Chapter 8 #3
“How did you know about the nuts?” Tommy demanded, his voice shaking.
Jason turned around to face him, standing in the office doorway once he read the word spelled out in dirt beside the broken
photo frame. “You mean that Dell is allergic to them?”
“I mean that we were going to use them to—” Tommy cut himself off with a frightened gasp.
Jason didn’t miss a beat. “Use them to what, Tommy?”
Tommy shook his head and started backing out of the room, broom still clutched in one hand.
“Hey! Get back here!” Jason called, and stomped after him. “Use them for what, Tommy?” He reached for Tommy and grabbed his arm.
Tommy was too frightened to fight back, and for once, Dell would not have blamed her best friend for decking her fiancé in
the face. They stood nose to nose, Jason seething and Tommy all but quivering.
“You really did do something to her, didn’t you?” Jason hissed.
“No!” Tommy defended.
“Then what were you talking about?” Jason demanded, and shook him by the arm. His hand had turned white from grasping him
so hard.
Dell came closer in her dress, wondering if Jason was going to get a confession out of him simply due to fright.
Tommy flinched at the dress and squawked out a terrified sound. “Fine! We were going to use the nuts to kill her! Mother wanted
me to marry her for her trust, but then Dell told us she doesn’t even touch it. And even worse, she’s so goddamned good that she was going to give it all to charity! That’s why we changed the prenup and hired someone to serve walnut cake on our
honeymoon. It was my job to throw her EpiPens overboard. She’d be gone, and we’d be rich before anyone got the chance to stop
it. It was all Mother’s plan!”
“Yes,” Dell victoriously hissed. “Got you.”
Jason stared at Tommy as if he were trying to burn a hole through him with his eyes. “You were going to . . . kill Dell?”
With guilt written all over his face, Tommy tried to squirm out of Jason’s grip. “Not at first. The situation got out of hand. I thought I’d have access to her money when we married. I didn’t know she doesn’t touch it.”
Jason’s anger ballooned into the room. He gripped Tommy even harder and leaned in. “So you were going to Kill. Dell?” His question slid off his tongue like venom.
Tommy cowered. Dell smiled with a renewed sense of horror bound up in satisfaction that she’d been right, and now someone
else alive knew it.
“I—I didn’t want to. Not at first. But my mother—”
“Screw your mother, Tommy,” Jason snapped. Dell had never seen him so intimidating or fierce before. It sent a pleasant tingle
rippling through her body. He stared at Tommy with stone-cold eyes and spoke hardly above a whisper. “Listen carefully to
me. You never deserved her. She is so far beyond too good for you it’s not even funny. I have never liked you, which is probably
not a surprise, but now you’ve gone and validated every doubt I’ve ever had. There are half a dozen reporters outside the
front door, and you are going to march out there and confess, or I swear to God, Dell will haunt you forever.”
Tommy stared back at Jason, doing his best not to tremble.
Dell came closer and lifted her skirt to spin in a circle. The silky fabric rustled and twirled, and Tommy held his breath.
Jason gave him one more hard look before saying, “Boo.”
Tommy screamed and ran for the front door, abandoning the broom and nearly tripping himself trying to get away.
The reporters immediately struck up a chorus of questions when he opened the door.
“Mr. Moratto, what happened?”
“Where was your fiancée taken?”
“Who was that blond woman earlier?”
Dell expected Tommy to keep running right down the street and maybe into the bay, but he was so frightened by Jason’s threat he stopped on the porch and held up his hands.
“I have a statement to make . . .” he began.
Jason shut the front door and locked it. He immediately whipped out his phone and started dialing. “This is going to look
great on the five o’clock news. I’m calling the cops to make sure he doesn’t get away,” he said, and then turned around to
face Dell’s floating dress. He punched a fist into his hip while the call went out. “Yeah, hi. Tom Moratto—the mayor’s son—is
outside his house right now, confessing to his plan to murder his fiancée. You might want to send someone.” He paused to listen
to what Dell was sure was a shocked reaction, even for a 911 operator.
“Yes,” Jason said with a nod. “Thank you.” He ended the call and looked toward Dell. “That’s taken care of. Soooo, what the
hell just happened?”
Dell gasped in excitement and hurried toward him. “That was amazing! I just wanted to scare him. I wasn’t expecting a confession!
I—”
“He can’t hear you,” Cole reminded her.
Dell grumbled right as Jason held up his hands to stop her approaching dress. “This is helpful to be able to see you, but
it’s also the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen, and you probably shouldn’t be floating around in your wedding dress if you don’t
want to make everyone think they’ve lost it, like Tommy.”
“Good point,” Dell said. She turned to Cole. “I’m going to need help again.”
He gave her a sheepish look. “Taking it off?”
“Yes. Just unbuttoning it for me.”
He nodded like he was up for the task even as a deep blush filled his face.
They returned to her office, and Dell swept her hair aside so he could reach the buttons. Once more, she felt his hands warmly
against her back and wondered what he was thinking to be able to touch the dress.
“That was really good,” Cole said with the same nervous jump in his voice. “For a first-time haunting.”
“Thank you. It came kind of naturally, honestly.”
“Perhaps thanks to him truly deserving it.”
“Perhaps.”
His fingers trailed down her spine. He was making quicker work of undoing the buttons than fastening them, and Dell found
herself disappointed he was almost finished.
“Oh, um . . .” Cole said, and paused near her mid-back.
“What?”
“It’s stuck.”
“What? Stuck?” Dell said, and turned her head as much as she could to see. “How can it be stuck? It’s a button, not a zipper.”
“I don’t know, but it is. A thread is snagged or something,” Cole said, and tugged.
Dell reached around to feel, suddenly panicky over being stuck in the wedding dress she was supposed to wear to marry a man
plotting her death. “Can you get it unstuck?”
“I’m trying,” Cole said, and tugged again.
“Pull harder,” Dell ordered, feeling her breath grow short.
“It will tear.”
“I don’t care!” she hollered, and reached around to grip it herself.
“I’ve got it, don’t worry.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’ve got it.”
“Just let me—”
“Get me out!”
“I’m trying!”
“Cole!” she cried, and threw her hands over her face.
“There!” He roughly tore the whole thing wide open. The sound of pearl buttons bouncing off the floor followed a loud rip
of seams.
Dell took a large gulp of air, now free of constriction, and felt Cole’s heavy breath on her naked back. She could picture
wads of torn silk and lace in his big hands. He’d ripped it so wide, if he let go, the dress would fall to the floor and leave
her in nothing but her underwear.
“Thank you,” she said meekly under his gaze, which she could feel heating her skin.
“You’re welcome.” His voice came out gravelly and with a hint of shock, as if he’d surprised himself with his drastic action.
In truth, Dell was surprised too.
“Didn’t have you pegged for a bodice ripper,” she teased in an effort to soothe the charged tension between them. She gripped
the front of her dress so it wouldn’t fall.