Free A Deadly Reunion by Odette C. Bell Page B

my mouth, and started chewing intently on the nail.
    Out of my peripheral vision, I could see
that Denver turned to me. He had a careful and calculating
expression, but he didn’t say a word.
    Instead, he drove silently and quickly away
from the motel and towards the main road of town.
    It wasn’t until we actually arrived at the
police station that Denver spoke to me. Clambering out of the car,
he paused with his hand on the door and stared down. “Don’t get
flustered, don’t get startled, and don’t get scared. The police are
going to do everything they can. As long as we are smart and quick,
there will be no threat. Have you got that?”
    Though he was clearly trying to reassure me,
he was doing it in a particularly belligerent and arrogant way.
    It seemed that Denver was a jerk no matter
what he did. But right now, I chose to see through the arrogance,
and I gave him a short nod.
    Despite my nerves and his perpetually gruff
attitude, I could still appreciate he was handling this well.
    He wasn’t leaning in, grabbing my hand, and
simply telling me everything would be okay. No, he was telling me
how it would be okay. If we were smart and we were quick, then
there would be no threat. If we managed the situation with the
resources at hand, then we’d manage the danger.
    Feeling exceedingly queasy and in good need
of a lie down, I got out of the car.
    I was dressed in a pair of track pants and a
T-shirt and the jacket Denver had grabbed out of my suitcase. It
was warm, it was comfortable, but it wasn’t exactly flattering.
    I wasn’t in leopard print and high heels,
and my cashmere shawl was all the way back at the motel.
    But hell, I didn’t care. There was a time to
look good, and there was a time to get the hell into Wetlake Police
Station and tell them there was somebody out there who wanted to
kill me.
    As I walked with Denver up to the front
door, I unashamedly took several steps closer to him.
    I liked to think I was the kind of girl who
could handle my own problems, but then again, nobody had threatened
to kill me before.
    “They are just going to ask you some
questions. We’ll give them the postcard; it will be checked for
evidence. Then we’ll figure out what’s best to do next,” Denver
once again spoke with that calm authority. It let me know that he’d
done this before. Even though I was floundering, if I stayed in his
wake, then maybe I could make it to shore.
    Somewhere out there was a murderer who had
already put paid to James Wood. If the postcard was to be believed,
then perhaps I was next on their to-do list.
    As we wandered up to the front desk of the
police station, my mind began to whirl.
    James Wood had been the most successful
person to graduate from my class. Not that I’d known that before
Denver had mentioned the Times’ article, but if James had
programmed some app that had made him a millionaire, then he really
was a cut above the rest. Sure, I was wealthy, but I’d never made
it into Times magazine.
    Could somebody be...? God, it sounded
terrible, but could somebody be going through the reunion class and
picking off the most successful?
    If so, why? What kind of twisted mind would
do such a thing? What would they get out of it?
    High school was full of bitching,
backstabbing, and bullying, but what was going on here was
psychotic.
    I stood behind Denver as he spoke to the
officer at the front desk, and I continued to chew on my
fingernails. By the time this weekend was over, I wouldn’t have any
left. Then again, by the time this weekend was over, I could
possibly be dead anyway.
    “Patti, you’re early,” someone said from
behind me.
    I turned to see Thorne walking in through
the front door.
    There was that rugged smile of his and those
beautiful cheekbones and that handsome sparkle in his eyes.
    It reminded me about our date tonight.
    A date we would likely cancel on account of
me running for my life.
    His expression quickly changed, and his eyes
flicked to the left and