Blood and Sympathy

by Lori L. Clark

  A knock on the door brought things to a temporary ceasefire. He narrowed his eyes at me and pointed. "This is not over," he muttered just loud enough for me to hear as he brushed past to see who had stopped by.

  Tears pooled on my lower lashes and I blinked hard, trying to keep them from spilling down my face.

  "Claire?" Braden's silky voice was practically a whisper.

  I turned to face him. "Hi." I tried to smile, but a traitorous tear slipped out.

  Braden reached toward me and hesitated, sticking his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet instead. "Uncle Jeb wanted to stop and see if Olivia was home yet."

  "No." My eyes darted to my dad who was busy talking to Jeb. "I'm getting worried. This is not something Olivia would do."

  "What's your dad think we should do?"

  I frowned and hobbled over to sit down. "I don't know. We hadn't gotten past him telling me how this is all my fault for long enough to figure out what we ought to be doing."

  "That doesn't seem fair." Braden's forehead crinkled. "How could it be your fault?"

  I rolled my eyes and blew out a deep breath. "As far as my dad's concerned, Olivia is the model daughter. She would never do anything wrong or get involved in anything the least bit questionable. That's my job."

  "Braden, we best be getting back to the marina, son," Jeb said. Braden smiled apologetically at me and squeezed my hand. "I'm sure she's okay. Try to think positive, alright?"

  I bit my lower lip and nodded. "Okay." As much as I wanted to believe that she would stroll in any minute with some perfectly good explanation, my chest felt heavy and I had a bad taste in my mouth.

  As soon as Jeb and Braden left, Dad called the sheriff. I made my getaway up to my room before he got off the phone. I wasn't ready for round two of insult flinging, and felt more at ease anywhere that he wasn't peering at me with total disdain in his eyes.

  If my mobility hadn't been limited by crutches, I would have been out looking for Olivia myself.

  I changed into something more comfortable and tried to concentrate on a book I'd been reading. It wasn't working. About an hour after we got home, I heard voices downstairs and peeked out the window and saw the sheriff had arrived.

  "Claire?" Dad tapped on my bedroom door.

  "Yeah?" I closed my eyes, afraid of what he was going to say to me.

  He stuck his head inside the room and said, "They're forming a search party. We're going out to look for Olivia."

  "What can I do to help?" I asked.

  He shook his head and dropped his eyes to my bad ankle. "Unfortunately, nothing. Wait downstairs by the phone in case someone calls."

  "Yes, sir." I tucked the crutches under my arms and made my way down to the kitchen to sit. I felt so frickin' helpless. There wasn't a damn thing I could do, and it was going to drive me insane having to sit and wait.

  Hours passed. In fact, the sun had set and started to come up again by the time Dad returned. The deep worry lines in his face told me that whatever his news was, it wasn't good. "You didn't find her?"

  "No, nothing." He didn't volunteer any information and refused to meet my eyes. He passed through the kitchen, barely pausing. "I'm going to take a shower before I take you to work."

  My jaw dropped. I snorted softly to myself. I couldn't believe he was making me go to work. I'd be lucky if I made it two hours before nodding off at the cash register.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Braden Sayer

  I'd gone with my uncle and the rest of the search parties to scour the area for any sign of Olivia Copeland. It was as though she had just vanished. When my alarm went off, it felt like I'd only just closed my eyes.

  I crawled from bed and took a shower before heading over to Uncle Jeb's. He told me we'd pick up some groceries later in the week, but until then I could stop by and eat breakfast with him. I knocked on the door and heard him holler, "It's open."

  My stomach growled when I stepped inside, and the aroma of bacon made my mouth water. I gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm hungry enough to eat a bear."

  "Grab yourself a plate and dig in."

  I loaded my dish with a little bit of everything and sat down at the table. He smirked at me over his coffee cup.

  "Did you hear anything about Olivia Copeland?" I asked, tearing off a corner of my toast to sop up the egg yolk.

