Read Online Romeo Fails by Amy Briant - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amy Briant
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disengaged her arm, her fingertips lingering on Sarah’s for a moment.
“This is me,” she said, pointing east down the cross street, in the direction of her house.
Sarah gave her another one of those searching glances, her lips parted ever so slightly as she gazed upward at her.
“Good night, Dorsey,” she said. She reached up and gave her a swift hug, which ended with an equally swift light kiss on the cheek. With Sarah’s arms still around her neck and the feel of her soft lips still on her cheek, Dorsey looked into her eyes for a long moment. This is my best friend’s cousin, she thought with some confusion. But this is my Silver Lake Goddess. No, this is someone I don’t really know at all…
A car door slammed up the street, making her involuntarily flinch. She took two quick steps back from Sarah as she heard the engine start. Headlights flared, catching them in their beam. A pickup came slowly down the street behind them, paused at the intersection and then moved on.
Sarah looked at her with some confusion of her own, mixed with reproach, Dorsey thought.
“I—” she started.
“No, it’s fine,” Sarah said shortly, taking a step backward of her own. “I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.”
“No, wait—” Dorsey tried again.
But Sarah was already hurrying back up the street toward the Bigelow house. She saw Sarah go up the walk, heard the front door open and close in the clear night air. She stood there alone for a few minutes in the darkness, cursing herself, cursing Romeo Falls, wishing her life were anything but what it was.
“Good night, Sarah,” she finally said out loud to nothing and nobody, feeling as if a hand were cruelly squeezing her heart. Wanting nothing more than to go grab Sarah and hold her tight, to feel her body against hers one more time. As she turned and slowly headed for home, a fine, mist-like drizzle came down, beading her head and shoulders with moisture.
Chapter Four
On Tuesday morning, Luke Bergstrom sat at his desk in the police station. Wearing latex gloves, he was examining a box wrapped in brown paper. It had been mailed to “Romeo Falls Police” in town the previous day. It wasn’t heavy. Or ticking. It was about the size of a shoebox and didn’t smell like anything except the paper it was wrapped in. The address label had been generated by a computer and looked completely generic. There was no return address. He hadn’t fingerprinted it, but there were no identifying marks visible to the naked eye. He picked up the box and shook it gently. He could feel the contents shift inside and heard them rustle lightly. He didn’t really think it was anything dangerous, but Luke was a cautious man when he had the time to be. Four years in the Marine Corps and fourteen on the force had taught him that. On the other hand, the police department did get mail and hand-delivered packages, just like everybody else. Hell, the little old ladies in this town still brought baked goods to the station for the cops. And they ate them too.
This box didn’t have cookies in it, though. It didn’t weigh enough for that. Luke had a funny feeling about it. He decided to take it out back to the small parking lot behind the station and open it there.
“Whatcha got there, Chief?” Officer Argyle had spotted him in the hallway with the box under his arm and was alert to the possibility of home-baked brownies in the building.
“Anonymous box someone sent us. I’m going to open it outside just in case it’s something messy.”
Gargoyle hitched up her belt and followed him, though she kept a safe distance as he knelt down to open it. Still wearing his gloves, he carefully removed the brown wrapping paper to reveal, as expected, a cardboard shoebox. The brand of shoes was a popular one—practically every kid in town and many of the adults were wearing that brand that year. The label identifying the size and style of the shoes had been ripped off. With his pen, Luke gently
“This is me,” she said, pointing east down the cross street, in the direction of her house.
Sarah gave her another one of those searching glances, her lips parted ever so slightly as she gazed upward at her.
“Good night, Dorsey,” she said. She reached up and gave her a swift hug, which ended with an equally swift light kiss on the cheek. With Sarah’s arms still around her neck and the feel of her soft lips still on her cheek, Dorsey looked into her eyes for a long moment. This is my best friend’s cousin, she thought with some confusion. But this is my Silver Lake Goddess. No, this is someone I don’t really know at all…
A car door slammed up the street, making her involuntarily flinch. She took two quick steps back from Sarah as she heard the engine start. Headlights flared, catching them in their beam. A pickup came slowly down the street behind them, paused at the intersection and then moved on.
Sarah looked at her with some confusion of her own, mixed with reproach, Dorsey thought.
“I—” she started.
“No, it’s fine,” Sarah said shortly, taking a step backward of her own. “I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.”
“No, wait—” Dorsey tried again.
But Sarah was already hurrying back up the street toward the Bigelow house. She saw Sarah go up the walk, heard the front door open and close in the clear night air. She stood there alone for a few minutes in the darkness, cursing herself, cursing Romeo Falls, wishing her life were anything but what it was.
“Good night, Sarah,” she finally said out loud to nothing and nobody, feeling as if a hand were cruelly squeezing her heart. Wanting nothing more than to go grab Sarah and hold her tight, to feel her body against hers one more time. As she turned and slowly headed for home, a fine, mist-like drizzle came down, beading her head and shoulders with moisture.
Chapter Four
On Tuesday morning, Luke Bergstrom sat at his desk in the police station. Wearing latex gloves, he was examining a box wrapped in brown paper. It had been mailed to “Romeo Falls Police” in town the previous day. It wasn’t heavy. Or ticking. It was about the size of a shoebox and didn’t smell like anything except the paper it was wrapped in. The address label had been generated by a computer and looked completely generic. There was no return address. He hadn’t fingerprinted it, but there were no identifying marks visible to the naked eye. He picked up the box and shook it gently. He could feel the contents shift inside and heard them rustle lightly. He didn’t really think it was anything dangerous, but Luke was a cautious man when he had the time to be. Four years in the Marine Corps and fourteen on the force had taught him that. On the other hand, the police department did get mail and hand-delivered packages, just like everybody else. Hell, the little old ladies in this town still brought baked goods to the station for the cops. And they ate them too.
This box didn’t have cookies in it, though. It didn’t weigh enough for that. Luke had a funny feeling about it. He decided to take it out back to the small parking lot behind the station and open it there.
“Whatcha got there, Chief?” Officer Argyle had spotted him in the hallway with the box under his arm and was alert to the possibility of home-baked brownies in the building.
“Anonymous box someone sent us. I’m going to open it outside just in case it’s something messy.”
Gargoyle hitched up her belt and followed him, though she kept a safe distance as he knelt down to open it. Still wearing his gloves, he carefully removed the brown wrapping paper to reveal, as expected, a cardboard shoebox. The brand of shoes was a popular one—practically every kid in town and many of the adults were wearing that brand that year. The label identifying the size and style of the shoes had been ripped off. With his pen, Luke gently
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