Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) (6 page)

I’m right. I sigh and pick them up, even though I know he would have after his shower. I put them into the right sections of the laundry basket then change into ripped jeans and a tank top as he showers, before I sit on the bed and wait for him.

Fucking hell. Of all the things Gianna could have told me—it had to be that. And of course I had to say it when he was there and my back was turned.

Fuck my brain-to-mouth filter. And here I thought I’d finally gotten used to using it. Apparently, today, it was on vacation.

I sit back on the bed, against the headboard, and cross my legs. I tug my pillow from beneath me and hug it into my lap, waiting for him to come out of the shower.

There’s always something.

If it isn’t the fear of Nonna on the wedding warpath yet again, it’s something else—a.k.a. this.

I’m so ready to move somewhere our families can’t find us.

I love the guy in the bathroom, letting the hot water soothe him, and I just wish we could have it easy. Of course, easy isn’t our style, but that’s only because we’re difficult enough as it is without any inside interference.

The shower cuts out, and several moments of silence follow it. I lean back right into the headboard and hug one knee to my chest.

I wish I could ignore the guilt snaking through my veins—although, rationally, I know it’s not my fault. If Gianna had never come into my office, I never would have known, he never would have heard, and we’d probably be going to grab coffee or something right now.

The bathroom door opens, and he walks out, a dark-blue towel wrapped around his waist. He’s rubbing at his hair with a smaller, white one, and he ignores me as he crosses to the dresser and pulls some underwear out.

I know him well enough to know that speaking to him first isn’t going to make this situation better. He’s mad, and usually, when he’s this mad, I’ve done something stupid. At least, this time, I know it isn’t actually my fault. So I wait for him to dress in jeans and a well-fitting polo shirt then join me on the bed.

Drake drops down with a huff, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at his ankles. He rests his head back against the headboard, but since he’s so much taller than I am, his head rests against the wall.

I turn to face him and run my gaze over his handsome face. His lips are tightly drawn together, and he’s staring blankly ahead. Even through the obvious torment I can see in his eyes, he still looks hot.

It’s not fair.

“He’s got cancer?” he finally says after several minutes, his tone rough. He turns his face toward me the tiniest amount, his eyes moving to meet mine.

“Yeah,” I say softly, looking into his eyes. “Prostate cancer. They think it’s stage three, so pretty bad.”

He slowly nods before looking away again. “And she couldn’t tell me herself.”

“She said she called.”

“She did. Twice. That’s it.”

Wow. That was evasive, even by Gianna’s standards.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“Why? You didn’t hide it. You were arguing the case so you didn’t have to hide it. Which, by the way, is a little surprising given how much you usually hide from me.”

“That’s slightly offensive.”

He rolls his head to the side and looks at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, it’s not. It’s true.”

Well... “I used to hide stuff from you. Not anymore. It’s kinda hard when you live right on top of me. I can’t even hide a chocolate bar without your super-nose sniffing it out.”

His laugh is halfhearted at best. “When did they find out about the cancer?”

“Apparently, your dad found out last night and told her this morning, but it’s been a possibility for a few weeks. That’s why she’s been trying to get you to see him.”

“She could have told me it was happening.” He rubs his hand down his face. “Just because I don’t want a relationship with him doesn’t mean I don’t care about him. He’s still my dad, even if I do think he’s a piece of shit.”

“And that’s why I told her she had to tell you herself. I’m kinda mad she’s put me in this position.”

“Why did she tell you? Apart from the fact that I didn’t answer her grand total of two phone calls.”

“She thinks you listen to me more than her.” She thinks right, but still...

His phone rings from its perch on top of the dresser, and he gets up. “Shit. I’m glad she didn’t say you listen to me, because we all know that isn’t true.”

“Hey!” I fake frown at him as he answers the phone. I know that his jokes are because he’s processing the information he just learned, so I’m not going to push it any further.

Look at me, making grown-up choices.

“Yeah,” Drake says into the phone and walks into the closet. He emerges with a white shirt still on its hanger and puts it on the bed. “Yeah. Let me get changed and I’ll be right there... Fifteen minutes. Get everyone out, close the road, and don’t let anyone else in there until I get there... Yeah. See you then.”

He hangs up and drops the phone on the bed. Resignation flits across his expression, and he sighs heavily as he pulls his T-shirt over his head.

My eyes drop to his body. Yes, he’s mad, and yes, there’s apparently an emergency that requires his immediate attention, but damn. Working out was definitely what he was doing before I woke up this morning.

“Stop drooling over me,” he demands, but he doesn’t mean it at all. His eyes are sparkling too brightly for him to mean it in the slightest. “I have to go to work, and if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something about it. Then I’ll be late and I’ll get fired, and this is serious.”

I sit forward. “Why? What’s happened?”

He watches me as he does up the buttons of his shirt, scrutinizing my expression before finally sighing again and saying, “The caretaker at the old theater found a body in the basement.”

Chills run down my spine. “The one nobody has been able to get into for years?”

“The same one.” He tugs his pants up his legs and tucks his shirt in.

“How?”

“That’s one of the things we’re going to try to find out.”

“Can I come?”

He grabs a tie from the hanger behind the closet door and raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you asking me sincerely, or are you just asking before telling?”

“Asking before telling.” I grin and get up, narrowly missing a swat to my ass as I dart into the closet and grab some flat shoes. “Come on. Let’s go!”

“You’re way too excited for someone about to go see a dead body.”

“What can I say? We need a little life in this trip.”

“Noelle.” There’s a scolding tone to his voice. “That’s a terrible joke.”

I smile sweetly and prance downstairs.

Yeah, it kinda was.

