“Lemon”—Everett leans in—“I believe you’re seeking the wrong target.”
I huff a quick breath because I have a feeling he’s right, but I’ve already arrived at said target, and I’d hate to miss out on all the fun of watching her implode.
“Good evening, Detective Fairbanks.” I force a smile to come and go.
Ivy must sense my sarcastic delight because she’s stopped bumping up against Noah, and that sour puss of hers makes a reprisal.
“What is it, Carlotta?” She folds her arms across her chest, forcing her bosom to press desperately out of her gown as if the girls were looking to make an escape.
I step in close and give a quick look around in the event I’m being watched. “Did you by chance mention something to Clayton and Ryan regarding the fact the department was no longer looking for a killer?” Everett expertly distracts Cormack while I quickly relay to both Noah and Ivy the details Landon shared.
Ivy laughs it off. “They asked where I went to college, and I was telling them that I went to Aimsley myself.”
That in and of itself explains a lot.
Noah straightens, chest out, his eyes scanning the room like a top-of-the-line security system that just kicked in with the whiff of a threat.
“So they lied to her.” My adrenaline kicks in at top speed, and it feels as if I can fly through the roof. “One of them must have killed Nessa. Think about it. Nessa documented herself having an intimate relationship with the same man for what stemmed back years right up until her death. We already know she slept with both Clayton and Ryan. And the receipts! They were trying to hide the receipts from their trysts at the nest while stiffing their law firm with the bill.”
“Or us.” Ivy glances up at Noah. She tips her head to the side. “In addition to keeping their own credit cards clean in the event their girlfriends stumbled upon them. It’s a tale as old as time.” She takes a satisfied breath as if this pleased her on some twisted level.
I spot Clayton and Ryan by the bar, and a thought comes to me. “I have an idea. Don’t follow me.” I snatch a flute of champagne off the tray of a traveling waiter and dump it over Clayton’s left sleeve while pretending to stumble.
“I’m so sorry!” I say as he glances down nonchalantly, hardly slowing his conversation with Ryan.
“Not a problem.” He offers an affable smile my way before dusting the liquid off as if it were nothing.
They’re still going at it, heavily discussing puts and losses, both terms I’ve heard Hook Redwood, our resident Wall Street castoff, tossing out before.
Another idea comes to mind. “I just found out my sister is about to have a baby!” I shout above the noise to the two of them, and a dark-haired version of my bestie pops up out of nowhere.
“Really?” Naomi, Keelie’s demonic twin, twists with glee at this seemingly juicy tidbit of gossip. “Which one?”
Crap. “Um, Lainey?”
“Knew it!” She slaps her hands together as if this solidified something. “I just knew they were getting married so quickly because they had to. Nobody needs to rush a wedding like that.” She takes off in her jet-black gown like a gossip on a mission. I’ll have to remember to do something really nice for Lainey and Forest now that I’ve all but ruined their reputations.
But Clayton and Ryan are right back to chatting happily away about stocks and bonds.
“Excuse me,” I say as I tug on Clayton’s sleeve, trying my best to pull it back, but it won’t budge. “From a man’s perspective, what do you think my future brother-in-law would like as a gift for the new baby?” This is not going well. I was supposed to jar them with the thought of a baby—and one of them was supposed to look suspiciously guilty for killing the mother of his child.
Ryan shrugs. “I hear baby monitors are a good thing. We installed the top-of-the-line devices in our office while we had a brief security breech.” His eyes narrow in on mine, and suddenly I want to be anywhere but here.
Gah! They know! Either that or those baby monitors they invested in weren’t so top-of-the-line.
Clayton shakes his head. “Trust me, the dude doesn’t want anything—not even the baby.” He slaps Ryan on the arm, and they burst out laughing like the overgrown frat boys they are.
I turn to leave just as Clayton leans in to Ryan.
“And that’s exactly why I got fixed.”
