Page 77 of Reading Between the Lines
Growling, I swiped a hand over my mouth as I tried to keep my cool.
I fucking hated teenagers, and that smug little asshole Loyal had made it very hard to remember my no-punching-people rule. Abercrombie getting in my face was the icing on the cake, and if he triggered me badly enough, we could be in real trouble.
I counted backward from ten and found a moderately level tone. “Are you aware that your creative writing students have taken your fancy-fuck writing club to a whole other level?”
“Gentlemen, unless you have permission from the authorities and these teenager’s guardians, you have no right to be on school property talking to these kids.”
Abercrombie propped his hands on his hips. He’d come outside in a thin dress shirt and cotton trousers. The cold north wind whipped his tie over his shoulder and tangled his wavy hair, blowing it into his eyes. His pebbled nipples showed through the shirt. The man was obviously cold.
Good. Let the fucker be uncomfortable. It would work to my advantage.
“Did you know the teens you’re trying to protect get together to talk about how to create perfect, undetectable murders? They mask this sadistic hobby by claiming they’re writing stories.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and the notion is absurd.”
“Remember that story you were so positive Weston wrote?” I stepped forward, invading the man’s space. “He didn’t write it, but it came from that club. I have a teen who admits it was a project they were working to perfect. If their goal is to write the perfect crime—the perfect murder—then they succeeded. Someone gave it a try, and so far, no one but us suspects it was anything more than an accident.”
“I’m calling the police.” Abercrombie turned to march off, but I kept talking, and the teacher paused after only a few feet.
“Go ahead. We’ve got a teen on life support and a plausible explanation. We’ve got the names of club members. Not only that, but I’m fairly certain we’ve discovered where these teens hold their secret meetings, and it so happens to be a stone’s throw from where Weston went in the water. Might be enough for the police to reopen a case.”
Hugh Abercrombie shifted to face me, eyes narrowed. The wind gusted, and he wrapped his arms around himself as though trying to protect his body from the weather. He shifted his gaze from me to Tallus and back.
“This is utter nonsense. Are you accusing minors of nefarious activities? The police have done a thorough investigation, andthey’ve come to a more than reasonable conclusion. Whatever wild theories you’ve concocted, I’m sure the people with real badges would laugh you out of the station. I’m disgusted that you feel the need to upset a grieving family and town. Weston was part of this community. He was friends with the students you’re accusing and will be sorely missed. Now leave before I’m forced to make a phone call. Don’t let me catch you anywhere near them again.”
Abercrombie spun on his heels and hustled inside.
***
A peanut butter cookie was not enough breakfast to sustain Tallus, and I needed to eat if I was going to properly process our next step, so I took us to the same diner we visited the previous day, where we first ran into the teens. With the ice storm behind us, it was quieter, and we took a booth away from the other guests.
Tallus’s appetite never failed to astound me, so when he ordered a breakfast wrap with extra cheese, a side of bacon, toast, and a fruit cup, I didn’t wonder if he’d be able to eat it all. The man could pack away food like someone twice his size, and I suspected it had a lot to do with his compromised budgeting skills that left him without grocery money most weeks. He was notorious for living off crackers and canned soup, so a chance at a decent meal made him ravenous.
Instead of coffee, Tallus ordered fresh squeezed orange juice, but only after I promised him a proper latte later in the day. He didn’t want to waste his second coffee on mediocre diner brew, he explained, and I suspected he knew I would put my foot down at him ingesting a third. He could risk a migraine on his own time, but we had work to do.
I ordered the hungry man breakfast and tomato juice, no extras. No coffee. Once the waitress departed, I announced, “I’m going back to the cabin.”
Tallus groaned. “See, I was afraid you were going to say that. My poor shoes. What about the dog and the man who pointed a rifle at your head? Have we forgotten that debacle?”
“Iwill be careful and keep an eye for trouble.”
“His dog will smell us. They can do that. Careful won’t matter, and what are we hoping to find at the cabin anyhow?”
“Tallus, listen carefully.Iam going back to the cabin.Alone.Me.Not you.”
He blinked several times behind his come-fuck-me glasses, an unreadable expression monopolizing his gorgeous face.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, but… I don’t understand.”
“It’s potentially dangerous and… muddy. You hate mud, and you’re not equipped to handle—”
“Fuck that. I am so equipped. Maybe not in the shoes and clothing department, but I’m equipped. We’re partners, Guns. I’m not—”
“You just groaned at the suggestion.”
“That was before I knew you were snubbing me.” He crossed his arms, adopting the petulance I’d seen many times in the past. “I’m not going to sit out while you waltz into danger. That’s not how it works. We’re a team.”
