A Deadly Reunion by Odette C. Bell Page A

damn well hoped he was right, but I found
myself flicking my gaze over to Denver nonetheless.
    While Denver hadn’t held my hand and
promised me everything would be fine, he had told me not to get
startled and not to get scared. And while Thorne’s smile was
something you could get lost in, Denver’s advice sounded like it
would keep you safe.
    I mutely followed Thorne through a door into
the business side of the police station. When Denver moved to
follow, Thorne turned on him and offered him a steady and
challenging look. “Thank you, Agent, but we’ll take it from here.
It is the jurisdiction of the Wetlake Police Department, after
all.”
    “Yes it is,” Denver agreed, and then he
turned. Shifting his head slightly over his shoulder, he added “for
now.”
    Thorne shot him a deadly look.
    “I’ll hang around in my car, Patti, and I’ll
drive you back to the motel once you’re done,” Denver called out to
me.
    “That’s fine,” Thorne jumped in, “you go
ahead and leave. I’m more than happy to take Patti home afterwards.
Plus, we might just head out to Vietnamese after this – bring
forward our date a little maybe?”
    Denver turned slowly at that.
    Eyes narrowed, he glanced at me then over to
Thorne.
    “So you go on and head home. I hear they’re
having drinks at the local pub. It’s an informal reunion. Though it
will probably turn formal as soon as Annabelle hears about it. Why
don’t you head there and catch up with the people you left
behind?”
    With that, Thorne turned around and ushered
me on.
    Christ. If I’d had the inkling I was
slipping into a love triangle before, it had just been confirmed in
style.
    Thorne had brought up dinner at the
Vietnamese restaurant with such a pointed tone that it was obvious
what he was doing.
    It was also a bit...
presumptuous.
    Yes, of course I wanted to go out with the
guy; we got on well, and he seemed genuinely nice while being
absolutely smack-down attractive. However, I didn’t see how going
out to dinner was going to fix anything. Hello, I’d just come
across a potential murder threat on top of my toilet, and right
now, going out on a date was the least of my concerns. I wanted
someone to do something; I wanted someone to assure me that
everything was under control. More than that, I needed someone to
take steps to assure my safety right now. Vietnamese could
wait.
    “Sorry about my brother,” Thorne said under
his breath once Denver had trundled out of earshot. “He can be kind
of a jerk sometimes.”
    I didn’t answer.
    I didn’t know whether I should be pissed off
at the fact Thorne had brought up our date in front of Denver, or
just wholly and entirely concerned at the possibility someone was
out there trying to kill me.
    I felt itchy, hot, scared, and irritated all
at once, and it was a volatile mixture.
    Thorne led me into a room, sat me down, got
me a cup of tea, and talked me through what had happened.
    There wasn’t much I could add. I didn’t have
the eagle eyes of Denver; I hadn’t noticed the pinhole in my
yearbook photo. All I knew was that the postcard had arrived on my
toilet while I’d been in the shower.
    I had no insight, no hints, and no leads.
When Thorne delicately asked me whether I had any enemies, I
snorted, unattractively, and snapped at him that of course I
didn’t.
    We were done quickly, and soon enough Thorne
gestured to the door, and he told me I could leave.
    I stood up nervously, putting my hands onto
the table for support.
    We couldn’t be done.
    I needed to be told exactly what was going
on. I wanted Thorne to share every single detail of the ongoing
investigation with me, because I needed to be assured everything
was under control.
    “We’re going to do everything we can, Patti;
you’re going to be absolutely fine, trust me.” He nodded my
way.
    This wasn’t a matter of trust; I already
thought Thorne was a genuinely nice and affable man. This was a
matter of security. This was a matter of somebody