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“What’s the bloodiest murder you’ve come up with? There’s a ghost story I like to tell my clients that involves a chainsaw.” He gave her a bloodthirsty grin. “Kids love it.”
There he went, talking about kids again.
“Do you jump out and scare them with a real chainsaw at the end?”
“How did you know?” They both laughed. “Nah, I wouldn’t want to scare someone for real. Out in the woods in the dark, things seem a lot more threatening than they do in town. Statistically, most murders happen in populated areas, not in the wilderness. If you want to stay safe from serial killers, go camping.”
“Is that the motto of your business?”
He chuckled, a rich sound that brought a smile to her own lips. “Wouldn’t want to jinx it.”
They smiled at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch longer than the actual time that passed.
“I can do it,” he finally said, breaking the silence.
“Hm?”
“You can shock your mother with my ugly mug.”
Warmth flooded through her, though she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or gratitude that he’d apparently forgiven her. “You’re not ugly.”
“She’ll probably think I am. Isn’t that the point?”
So it was. “I’m not going to use you as a prop. It’s out of the question.”
He gave that some thought. “I don’t see it that way.”
“How do you see it?”
“Using my looks for good.” He gave her another of those smiles, and her heart melted a little.
“But it’s a prank. How is that good?”
“If the point is to make your mother lighten up, that sounds like a good thing. There’s nothing wrong with a prank if no one gets hurt, right?”
“Is that how it works?“
“If you go by us Cooper brothers, even if someone gets hurt it’s okay, so long as it’s funny. But we’re bad examples,” he added quickly. “We had no adult supervision growing up.”
“That sounds pretty nice.” Brenda sighed. She’d always compared her childhood to growing up in a dollhouse. Everything had to be perfect at all times in case a neighbor dropped by. As for pranks? Once she and Maura had drawn a hopscotch game on the sidewalk and told her mother that it was permanent instead of chalk that would wash off.
Mom had not been amused.
“My mother is much too pretentious, so maybe she deserves it.” Brenda rubbed her forehead. Was she actually going to go through with this silly plan? “Look, I don’t even know exactly when she’s coming, so let’s talk about this another time.”
For some reason, that suggestion made him light up. “I’ll give you my number. If I don’t answer, it’s because I forgot that I have a cell phone and left it somewhere. They never work out on the trail anyway. But you can always leave me a message at the office. They’re pretty good at getting hold of me if you tell them it’s an emergency. I sometimes carry a sat phone with me if I think there’s a potential for danger.”
That seemed like overkill. Her mother’s arrival might be an emergency for her and Granny, but it certainly didn’t require contacting anyone by sat phone. Whatever that was.
“The only danger would be too many cocktails. My mother travels with her own liquor cabinet and Granny and I usually need lots of drinks to get through her visits.” She glanced at her phone and realized it was almost five. She still had work to do. Unnamed Victim number three wasn’t going to murder himself. “Thanks again for bringing Granny home. I’d better go now.”
He seemed to shake himself out of some kind of trance. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Bye.” He swung himself into the drivers seat of his truck.
“Are you going to give me your number?” she asked gently, since he seemed so rattled.
“I have a card here somewhere.” He rummaged around on his dashboard and came up with a business card that had seen better days. He blew dirt off it and rubbed it on his sleeve. Sheepishly, he handed it to her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had given her a business card instead of just inputting their number into her phone.
Galen Cooper, the card read. Lake Bittersweet Wilderness Adventures. Owner/operator.
