a cobalt hue.
I head out back and find a burly man in a tank top chucking wood, stacking it every which way into an oversized metal slot. Fall will be here before you know it, and that wood right there will be heating our homes.
“Craig Carter?” I put on my cheeriest tone, my friendliest face as he straightens to greet me, and I spit out my spiel before he has the chance to shoot.
“Whitney Briggs?” He makes a face, looking around the grounds. “I don’t know. This is a dangerous place. I’d hate to see those kids get maimed. More than that, I’d hate to see them get in my way.” He walks over to an oversized white cooler and pulls out a beer. “You want a cold one?” He tilts it my way, and I shake my head.
“Thanks for the offer, though. So, no students?”
“Nope. I’m not up for the challenge you might say. Damn hot girls at that school, though. Send a couple pretty ones and I just might change my mind. The things I could do.” He knocks back half his drink, and my blood boils at the thought of him doing anything to Serena.
I blow out a deep breath, just trying to control my temper. I’ve got two choices as I see it. I either do my damn best job to coax some kind of a confession from him like a good little lawyer or simply jump in and beat the living hell out of him.
“I know it. They are pretty hot.” I slap the back of my neck as if swatting a fly. “They’re pretty rattled, though. That murder a few weeks back took place at the bar across the street. Too close to home for a lot of them. You hear about it? Some guy shot in the chest—found in the alley.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He bobs his head as if he had a vague recollection. The guy is full of crap. “I knew him.” Maybe not so full after all. “Good guy.” He shakes the remainder of his beer. “Had a bad habit of sticking his nose where it wasn’t wanted. Didn’t know when to quit. You ever get like that? Mess with something just because you can’t seem to let it go? All the damn idiot had to do was give up the fight, but he just kept going on ahead.” He glares at the axe lying adjacent to me on the ground as if he just thought up a new use for it. And just like that, I see a vision of my bloodied head lying in that heap of firewood.
“All right then.” I start to take off. “I might drop by in a few weeks in the event you’ve changed your mind about the students.”
“No need. I’ll be moving to Pittsburg soon enough. Try to ask the front desk in the fall. Wait until I’m long gone, would you?”
Moving. I stare at him a good long while as I feel the window closing in on my opportunity to kick his ass. The lawyer in me says let it go. After all, he’s thrown me more than my fair share of bones, and I still need to pick through them.
“Will do. Good luck with the move. And sorry about your friend.”
“No worries. I’m not.”
I take off and sit in my car a while. Craig Carter isn’t sorry about Barry’s death. Neither is his own sister—the one sitting on a pile of money now that he’s dead. Serena made it sound as if Belinda Johnson, the yoga instructor, wasn’t too sorry either.
I pull out my phone and text her.
You busy? I pepper it with every emoji under the sun in an effort to try to get her attention before I hit send. The last thing I want her to think is that this is some kind of a booty call. Do people still say booty call? My God, how I would love it to be a booty call, but right about now, I just need her safe. Besides, it feels good to know that I can talk to Serena, have her attention at the drop of a hat each and every day. I need that. I need her. My insides swim at the revelation. I need Serena. I care about her. Deeply.
She texts right back. At work, taking a quick break. I see your emoji game is strong. What’s up?
I can’t help but smile. I start in and spill every last detail about my