1

This is Geanie Coulter, a beautiful, free-spirited billionaire. She’s quite the woman. She’s married to Mr. Coulter, he’s gorgeous. He’s one man who knows how to take care of a lady. They have a poodle, Clarice. She takes care of both of them, which isn’t easy, because when they got together, it was murder. 

“And cue 80s theme music,” Geanie said as she looked at what she’d just written.

“What did you say, Hon?” her husband Joseph asked as he walked into the kitchen from the entry.

“I’m picturing our lives as a sexy romance adventure series from the 80s,” she said.

“Aha! ‘Remington Steele’, ‘Hart to Hart’, ‘Scarecrow and Mrs. King’, or one of the ones we don’t have on the video server?”

“Sometimes I forget how many shows we watched last year while I had cancer.”

He gave her a lingering kiss. “I know. So, which one?”

“‘Hart to Hart’, of course.”

“Excellent choice.”

He moved over to the refrigerator and got himself a soda. “Is this for the journaling that Jeremiah was encouraging us to do to help deal with the trauma of his and Cindy’s wedding?”

Geanie nodded. “It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

Joseph grimaced. “Well, you have to admit it was more trauma than even our wedding.”

Geanie sighed and rubbed her temples. “At least they got married and are on their honeymoon finally.”

Two of their best friends, Cindy and Jeremiah, had finally made it to Kauai and their long-awaited honeymoon. Cindy had texted her when the plane landed just to let her know they had made it. It had been four days, and she hadn’t heard anything since.

Which is as it should be. I’m just paranoid.

“You don’t think they’ve stumbled into any trouble, do you?” she asked.

Joseph drained a glass of orange juice and then looked at her. “I want to say no, but I’d be lying. I keep telling myself I’m just jumpy. But they do have a remarkable track record for finding trouble.”

“Right?” Geanie asked, feeling a little relieved to have her own fears mirrored by him. At least it meant she wasn’t overreacting. She’d had enough of that the last few weeks to last her a lifetime.

“Well, the Harts aren’t going to swoop in and try to help, inadvertently interrupting what hopefully is a perfect honeymoon, unless we get a call on the Batphone,” Joseph said with a smile.

She glanced down at the notebook on the counter. “Right. I sometimes think that worrying about them the last few weeks has helped me avoid everything else.”

Joseph came around the counter and wrapped his arms around her. “I know, Sweetie.”

Unbidden, the memory of killing one of their friends with her high heel shoe two days before Christmas filled her mind.

“You don’t have to go to the service today,” Joseph said. “Everyone would understand. Of course, I’m pretty sure not many people are going to be there in light of everything.”

Geanie didn’t want to go, but she wasn’t sure that avoiding it would make things any better. “I’ve still got an hour to change my mind.”

“Okay. So, tell me, what are the fabulous Coulters up to?” he asked, putting his hand on her notebook.

“I don’t know yet. I’m just getting started.”

Jeremiah, a Messianic rabbi, had recommended to those of them who had been most traumatized by the events at Christmas that they should try journaling or doing some sort of writing or creative effort to try and process their emotions. He had been counseling several of them the last two weeks before he left for his honeymoon, but it had been hard as he was helping Cindy with her physical therapy and was keeping a constant eye on her until she was released from the hospital.

Geanie, her friend Traci, and their friend and coworker Dave had all agreed to try and write stories about their lives, even if it wasn’t dealing with the trauma of Christmas and the wedding. It seemed like a fun, creative challenge that would help each of them reframe things, create their own narratives going forward. Maybe it was a tad ambitious, but it felt doable, especially since they’d promised to have a discussion group once a week chronicling their progress. Their first one was coming up in two days and she wanted to have something to show for it. She might not know exactly what fabulous adventure Mr. and Mrs. Coulter were embarking on, but at least she had an intro, even if she had borrowed it.

As Joseph set about making breakfast Geanie watched him. He was like Jonathan Hart and his right-hand man Max all rolled into one.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” she finally asked.

He looked up from the pancakes he was making in surprise. “I’d assumed that after just over three years of marriage you would have figured out that there’s a lot of things I can’t do.”

“Nope. You’re Superman.”

“Well, Superman wants to take you flying once our friends get back in town.”

“Ooh? Trip! Where?”

“Anywhere you’d like. We didn’t get to really celebrate our third anniversary.”

“You took me out to dinner and got me my anniversary ring,” she said, waving her hand with the diamond band sitting just under her wedding ring.

