SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 64.5

"This is a bad idea, Velma, splitting up always results in – at the very least – one severed head." He picked up his peanut butter knife and licked it clean. I left him to it and locked the front door and drew the bolt across the door. I took the envelope and checked the dining room windows and returned to the hallway to find an antsy Irvin waiting for me. "If there's someone in my bed, I'm going to stab Goldilocks. That's three references in the last two minutes, two too many, right? Goddamnit." He smacked himself sharply. "Get yourself together, boy. Now's not the time for dated pop culture references."

I stared at him, incredulous. "What the hell is the matter with you? Are you intoxicated?"

"I'm sober. Ask me how many fingers I'm holding up."

"Why would I ask you that?"

He seemed discombobulated for a moment and he frowned deeply. "Do I not have fingers?"

The boy was a stoned fool. I instructed him to stay quiet and to follow behind me. As we got to the top landing, he called out loudly. "Come out! I have a knife!" I turned on my heel to him with a dirty glower and he grimaced at me. "It's true. What if I stab them? They will sue me for damages and I don't want to be paying off anyone's student loans. We should ask them to leave, maybe they can come back when it's morning. We could have a drink with them. Coffee. No, wait. Whiskey."

"That is a very good idea," I opened the bathroom door, checked the cold room for any intruders: the shower curtain was pulled back, revealing an empty bathtub and gleaming white tiles reflecting the moon's silvery shine, and I smiled at Irvin. "Why don't you go ask them?"

"OK!" he walked in, and I shut the door, turning the key in the lock. "Hey!" he knocked on the door and the doorknob rattled. "Shay? Can you let me out? I don't like the dark. Please, Shay. I'm scared."

I could hear him wheezing and lying about being claustrophobic as I made my way down the hallway. I ignored him and returned when I found all the rooms empty. I unlocked the door and he spilled out of the room, falling on the floor at my feet, red in the face and flushed. "I thought I was going to die. I'm going to go downstairs, I left my peanut butter sandwich at the table."

I followed after him, my mind chaotic and buzzing with questioning thoughts. I searched the rooms with a probing eye and failed to discover anything missing – if there was anything stolen, that is. If the intruder wanted to kill us, he had the perfect chance: Irvin was sky-high, floating on cloud nine, and I had been asleep. He wanted me to see him. Why? I couldn't find the answers I so desperately sought after. It wasn't a random break-in. The masked invader wasn't some burglar searching for jewels and diamonds (or, if I'm being realistic, TV's and consoles), it was likely someone I knew. Or someone affiliated with the criminal world.

In the hallway downstairs, I pulled on my trainers and plucked the envelope from the table and tugged Irvin back by his collar. "We're leaving."

"But my sandwich–!" he was distressed.

"I'll buy you another. C'mon." I locked the front door after us, sweeping the bitingly cold street with a keen gaze and senses aware and electrified. I opened the passenger door to the Shogun. "Get in. Irvin, where the hell are you going!?"

"Look, a kitty!"

"Motherfucker, get back here!" I yanked him away from the stray black cat who prowled around the trashcans, green eyes alight, meowing softly. Irvin grumbled and groused but obediently folded his legs in the Shogun. I slammed the door shut, slipped to the driver's side and reversed back down the drive, spinning the steering wheel, and speeding up along a long stretch of black tarmac. I handed the envelope to Irvin. "Open this for me." I kept an eye on the rear view mirror for any unwanted vehicles kissing my behind.

He tore the envelope in half.

I paused for a friction of a second, then turned to stare at him sharply with a look of bewilderment and incredulity. "What the fuck–!" I sighed heavily, deflated. "Never mind. I should've expected this. Pass me the goddamn letter." I snatched the letter from him, keeping the two parts between my legs, intending to read its contents when I reached my destination.

"Shay?"

"What?"

"I think you ran over the kitty."

"Fuck."

Silence.

Irvin, with a wave of his hand: "She's got eight lives left. She'll be fine."

**

I parked outside James' house. The porch light was switched on and yellow glow lighted up the front path. The front door was opened and Greece barked, bounding towards Irvin as he slipped out of the Shogun. She slobbered over his face as he laughed, giving her a long hug and talking incoherently about dog food. I stayed in the Shogun, disregarding the envelope and holding the torn paper together. I read the typed words.

IT'S TIME FOR A FAMILY REUNION.

Dread settled like cement in my gut, heavy and weighty, wet and burdensome. The driver's door was opened by a concerned Cole, demanding to know. "What the hell happened?"

It was my father.

I handed him the pieces of paper. I felt awful, and felt like I was drenched in a cold sweat. I was afraid, I couldn't deny the fear burning through me, an engulfing smoky fire. My phone suddenly rang. It was an unknown number. Cole read the words, lowered the paper, his expression was cold and furious. I stared down at my phone, unwilling to answer, uncertain and disquieted. I had an unsettling feeling the caller wasn't someone I wanted to converse with. Cole reached for my phone, slid the icon across the screen and held it to his ear. He didn't speak. His expression hardened and his hand tightened around the phone, he turned slightly, sweeping his gaze across the dark street, up and down and then he promised, voice quiet and venomous. "You son of a bitch. I'm going to kill you."

The call came to an abrupt end. The caller hung up. I asked even though I already knew who it was. "Who was it?"

He seemed conflicted, jaw tensed and then he revealed. "Your father." He took my arm, and I jumped down from the seat, allowing myself to be herded into the house. He locked the front door and turned to me. "Join me for a drink in the study. We need to talk." He said gravely.

***