  He let out a deep sigh and shook his head. "I haven't heard any news. They're going to get back out there after the fog burns off this morning. Supposed to bring out a bloodhound trained in this sort of thing."

  I nodded. "I guess Claire will be taking the day off today?"

  "No. Her daddy said she'd be here for work. Said she needed to keep busy, it would keep her from worrying about her sister."

  Something about his words felt off to me. "You think maybe the break-in at the marina and Olivia's disappearance are connected somehow?"

  Uncle Jeb pushed back from the table. "I reckon they could be, but I doubt it."

  It was too big of a coincidence if you asked me, but maybe that was just my suspicious nature rearing its ugly head. I shoved the last of the bacon in my mouth and wiped my hands on a napkin. "You ready?"

  He checked his watch and said, "Yep, getting to be about that time."

  I kept busy all morning tinkering with an old lawn mower that should have gone to the dump three seasons ago. I had it running like new by the time we broke for lunch. One thing for sure, I wouldn't have to worry about keeping busy.

  Uncle Jeb patted me on the back and handed me a brown paper bag. "Here, why don't you take this over to Claire? Something tells me she didn't have time to pack her own lunch this morning." His eyes twinkled, full of good-natured matchmaking. I didn't mind. I needed all the help I could get in that department. He winked and added, "It's okay if you don't make it back in an hour. I 'spect we'll get by."

  Blood rushed up from beneath the collar of my shirt, coloring my cheeks. "I'll be back."

  The front door of the bait shop was propped open with a broken cement block. It had to have been over a hundred degrees inside. The ceiling fans did a great job of moving the stink-bait odor from one side of the cramped room to the other, but did nothing to cool it off.

  Claire sat on a stool behind the counter fanning herself with a magazine. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but a few strands were plastered to the side of her face with sweat. My eyes lowered to the front of her tank top which didn't leave much to the imagination.

  I swallowed and grew the balls to approach. "Hey, Claire."

  Her head snapped in my direction. "Hi Braden."

  Traces of blue colored the skin beneath her eyes. She was beautiful, even when she was exhausted and sweaty. "Uncle Jeb wanted me to bring you something to eat," I said, and offered her the sack.

  She smiled, but it was a false cheerfulness that didn't reach her eyes. She blinked a few times. "Oh wow, that was awful nice of him." She peered inside the paper bag and took out a sandwich. "What are you going to eat?"

  I shrugged. Cherry pie. "I had a big breakfast, I'm not that hungry."

  She rolled her eyes and tore the sandwich in half. "Here, I'll share." I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

  Dirty thoughts slipped through my brain and I felt my cheeks fill with fire. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "You do that."

  We talked about unimportant crap like the weather, how the lack of rain was making the lake's water level drop several inches each day. She was chatty for a little while but soon stopped talking and sort of zoned out.

  "You okay? You want to talk about it?" I asked. Avoiding the subject of her missing sister wouldn't make it any less real, and I thought if I opened the door, she might walk through and confide in me. Keeping things bottled up never helped.

  She sighed and nodded. "I feel like part of my soul is missing right now, Braden."

  Her brown eyes held so much pain, and I wanted to wrap her in my arms and reassure
her it was going to be okay. "What do you mean?"

  "We might not have gotten along all the time, but Olivia and I were close. We'd always joked that if one of us got pregnant, we'd both get weird cravings. I could read her mind like the back of my hand. I just felt her, even if she wasn't in the same room. I don't know. I can't really explain it." She searched my face for some sign that I understood the point she was trying to make.

  "No, I get what you're saying. I've read about stuff like that. They've done studies on it. It's called a psychic bond. Like how mothers can sense their kids are in trouble, or hurt, or something, no matter how far away they are."

  Claire's face crumpled and she bit her bottom lip. "Well that's just it, Braden. I can't feel Olivia. I can't. Fucking. Feel. Anything!"

  What the hell could I say to that? It felt like someone stuck a knife in my heart and twisted. She was a beautiful mess. I went behind the counter and gathered her in my arms. I held her while she sobbed. She made my whole body flush, heat that had nothing to do with the temperature inside the building. In the worst way, I wanted to tell her it was going to be okay, and that everything would be all right. Except my own gut feeling told me I'd be lying if I did.

