Page 8 of Camp Bliss
And I’d made two swift strides toward the lodge door when I’d stopped in my tracks.
Frowning at the thought of all that blood.
I had stood there, debating, for like thirty seconds, and then went back to the door.
“Greta? Are you okay?”
Silence.
“I’m fine, Zach.”Her voice was just a squeak.
I grew up with sisters. Lived with Parker for two years. I’d seen bloody pads wadded up in the bathroom trash. Stained panties in the laundry hamper.
But nothing like the crime scene I’d just witnessed.
“Should I get Josh?”I’d called again.
“I’mfine,Zach. Please. Just. Go. Away.”
I don’t think Greta liked me too much to begin with. That night sure as hell didn’t help.
“Tacos sound good for tonight?” she asks, jerking me from my memory of that awkward, nightmare encounter.
I glance at her, but she’s really directing the question to Josh. He’s already opening his second beer and he shrugs. “Sure.”
We all share the cooking duties. And we eat dinner together most nights. In the lodge. Not because they can’t get enough of my company.
I left a sandwich plate with crumbs and a watermelon rind on the desk in my cabin once right after we moved in. The thing was covered with ants the next morning.
Suffice it to say, we only eat in the lodge now.
And maybe that’s getting old. Maybe they could use a night without a third wheel.
“Count me out,” I say, making a snap decision. “I think I’ll go into town tonight.”
But instead of looking relieved or grateful like I thought she would, Greta looks offended.
What else is new?
ChapterTwo
GRETA
“What if wejust skipped town with the money instead?” Josh asks. He’s leaning back on our old couch, his feet propped on the coffee table.
Our living room furniture looks even more tattered and tired here in the lodge than it did in our rental house. Not that the lodge is in such great shape. It’s definitely not. But it’s so huge. And there’s so many windows. I guess it’s easier to notice how much worse for wear our stuff is.
The sink in the kitchen’s island faces the great room, so this is what I’m thinking as I wash the big stainless skillet—how this place needs new furniture. I’m not seriously contemplating Josh’s criminal question. He’s just blowing off steam like he does every day. Nursing his beer and complaining.
He just complains a lot more when Zach isn’t around.
“I bet we could get a really nice place somewhere, like, in Belize or Ecuador.” I glance up to see the spark of mischief in his eye. “With some smart investments, we could make that $850,000 last a real long time, baby.”
It’s the spark in his eye that coaxes a giggle out of me. I haven’t seen that look in a while. Because I’ve missed it, I play along as I rinse suds off the skillet.
“All three of us? Or just you and me?”
His look heats. “I don’t usually share, but if you are into that—”
