Page 7 of Dead Man's Wish
“What can I do for you?” I sat back in the chair, keeping my focus on Kel, who pulled Mari closer. Bex picked up on that and her posture stiffened. She was reading him and breaking the rules of the group.
“I know you’re out of the country, but I couldn’t put this call off any longer. Not with the recent escalation and discovery.” Years of sorrow filled his voice. “There’s no need to rush home. Your scheduled return is fine. He’s back.”
He’s back.
Two words that knocked the metaphorical breath out of me as I forced a calm façade. He didn’t have to elaborate. There was only one man he’d reference with equal disdain and misery.Brent Hale.He died. I watched Bex shoot him. I was there for the funeral service. We saw his coffin lowered in the soppy ground. His mother sobbed, wailed even, over the loss of her child.
He died.
“Is that so?” It was all I could manage to say in a controlled tone. “I’ll pass it along.” I didn’t wait for him to respond, but Bishop wouldn’t be bothered to carry on a conversation longer. I ended the call and set my phone on the table.
“What was that about? Kel’s face said it wasn’t good.” Bex didn’t give me a breath before starting her interrogation.
“Stop reading friends,” I said gently. Softening any hard emotion trying to spill over, I took her hand in mine.
“Stop omitting information. Who was that?”
“Bishop.”
“Excuse me?” She looked at our friends, but they couldn’t fill in the answers either.
“It was Noah, Bex.” I squeezed her hand. She fixed her crystal stare on me. “It’s Brent. He’s back and Bishop needs us.”
Two
July 18, 2025:
Bexley Wells
The sink wascold beneath my fingers. I held the edge in a white-knuckled grip. Staring at my reflection, I noted the discoloration starting under my eyes. My skin was duller. Sleep wasn’t comforting, and it was becoming more evasive. No longer lulled into deep rest in Jai’s arms, my nervous system put me in a light sleep that kept me tuned with every bump and odd noise in the middle of the night.
A fucking ghost can’t kill me.
He’s dead. He’s dead.
The words echoed through my mind and created a hum like the water of the shower Jaiden started earlier. At the shift of my thoughts, the door opened, and he stepped in. He rested his hands on the top frame as he ducked down and leaned in. His eyes roamed over my naked body, taking in the goose bumps along my arms and my hardened nipples from the chilled air.
“Ready to get in?” he asked in an easy tone. He wasn’t pushy, ever. Jai would sooner let the water run cold and move the shower back an hour if I still needed some time. I didn’t say that though. I nodded and reached for the amber vial sitting on the white counter.
I popped the lid and tipped out two blue pills.
“It’s funny,” I mused before tossing them in my mouth and sipping water to wash them down. “I almost didn’t bring these. I mean, who has a random panic attack over dead people while on vacation?”
“Bexley,” he warned me against the spiral I felt prickling the nape of my neck.
There was a time after Brent when I was on anxiety medications around the clock. Daily. Sometimes two forms of treatment were necessary, even paired with therapy. Eventually, I managed and worked my way down to an as needed treatment.
It was definitely needed.
“You haven’t experienced what most would call normal stress. You were the focus of a serial killer—you watched me almost die. You had to get your hands bloody to stave that off.” He moved into the bathroom completely. It was a small space and his presence made it smaller, but it wasn’t suffocating. He leaned against the counter and parts of the mirror behind him started to fog. “You had to kill someone . . . a friend.”
“He’s dead, right?”
“He’s very dead. Come here.” His hand covered the back of my neck as he pulled me into a hug. He pressed my head into his chest as best he could, and I heard his heart beating. Solid. Heavy. Healthy. I relaxed as my body mimicked his calmer state.
“It has to be a copycat,” I reasoned. He didn’t respond to my statement, but I felt the brush of his face against my head with his silent agreement. Without further discussion, he pushed off the counter and turned me toward the glass door of the shower.
“Shower, relaxation, rest. Those are the only important things we need to worry about right now. Shower with me and I’ll hold you until you fall asleep. I’ll make sure everything is packed for us to fly home tomorrow, okay?” My only answer was a nod, and I stepped through into the steaming water.
