Chapter 15

fifteen

ALEX

I glanced at my watch. Dylan had called an hour ago to say he’d arrived in Sunrise Bay. Even with the snow that fell earlier today, he should have been here by now.

I sent him another text from my satellite phone. If he didn’t pull into the garage soon, I’d head outside and look for him. The roads could be dangerous at any time, but as fall turned into winter, they became worse.

To take my mind off Dylan, I opened the latest program report. After driving home last night, I’d run a different debugging scenario. I prayed for a miraculous cure to my coding woes but, as usual, the program stopped before the first series of functions was complete.

I ran my eye across the first line of code, then the second. A few minutes later, I looked at my phone. Still no word from Dylan.

This was ridiculous. His truck could have hit black ice and skidded off the road. Or he might have underestimated the amount of gas in his tank. I grabbed my jacket and walked into the garage. I checked my truck. Spare chains, a first-aid kit, and extra blankets. A can of gas wouldn’t go amiss, either. When I was ready, I opened the garage door and felt the icy blast of the sub-zero temperature.

If Dylan had abandoned his truck, he’d have hypothermia before he found help.

The deep bellow of a foghorn erupted from my phone. I checked the security app and sighed. Dylan’s truck had activated the camera on my front gate. I’d never been more grateful for anything in my life.

I took a deep breath. Dylan was okay. No one had hurt him. He hadn’t driven off the road or had an accident.

A set of headlights lit up the garage. Dylan parked beside my truck and grinned. “Hi.”

My heart squeezed tight. “Hi. I was about to look for you. I thought you must have had an accident.”

Dylan closed the driver’s door and sighed. “It was a slow drive. There’s a slip on the main road and the traffic’s down to one lane. The Highway Patrol is trying to keep everyone moving, but there’s a big line of trucks waiting to get through. I tried calling you, but there was no signal.”

I closed the garage door and took Dylan’s bag out of his hand. “A normal cell phone doesn’t work that well out here. I’ll lend you a satellite phone. Would you like a drink?”

“A cup of coffee would be great. What have you been doing?” Dylan pulled off his red wooly hat and unzipped his jacket.

It was just as well he didn’t realize how worried I’d been. “I had dinner with two friends last night. Eric and Riley said hello.”

“Do they live nearby?”

“They’re in Sunrise Bay.” As we walked into the hallway, I had to stop myself from getting too close to Dylan. He’d only been gone a day, but the house felt empty without him.

Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have traded my life for anything. I had good friends and a job I loved. My home wasn’t the rustic hideaway some people craved—I had too many gadgets and high-end security options for that—but living this close to nature refueled me and made me appreciate life more than I ever had.

But as I listened to Dylan tell me about his brother’s bachelor party, it made me more aware of what was missing from my life. Family. A soft place to fall. Someone who accepted me regardless of what I did or who I was. I’d never had any of that and there was a strong chance I never would.

“When Charlie Chaplin handcuffed Bats, everyone in the planetarium began cheering. The museum director said it was the best fundraiser they’d had in years.”

I walked into the kitchen and turned on the coffeepot. “Did you take any photos?”

Dylan pulled out his cell phone. “What you’re about to see isn’t your run-of-the-mill Murder in the Museum night.”

I smiled. Nothing Dylan did was ever ordinary. “I consider myself warned.”

“Okay, here goes.”

I sat beside him on a kitchen stool, looking forward to seeing what he’d been doing.

“Exhibit one—our coveralls. They weren’t glamorous, but they were perfect. Steve ordered them from an online costume store.”

“I like the stripes.”

“Jailbird chic.” Dylan flicked to the next photo. “That’s Bats. No one suspected she was the murderer. Look at those big blue eyes. Is that the face of someone who’d shoot Professor MacIntosh in the back?”

“I can see how you were fooled.” Or maybe not. Apart from not meeting any murderers before, I wasn’t in a fit state to pass judgment on anyone. My brain was seriously dysfunctional—not because of the long hours I’d been working, but because of Dylan.

He was so close that I could smell the light tangy scent of his aftershave, feel the movement of air as he laughed at the next photo. Instead of moving away, I angled my body closer—wanting to be part of the excitement that lit his face.

The next photos showed other teams in the fundraiser, the murder weapon, and one of Luke’s friends lying in the yellow outline of the victim’s body.

“This is a photo of our team.” Dylan tapped the screen. “Everyone went back to Mom and Dad’s house to show them our trophies.” His smile was replaced by a frown. “I haven’t seen Luke so happy in a long time.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure. He’s usually so calm. His mood has been swinging up and down so much that I don’t know if he remembers what normal feels like.”

“It’s probably wedding jitters. Eric and Riley are organizing their wedding, too. It’s not easy balancing what each of you wants for your big day.”

“I hope that’s all it is.” Dylan handed me his phone. “This is a picture of Mom, Dad, and my brothers. A friend of Steve’s took the picture this morning.”

I was surprised at how different Dylan looked from the rest of his family.

“I wasn’t adopted, if that’s what you’re thinking. Luke and Steve take after Mom’s Italian heritage. Dark hair, brown eyes, and a little on the short side. I’m more of a Holmes, although Dad’s hair is more gray than brown.” Dylan smiled at me. “He says that’s what he gets for raising three sons.”

“It couldn’t have been all hard work.”

“We’ve had our moments, especially in high school. Some of the kids in Steve’s class bullied him because he’s gay. It took all of us to stop him from leaving school.”

I looked down at the photo. “You’re lucky you had each other.”

Dylan nodded. “Were you ever bullied?”

“I had a rough time at school. I handled it by fighting anyone who looked at me the wrong way. It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t a great way to make friends.”

“It sounds lonely.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know any better.” I handed Dylan his phone and walked across to the kitchen cupboards. “It took a few years for me to realize there were good people around. I just hadn’t met them.”

Dylan watched me place two mugs on the counter. The silence in the kitchen was deafening. “I’m sorry you didn’t have someone to look after you.”

I shrugged. “I survived. I’ve been working on the program today. If you want to look at the latest debugging stats, they’re on my desk. I’ll bring our coffee in when it’s ready.”

Dylan stayed where he was for a few seconds before slipping off the stool. “My mom made us chocolate chip cookies. We can have some with our drinks.” He opened one of his bags and pulled out an orange container. “I’ll see you in the office.”

I poured hot coffee into our cups. I was grateful Dylan didn’t ask any more questions about my past. At some point in the next few days, he’d leave, the program would be working, and I’d have more time to focus on the next phase of the project.

Whether I’d forget about Dylan was a different issue, and more difficult than any software problem I’d had to fix.