Then again, I’m a terrible person, so you know.

“Wow. They really did close the road off.”

“Of course they did,” Drake says, turning onto the road that’ll take us to the theater. “I told them to. It’s like you’re constantly surprised by my authority. Just because you don’t listen me doesn’t mean everyone else ignores my orders.”

“Ah, see, this is the problem. You order me. I don’t take orders. I give orders.”

He shakes his head, and I’m pretty sure he rolls his eyes. “I know why you left the police force, but honestly, you’d be a great chief. Or cop in general.”

“Yeah, but if I went back, I’d have to operate on someone else’s hours and wouldn’t be able to bunk off work to follow you to a crime scene. And that would be boring.” I lean over the center console to kiss his cheek. I get out of the car after he’s pulled up behind what looks like Trent’s cruiser.

I’m right. My brother walks out of the theater and groans the moment he sees me.

“I guess they won’t be opening this weekend.” Well, I said that a little too chirpily.

“What are you doing here?” Trent asks, rubbing his forehead. He glances over my shoulder. “Did you have to bring her?”

“Yes,” Drake says simply. “Because, when we’re done here, I still have to live with her.”

I do a double take. Then I cut my eyes to him and narrow them. Bastard. “Can we go in there now?”

“You can’t.” Trent hits me with a sharp look. “And no. You’re not worming your way past me by bribing me with babysitting.”

I wasn’t planning on it, honestly. Silvio is a handful these days, and Aria has the attitude of a grade full of sixteen-year-olds at only twelve. I’m not that desperate for information anymore. I look at Drake.

He sighs with resignation. “She might as well come in. You know as well as I do Sheriff is just gonna have her help us because she’s too damn good.”

“Well.” I examine my nails. You know. I
am
too damn good.

Drake waves me after him, Trent scowling the entire time. I nudge my brother in the side and grin until he’s forced to drop the annoyed expression and nudge me back.

“How did the caretaker get into the basement? Wasn’t it rumored to be sealed shut?” I ask. I can’t help but admire what the new owners of the theater have done with it, even as I ask the question.

The last time I was here—an ill-fated prank as a teenager—it was dusty and dreary, and it looked like it was about to collapse. It literally looks as though the new owners have pulled it down and rebuilt it, although I know they haven’t.

It’s gorgeous. Clean, plain walls with wood paneling at the bottom. Wooden floors. It’s a shame to think it’ll be kept closed for a little longer because someone’s dead in the basement.

“Yes,” Trent says, answering my question. “Except you would know that wasn’t a rumor. I bailed your ass out enough when you tried to get in it.”

I pout my lips and look away. Maybe once or twice. Or five. Teenage ghost hunts were fun.

“Yes, the basement was sealed shut, but Mayor McDougall wanted it opened before the theater could open. Danny—the caretaker—has been working on it nonstop for the past several days and just finally managed to drill through the concrete that blocked it off.” Trent stops and pulls three packets out of his pocket.

Face masks.

I wrinkle my nose as I take the packet and rip it open.

“Why was it blocked with concrete?” Drake asks. “That’s drastic to hide the dead body.”

“Well, not really.” I snap my mask into place. “It’d keep the smell in.”

“Keep the smell in, it did,” Trent mutters under his breath, handing us both gloves. “We think it would have been worse if the body had been less...decomposed.”

Less decomposed? How does a body be less decomposed but smell worse?

I get my answer the second we open the basement doors and climb in.

“Trent! That ain’t no body!” My words are slightly muffled by the mask. “That’s a fucking skeleton!”

It couldn’t
be
any
more
skeleton. There’s literally nothing left attached to the bones, unless you count the teeth, and somehow, I never do when thinking about skeletons. Teeth are so strong that they’re usually still in place when one is found.

Not to mention there’s no hair, no flesh, no skin... Nothing.

Whoever this is, they’ve been here a while.

And I have the horrible sinking feeling in my gut that I know who it might be, given there’s only one missing person in Holly Woods right now, but voicing that opinion here, at this moment, might not be the best idea.

“Yes. A skeleton,” Trent says.

“Thanks for the warning.” Drake’s tone is dry as he snaps a fingertip of his glove and ekes past me toward the...

Can you call a skeleton a body? Technically, is it? I guess so, but at the same time...

Drake moves toward the dead person.

Oh god, that sounds so awful. The bones? The... The...

The discovery. Yes. The discovery.

“What’s that?” He points toward a pile of dusty, moth-bitten, fraying fabric.

“What the bones were wrapped in. Danny pulled the fabric to see what was under it, thinking it was old tools or something left from the previous owners,” Trent explains as Drake crouches next to the bones. “This is all he found. Forensics turned up right before you. Tim said he can’t give us anything until he gets the...bones...in the lab.”

Then he’ll measure up the bones, narrow the body down to being male or female, and give a rough age at the time of death. His next mission will be to ascertain roughly how long the bones have been in this basement. Then, when he has that, all but the entire force will be on to trying to find a match while he sends the teeth off to match to dental records.

It’s a long process.

And not one the HWPD will speed up just because I have a gut feeling.

I wrinkle my nose as I survey the area. There’s nothing down here except the bones and the giant sheet thing they were wrapped in. Literally nothing. The body, because essentially it was at some point, had to have been dumped here after the theater closed. Not that it narrows it down hugely on the time frame, but I mean we’re looking at somewhere in the last...

Fifteen or so years.

My heart thumps deathly loud, as though it’s confirming my gut feeling, but I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to believe I’m looking at the body of a childhood friend. Lord knows I’ve lost two or three of those in the past year. Lena, Daniel, Natalie...