He rolled his eyes. “Please. I think I can do better than that. Besides, we could use a little vacation time ourselves.”

“And you’re seriously saying that we can go anywhere I’d like?” she asked.

“Yup.” He hesitated. “I think we can plan together. I’m not sure either of us is ready for surprises just yet.”

He was definitely right about that.

“Do you think I should go to the funeral?” she asked.

Joseph sighed. “I’m debating whether or not I’m going to the funeral,” he admitted. “The man lied to us, betrayed us. He killed Sylvia.”

“And then I killed him,” Geanie said quietly.

Joseph gave her that look that said he was worried for her. She had seen it all too often the last few months for several different reasons.

“It was self-defense and from what I’ve heard from other people, it was the equivalent to being in a war albeit a very, very short one. Instead of the Hundred Years’ War, it was the Hundred Minutes’ War.”

“I know all that,” Geanie said.

“Yet it doesn’t help?”

“Maybe it does and I don’t want to know what it would be like if all that wasn’t true,” she said.

“I admit I’ve thought about Jeremiah a lot and wondered how he made a career out of… you know…”

“I have, too,” she admitted.

“How about this? We both go and if we decide we made a bad choice we leave, no apologies.”

“I’m so grateful I married the smartest man in any room,” she said, smiling at her husband.

He gave her a brief bow. “Not nearly as grateful as I am that you did.”

She felt her smile getting wider. Joseph rarely admitted to how smart he was and he certainly never bragged about it. When he at least acknowledged it, she found joy in it.

“I like your plan, Mr. Genius.”

“I like you, Mrs. Genius.”

Geanie was very grateful that the church office was closed all day. Given that the funeral was for the former head of the singles ministry it was appropriate. Of course, given that he’d turned out to be a murderous monster she was suspicious that she’d be the only one on staff who showed.

Ironic.

 

It was a hard, cold, early February rain. The kind of rain that washed the scum right off the playground. Ryan Walters didn’t mind the rain. It just made his job a little easier. After all, with a rain like this there was less competition for the slide, the one that twisted and curled all the way to the bottom like a serpent wound tight around its helpless prey.

Nearby a gorgeous blond dish in pigtails had her fists curled tight and placed on her hips, staring down every dame’s nemesis. A boy. Not just any boy. This one was nearly twice her size and came with an unkempt mop of dark brown hair and a sneer a mile wide. 

Ryan contemplated going to the bombshell’s aid, but she seemed to be able to take care of herself. With a stomp of her pricey but practical shoes and a well-placed fist to her tormentor’s chin, she claimed victory. The lout went down with a satisfying thump.

“Ow!”

Traci Walters blinked and stood abruptly, moving to stop her daughter before Rachel could stomp on the boy once he was down. She should have put a stop to things earlier, but she’d been daydreaming. She’d been trying for the last few days to write a children’s book, part of creative therapy mandated by her friend and counselor Jeremiah.

The only problem was, every time she started to write her children’s story, it started coming out like Noir fiction, with a hardboiled detective and a smoking hot dame wrapped in mystery. She’d complained about it to her husband, Mark, who had gleefully pointed out that she was at least describing him and her well.

So not helpful.

“You got him, Rachel, he’s had enough,” Traci said reaching her daughter’s side.

She took the little girl’s hand and started to pull her away from the bully she had put on the ground.

“Don’t turn your back on a bad guy,” Rachel said sounding for all the world just then like her detective father.

She rolled her eyes and turned to look for Ryan, Rachel’s twin brother, who had been busy conquering the slide while almost everyone else was seeking shelter from the rain.

“Ryan! It’s time to go!”

He looked supremely disappointed but made his last run down the slide and then came hopping over. He was sopping wet and clearly pleased about it. Traci was the wife of a Boy Scout, though. She came prepared.

As soon as she’d put towels in the car seats her children clambered in. She headed home. It was almost lunchtime anyway.

The church office was closed. Traci had been working there temporarily, doing her friend Cindy’s job, while she recovered from being shot. Cindy and Jeremiah were finally on their honeymoon and when they returned Traci would be handing the church secretary reins back over to Cindy.

The last few weeks had been challenging. As a fairly new Christian, and certainly one with limited church experience, she had felt like she’d been thrown into the deep end. She’d known nothing. Fortunately, her other friend Geanie had held her hand through the process.

She’d been doing the job for five weeks now and she felt like she was finally getting into the swing of things.

