Page 32 of Jack
A Moonlit Prelude to the Main Event
It is a crisp, starry evening in the quaint town of Duck Lake, Minnesota—just three days before Oaken Fox and Brontë Kingston are set to exchange vows, then celebrate at the grand King’s Inn on the shores of Duck Lake. As the sun dips below the horizon, a palpable sense of anticipation and excitement fills the air.
Earlier in the day, the soon-to-be newlyweds gathered their bridal party for a private dance lesson…
She closed her eyes, searching for words, feeling Jack’s hand on her back instead.Oops.And then suddenly she was in the Geo, listening to his soft voice.
“Someone got hurt.”
Aw.She minimized her document and opened up her search bar.
It wasn’t hard to find the article in theGainesville Sunabout a hunt gone wrong for a missing person. According to the article, an eighteen-year-old girl, the daughter of a state senator, had gone missing, and Jack had answered a posting offering a reward.
The sheriff hadn’t been kind about Jack’s profession or his assumption that the girl hadn’t been kidnapped—something the local sheriff didn’t buy into. Jack found the girl and her so-called kidnapper at a local farmhouse. According to Jack, he found them in an embrace—something the parents denied. By the time SWAT got there, it was out of his hands. Mostly because Romeo also happened to be a convicted felon out on parole and the sheriff had no time for Jack’s theories.
The alleged kidnapper died on site, Tansy shot and in a coma, and Jack ended up behind bars for obstruction of justice and reckless endangerment. Never mind that he’d been the one who’d called the cops, according to his statement.
And now the parents were suing him. Just ignore the fact that he could have been killed . . . and had been the one to find her.
It all put a burr inside her and fired her instincts to defend him. Which he clearly didn’t want or need, if she tracked back to his matter-of-fact but chilly responses in the car.
Interesting. And, fine. Back into the Not Her Problem file.
She went back to her article, tried to focus.
Oaken, ever the natural performer, effortlessly leads Brontë in a series of two-step twirls and dips, and magic twines through the building.
By the time the evening draws to a close and the last guests have bade their farewells, an air of giddy anticipation has taken hold. For Oaken and Brontë, their fairy tale is about to reach its pinnacle. And for everyone who has the privilege of bearing witness, the weekend’s festivities are shaping up to be unforgettable.
Slightly sappy, butPopMusewould love it.
She sent the teaser off to Clarice with a request for a release to give to Boo and Oaken, and closed her computer. Then she turned off the light and walked to the window.
The moonlight stretched a luminescent finger along the pristine white of the lake, the trees reaching their dark arms into the velvety night. And in the distance, the undulating pink and green ribbons of an aurora borealis rippled through the sky.
It felt strangely magical.
She climbed under her warm comforter and watched the sky until sleep found her.
And then, of course, the files in her brain opened and she was a teenager on spring break, kissing a boy that could never be hers.
Her subconscious was such a traitor.
Dawn, and the aroma of eggs simmering in butter, maybe bacon on the stove, slipped into her room, and she woke, having slept hard.
Dreamed hard.
So hard she hadn’t heard Penelope come in. She rolled over, the light wan but enough to see—wait.
She sat up.
Penny’s bed remained untouched, although her suitcase still lay open, the insides tumbled, the debris of last night’s clothing changes spilling out onto the floor.
Harper got up and went to the bathroom. The door hung ajar, but she knocked anyway. “Pen?”
No answer, and she pushed it open. No fresh haze from a recent shower. Just Penelope’s makeup scattered on the counter—brushes and liner and mascara.
Harper headed back to her bedside table and picked up her phone. Dialed Penelope’s number.