  She clung to me, and I let her cry until she stopped trembling. She sniffed and pulled back to look into my eyes. "I'm sorry, I snotted all over your work shirt."

  I started laughing. She looked so sincere, but her choice of words struck me as funny. "Yeah, I guess I'll forgive you."

  "I hope so."

  "Can I ask you something?" She nodded and I reluctantly unwound my arms from around her. "Why are you working today? You should be home in case there's any news about Olivia."

  Her jaw muscles clenched. "My dad made me come in. He told me there was no reason to stay home."

  Her dad had some seriously screwed up ideas, but it wasn't my business to agree or disagree with his decisions, so I kept my mouth shut. "I'd best be getting back to work or Uncle Jeb will replace me on my first day."

  "Thanks, Braden. And thank your uncle for me. For the food."

  "Will do."

  I was almost to the door when she added, "We still need to get those tattoos, you know."

  I chuckled. "That's right. Soon as I can talk Uncle Jeb into teaching me how to drive, we'll do that."

  Her eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth. "Oh shit. I forgot. You don't have your driver's license yet. I can show you how to ... well, I guess I could if I had a car."

  "We'll figure something out."

  Claire filled me with so much light; her name fit her like a glove. I ran all the way back to the marina. Uncle Jeb glanced up as I slipped in. He grinned and shook his head but kept any snide comments to himself.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Brogan Sayer

  Even as fuckin' claustrophobic as it was, I didn't leave the house for a few days after murdering my brother's girlfriend. Every time I remembered the look of terror in her eyes, my dick got hard as steel. I knew Aja had started to wonder if I was some sort of sex maniac. Good thing she was a borderline nympho, otherwise I'd have resorted to jacking off--and I was sick and tired of that shit.

  After the third day of being cooped up in her cramped dump of a house, Aja ran her fingernail up my inner thigh. She was dangerously close to the family jewels. She grinned at me and said, "Get dressed. We're getting out of here before I go stir crazy."

  I clasped my fingers around her hand to keep her from piercing my balls. "What? Tired of me already?"

  She jerked free of my hold and gave me a hard shove. I tumbled to the floor beside the bed and she laughed hysterically. "No way, babe." She nudged me with her big toe. "You can shower first."

  Afterwards, I put on some bright, baggy shorts and a muscle shirt. The shit she'd bought me to wear wasn't what I would have picked out for myself, but until I could afford my own stuff, it would have to do. She sat on the arm of the couch swinging her long, tanned legs. The sexy smirk she gave me made me want to pick her up and turn her over my knee. "Don't look at me that way, woman, or we'll never make it out of here."

  She threw back her head and laughed. "I'll be right back. Don't go nowhere." I swear to all that's holy, the way she swung those hips of hers was some form of hypnotism.

  Before we left, she stood appraising me with her arms folded in front of her. She disappeared down the hall, returning a few minutes later with a hat and sunglasses. She shoved them under my nose and ordered me to put them on. I quirked an eyebrow at her and said, "Where's the fake beard and mustache? This is supposed to be a disguise, right?"

  I shut my mouth when she narrowed her eyes in warning. "Don't be such a pain in my ass, Brogan. Put 'em on and let's get out of here."

  Yep, definitely. As soon as we got home, she was getting spanked. I chuckled to myself, thankful for the loose, non-restricting shorts that covered my boner.

  We headed away from Devil's Fork Lake, and she merged onto the highway.

  "Where we going?" I asked.

  "It's a surprise."

  Forty-five minutes later, she parked in front of a strip mall. I looked up and down the street, taking in all the different shops. It was the middle of the week so there weren't many people milling around. She squeezed my thigh and said, "You already look nervous, and you haven't even heard where I'm taking you."

  I frowned at her, unsure whether I liked surprises. We climbed from the car and she walked around to feed some change into a parking meter before linking her arm through mine. A few doors down, she stopped walking.

