Reaper's Fire

“Tinker is in Hallies Falls with her father, at their family home,” he said. “We’re very worried about their safety, of course, because officials have just announced a level-two evacuation warning for the town. I think it’s important for all of us to remember that real people are suffering right now, my wife among them. Fortunately, she has a home here in Seattle, so she doesn’t risk losing everything. So many of our friends in the area may not be so lucky.”

My blood pressure started to rise. Friends? Brandon didn’t have any friends here. He’d only come to visit maybe three times in the last ten years, the fucking hypocrite.

“Has it been stressful, seeing this happen? Are you planning to travel to the area?”

Brandon sighed, shaking his head. “The authorities have asked us to stay away. So many roads are closed, and those that are open need to be kept clear for emergency services and those evacuating.”

“Have you been in touch with Tinker?” she asked. “Has she described what it’s like in the town?”

“We’re in close touch,” Brandon told her. “I’ll admit, as a husband, what I really want to do is go to her. But as a public official, I understand how important it is for all of us to work together. This is a state of emergency, and the residents of King County can help most by offering shelter and raising funds to help those in need. We just hope that Tinker’s family home isn’t lost. I know it would break her heart. On a less personal note, I want everyone to know—on behalf of law enforcement and the entire legal community—that we’ll investigate the causes of these fires, and if they’re found to be arson, we won’t rest until the perpetrators are found and punished.”

Melissa nodded gravely as the feed switched back to the main anchor. I stopped the transmission, then took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. The smoke was heavy enough that I started coughing instead.

How dare he?

“That fucking asshole,” I muttered, pushing into the kitchen. I scrolled through my contacts, finding Brandon’s number and punching it.

“Tinker?” he asked. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

“You’re still right there with the reporter, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “We’re all so worried about you. Just pack up your dad and come home, all right? I’ll feel so much better once you’re out of there.”

“That’s not my home and you’re the last man I’d turn to for help,” I told him. I heard his hand muffling the phone as he asked the reporter to excuse him.

“This isn’t the right time for this, Tinker. Stop being so melodramatic.”

“If you want to help, send your financial papers to my lawyer,” I snapped. “Or is there some kind of problem? How about this—you let me worry about evacuating and you worry whether your documentation can stand up to a forensic audit. I’ve been hearing some ugly rumors lately. Got anything you want to tell me?”

Silence.

Of course, it was too good to last. Brandon always landed on his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we can deal with that later. I love you. I need you. Come home, so we can move forward with our lives.”

“How many times do I have to say the same thing before you listen to me?” I asked. “Brandon, there’s fires everywhere. People could lose their homes, but all you see is an opportunity for publicity. It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. And what’s this bullshit about bringing people to justice? None of the fires are even close to your jurisdiction!”

“Tinker, I don’t care about publicity,” he replied, his voice paternal. “You think it’s all about the campaign, but it’s not. It’s about wanting you back in my life.”

“You really that crazy about me?” I asked. “You want me back? Let me guess, you love me unconditionally and it’s all going to be flowers and roses if I come home, right?”

“Things will be different,” he insisted, his voice low. “I promise. And of course my love is unconditional. It always has been.”

Liar. Time to call him on it.

“Okay, Brandon, I’ll make you an offer.”

“What?” he asked, his voice eager. “You won’t regret this, Tinker. We’re the perfect couple—you know it’s true.”

“Once I get back inside the house, I’m going to upload a sex tape to the internet, and then I’m sending links to everyone I know in Seattle. Including the people at your office,” I said, smiling smugly. “It’ll make you look terrible and probably ruin your campaign hopes, but that’s nothing compared to saving our love, right?”

Brandon didn’t answer, and I laughed, savoring the moment.

“You made a sex tape of us?” he finally asked. “Tinker, how could you—?”

“No, you fucking egomaniac, I made a sex tape with someone else. I didn’t make it on purpose, but it exists. Right now it’s not being spread too far, at least that I know of. I’d prefer it stay that way, but if it takes a video of me fucking a stripper in a hotel room going public to get you off my back, it’s worth it. Last chance, Brandon. You want me, tell me to upload and I drive to Seattle. It’ll be rough—all your friends and co-workers will see it—but like you said, our love is unconditional, so we’ll survive it, won’t we?”

I heard a choking noise through the phone and I laughed again, feeling liberated.

“It’ll ruin your campaign,” I continued, savoring every word. “Destroy your reputation. You’ll be a laughingstock and everyone will know you’ve been lying about our marriage. Or I can keep my mouth shut and you can send the fucking paperwork to my lawyer. What’s it gonna be, Brandon? True love forever or a divorce?”

“I . . . I can’t believe—Tinker, how could you do that?”

“I’ll give you thirty seconds. Then I’m hanging up and hitting the upload button.”

“No!” he said. “Okay, you win. My attorney will talk to yours. We’ll get the paperwork figured out.”

So much for unconditional love.

“Lovely,” I replied. “Make sure it’s all legit. I’d hate to have any unpleasant truths come out in divorce court. Whatever shit you’ve been pulling, it will not touch me. Tread lightly, Brandon, and don’t fuck around.”