Dead Woman's Pond by Elle E Ire

Author:Elle E Ire [Ire, Elle E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery/suspense
ISBN: 978-1-64405-976-0
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2021-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Aftereffects

“GEN!” I chase after her. My sore knee twists, and I end up slamming into the side of the ambulance. One of the local onlookers steadies me with a hand on my arm. The news crew closes in again. I try waving them off as politely as I can, but they ignore me. And Genesis has disappeared.

I’ve already been interviewed, filmed, and embarrassed. Just past the half-demolished Festivity sign, I hear the familiar roar of the Charger’s V8, but the reporter blocks my path.

Turning head-on to the camera, I fix the woman with my iciest glare, lean in to her microphone, and say, “Back. The fuck. Off.”

She jerks as if I’ve slapped her, hand clamping over the mic, and I wonder if I just cursed her out on live TV. Then I’m running, limping really, for the main road.

The Charger’s taillights vanish into the darkness down Festivity Boulevard.

An hour later, I make it “home.”

That’s how long it takes to get clearance from the cops to leave the scene, find some plastic to spread over the driver’s seat of Chris’s sedan so I don’t get it wet with my still damp clothing, and locate a late-night parking space behind the pub.

When I go inside the bar, everyone turns from the four mounted televisions, each tuned to different local news stations who’ve picked up the story, and all of them featuring me in one way or another: me walking out of the lake in my underwear (oh God), me dripping wet and telling how I broke the window and pulled Arielle out, and an oh-so-fabulous shot of me in Arielle’s arms being seriously, intensely kissed. Okay, she’s one hell of a kisser—not as good as Gen, but hot.

The patrons start a spontaneous round of applause. Several offer to buy me drinks. A few shake my hand or clap me on the shoulder. A couple of women and a number of men eye me speculatively. At least my T-shirt has dried.

The one person I need to see, however, isn’t congratulating me. He’s watching a replay of that damn kiss. It’s a shot taken from behind, so Arielle looks very happy, and I seem very involved in the moment. My hands held out to the sides, carefully not touching her, are completely cut off by the bottom of the screen.

“Chris….”

The news cuts to commercial break and he turns, glaring, accusing. The waitstaff around him fall silent.

And I’m suddenly exhausted, furious, and fucking sick of apologizing.

I storm up to my temporary (maybe very temporary) boss and slam his car keys on the bar.

“I broke the window on your car. I’ll pay for it. I broke it to get at my hammer because I didn’t have the keys. I used the hammer to save a girl’s life. She thanked me. You know how I goddamn feel about Gen. By now, so should she. Maybe you both would have preferred I let that girl die.”

I point a finger at the television. My hand trembles with my anger.

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