Page 15 of Devious Nightmare

I don’t regret any of it. Given the chance to do it again, I would in a heartbeat. Maybe not the killing part or being facedown in the dirt at the local cemetery, but I would definitely do the rest of it.

Rising from the ground, I collect the items I want to keep from the altar and put them all in my small canvas bag. That’s when I notice Blaze’s black leather jacket on the ground in front of his gravestone.

My heart soars at the sight.

He left it for me.

I grab the jacket and pull it on. Almost instantly, his smell surrounds me, and this jacket instantly becomes my favorite article of clothing. I’m also grateful that I have this to cover my torn dress. The quick fix worked while I had the added cover of darkness to help hide my disheveled appearance. Now, in the light of day, I feel exposed.

I pull Blaze’s jacket close to me as I walk home, avoiding eye contact with everyone I pass. I’m not in the mood to discuss what I’m wearing or why I still have “fake blood” on me — though it’s definitely not fake.

Opening and closing the wrought iron gate at the entrance of the property I share with my older brother was a mistake. My head is pounding and that ungodly screeching sound only made it worse.

“Hey, Rip.” I jerk my head up at the sound of my brother’s voice. He’s walking toward me, dressed in his scrubs.

I immediately sag in defeat. I was so freaking close to getting inside without any awkward conversations.

I’m interested in the reason he’s dressed for work hours before his normal shift, but I’m more concerned about getting inside without a slew of questions about where I’ve been all night or why I look the way I do. Dexter would lose his shit if he even knew half of what I did last night.

“Hey, Dex.” I blurt out, keeping my eyes trained on the ground as I try to squeeze by him on the walkway, but he catches my elbow before I get too far from him.

“Where did you get that?”

I’m not sure what he’s talking about, so I lift my head to face him. His eyes are focused on the jacket I’m wearing, and I realize my mistake.

Of course he would recognize the signature jacket his best friend wore for years.

Stupid!

I attempt to steady my voice before I ask, “Where did I get what?”

Dexter gently grips the sleeve of the jacket. I see the slight tremble in his hand move up his arm, before it rattles his entire frame. “This. Where did you get this jacket?”

I shrug. “Just something I found at the thrift store in Holland.”

“Bullshit.” There’s a force behind his words that I’m not used to from my brother. While Dexter is nearly a decade older than me, he’s always treated me as his equal, even when he likely should have been the authoritarian in the situation. So hearing him speak to me in a sharp tone, catches me completely off guard.

“Excuse me?”

He shakes his head, internally reasoning with himself before he drops his hand and offers me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I just…nevermind.” He motions behind him where his car is parked in the driveway. “ I have to get to work.”

“Why are you heading in so early?” I pull out my phone and check the time. “I thought you weren’t on call until tonight.”

Cautiously, he glances up and down the street. When he returns his attention to me, there is a deep crease between his eyebrows. “Someone attacked Donavan and two of his deputies last night and left them for dead in the field out by highway eighty.”

My eyes widen. “That’s awful. Are-are they okay?”

Dex shakes his head. “The deputies didn’t make it.”

“And the Sheriff?” I hold my breath, waiting for the words I know he’s about to utter. The panic already churning in my gut forces me to take in slow deep breaths to avoid puking all over Dex’s shoes.

“He’s alive but barely.” He adjusts his duffel bag that is slung over his shoulder. “They were able to stabilize him early this morning, but I have no idea what I’m about to walk into today. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” I whisper on a choked breath.

Dexter eyes drop back to the jacket I’m wearing, brows furrowed again, still silently questioning where I got it. Again, he shakes away whatever he’s thinking. Without another word, he turns and heads toward his car.

As soon as he’s behind the wheel and his door closes, I spin on my heels and bolt into the house.

---