“Is it him? Is it the same guy?” she asked, trying to peer over his shoulder.
“I don’t know,” he growled. “But it’s addressed to you.”
She didn’t like his tone of voice. It sounded like he was about ready to murder someone.
“Why? I don’t get it. I’m not an asshole online. Unless there’s some other random connection we haven’t figured out.”
“You were asking questions about online assholes,” he pointed out.
He swiped the glitter off his phone screen and took it and the box out onto the front porch, leaving a trail of glitter behind him.
Riley heard him on the phone. “I need you to get over here now. And bring that guy I hate. Yeah, that one.”
Lily lay down on the floor and swept her arms back and forth. “Look at me! I’m making a glitter angel!”
31
8:29 a.m., Tuesday, August 18
Nick walked down the line, eyeing each sweaty, sparkly person in front of him. “One of our own has become the target of a murderer,” he said.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Lily said with a salute and a saucy wink. She’d changed out of her nightgown and into camo bike shorts and matching tank top that showed off her blinding, vitamin-D deficient arms.
Riley made a note to check Lily’s vitamins to make sure she was getting enough.
“You’re old. You’re soft. You’re confused,” Nick continued, stopping in front of Mr. Willicott, who was attending the day’s festivities in a tuxedo jacket and boxers. “You’re in danger.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Willicott announced. Glitter sparkled in his graying, short-cropped hair.
“That’s why I’ve got the ol’ Beretta,” Mrs. Penny said next to him. She patted her hip, then frowned and looked down at her empty holster. “Well, crap. Now where did I leave it?”
Riley felt her lips twitch and tried to cover it, but Nick caught her. He stopped inches in front of her. “Donotsmile, Thorn. None of this is funny. You’ve been targeted, and it’s time for you all to learn how to take safety precautions.”
“Boring!” Willicott shouted.
“Yeah, we want to learn how to wrestle attackers into submission,” Lily said from the other end of the line.
“And make booby traps!” Fred yelled.
Nick gritted his teeth, and Riley winced. He was sweating glitter. The humidity closing in on them made the parking lot an oven.
Detective Weber had arrived on-scene with a couple of uniforms and a forensics expert. They’d taken the bomb packaging and glitter samples back to the lab. After a little manly side conference, both Nick and Kellen had looked rather grim.
She got it.
A glitter bomb tied her to the other two victims and set a clock in motion. Both victims had been dead within two weeks of receiving the packages.
“It’s hot. Can’t we fight bad guys inside in the air conditioning?” Mrs. Penny complained.
Gabe was the only one not talking back. He stood with his back straight, his eyes staring at some unseen, faraway object.
“What the hell is that?” Riley asked as a vehicle pulled into the lot.
It screeched to a halt in front of them, and Josie jumped to the ground. “Regulation Humvee,” she announced.
The driver swaggered over to stand next to her. He was shorter than Nick and barrel-chested. He had a mustache perched over unsmiling lips. “Santiago,” he said with an arrogant nod.
“Canon,” Nick acknowledged grudgingly. He turned back to his motley crew. “Welcome to Self-Defense Boot Camp, ladies and gentlemen.”
