Showing posts with label 44.1644 North. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 44.1644 North. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 12, 2023

Christmas Coda 67 - Skylar and Rory from 44.1644° North

 


Christmas Coda 67 – Skylar and Rory from 44.1644° North

 

I couldn’t tell how the phone call was going until Rory repeated blankly, “Four days?”

Like he’d never heard of such a thing.

I tried to read his face. It was such a nice face: everything exactly where it was supposed to be, from those keen gray eyes to really his beautiful smile. He wasn’t smiling right now, though. He was frowning.

And yet, from where I was sitting—which happened to be the other queen-sized bed in Rory’s hotel room in Bozwin, Montana—it almost sounded as if the answer to his question was yes.

Which seemed too much to hope for.

And yet, I couldn’t help hoping…

Long distance relationships are tough. How do you get to know each other, really know each other, from opposite sides of the country? Sure, there was Facetime and texts and even the quick occasional reunion at hotels and motels, but... 

“Well, yes,” Rory said quickly. “I just didn’t think—” He caught himself, said crisply, “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it.” And then, clearly in afterthought, “Merry Christmas.”

I felt happiness light inside me like the shining star at the top of a Christmas Tree.

Rory slowly put his phone down, stared at me, said, “I’ve got four days off.”

Four days. Four whole days. Breakfast, lunch and dinner together for four whole days. Not that I cared about food when there was so much more on the menu.

I grinned, moved from the extra bed to his, wrapped my arm around his shoulder and squeezed. “See, you never know unless you ask.”

Rory shook his head. “Jason must be staying with him.”

“Maybe they’re spending the holidays together too.”

We were going to spend the holidays together!

Rory automatically shook his head as though that were impossible, but then said slowly, “Yeah. You could be right.”

Jason was Rory’s boss Sam’s, boyfriend. They were also trying to make a long-distance relationship work. Although Sam, being the chief of one of the FBI’s BAU units, was able to finagle more time for his relationship than a mere field agent like Rory. It probably helped that Jason was also in the FBI.  

Rory turned his face to mine and we smiled into each other’s eyes. “So, you’re staying too? Right? That was the deal.”

“Yep. I’m going to cancel my flight right now.”

“And your family’s not going to mind that you’re changing your holiday plans spur-of-the-moment?”

“I assume I’ll be greatly missed.” I couldn’t stop smiling at him. It was just… In almost an entire year we’d never managed to grab more than forty-eight hours together at a time. The idea of four whole days—including Christmas—was almost too much to believe. Four days of just us. It almost made it better that we were in the middle of nowhere—well, that we were both strangers in town. Everyday would be a little adventure we would share together.

“I’m sure you will.” Rory was serious.

It was, well, we tended to keep things light when we were together because when time is limited, you're careful not to do anything that might upset the fragile equilibrium. But he said it so sincerely. The way he said it turned it into one of nicest things anyone had ever said to me

I got equally serious. “I’m sure they’ll be very happy for me. They know how much—well, they know.”

Rory’s face slowly creased into smile. “What do they know?” he asked softly.

My laugh sounded nervous even to me. I said vaguely, airily, “Oh, you know.”

Rory nodded, leaned into me, found my mouth. He kissed me, whispered, “Yes, I do.”

 

* * * * *

“You're a closet romantic,” Jason teased.  


He was relaxing in bed, head comfortably propped on his crossed arms, studying Sam’s profile as Sam set his cell on the nightstand. Sam glanced up; his expression sardonic.

“You think that was sentiment? Giving Torr a couple of days off? He’s more than due some PTO.”

“I think it was a nice thing to do.”

Sam grimaced, shook his head, and reclaimed his place in the nest of pillows and bedclothes, reclaimed Jason, with a muscular arm wrapped around Jason's waist.

Jason considered the snow falling softly outside Sam’s bedroom window. He was secretly hoping they might get snowed in together, although that would require a Christmas miracle. He said thoughtfully, “I think Rory really likes the professor.”

“Mm.” Sam sounded unenthused at the idea of anyone really liking anyone.

Jason made a faint sound of amusement. Wry amusement, for sure.

