Ten
Owning a cat is supposed to lower stress levels. I have yet to see proof of that this week.
After Sage and I part ways, I wear down the carpet in my apartment, pacing back and forth. Zin watches from her perch on my couch, her ash-colored tail swishing in time with my strides, until she eventually falls asleep, leaving me alone with my nerves.
My mind cycles through the same questions over and over. What does Max know? Who is he afraid of? What if my meeting with him is an elaborate ruse?
I can hardly stand it.
When it’s finally time to go, I grab a black hoodie from my closet and say goodbye to Zin. I scratch my furry companion’s ears and give her an extra scoop of food. If this is a trap, I don’t want her starving before someone can see to her.
Jeez, Parker, as if you weren’t twitchy enough.
I shake off the morbid thought and lock the door behind me.
My Uber driver’s name is Tom. He drives a Cadillac, listens to smooth jazz, and has a five-star rating, although I quickly learn this is only because it’s his first night on the job.
“I’m still not sure I like the idea of having strangers in my car, but I could use the extra money,” he explains, eyeing me warily in his rearview mirror. “Why are you going to campus at this time of night, anyway?”
“Just feeling nostalgic,” I fib, my knees jiggling.
I direct him to a parking spot on Euclid Avenue, a short jaunt from where Max told me to meet him. Streetlights illuminate the brick architecture and green ivy vines. Leafy trees fan in the breeze, their shifting shadows sending a shiver up my spine.
“Actually,” I say. “There’s twenty bucks in it if you wait here for me.”
“You got it.” Tom flips a book open and turns up his jazz. “Don’t take too long.”
I shut the car door behind me and pull my hood over my head, tying the drawstrings into a neat bow.
Even though I graduated years ago, I can easily recall the campus layout. The theater building borders Norlin Quad, a large grassy field that, while ideal for studying in the sunshine, offers little in the way of camouflage. Instead, I decide to take the narrow path behind Hellems, a multipurpose building where a variety of classes are held. That way I can sneak around the side and approach from the back.
Still, thinking and doing are two very different things.
I take a steadying breath and then force myself forward, turning my head in every direction to monitor for movement.
At one point, I think I hear footsteps. I pick up my pace and so do the footsteps. It’s not until I turn the final corner that I realize I’ve been racing my own echo.
I crouch behind a bush and peek through crisscrossing branches. I have a clear view of the steps leading up to the entrance of the theater building. There’s a solitary bike without a seat locked to the railing. No one is around.
Careful to keep the backlit screen hidden, I check the clock on my phone. It’s ten o’clock on the dot. Any moment now, Max should appear and provide the answers I so desperately crave.
Time is a slippery entity. As crickets chirp lazily and clouds drift over the waning moon, I’m not sure if seconds or minutes pass.
My legs cramp and I shift on my feet, giving in and checking my phone again. Max is fifteen minutes late.
I have two simultaneous thoughts. The first is worry since Max seemed determined to clear his conscience. The second is fear, confirmation that this is some sort of setup, in which case, I need to vamoose.
My phone vibrates, the ringer silenced for my rendezvous. Reid’s name lights up the screen. My pulse speeds up. I try not to let it go to my head that he’s calling me on his night off.
I press ignore and continue my vigil, figuring he’ll leave a voice mail, one I’m very much looking forward to listening to. He calls again a second later. I furrow my eyebrows, thoroughly confused, as I swipe to answer.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Parker?” Reid shouts over a loud bass in the background.
“Yeah. What’s up?” I ask, still whispering, my eyes glued to the front of the theater building.
“It’s your brother . . .”
My heart plummets as he trails off. I stand up so abruptly that stars dance in my vision, and not the ones overhead.
I grip my phone with white knuckles, already jogging toward where I hope Tom and his Cadillac are still waiting for me. “Is Liam okay?” I ask, breathless.
“He’s fine.” Reid’s voice takes on a hint of desperation. “But he’s in rough shape. You’d better come down here.”
“Where are you?”
“The Sundowner,” he says, referencing Liam’s favorite bar on Pearl Street.
I spot headlights on Euclid and sigh in relief. “On my way.”
I hang up and slide into the Cadillac’s backseat. “How do you feel about making one more stop tonight?”
“Where to?” Tom asks, setting his book on the passenger seat and shifting gears.
“Pearl, just off of Broadway,” I say absently, gnawing on my lower lip.
I send a text to the number Max called me from earlier, letting him know I couldn’t wait any longer. Then I throw myself back in the leather seat and watch as downtown Boulder flies by in a blur, silently willing Tom to go faster.
Pearl Street is hopping, the night young and full of promise. At least for those in their early twenties cruising from bar to bar in search of a good time. Guess I’m getting too old for this scene.
With the promise of another twenty bucks, Tom agrees to wait for me in an alley that doubles as a parking lot.
The Sundowner is the type of place where I would only use the bathroom in an absolute emergency. Located below street level, at the bottom of a dubious staircase, the place is a quintessential dive. Worn bar, mismatched tables and chairs, hole-riddled dart boards, and hard alcohol and squandered dreams on the nose. I’m oddly fond of it.