Everything in me freezes. Oh my God. Clayton McDaniel is impotent, or at least that’s what I’ve just been led to believe. So that leaves… I turn around in time to see Ryan laughing along and rolling up his sleeves, only to reveal the tattoo of flames on his left forearm, exactly as Nessa depicted it, and I gasp.
It turns out, whoever did Ryan’s tattoo was just as bad an artist as Nessa. And in a way, they’ve both implicated him.
I glance up at him, and our eyes lock. My eyes widen as his narrow in on me with what looks to be venom buried in each one.
I make a break for it and lose myself in the crowd, doing my best to scan the room for Noah, Everett, or even Ivy of all people. She is packing, after all.
A tangle of bodies moves me along like the high society tide until I’m deposited in front of Jenson and Lindie.
“Lottie.” Lindie bows slightly in her bright blue and orange gown—a bold color choice only a true artist might make. Her dark hair is fanned out, thick and curly, and chocolate brown lipstick offsets her pale face. “We were just celebrating the fact we no longer have to look at our friends as if they were about to slaughter us in our sleep.”
“Right. Because of the gardener. I heard.” I keep my head on a swivel in the event that wink-wink litigating gardener is lurking behind the human hedges.
Vivian comes up, looking ravishing in a pale lavender gown that makes her eyes glow the same color. “I heard the news.” She high-fives her friends. “Can you believe Clayton and Ryan were convinced the sheriff was closing in on them?”
The three of them share a wild cackle because sadly they believe Clayton and Ryan’s lies.
I spot Landon and Cormack by the main refreshment table, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think they were squabbling.
“Excuse me,” I say as I thread my way through the crowd until I come upon the Featherby sisters.
Cormack shakes Landon by the shoulders. “You are going to cost me everything!”
I can’t help but scoff. I bet poor Landon was about to turn in Cormack for filing a false report. And good on her. It’s about time everyone’s sins become exposed. And how ironic that the truth comes out on a night where we glorify hiding behind a plastic mask.
Landon pushes her away. “I’m not doing this with you right now. This is my night.” She sails into the crowd, and I pull Cormack back by the elbow before she can make a break for it.
“She caught you, didn’t she?” I can’t hide my glee.
“What are you talking about?” She yanks her elbow free. “She was about to purchase a painting that would look amazing above my bed at that trite B&B your mother is running into the ground. It’s intoxicating to look at, and Noah would find me irresistible lying on the bed in front of it. That is, if the killer doesn’t get to me first!”
“Listen, Cormack. I have a real threat looming. Where is Noah, anyway?”
“He stepped outside.” She rubs her elbow as if I might have bruised her. “Probably looking for you,” she hisses as she dives into the thicket of bodies herself.
Outside.
I scan the room to get my bearings before following the exit signs until I’m dumped into the icy Honey Hollow air. The lake glistens to my left, and in front of it sits the overflow from the parking lot.
I spot a familiar face jumping back from an opened trunk and speed on over.
“Hey! Have you seen No—” Before I can finish, I spot a shoe in the trunk, then follow it up to a dark suit, all the way to that handsome face I first fell in love with.
And then it all comes together like a puzzle with every piece falling perfectly int
o place as my phone is plucked from my hand.
“Oh my God, it was you.” The world falls to darkness, and the next thing I know I land right next to Noah.
The trunk shuts tight.
We’re trapped.
The good news is, I’m pretty certain I know who the killer is.
The bad news is, I have a feeling Noah and I are next on their kill list.
Chapter 21
I pluck the thick sack off my head, only to find that it’s dark, smells like expensive luggage, and I’m pretty sure my lips are now pressed against Noah’s. The car starts to move backward then forward with a marked thrust as we begin to build some serious momentum.
“Noah.” I pull back and rattle him by his lapels. “Please wake up. You can’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. I forbid you to cross over to the other side!”
A hard moan evicts from him.
“That’s better,” I pant as my lips bump over his.
Noah reaches up and holds me there by the back of the neck as a dull moan rattles in his chest.
