Positively Morbid

Table of Contents Excerpt Positively Morbid Copyright Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three A word about the author… Thank you for purchasing “Race you,” she said to Mouse, who accepted the challenge with a joyful burst of speed. The dog wasn't distracted by old, persistent sorrows, and if Parker meant to keep up, she couldn’t be either. They sprinted to the steep cliff-side stairs leading up to the boarding house that had been gutted, expanded, and re-branded as the Tyler Bettering Institute. A bright piece of fabric caught Parker’s headlamp beam, and she paused for a closer look, thinking a guest might have lost a hat. Mouse ran to sniff it, then let loose a full-throated volley of barks as she backed away. Parker shushed her. Mouse quieted, a subsonic growl vibrating in her throat. Parker heard nothing but waves, wind and distant traffic. Could there be an injured cat under there? She fished out her pepper spray. “It’s okay,” she called, and rounded a pile of driftwood to peer under the stairs, poised to retreat if she met frightened eyes. It was not a hurt animal. Or rather, it had been a man, and he didn’t hurt anymore. Positively Morbid by Cara Johns This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. Positively Morbid COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Stacy Cara Johns All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by Jennifer Greeff The Wild Rose Press, Inc. PO Box 708 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708 Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First Edition, 2023 Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-4884-1 Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4885-8 Published in the United States of America Dedication To everyone who struggles with the past. Chapter One Parker sat cross-legged on the concrete floor of her balcony, eyes closed. A chill seeped into her bones through the yoga mat as she tried to focus on the sensation of salt-tinged air entering and exiting her nostrils. Breathe, and again. Her phone interrupted with a repeated rhythmic buzzing. The noise was only another sensation, she told herself. No different from the breeze playing through her short hair, or the skin on her bare biceps contracting into goosebumps. It didn’t help. The buzzing continued, and her stomach tightened in response. Unless it was an emergency, Dad or Krista wouldn’t call in the middle of a workday. Surrendering, her eyes flicked open to the pearl-gray sky, and she reached for the offending phone. The number was unfamiliar, except for an East Coast area code she’d had herself once upon a time. Maybe Dad was calling from a neighbor’s house. “Hello?” she said. Anxiety emerged as brusqueness. There was an indrawn breath, followed by a hesitation that made her stomach shrivel. “Hello?” she repeated. A short cough like clearing a gnat in the throat. Another pause. Then, “Hi. Corey. It’s Jess.” That was a gut punch. Jesse Coburn, first love and onetime soulmate. It had been more than eight years since she’d spoken to him. For a while, Parker had hoped he’d come after her and make everything better—and then she’d moved on to nursing her resentment. Recently, she’d let that go, too. No one could have made everything better because no one could bring Britt back to life. Parker had started to create an intentional, compassionate adult life. With a few shortcuts here and there, to make up for lost time. She slipped through the sliding door to collapse on the loveseat next to Mouse, her long-legged rescue mutt, who was stretched across one and a half of the two cushions. Parker’s voice was weirdly calm. “Jess. How did you find me?” “Your dad gave me your number when he told me you were on the Oregon Coast. I hope you don’t mind.” Dad. Of course. Her heart eased a little. Despite the cloud of suspicion that had hung over her and Jess after they found Britt’s body, her father, the consummate professor, had argued their innocence to anyone who would listen. Not a popular move, with Britt’s own mother spreading lies, but Dad had believed in Parker and Jess both. Even accounting for her father’s collusion, it wasn’t okay for Jess to intrude on her life. There could be no good reason after so long a silence and so much hurt. “What do you want?” Parker demanded. Mouse responded to the tension in her voice with a searching gaze. Parker scratched between her ears, and Mouse sighed and settled her chin on Parker’s thigh. Jess made the gnat-forcing noise again. Parker’s anger ratcheted down a notch. He sounded like he’d wanted to make this call even less than she wanted to receive it. “Corey—” “I don’t even go by that name anymore. It’s Parker, okay? Just Parker.” Silence. Then, “Wasn’t that your mom’s maiden—?” “It doesn’t matter, Jess! What do you want?” Her stomach was tight with dread. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Parker. I need to talk to you—” “Clever of you to call, then.” He soldiered onward, immune to her stress-induced sarcasm. “I’m in San Francisco right now. I have a job lined up in Alaska, so I thought, since you’re in Oregon, I could stop by. Talk to you in person.” Parker’s hand clenched in the loose fur at Mouse’s neck. Mouse shifted and unfolded her legs to climb down in search of a calmer place to lounge. “Parker?” Jess