I push the door open and scan the crowd, quickly spotting Liam and Reid in a corner booth.
Reid waves me over. His hair is darker in the dim lighting, like a polished penny, and he’s wearing a slate-green sweater that matches his eyes. His cocky demeanor is gone, replaced with concern.
As for Liam, well, he’s a mess. He rests his head on the table, his gaze unfocused, and prods clumsily at a stack of empty shot glasses. His lanky legs jut out into the walkway, his sneakers looking worse for the wear. I haven’t seen him this drunk in a long time. It scares me.
“What happened?” I ask, sliding into the booth, the vinyl scratchy beneath my palms.
“I have no idea,” Reid answers, shaking his head. “We were just gonna grab a beer, but he kept going. That was hours ago.”
I snap my fingers in front of my brother’s face. “Earth to Liam.”
He rouses himself and flashes me a lopsided grin. “Hey, sis. You decided to come out.” He continues, his speech slurred, “I can give you and Reid some privacy since you’re obviously not going to listen to me.”
I try to laugh it off, looking anywhere but at Reid. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“Sure I do,” Liam says, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Parker was asking about you earlier. Even though I told her you”—he jabs a finger toward Reid—“go through girls faster than I go through careers, and that’s saying something.”
Reid clenches his jaw, eyebrows furrowed.
“And you,” Liam continues, turning his accusatory finger on me, “don’t think about anyone but yourself.”
My mouth drops open and I scoff in indignation.
Oh, we’re gonna have words.
Before I can figure out where to start, Liam descends into a fit of coughs that start to sound suspiciously like sobs.
I take pity on him. I exhale my frustration with a deep breath, setting it aside until he’s more coherent. Besides, I have a hunch that, deep down, his outburst is about something else entirely. Reid and I are just the easiest targets.
“You were fine this morning. What changed?” I ask, remembering how put together he’d seemed with his photography, stable job, and aspirations to actually move out of our parents’ basement.
“Nothing,” Liam says. He unstacks the shot glasses and lines them up, one after the other. I count seven.
“You didn’t derail over nothing,” I say. “Did I put too much pressure on you with your photography? You don’t have to—”
“It’s nothing,” Liam barks, clipping the shot glass with his hand and sending it sailing to the ground. The glass shatters on the floor, earning a death glare from the bartender.
“Time to go.” I finally bring myself to look at Reid. He’s watching me with a puzzled expression on his face.
I grab Liam’s arm and slowly shift out of the booth.
“Come on, buddy,” Reid says. He grabs Liam’s other arm, and between us, we’re able to get him to his feet.
Liam staggers forward. “She’s going to say yes, isn’t she?”
“Who?” I ask, confused and frustrated. This isn’t how my night was supposed to go.
“Sage,” Liam whispers, his head lolling forward. “She’s going to marry that bastard.”
Then something finally clicks, something I should have seen ages ago.
We were freshmen in college the first time I invited Sage to a family dinner. As we munched our way through my mom’s trademark enchiladas, I didn’t think anything of it when Liam snagged the seat next to her. Nor did I think anything of it when he chatted her up at subsequent family events. After all, Guy was often there, too, and we had just started dating; I thought Liam was being polite.
There’s a deeper meaning behind his actions now. The way Liam always asks about Sage, tries to make her laugh when they’re together, and the close-up pictures of her from my opening. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I feel a pang of pity toward my wayward brother.
“I dunno,” I answer truthfully. “I hope not.” As if I needed another reason to root against Jason.
Liam slumps forward, the sadness in his eyes making my heart clench. A choking sound escapes his throat.
The bartender is making his way toward us now. Reid and I each drape one of Liam’s arms over our shoulders and usher him through the bar and up the stairs.
The cool night air is a refreshing dose of reality. Liam is able to stand on his own, but the cobblestones prove to be too much for his clumsy feet. He hasn’t said a word since asking about Sage, clearly lost in his own torturous thoughts.
The sign of a true friend, Reid readjusts his grip, shouldering Liam’s full weight. He turns to me. “Where’s your car?”
“I don’t own one.” I fiddle with my beaded necklace while I orient myself. “My Uber is over there.”
“You Ubered here?” Reid shakes his head in disbelief. His good humor is slowly returning now that we’re out of the Sundowner.
“Yes.” I start walking, throwing a glance behind me to make sure Reid and Liam can keep up.
“Did you get too many parking tickets or something?”
“Hardly,” I scoff. “There’s no reason to own a car with public transportation and ride sharing. Besides, Boulder traffic is bad enough without me adding one more vehicle to the mix.”
“The trick is to live walking distance from everything,” Reid says, a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. “I’ll make sure you and Liam get home okay.”
All I can manage is a nod as I maneuver my brother into the backseat of Tom’s Cadillac, hurry around to the other side, and scoot into the middle seat.
Reid squeezes in next to me. Our bodies are pressed together, warmth permeating my jeans and hoodie. He touches my hair lightly. I stare at his fingers, images flashing through my mind—of his fingers tangled in my hair and running down my back. My breath hitches.