“Noah Fox.” I laugh incredulously as I try my best to inch back in the small space we’re presently confined in. “How dare you take a moment to steal first base.”
“Don’t be too hard on me. I just had a mallet thrust to the back of my head.” He groans as he tries to shift his body.
The car takes a hard left, and the centripetal force lands me over Noah once again.
His chest rumbles once again. “You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”
“Don’t let your ego inflate, Fox. There’s not that much room in here.”
He huffs a hard breath over my cheek. “So Blythe.”
“Yes, Blythe! Can you believe it?” The car wobbles erratically, and Noah wraps his arms around my waist to keep me from tumbling off him. “I bet she found out that Nessa was having Ryan’s baby.”
“We don’t know that. She could have just been tired of the affair.”
“But why kill her? Why not kick Ryan to the curb and move on? How did she get you to the car, anyway?”
“She said she had a package she needed a pair of strong arms for.”
“I knew that ego of yours was nothing but trouble.”
“How did you get to the car?” His hands warm my back, and it’s not until then do I realize I was shivering.
“I came out here looking for you.”
Noah shifts as his hands run the length of my hair. “You were looking for me?”
“Yes. I just discovered that Ryan was the man in the sketches. I saw his fiery tattoo. It’s a bad one, by the way. It’s no wonder he’s not quick to show it off.”
“Did she hurt you?”
“No. She threw a thick velvet bag over my body. Before I could process what was happening, I was next to you and we were flying.”
A dull glow infiltrates the darkness, and I gasp.
“Light!” I sing. “Where’s it coming from? Did the car stop?”
Noah turns his head from side to side. “What light?”
“This light,” I say, looking to the rear of the trunk. “It’s getting brighter.” A familiar form begins to take shape, and I gasp again. “And it has a face! Max! I’m so happy to see you, I can just kiss you!” I lean over and offer up a ghostly smooch, and shockingly he feels oh so real. “You need to help us. You need to get us out of here.”
Max’s eyes widen, brightening the vicinity all the more as he ticks his head to Noah.
“Lottie?” Noah’s body stiffens for a moment. “What’s happening? Are you having a hallucination?”
The car speeds up and jolts right then left.
“No, I’m not hallucinating! Here, give me your hand.” I reach down and thread our fingers together. “Say something, Max. Prove to Noah you’re real.”
Max tips his head my way, his brow arching as if to ask if I were certain.
“AARGH! This is no time to be stubborn. We’re being kidnapped, in the event you haven’t noticed.”
Noah shifts, struggling to see in the direction I’m shouting in. “Lottie, who’s Max?
“Max Finmore. He died years ago in a manure accident. It turns out, Nessa St. James rigged the hitch to his dump truck and caused it to malfunction. She’s a murderer, Noah—a killer herself long before she was ever killed.”
“Lottie?” There’s a thread of panic in Noah’s tone. “Are you saying you think you see the dead?”
“I don’t think I see the dead. I do see the dead.” I reach over and twist Max’s shirt into my fist and marvel at how very real it all feels. “Say something, or I’ll make sure you’re trapped on Earth forever, haunting some hovel in the middle of Siberia!”
A hard bump hits us from the side, and both Noah and I groan as if we took the impact.
Noah leans up as much as he can. “Either someone is trying to slow her down or she just hit something.”
“Let’s hope she didn’t hit some poor jogger on the side of the road. Now speak up, Max. You have five seconds to say hello to Noah or you’ll join the ranks of the esteemed popsicle poltergeists of the great frozen North!”
“Fine,” he grunts, and Noah holds his breath as his sanity is tested.
“Lottie? Do you have the ability to throw your voice and sound decidedly like a man?”
“No.” We hit a hard bump, and Noah and I hit the top of the trunk before I fall hard over him once again. “I have special abilities.”
“So you are a witch.”
“No, I’m not a witch. I’m a good Christian girl.” I smack him on the cheek. “I’m something called transmundane, further classified as supersensual. I don’t know why I have this strange ability, but I can see the dead. Mostly pets that have crossed over into the great beyond that are a sure sign of terrible things to come for their previous owner. It used to be simple things that might cause injury, but as of late it almost always means death.”