Just in time to go back to being a stay-at-home mom.

It wasn’t a bad thing. She loved being able to stay home with the kids and take care of them. Lately, though, she’d felt an itching in her mind, like she wanted to go out and do things.

Personally, she suspected that it had more to do with getting interaction with other adults when it had nothing to do with someone being in mortal danger than anything else. There had been whole weeks sometimes, particularly in the beginning, where she hadn’t been able to talk to another adult. Mark had been crazy busy with his job, as always. When he was home he took his turn with the kids so she could get some food and sleep.

The week before at work had been particularly trying, though. Today was the last funeral from the wedding massacre, the one that was the oddest in so many ways. Everyone on staff had been feeling the grief and conflicting emotions pretty intensely. Traci still wasn’t sure who would show up to mourn Jordan.

She knew she wasn’t going to, even though she’d only met the man a few times. She was just grateful that he wasn’t the groomsman she’d had to walk with at Geanie and Joseph’s wedding. She hoped for Geanie’s sake that the other woman stayed home.

When they made it back to the house she was pleased to see Mark’s car in the driveway. She released the kids and once inside the house they eagerly hunted down their father who was in the kitchen making sandwiches.

“I was just going to call,” Mark said, giving her a huge grin.

“I’m pleased to see we made it just in time for the consumption and missed the preparation,” she said with a smirk.

“Everyone who’s eating, wash up,” Mark said.

Traci helped the kids wash their hands then they all sat down at the table. As the kids started busily eating, she stared at her husband.

“Short day?” she asked.

“Yeah, I just had some paperwork at the precinct this morning. Joseph’s taking the afternoon off for… reasons,” he said, glancing at the kids.

“Things have been so crazy the last couple of days I haven’t had a chance to ask you how it’s going with him,” she said.

Mark shook his head. “I feel like I’m the kid with floaties on, trying to jump off the high board into the pool. I have no idea what I’m doing and every time I think I have a handle on something it turns out I’m dead wrong.”

“That must be frustrating.”

“It is, but Joseph’s super patient. You know, I never realized before just how busy that guy is. He runs billion-dollar companies and makes it all look so effortless.”

“Geanie says he surrounds himself with the best to help him.”

“I wish I was the best. Right now, I think I’m in contention to be the worst.”

Six weeks before, Joseph had told Mark that he and Geanie were leaving the bulk of their estate to Ryan and Rachel and that Joseph would start teaching Mark how to run his empire. The offer had taken them both completely by surprise.

“Do you want to, I don’t know, quit?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? Joseph basically told me this is all happening whether I’m prepared or not. Besides, it’s the world’s biggest mystery, figuring out how all these moving pieces work. And I’m getting shot at significantly less. I love it. I feel like an idiot, but I love it.”

“I’m glad. Not for the idiot part, obviously.”

Mark leaned forward and kissed her. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“I think I need a reminder.”

“I’ll remind you later tonight,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“How is your other job?” she asked as she picked up her sandwich.

“Captain Roberts is definitely not surprised that I’m quitting. He’s also very grateful that I’m staying, with reduced hours, until Liam recovers.”

Traci looked down at the table.

Liam.

That had been one of the hardest things to cope with in the aftermath of the massacre. Mark’s friend and partner had nearly died. It was an absolute miracle that he hadn’t. As it was, though, the doctors weren’t holding out much hope for him to ever walk again.

Still, Liam was determined. He had sworn to all of them that he’d be walking before his wife, Rebecca, gave birth to their first child. She was due at the beginning of August.

And both Liam and Mark were convinced that Liam would be able to resume his duties as a detective by the end of the year at the latest. Traci thought they were both a bit crazy for thinking so, but she kept that opinion to herself mostly.

“How’s it going on finding new officers?” she asked.

Several officers had died during the massacre, including Monroe and Francis. That had prompted a couple others to leave for “safer” pastures. She knew that had been hard on Mark and everyone remaining. That’s why Mark was still working part-time.

“Shockingly Pine Springs has gotten itself a reputation. No one who’s got any experience wants to move here.”

“And?”

“We don’t want anyone who hasn’t got any real experience to move here. We’re kind of stuck in this weird limbo,” he said.

The sooner he can quit the safer I’ll feel. We all came so close to dying last month. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take before I feel safe again, before I don’t have this nagging feeling in my gut that there are people out there who still want to hurt us.

Maybe because there are.