Page 3 of After We Fall

No, I ensured the ceremony would happen on time. I hold up a hand. “I took pictures on my phone, caught the broken vase from all angles. The pieces are in a trash bag in the dumpster if someone wants to take a look, but there really wasn’t much to see.”

Harlan gapes at me, but Luke takes a step forward and says, “With the door unlocked and very little touched, I’m not sure the police would’ve found much anyway. Probably nothing to fingerprint either.” He nods to me. “Still, it’s a good idea to notify them after the ceremony.”

“This is a private family gathering. Only eighteen people are attending, and we didn’t send invitations. Who else would know about today?” Harlan shoves the brochure in my direction. “And why would they do something like this?”

My boss’s rare display of frustration isn’t the only factor causing a nervous lump to fill my throat. But I straighten my shoulders and push past the feeling of foreboding that this might have something to do with one of the girls at the ranch.

“My best guess? An uber fan from one of your superhero movies. Or an obsessed person who caught wind of your viral YouTube video.” I shift to address Luke. “A little over a year ago, Harlan saved a teenage girl from drowning. The footage went viral.”

Luke nods. “Yes. I believe two and a half million people deemed him Hercules.” To his credit, his face remains blank when he mentions the embarrassing moniker.

Harlan’s glower shoots from Luke back to me.

“In the beginning, he had a few obsessed teenagers contact him,” I say to Luke. “It was all very benign. Other than that, nothing. The bulk of the social media attention subsided after a month. Other than normal fan mail, we’ve never dealt with anything like this before.” I study Harlan and take a breath. My boss has never been anything but honest with me. “I hope it’s a teenage prank. But I called the security company to come evaluate the chapel just in case.”

In spite of the crisp Colorado Springs autumn morning, the air in the room hangs heavy.

Harlan runs a hand through his hair, a combination of frustration and worry etched in the lines around his eyes. “Luke, what do you think?”

Luke plants his feet wide and crosses his arms. “I’ll point out that this incident wasn’t aimed at a specific person. It could be meant for anyone on either property associated with the halfway house.”

“It has to be for Harlan,” I say, the pitch in my voice higher than I prefer. “He’s a fairly well-known celebrity. This is just a local wayward adolescent acting on the dare of a classmate. Something for attention. I think you might be blowing this out of proportion.”

“You’re the one who called me,” Luke says.

“Because I wanted discreet monitoring of the chapel. Not because I wanted to escalate the situation an hour before the wedding starts.”

“Listen, I don’t know what happened in here. But this feels a little personal. Why didn’t the perpetrator unleash a can of spray paint? Why only destroy one flower arrangement, leaving everything else in place? It seems controlled. Intentional.”

I curl my hand into a fist, fingernails digging into my flesh.

“It’s too vague to assess if there’s a true threat,” Luke says. “I don’t know what this person’s endgame is. It could be nothing.”

Pressing a palm to his forehead, Harlan turns and takes two steps. “What needs to happen next?”

Luke sticks the ridiculous toothpick back into his big mouth. “Your existing security on the ranch is all solid. No sensors or alarms were set off, so that’s good. I’ll walk the property and look for signs of stakeouts, additional damage, or unwanted visitors. I’ll also stick around today and keep watch. It’ll all be fine.” His eyes glitter when he adds, “And if you’re interested, I can send two undercover bodyguards with you on your honeymoon.”

Harlan angles back in our direction, shaking his head. “I’m not double-dating on my honeymoon.”

Luke laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. Why is he having this reaction? Not one thing about this is funny.

Rubbing the stubble on his cheek, he downgrades his outburst to a chuckle.

Wait a minute.

The stubble. The green eyes. That dumb toothpick attached to a cocky grin. And Harlan’s thirty-third birthday party. The one where I met a man named Luke who asked me to dance. Whose intoxicating energy and sincere interest pierced right through my typical negative response to such a request and tempted me to say yes. As I recall, I took a breath to accept, but his phone rang before I could utter a word. He barely apologized as he hurried out of the restaurant, leaving me with the taste of watered-down lemonade and bitter embarrassment.

“All right. No roommates on your honeymoon,” Luke says. “But I think while you’re traveling, someone needs to keep an eye on the ranch in case this joker shows up again.”

“I know you’re usually on the road,” Harlan says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But can you stay on the property? Beef up our existing security system? Watch the place?”

My entire body jerks back. What? Stay on the property? I know I called for help, but this is not what I meant. My control of the situation seems to be unraveling, and the snag is a man named Luke Granger.

“Not a problem,” Luke says, chewing his toothpick like it’s cud.

How hard would it be to yank that thing out of his mouth and stab him with it?

“I want you next door at Twelve Bluebells with the girls.” Harlan hitches a thumb toward the adjacent property across the wooden fence line. “My fiancée’s halfway house serves young women who’ve aged out of foster care assistance but need help getting their feet on the ground. It doesn’t officially open until next spring, and we have yet to hire a program director to run the place. But Meredith can’t turn anyone away, so we already have three boarders.”