“What?” Noah edges away as if he were trying to escape my psychotic clutches. “Wait. Is that your big secret? The fact you’re…supermundane?”
“Supersensual,” I correct, and my insides ache that it took me this long to reveal it to him. “Yes, Noah. That’s the big secret I’ve been guarding from you. Only Everett knows, and before him, it was just Nell. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you.” I pull back so I can see that horrified expression on his face just the way I envisioned it would be—sure enough, it’s there. “And now you want nothing more to do with me. I’m sure you’ll have me committed, too.”
His eyes close a moment, and his dimples press in. “Never. If Everett can make peace with this—if he can wrap his head around it, then I can do the same. I just need a minute. Is he here? This Max person?”
“Yes! And I recently discovered that if I touch someone, they can hear them, too. Max, you need to help us. You have to get into the front of the car and take over the wheel. She’s driving erratically, and if that’s any indication—Blythe doesn’t care if she kills us all in the process.”
“Will do.” He offers a mournful look Noah’s way. “And heck, Detective Fox. I have to tell you, I get how hard it is to want someone so deeply and watch them love someone else. It’s tough. And I want you to know that you’re not alone. Sometimes the best of us go through the deep end of the pits.”
A choking sound emits from me. “Thank you for making me feel like a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Lot.” Noah wraps his arm tighter around my waist. “And, Max”—he looks around at the nebulous space above his head—“thank you for that. It means a lot to me. Word of advice, try not to crash into a tree.”
No sooner does Noah get the words out than the car takes a hard hit against the bumper and spins wildly out of control like a teacup at the happiest place on Earth.
“Hang on, Lot!” Noah shouts as he rolls me to the side. “As soon as we stop moving, I’m popping the trunk.” He pulls out his gun, and I bury my face in his chest as the car careens to my right, gliding as if it were
on ice, then SLAM!
The car comes to an abrupt stop, and the trunk bounces open before Noah has a chance to shoot it out.
“Are you okay?” he shouts over me as he scrambles to get up.
“I’m fine.” I think.
“Stay here. I’ve got this, Lot.” Noah bounds out of the car, and Max floats right after him.
“The heck I’m staying in this steel coffin,” I say as I gather up the ridiculously heavy dress I’ve stuffed myself into and roll right out of the trunk and into a bed of pine needles.
“She’s running!” Noah shouts as I get my bearings to the surroundings. A thicket of evergreens stands strong and proud as the moon illuminates Honey Lake in the distance. The scent of fresh pines mingling with raw earth ignites my senses. The lights to the car are still on, blaring into the woods, but there’s no sign of her there.
I recognize the terrain. We’re just below Cider Grove Orchard. There’s a fence up above and a sheer drop down below. We’re on a narrow strip of land that dead ends to our left and heads back to the open road to the right. But Blythe isn’t traveling in a car anymore, and she could hide just about anywhere.
The sound of Noah’s panting grows progressively faint as he travels to the right. I turn to find Max heading to the left, and I follow his unearthly glow. He stops abruptly and shouts an expletive. “Lottie, turn around. I’ve passed her up. She’s near you! Call to Noah!”
The soft sounds of footfalls emanate from behind, and I slowly turn around.
Blythe Bentley stands with her legs parted in that ridiculously oversized light blue ball gown, hands clutching a gun with the barrel pointed straight at me.
“You have a gun,” I whisper mostly to myself. “Why do they always have a gun?”
“It’s not mine. It’s Ryan’s.” She blows a loose strand of hair from her face, and I can see a pink abrasion just above her left eye.
“You’re hurt,” I say, taking a carful step forward with my left foot. My arms are outstretched in this dim light, if for anything to keep my balance. The woods hold a deep blue hue, and Blythe's hair is white as a flame.
Lethal Lemon Bars: MURDER IN THE MIX 9 Page 17