“Tell me it hasn’t been,” I snap. “You’re the only man with motive. And you showed up in town right when it started. Real big goddamn coinkydink if it ain’t you.”
“I told you. I want to help rebuild this town,” he throws back, lips peeling away from clenched teeth.
“But only after you burn it down first, right?” I retort, taking a step back. “You almost fooled me, Holt. Almost made me think maybe you’d changed. But I never trusted you before, and I’m not about to now.”
I turn and walk away then.
I can’t stand to look at him.
Can’t stand to think that the man who’d endanger Heart’s Edge is my own blood.
And I ignore him, even as he calls after me, “You idiot, be careful! It’s not me—it’s not me, Blake! He’s still out there...and he’s going to really hurt someone.”
You already hurt someone, I think bitterly as the door to the station slams shut and I step out into the harsh, unforgiving February wind. You hurt me and obliterated any chance at all for a relationship with any of us.
I almost wish we could cancel this stupid variety show.
There’s no real reason for it anymore.
We’ve got our perp and evidence to back it up.
Everything points to Holt, even if I don’t want it to.
Now, I just gotta coax Clark into coming out of the woodwork to confess Holt’s the one who took his equipment, and that’ll cinch it. I’m sure Andrea’s wrong about Clark thinking it ain’t him. The boy just didn’t want to tell her and rip his girlfriend’s heart out.
Too bad we’re on the hook with the Heart’s Edge council.
We told them we’d stand up here and entertain them like the big damn heroes they want us to be and let them ask their questions.
So that’s what we’re doing. A town hall question and answer of sorts.
It’s surprisingly warm inside the ice palace. No small feat, really, considering it was put together by a bunch of townies with basic engineering and art.
It kind of looks like the Ice Palace in Frozen, complete with spiraling ice stairs leading up to the stage. Thank fuck they’re textured so we don’t go slipping down like fools as me, Warren, Doc, and Leo stand up here with our mics and big fake superhero smiles.
Mario’s here with us, recording everything and transmitting it to the station. They’re doing a live broadcast for the folks in the surrounding counties.
Nothing’s happening except people asking me lewd questions and teasing everyone else about being henpecked and settled down with kids.
Figures. The folks in this town would much rather talk romance than rehash drug kingpins and evil corporations trying to biohazard us to death.
The men are too quiet. Most of the teasing comes from their own wives and kids in the audience, making the entire town laugh with warm affection.
I mean, it’s not bad.
I don’t much like being the town darlings, but these people make no secret of the fact that they care about us the same way we care about them.
Still, I can’t shake being uneasy.
Doesn’t help with Holt behind bars.
This ugly sixth sense prickles on the back of my neck.
I can’t help repeatedly peeking backstage, where Peace is quietly warming up on her guitar, and Andrea and Justin have their heads together, working out how to do the safety presentation without Clark’s help.
Peace catches my eye from behind the curtain, lifting her head and smiling.
You’re doing great, she mouths. I shrug, turning my gaze back to the crowd.
It’s calm. Peaceful. Happy.
And I don’t trust it one bit.
I hate that I still feel this irrational doubt.
Like some small part of me wonders if Holt’s telling the truth.
But if our man isn’t him, then who?
Gritting my teeth, I tell myself to knock it off and get through this.
Because it means something to Peace, to Andrea, to Justin.
Because it means everything to this beat-up little town, and this town means something special to me.
After an hour of making an ass of myself, I finally escape with the others, exiting the stage so the ice crew can re-texture the melted areas to give traction for the next act.
It was supposed to be Clark, but of course he’s nowhere to be found.
I don’t want to interrupt Peace’s music practice before she plays for the crowd later, so I reconvene with the boys behind the ice palace.
Leo says it before anybody. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
I grunt. “Something ain’t right, yeah. Everything’s pointing to Holt.” I glance at Langley and one of his guys, making the rounds along the big wooden windbreaker fence. “I mean, I don’t like that they left him alone, but hell. He’s locked up. He’s not a prison breaker like you or Fuchsia, Leo. So we shouldn’t have to worry.”
“Snow’s coming in. I can smell it,” Warren says. “There’s something in the air.”
“I’ll do the rounds,” Leo says. “See if anything looks suspicious.”
I nod. “The rest of us should take up positions, inside and out. The goal is to keep as many people covered as possible so if anything happens, we can coordinate an evacuation.”
All three of them nod tightly.
We split up then, breaking off in different directions. We’ve all known each other so long and been through so many baptisms by fire we don’t even need to ask questions to coordinate.
We know each other’s strengths, the way we all think.
And we work together like a well-oiled machine.
As I’m heading back inside the ice palace, though, Andrea comes tumbling outside, searching left and right only to land on me. Her eyes are too wide, her messy, half-shaved hair spiked up from running her fingers through it.
“Dad?” she asks. “I can’t find Justin anywhere. We’re supposed to go on in forty-five minutes, and I...I can’t do this by myself!”
Shit, here we go. Another problem.
Another fire to put out, and I can’t ignore my daughter when she’s actually into this, and I don’t want to disappoint her.
“Give me a second,” I say, fishing out my phone. “I’ll give him a call. If we can’t dig him up in time, I’ll do the demonstration with you. No worries.”
“…fiiine.” She wrinkles her nose at me but slumps against the carved, spiraling archway that acts as the entrance to the ice palace, folding her arms over her chest.
Not really a surprise reaction.
I just flash her a smile, waiting for Justin to pick up.
He doesn’t.
The call goes to voicemail, and again when I try a second time.
On the second call, I leave a quick message. “Yo, Justin, you’re up soon, and Andrea’s looking all over the place for you. Let me know where you’re at.”
When I hang up, she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Of course he bailed on me. Of course. Everyone always does.”
Fuck.
That one cuts deep.
Yeah, I guess everyone’s been disappointing her lately. Her mom checked out for good. Uncle Holt’s a fire-setting prick. Her boyfriend’s hiding out somewhere. Her old man’s just the kind of dick dads have to be.