“What happened?” I give his hand a quick tug.
Bram winces my way, something about that half-wink, that grimace sets my teeth on edge.
Tarquin cuts his hand through the air. “He’s talking about the body. Sorry. It’s not pleasant conversation.” He nods to Rich as if to sayknock it off. The conversation quickly morphs into shoptalk, and I spot Lena out by the edge of the pier and excuse myself.
Body? My God, why wouldn’t Bram have mentioned abody? I mean, that’s pretty serious, right? A twinge of guilt coats me. It’s not as if I’ve been forthcoming with everything lately myself. And in his defense, he probably didn’t want to upset me.
I bump into Lena and steal a cracker loaded with something creamy from off her tray and indulge angrily as I swallow it down all but whole. I can’t help but feel as if I’m drowning, and I inwardly cringe at the analogy. Those are words I’ve been careful never to utter to Bram. It hasn’t been easy. It’s a euphemism I used to spill as easy as water. There I go again. Only this time I’m a little angry with him, so I don’t mind doing it.
“Someone’s in a hostile mood.” Lena tweaks her brows as if she were about to pull me under another ten feet—no air for me tonight. “What’s going on?” She nods, pointing behind me with her nose. “Those witches getting under your skin again?”
I turn to find the trio of terror—not that Tessa is much of a terror. She actually bought me coffee after Peanut Butter Gate, and that was rather kind of her, considering she was brave enough to cavort with a food criminal.
Bridget looks dressed to slash and thrash in a tight red dress, her long wavy hair bouncing as if it weren’t even connected to her scalp. And I can’t help but notice that Astrid looks sleek in a black and white pantsuit that seems to elongate her legs for miles. She’s donned a halter-top, brave, considering the fog is rolling in. But her bare shoulders, that deep red lipstick she’s paired it with, makes her look as if she just stepped off a runway. She turns slightly, and then we see it. Both Lena and I groan in unison.
“My God, she is certifiable.” My sister chokes on a laugh.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” Only I would have been a touch cruder.
Cradled in Astrid’s arms is that glossy feathered cock of hers, pecking at her chest as if it were thirsty for something she had to offer.
Lena clicks her tongue. “Ten bucks says she lets the thing suck on her tits when no one is looking.”
“Lena!” I swat her and share a dark laugh with my sister. Just past them Astrid’s husband, Miles, stands with Bridget’s husband, Jude, and the two of them look as if they’re immersed in a heavy conversation. Every now and again, they turn to look solemnly at their wives. Most likely contemplating how they managed to steal their balls. Speaking of husbands with no balls. “You know that convention Bram went to last week? Apparently, there was a body,” I say without the slightest knowledge of any other detail.
“Yes.” Her pale eyes pin to mine. “And did you hear how they found the body?”
A rush of adrenaline hits me for no reason, an uncalled for pinprick of panic that dislodges my senses for a moment. “No. How?”
“A wire wrapped around her neck reducing it to the size of a thimble.”
I suck in a sharp breath, and I see her again, lying there on the floor of the school gymnasium.
Lena nods. “A finger missing.”
“Oh my God.”
“Oh my yes,” Lena muses. “There’s a serial killer running loose amongst us.” She offers a slow, circular nod. “Wait. You said Bram was at that convention? Was he at the Hennessy Convention Center?”
My body lurches in one large detonating heartbeat. “Yes, I guess he was.”
“Shit.” Her eyes close, and I’d swear on all that is holy the daylight around me just dimmed a notch. Lena’s eyes have always held their own brand of wattage. “You guys have the shittiest luck of anyone I know.”
My own eyes close for a moment as my fingers clasp over my mouth. “God help us. Let’s just pray the authorities don’t connect the mismatched dots. It’s just a coincidence, that’s all.”
“Is it really?” She takes a disbelieving step away. “I guess it boils down to how well do you know and trust your husband.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. You know Bram wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I glance in his direction, and there’s a huge migration of bodies blooming between us, kids with cotton candy swirled to the sky, women strutting about, happy to have traded their winter boots for wedges. Men with their leering gazes, eyes shifting toward hemlines, flitting to the nearest décolletage. The sea of pedestrians parts and there he is, and my stomach sinks like a milestone. Gone are his cohorts in dental crime. In their place stands a hell of a cocky woman and her pet fowl writhing between them. Bram laughs openly at something she says, and that knot in my stomach tightens. Her hand rides up his arm, and I inch back at the surprise of seeing her touch him so brazenly. Bram doesn’t resist. Instead, he leans in and speaks directly to her, intently, and my mind demands I go over there and toss Astrid into the water behind her. A bath in harbor sludge should rectify the behavior.
“Relax,” Lena says it low, far too controlled as if she were trying to hold me back emotionally, but we both know she’s failing. “It’s just a conversation.”
“Says the girl who had me doubting him less than ten seconds ago.”
A salted breeze whistles by, and I take in the briny air, trying to bring myself back down to earth.
Bram takes a step in. He’s shaking his head, saying something with those serious eyes, that thoughtful tilt of the head. Then his lids lower just a notch, and I’m sick. He’s bedroom-eyeing her. My God, it can’t be. This is Bram. My Bram. I’m hallucinating the entire event. Astrid’s dolt of a husband joins the party, and the two of them break apart like a couple of naughty teenagers caught making out in the closet. Sickening. My entire body bucks in disbelief.
Lena steps in and effectively blocks my view with her body. “Have you had any more of those strange emails?” She shakes her head as if the answer should be no. I’ve already told her about the two.