  "Sun and Moon Tattoo? You've got to be fucking shitting me. Seriously? Kick ass." I'd been wanting to get a tattoo forever. I felt like a fat man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I brushed past her to go inside.

  The dark haired woman sitting behind the counter with a sketchpad glanced up as we walked in. "How can I help you kids?"

  "He wants his first tattoo," Aja replied, nudging me forward.

  Aja filled out the paperwork, completely lying about my age, lack of driver's license and ID. Aja gave the woman her information, and lucky for me, it was a slow day at Sun and Moon Tattoo. That and the cold hard cash Aja waved beneath Rita's nose overrode any reservations she might have had about breaking the law. For the next few hours, we became Bobby and Rio instead of Brogan and Aja.

  "Bobby, you know what you want?" Rita asked as she led me over to a small room filled with colorful artwork and smelled of antiseptic and ink.

  "I want the saying 'Sympathy for the devil' right here," I said, pointing to the inside of my right arm.

  "How big?"

  "From elbow to wrist."

  She nodded and had me pick out a font for the lettering before cleaning my arm with some brown disinfectant stuff. She centered the stencil on the soft inner flesh, and when she peeled it off, it left behind a purple carbon copy of my soon-to-be first tattoo.

  I'd heard that they hurt. I can't say I especially enjoyed the process, but it wasn't too terrible.

  Rita smeared some goopy shit on the finished work and covered it with a large bandage. "You can take this off later," she said, handing me a list of aftercare instructions.

  Aja sat in the waiting room with her feet propped up on the coffee table, flipping through the channels. She was engrossed with something on the TV, and when I glanced up to see what it was, I swear to God my balls crawled up inside my asshole to hide. She clicked up the volume and leaned forward. "Hey, Bro... Bobby, check it out. Ain't that Devil's Fork Lake?"

  A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. "It could be, I guess. Come on, let's go."

  She held up her hand. "Shut up. I want to hear this."

  I bit the side of my mouth and resisted the urge to jerk the remote away from her and turn the fucking thing off--or throw something heavy through the screen. I lifted the baseball cap from my head and ran my hands over the short hair, scratching lightly. My eyes focused again on the TV. Two dogs with long, floppy ears and droopy bloodshot eyes were raising all kinds of r
uckus around an old flat-bottomed boat. The boat.

  The camera panned to a grizzled looking bum being led away in handcuffs. The fuck? "What's going on?"

  She pointed the remote at the TV and turned it off. "Some woman went missing near Devil's Fork Lake, and that man's a person of interest. Seems those bloodhounds led the police straight to the boat, and it belonged to that homeless dude."

  "They find her? The woman, I mean?"

  Aja shrugged. "That old fuck probably cut her up into tiny little pieces to use as catfish bait."

  "They say who it was?"

  "The bum?"

  "No, the missing woman."

  Aja shook her head and handed me her can of Mountain Dew. Rita peered over the top of her reading glasses at us while she worked on her drawing. "I heard she was some preacher's daughter. From over in Hensteeth. I think the name was Copeland, Olivia Copeland."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Claire Copeland

  It was the third of July I couldn't imagine an Independence Day celebration without Olivia. She had been gone--dead--for a month. Every day after work on my way to the marina, I passed by the spot where the bloodhounds had found her scent inside that hobo's boat. It sent shivers up my spine. They never dragged the lake for her body after the homeless man admitted to killing her and disposing it somewhere else.

  So, even without a body, there was a funeral, and everyone came. Braden was my rock during those days. Families were supposed to stick together, but the only family I had left was my dad. The man who believed the sun rose and set on his beloved daughter Olivia. He couldn't bring himself to look at me, and the disappointment in his eyes was evident. Obviously, he wished I had been the daughter they'd mourned that day.

  Braden and I took the afternoon off, and I waited for him at the end of the dock, my bare feet dangling in the water. We hadn't had any measurable rain in weeks, and the lake was at its lowest level in twenty years.