Sam said, “You’re always saying BAU isn’t for everyone, West. Torr’s an excellent agent. When you find good people, you do what you can to keep them happy.”

“Ah.”

Sam’s lashes lifted, he regarded Jason for a long moment. His hard blue stare softened. His stern mouth twitched into a funny little smile. He tipped Jason's chin up and kissed him.

Friday, February 10, 2023

NEW RELEASE: 44.1644° North

 


It turns out it took about a week longer than I'd hoped to complete the novella 44.1644° North, so I'm guessing that week-long lag will translate into everything in the first half of the year. 

But it's done! And I'm so happy. I think it's pretty good too. There are a couple of little Easter Eggs in there for readers and true crime buffs alike. I mentioned earlier that the story was inspired by the still-unsolved disappearance of Maura Murray. Fun fact. She disappeared on the night of February ninth in 2004, so realizing the book went live last night--on the 19th anniversary of her disappearance--was startling.  

But yes, it went live last night on Smashwords and Kobo . And this morning it looks like it's available on Google and  BarnesandNoble. It will not be available on Amazon until Sunday. That's because it was a preorder with a planned release of May 10, so it's coming out three months early (and even when you ask for immediate release, it takes ZON three days to let go). On the bright side, if you preordered through Amazon, you probably got that reduced preorder price, so you wait a tiny bit longer, but you saved a buck. 

BEFORE YOU ASK: Yes, it will be available in print. Yes, it will be in audio. Kale Williams is already set to record this one. :-) 


So what's this little standalone about?

The decades-old disappearance of twenty-one-year-old teaching student Deirdre O’Donnell is the Holy Grail for true-crime buffs—and Skylar Brennan, the host of the Ugly Town podcast, is no exception. In fact, on the mean streets of the internet, he’s considered an expert on the case. (In law-enforcement circles, he’s viewed as just another crackpot amateur sleuth.)

Every February, the remote New Hampshire village of Woodlark holds a candlelight vigil for Deirdre. Family, friends, and “supporters” of the long-missing girl gather at the spot where she was last seen. This is Skylar’s first vigil, and his fans are really looking forward to meeting him—though maybe not as much as the anonymous person who emailed him coordinates to Deirdre’s grave.

 

 EXCERPT

The cold should have sobered me up. It was fucking freezing. I was pretty sure my lungs were icing over. I could barely get my breath. And the lights were shooting all over the place.

I stumbled away from the pub and into the trees, and then I couldn’t remember which of the dark cabins was supposed to be mine. They all looked alike when they were asleep. Which started me laughing so hard, I had to grab the nearest tree to stay upright.

“Can I have this dance?” Beneath my bare hands, the bark was rough and textured, and I leaned my face against it and breathed in the bittersweet, earthy scent of tree skin. I stopped laughing and just breathed with the tree. The endlessly spinning tree.

What the hell is happening?

A hand landed on my shoulder. “May I cut in?” someone asked.

I rolled over, but somehow that meant I was no longer leaning on the tree, no longer leaning on anything. I staggered backward, and the hand on my shoulder became two hands, hauling me back on my feet.

“Whoa,” Rory said.

I tossed my hair out of my face and nearly fell over again. “I know you.”

“You forgot your coat. And hat. And gloves. The good news is you still have your pants on.”

“You wish!” I shot back.

He gave a funny laugh. “Uh…well. It’s not high on the list, but…”

I raised my hand and made a broad cutting motion—and found my arms full of my jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves.

“Would you like some help getting to your cabin?”

“Which one’s mine?”

“You got me there.”

“I got myself there.”

“Hey.” He patted my face with his gloved hand. “Brennan?”

I ignored him, dropping my coat and things, patting my pockets for my keys. I frowned into his face. “Did I leave my keys inside?”

“No. Brennan, hey. Hello? Skylar? Sky? Still with me?”

I opened my eyes. Shook my head.

“How much did you have to drink?”

I held my hand up and began to count it out.

“You think? Because I was watching. It didn’t look to me like you had that much. Is it possible someone spiked your beer?”

“Who? You?”

Even in the shadowy light I could see he was taken aback. “Me? No. Not me.”

I said confidently, “I think it was you. I think you’re up to no good, Rory Whatever Your Name Is.”