Page 4 of Camera Stays On

Grabbing his keys off the hook right by the front door in the living room, he left to do whatever he did all day. I picked up the obituary again and scanned it. The funeral was in the early afternoon. That gave me time to get a little work done before swinging over.

TIME GOT AWAY from me as I sat at my desk, my head in my laptop, working on permits for my current venture—the Delambre Haunt. A haunted attraction that would operate from late August to mid-November, scaring people all over lower Michigan.

After college, film degree in hand but no steady jobs to be had, I opened a small business as an independent contractor, specializing in location scouting. Movie productions, almost exclusively mid-to-low-budget horror, paid me to find a place for them to film. Some traveling was involved, but I got to work for myself. I had enough clients to live comfortably, and the networking was invaluable.

Being around creepy locations and horror movie sets eventually turned into my own idea. The haunt. I’d been thinking about it for about a year before I finally made the decision to open one a few months ago, with an estimate of opening next year. It was too late to open this Halloween season, but next year, the Delambre Haunt would be the scare attraction to visit.

A spam number calling my phone made me look up from my work and catch the time. I bolted out of my seat, swearing to myself at being late for the damn funeral. Grabbing my cowboy hat and sliding on my boots, I hopped into my truck and headed over to the funeral home. There was only one in our small town, and like everything else, it was only a ten-minute drive away. I frowned at the clock on my dash. I was an hour late.

Parking next to Sawyer’s white Mustang, I put my truck into park and watched him coming out of the funeral home through my rearview mirror. He was following someone who had just ducked under the canopy near the door.

Purdy.

My heart stalled, then started back at thrice the speed. I gritted my teeth and swung the door open. I slid out of the truck, grabbing my hat on the way. Adjusting my open baseball jersey, I ran a hand through my hair before lifting my gaze toward Purdy. I wasn’t dressed for a funeral. I hadn’t thought much of it before, but seeing my brother in a suit made me feel like I was underdressed. My face flamed, and I considered leaving to change, but then my eyes locked with Purdy’s, and I smiled.

God, she was fucking gorgeous.

Dressed in all black, she wore a mini pencil skirt with fishnets and boots. Tucked into her skirt was a low-cut black buttoned blouse, revealing way more of her chest than she used to show. She’d tossed on an oversized suit coat that fell to mid-thigh. This was not the Purdy who’d left town five years ago. She was even more stunning than before.

“How’s it goin’?” I greeted her and Sawyer.

He scowled at me, unimpressed that I’d intercepted his meeting with his ex-fiancée. I ignored him and smiled at Purdy. I examined her face up close, looking for changes. She’d always looked like a model to me, but even more so now, with her dark eye makeup and black lips. Her hair was long, streaked with bright blue through her natural black. “You’re looking good, Purdy.”

“She doesn’t go by that anymore,” Sawyer snapped. “Call her by her real name.”

“Oh? Well, you sure look purdy to me.” I grinned, and she blushed. “Sorry I’m not really dressed for this, Andi.”

The name felt strange on my tongue, but I kind of liked the change.

“It’s fine. I’m not entirely dressed for this either.” She rolled her eyes and gave me a small wave, followed by a deep sigh. “Hey, Ash. It’s good to see you.”

“Sorry about your mom. How you holding up?” I asked, my gaze flicking to the funeral home behind us. People moved in and out, not paying us any mind.

“I’m fine. It’s just...odd to hear people talk about her. Like, are we talking about the same person?” She laughed dryly, then frowned. “Guess she went peacefully, though. Aneurysm.”

I nodded. There wasn’t much to say. Only the three of us really knew the damage Angel Marin had done to her daughter. It felt pointless to bring it up now.

“Well, if you want to go inside and pay your respects, she’s in there.” Sawyer pointed to the doors. His expression was firm, lips pressed into a tight line, eyes cold as he silently demanded I go. I knew what he was doing, but having been right beside the pair all through their ups and downs, I knew better than to leave Sawyer alone with her. Who knew what he’d say or do.

“I’ve made my peace. I’m here for Andi.” I smiled at my friend and opened my arms. She stepped into my hug, wrapping her arms around me. Her scent lingered as she pulled away. She even smelled different too. On first inhale, I smelled some kind of citrus, but then something floral lingered, reminding me of a garden after the rain. I liked it.

“Well, I’m here too,” Sawyer interjected, straightening his suit. “ You hungry, Purr—Andi? I thought maybe you could use a good meal.” He grimaced, as if saying her real name hurt.

She licked her lips, and when I zeroed in on them, I saw the telltale tick of her nerves. Her jaw moved ever so slightly before closing tight.

Did she still have her stutter?

“I could eat,” I said. “Why don’t all three of us go get a beer?”

I flashed a tight smile to Sawyer, whose fists clenched at his sides.

“I doubt she wants a whole party, Ash. Plus, we should probably go back in there.” He nodded to the funeral home.

We?

I lowered my gaze. “You just said you were going to go eat.”

“I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go back in and finish the service.” Sawyer stepped up to Andi and snaked his arm around her waist. Andi jerked hard out of his space and moved closer to me.