting the lump in her throat and the tears building in her eyes once again. She hurried out to her car, ignoring the man who said hello as she jostled her way past him. He was a guy who’d done work on her last house, a guy relatively new in town, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, to exchange pleasantries.

  Her brother was dead. DEAD. And Lucas was giving up on the investigation.

  It felt like he was giving up on her, too.

  She clicked the key fob on her key ring and yanked her car door open. She hurled herself inside, not even wincing when her elbow smashed into the steering wheel. She deserved it, all the pain.

  Tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and she let them. Even though they left frigid trails on her skin, she didn’t wipe them away. She sat in the cold car, refusing to turn the ignition, and the heater, on.

  She deserved it.

  She deserved to suffer.

  Because she knew the truth.

  She might’ve directed her anger at Lucas, but she knew who she was really mad at.

  Herself.

  Because she was the one who had given up on Noah all those years ago.