Page 68 of Reading Between the Lines
“Who owns the property along the trail?” Tallus asked.
Nicholas glanced at the fenced-in yard where the dogs had grown bored with our arrival and had run off to play again. His focus shifted inward like he was thinking. “The town owns the trail and part of the woods, but there’s a bunch of ritzy houses whose properties stretch a fair way out. Not sure I can tell you specifics. Why?”
A voice from inside the barn called, “Nick? Where the fuck did you go? I’m done with the kennels. Can I go out now?”
A second later, a familiar teen appeared and flinched the moment he laid eyes on Tallus and me. “What the hell are they doing here?”
Nicholas glanced from pimply-faced, glasses-wearing Chett to us, then frowned. “You know these guys?”
“Yeah, they pinned us down at Lola’s this morning, asking a hundred questions. They promised to pay for our meal but didn’t.”
Nicholas seemed to consider his brother’s words. “I don’t appreciate hearing you’ve been harassing my younger brother.”
“We didn’t harass him. We were hired by Weston’s mother to try to figure out what happened by the water. She’s convinced he wasn’t alone out there, and I’m starting to think the same.”
A stitch formed between Nicholas’s brows, and he glanced at his brother. “Do you know anything about why Weston was on the trail?”
“No.” The defensive tone told a different story, and Nicholas seemed to hear it too.
“What’d I tell you about going out there?”
“We didn’t.”
“Out where?” I asked.
Neither of them answered, and they continued to stare at each other as though having a silent conversation.
To Chett, I said. “We learned about your murder club, by the way. All the special little details that make it unique and secretive. Your buddy Atlas didn’t mind spilling the details. What can you tell me about it?”
Chett paled, wide eyes momentarily flashing to his brother. “It’s just a writing club.”
“No. The Whodunnits? is a writing club. Your version is a lot more fucked up. You and your punk-ass friends are in way overyour heads, and you know it. One of your own is dead, and I’m not so sure it was an accident.”
Echo licked my fingers, and only then did I realize I’d clenched my fists. Loosening the joints, letting my anger simmer, I petted her again.
“What’s he talking about?” Nicholas asked his brother.
“Nothing. Can I go out now? The kennels are clean. You promised.”
Nicholas looked from his brother to me as though unsure how to respond. “Be home by nine.”
“I will.”
“And stay out of the fucking woods.”
Chett ducked away in a flash. Nicholas watched him go before turning back with a look of skepticism. “Something I need to know?”
“I could ask you the same question. Why are you worried about him being in the woods?”
Nicholas pinched his lips in a tight line, then said, “Ravings of a lunatic. Believe me. It’s not worth sharing.”
I wanted to ask about the cabin and tell him we’d encountered his father but was less and less certain of how much I wanted to share. Everyone in this town was connected, and the wrong word to the wrong person could kill our investigation.
“Do you know the kids your brother hangs out with?”
“Some of them. Why? Is he in trouble?”
“The twins. Londyn and Loyal. Any chance you know where I can find them?”
