A Deadly Reunion by Odette C. Bell

locked on Denver.
    Denver turned slowly.
    “What are you doing here? I already told you
we have this investigation under control,” there was an edge to
Thorne’s voice. It wasn’t particularly friendly, and it sure as
hell wasn’t brotherly.
    It was challenging.
    I had two brothers of my own, and I knew
full well that while they could be best friends one moment, they
could lock horns the next and tear up the living room carpet as
they fought to the death.
    “I remember,” Denver answered plainly, “but
I think we have more evidence for you.”
    “And I think I’ll be the judge of that,”
Thorne walked straight past Denver and behind the front desk.
    I very much felt like I was suddenly being
squeezed between a rock and a hard place, or at least a Thorne and
a Denver.
    I shifted my gaze down to my feet, and then
I locked my hands against my stomach and twiddled my thumbs over my
wrists.
    “Patti Smith found this in her room,” Denver
carefully brought the postcard out of his pocket. He’d found a
plastic bag in his car, and he’d already wrapped it up in there.
The scrunch of plastic wasn’t that loud, but in that moment, I felt
it filled the room.
    Neither Denver nor Thorne said a word, and
the other officer and I were obviously smart enough not to get
involved.
    There was clear animosity sparking between
the two brothers, and anyone intelligent enough would know not to
be caught in the crossfire.
    “What is it?” Thorne grabbed up the piece of
plastic.
    “It is evidence, so treat it carefully.”
Denver clamped one hand on his hip and rested the other on the
counter. “She is ready to give a statement,” he added.
    I was? I didn’t feel ready to give a
statement. In fact, what I wanted to do was get the hell out of
this room so Thorne and Denver could have it out between
themselves. Instead, I stood there and stared mutely at my
hands.
    “About what? What’s going on?” Thorne nodded
down at the plastic bag.
    “Why don’t you open it and have a look?”
Denver suggested.
    As Thorne plucked open the plastic and
picked the card out, I gave an unpleasant shudder.
    Though I really liked to think I was over
that damned football game, I didn’t like the idea of Thorne staring
at a postcard of my most inglorious moment.
    Fortunately, he didn’t stare at it. He took
one look, his eyebrows crumpled down, and then he turned it
over.
    His lips thinned and tucked down into a
frown in a move that was instantly recognizable. Denver had done
the exact same thing upon reading the back of the card.
    Thorne looked up sharply, glanced only at
his brother for a second, and then turned to face me.
    “What happened? How did you come across
this?”
    “Somebody put it in her bathroom while she
was in the shower. The window was open, and they could have easily
lowered it down.” Denver answered for me. Even though I was fully
capable of answering the question, I was quietly thankful he’d
taken the lead. I was in no mood to discuss facts now; all I wanted
to do was sit down, bury my head in my hands, and pretend Wetlake
didn’t exist.
    Oh why, oh why, had I listened to my mother?
I should never have come back here, because if I hadn’t come back
here, then presumably this wouldn’t have happened... or maybe it
would have. I had no idea who the killer was, and I had no idea if
they were actually after me. Yet if for some reason they genuinely
wanted me dead, then not showing up to the reunion probably
wouldn’t have been much of a deterrent.
    At least this way I’d been warned, and I’d
had help on hand when I had needed it most.
    Fortune had seen a real FBI Agent book a
room at the motel I was staying at, and chance had booked me a date
with the local police officer. If there were ever a time to be a
victim of crime, now was it.
    “Alright, come on in. We’ll make you a cup
of tea and get your statement.” Thorne nodded my way and gave me a
commiserating yet still strong smile. “It’ll be okay.”
    I