Page 12 of The Perfect People

Luckily, her response was enough, making everyone laugh. Several people nearby turned around to see what all the commotion was about before returning to their fun in the sun. She did notice one tall, gangly guy with glasses over by an ice cream stand who continued to look their way, like he wanted in on the joke and was annoyed that he was too far away to hear it.

“And she’s going on trial soon, right?” Melina said, recapturing Hannah’s attention. “Are you going to have to testify?”

The question made Hannah squirm uncomfortably on her towel. Suddenly, she felt extremely vulnerable, even in her fairly modest twist bralette and spliced high-waist green bikini set, which was intended to highlight her green eyes. The thought of having to face Ash in court, potentially in as little as a few months, made her vaguely queasy.

“It’s possible,” she admitted.

“And all of that happened because of the thing where your sister was kidnapped on her wedding night by the crazy woman and you and that Gentry lady helped save her from the collapsing mine?” pressed Annie Prentiss, the aspiring theater actress with short brown hair who matched Hannah’s five foot nine height and was about to start at Carnegie Mellon University School of Drama.

“Not just us,” Hannah made sure to clarify. “Jessie was also rescued by a retired detective named Callum Reid. Unfortunately, he died in the mine collapse. He sacrificed himself to get information that saved us and hundreds of other people. But in doing that, he left behind a wife and two young kids. I think about them a lot, and how they won’t have a father to help them grow up.”

It was true. Callum’s death was the reason she regularly attended weekly survivors’ guilt group meetings with Jessie and Jamil, who were each working through issues of their own. They had helped her tremendously, but sometimes when she closed her eyes, she still saw his sad, knowing half-smile as he disappeared into a hole in the earth not thirty feet away from her.

Carlos Margolis, a talented saxophonist with a bird’s nest of flyaway black hair, looked like he’d been on the verge of asking a question of his own, but Hannah’s response to Annie stopped him short. In fact, the whole gang went silent.

Hannah looked away uncomfortably and noted that the tall, gangly guy with glasses was still looking their way. Oddly, he didn’t seem to have made any attempt to buy ice cream but appeared much more focused on their little group. His interest had her mildly unsettled.

“Okay, guys,” Chris said wearily, pulling her attention back, “do you think we’ve put her through the third degree enough for now? Enough questions about Hannah’s past. Let’s get answers about her future!”

Hannah went from relief to anxiety in a fraction of a second.

“I’m just kidding,” he said quickly, standing up. “There’s lots of time for that later. How about a dip in the water? It’s really scorching out here.”

“Sounds good to me,” Hannah agreed, popping up, happy to end the interrogation for now.

“Anyone else?” Chris asked.

“I’m just getting settled in,” Patrice said.

“Yeah,” Melina added. “Maybe in a few minutes.”

“I burn like an unprotected baby’s bottom,” Doug announced, “so I’ll stay in the shade.”

“Thanks for that mental visual,” Chris replied, turning to Hannah. “I guess it’s just you and me for now.”

“Cowards,” Hannah said to the rest of them as she grabbed a hair tie and headed for the water. She gave a half glance back to the ice cream stand, but the gangly guy was gone and so was her unsettled feeling.

“Race you,” Chris said, breaking into a run as he said the words.

“Cheater!” she called out as she charged after him, half trying to catch him, and half just trying to get to the water before the sand burned the undersides of her feet.

It was turning into a pretty good day.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“How many did you say?”

Jessie listened to Susannah pose the question as if she expected a different answer this time around and did her best not to roll her eyes. This was when Detective Susannah Valentine could be a bit much.

“Fourteen, Detective,” Sergeant Breem repeated patiently as they stood on the balcony overlooking the living room in Shasta Mallory’s beach house.

“So you’re telling us that out of the over five hundred people who attended the party at this house last night, you have a grand total of fourteen people assembled here for us to question?”

“That’s right,” Breem said, with what Jessie considered admirable restraint. His chill surfer vibe was serving him well right now. “And of that group, I can’t promise that all of them will be of much use. We’re still trying to rouse a few of them enough to engage in coherent conversation.”

“It’s almost noon!” Susannah seethed.

“Yes, Detective,” Breem replied. “We’ve sent an officer on a coffee run.”

---