He pulls a twig off my hoodie and twirls it between two fingers. “What were you up to when I called?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Liam lets out a loud moan and Tom turns around in his seat, gesturing at him with his thumb. “He’d better not get sick in my car.”
“I’d step on it, then.” I give Tom my address and he wastes no time accelerating. Needless to say, I don’t think I’m convincing him to continue moonlighting as an Uber driver.
Usually I don’t mind the three flights of stairs that lead to my apartment, but tonight they’re the bane of my existence. Even though Liam thoroughly upset me, I wasn’t about to drop him off at Mom and Dad’s. They set conditions prior to his moving back in with them, and coming home trashed was—and is—a major deal breaker.
Which is why Reid and I haul Liam’s drunk ass up the endless steps. By the time we reach my landing, I’m shaking from exertion and fumble with my keys.
We plop Liam on the couch, where I force him to drink a full glass of water. He falls asleep immediately, clutching the edge of Zin’s afghan blanket. Zin hops onto the couch and nuzzles next to him, purring, somehow sensing he could use company.
I set another glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and an empty trash bin within reach before going in search of Reid. I find him in my kitchen, peeking in the refrigerator.
“Can I get you something?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Habit,” he explains. “The best way to get to know someone is to look in their fridge.”
“Did you learn anything interesting?”
“Decent amount of fresh ingredients, decent amount of wine.” He follows me onto the balcony, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Which tells me you’re health-conscious, but also like to kick back.”
“Very astute,” I say, resting my forearms on the railing and gazing at the stars over the Flatirons. Truth be told, there hasn’t been much kicking back lately. “Thanks for your help tonight.”
He mirrors me, our elbows barely touching as he takes in the view. “No problem.”
“I bet this messed with your plans to pick up some lucky girl,” I say, not so subtly fishing for information.
“This is better.” He faces me full-on, a sly grin sliding into place. “So, you asked your brother about me?” Apparently, he’s doing some fishing of his own.
“I’m going to kill Liam,” I grumble, dipping my chin. “Don’t read too much into that. We’re conducting business together. I could’ve been asking for a reference, to make sure our styles mesh.” And now I’m babbling. I clamp my mouth shut before I embarrass myself further.
He cocks his head to the side. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were asking about me.”
“Oh, get over yourself.”
I nudge his shoulder playfully. He goes with it, dramatically falling back a couple of steps before returning to his perch, only closer this time. So close I catch his scent—citrus, fresh herbs, and a hint of peppermint.
“What did you want to know?” he asks.
I’m momentarily distracted by his eyes. They’re a rich green, like the leaves of a grapevine, and spark with emotion.
“Oh, um, how he knew you, your band, that sort of thing.”
He rests one arm casually on the railing, positioning his foot so it might as well be touching mine. “Did you get the answers you wanted?”
“Eh,” I say with a shrug and a coy smile, purely to mess with him.
He laughs and then brushes a strand of hair off my cheek, tucking it behind my ear, his fingers leaving a trail of heat on my skin. “Hopefully I’m more satisfying in real life.”
My pulse quickens at our proximity, my heart pounding in rhythm with the sound of the crickets serenading us. I glance at his lips and, though I can’t be certain, I’m pretty sure he does the same to me.
Our breaths blend as we lean toward each other. Our foreheads touch and his hand cradles my cheek.
I trace a line down his bicep, the soft fabric of his sweater a contrast to the hard muscle underneath, and lick my lips, mere centimeters from his.
It would be so easy to kiss him. To give in to the unfiltered hotness that is Reid. But I hesitate.
I think of all the reasons we shouldn’t—the rules I’ve put in place to protect myself and my business, and Liam’s harsh words. You don’t think of anyone but yourself.
Maybe Reid is thinking about what Liam said, too, because he pauses.
Then my phone vibrates, a persistent buzzing that finally gets my attention. I shake my head to clear the Reid-induced haze.
I glance at the screen; it’s a number I don’t recognize. I try to focus, which is nearly impossible with Reid still standing so close, his gaze full of such heat it makes me blush.
“Hello,” I say, slightly out of breath.
“Parker, this is Detective Fuller.” His tone is professional, as if he’s trying to impress someone. Gone is the friend I had dinner with last night.
“Eli—”
Reid raises one eyebrow at me and mouths, Boyfriend?
I shake my head and correct myself. “I mean, Detective Fuller. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to come down to the station.”
My spine goes ramrod straight and I pace to the edge of the balcony, suddenly chilled. “Why? What happened?”
“There’s been a development in the Brown case.”
“What sort of development?”
“A man was found dead this evening.”
I hold a hand over my mouth. A tingling sensation starts in my fingertips and snakes up my arms to my neck as I force myself to ask, “Who?”
“Max Jackard,” Eli says.
The world goes fuzzy around me and it feels like I’m spinning. I grip the wooden railing, the splintering paint grounding me. As if from afar, I notice Reid has moved to my side and is rubbing my back.
Eli continues, a hint of anger entering his voice, “We discovered a text message sent from your phone. I need to know why you were meeting him.”
Oh God, that’s why Max didn’t show earlier. When I feared for his safety, I never imagined this.
“How?” It seems I can only ask one-word questions.
“Suicide.”