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That didn't mean I didn't have love for my friends. The guys that built this company with me were just as much brothers to me as my blood. They were a bit odd, far too personable most days, but I was there for them whenever needed. With the murder at the office a year ago and the attempted kidnapping of Sicily's daughter, we had all been on edge. They still hadn't caught the sonofabitch, and he had been quiet as a titmouse. But there was something in the air, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I hoped it didn't have anything to do with Daniel and Sicily. They had been through enough; this was their night, their engagement.
"Ryder," a voice said behind me.
I turned to find Sicily standing there with Amber. "I wanted to formally introduce you to my best friend, Amber. I know you met a long time ago in college."
I gave a tight-lipped smile. "Nice to meet you."
She nodded. "That was a pretty sweet outfit earlier. You could get some use out of it at the company parties."
Sicily giggled, and I just smiled, looking at the privilege dripping from Amber's perfect hair, perfect body, perfect designer clothing. "Mmm. If I was into the whole, put my balls in an uninflated balloon thing.”
Sicily snorted, and Amber smiled, just staring at me. She may be privileged, but it didn't go over her head when someone was being a sarcastic ass. They excused themselves and went back to the front. I wasn't always trying to be an ass, but building the business was one thing. Being part of that world was not something I enjoyed in the least.
I scratched the side of my neck, pulling even more sand off my skin. But, of course, that was exactly why I was happy to take my boots and my bike over flip-flops and beaches any time. But it was Daniel and Sicily's day. He had asked us to do that ridiculous proposal with him, and there was no way we could turn him down. Over the last year, we all got to know Sicily, and we all loved her and Harper very much. She made Daniel happy, and she was a good woman.
So, I took surf lessons for six months, dawned a tuxedo-printed wetsuit, and embarrassed myself in front of a ton of people. The ladies seemed to think it was adorable, and I already had a pocket full of numbers. I was glad to be back in my clothes again, celebrating their engagement at Daniel's favorite Italian restaurant. I had put the party together, too afraid of letting the knuckleheads do it. I wasn't sure they had ever planned anything other than graduation parties and keggers.
They would be the fools planning the bachelor party, but the engagement party was for Sicily. It was a nice affair, with the whole restaurant rented out. We invited the team from work, Sicily's annoying best friend Amber was there, and Sicily’s parents made the trip. Even Daniel's family showed up for the occasion, which wasn't something we saw a lot of over the years.
Everyone was eating, drinking, talking, and enjoying the night. I was never a big fan of those kinds of social gatherings, but I wasn't uncomfortable with them anymore. I had been forced into enough of them since the company took off to find my comfortable spot. A glass of whiskey in front of me, my boots back on, even though I knew they were full of sand, and a corner spot away from the masses — I was happy.
"Excuse me, Mr. Rhodes?"
I looked up at the waitress. "Yes, that's me."
"There was a package delivered for you."
My brow furrowed. "Here? What is it?"
She shrugged. "We don't know. The instructions were to put in it the private room for you to open. It might be a gift for the couple from someone who couldn't make it."
I nodded and got up, managing to skirt past the group without them noticing. I followed the waitress to the private room. She showed me in and then left, sliding the doors closed behind me. I didn't know why, but for some reason, the whole thing gave me a strange feeling. Sitting on a table by itself, in the middle of the room, was a brown package. On top was a card. There were bikes on the front of the card. I pushed it open and read the message.
"Seems the Surf wasn't as fun as it looked. How about we hit the road on our Hog instead? Vroom Vroom Ryder. P.S. Did you miss me?"
I read the card several times, pulling my hand back as I recognized the term surf. The writing was not handwritten. But instead, letters were cut out from various sources and glued inside the card. Flashes of "Surfs Up" etched into that poor dead maintenance guy's chest ripped through my mind. I pushed the card to the side and carefully untaped the folded edges of the brown paper. Beneath was a metal box, similar to those at yard sales, that people kept cash in. Only this one was square and tall.
Scraped into the sides of the box, it said, "Vroom, Vroom."
I clicked the latch and flipped open the lid, standing back for a second to make sure nothing was going to jump out, explode, or something else unexpected but lethal. After a few moments of nothing happening, I took a step forward and looked inside.
"Oh god," I gasped, stumbling back.
I put my hand over my mouth for a second and closed my eyes, gathering my thoughts. I stepped forward again, grimacing as I reached inside, pulling out a small piece of paper rolled and sticking from the empty eye socket of a severed hog's head.
On the note was a date. Jan 6th from 7 years ago. I had no idea what that date signified, but it was the same one sent to Daniel a year before when he got the recording.
It was obvious the killer was back, and this time it looked like I was the object of his affection. And from the looks of the severed Hog's head, I might want to watch my own. First, I put my hand over my mouth to cover the putrid smell coming from the box. Then, I closed the lid and sat in one of the chairs. I leaned my elbows on my knees and breathed deeply, trying to stabilize myself. It wasn't like I hadn't seen a dead animal carcass before. I came from a family of butchers, raised in a small town butcher shop that had grown into a small town factory. Nothing huge, but it made a nice life for my parents.
With a shaking hand, I reached into the breast pocket of my jacket and pulled out my phone, dialing a friend at the police department. He had been recently put in charge of the case after the last detective turned up no leads whatsoever.
"Ryder," Carter said, surprised. "Aren't you at a fancy schmancy engagement party?"
"I noticed you didn't rsvp," I replied, staring up at the box.
"I didn't want to draw any attention or have anyone bring up the murder at their event," he said. "I sent a gift."
"It didn't happen to be alive at one point, did it?"
