Haunted Rayne

17 | Dark Parallels (part 1)

A breeze lifted a swarm of fallen leaves. They swirled in wispy loops along the grassland. Dorian Matthews eyed his leather wristwatch, then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his beige, canvas hooded-jacket. It had been years since he last donned such casual attire. The faded jeans around his hips felt heavy and foreign. As he paced the desolate park, he wondered why he had agreed to meet Officer Emma Scott in the first place.

After all, the policewoman sounded somewhat hysterical over the phone: "Rayne's in trouble," she had said, "and your brother knows why."

Dorian rubbed the back of his neck. "This is insane," he muttered to himself, trying to make sense of it. His brother? It was nonsense.

Gazing over the grassy hills, Dorian walked along the trail and ambled deeper into the woodland. Up ahead, a blue park bench sat littered with dead, crisp leaves. He dusted them aside and took a seat. She's late, he noted.

But not for long.

Within seconds of sitting down, the cold barrel of a pistol touched the back of his neck. Dorian swiftly surrendered his hands to the air.

"Don't move," came the low, tense voice behind him.

Dorian obliged, recognizing it immediately.

Officer Emma Scott stepped carefully around the bench, her Glock trained on him with steady hands. Last time Dorian saw her, the policewoman had twisted her hair into an orderly French braid for the Legacy Gathering. But now, her auburn hair fell in textured waves around her narrow face, somewhat knotted and wild. She was wearing the same clothes, however—paint-sullied jeans and a fitted red flannel. "You came all the way out here for Rayne," Emma said slowly. "Why?"

The park was desolate. They were alone. No one could see them. The tall pines around them served as a natural shield from prying eyes. If she shot him now, no one would ever know. What had he been thinking, answering the hysteric phone call of some random woman he'd only met once?

Emma jutted the gun forward. "I asked you a question."

"I'm unarmed," Dorian declared, keeping his hands raised. "Having a badge doesn't give you the right to shoot an unarmed civilian."

"Not on duty, kid. This is personal." Anger propelled Dorian to his feet, and the action startled Emma. She took several steps backward and trained her arms in a steady shooting-stance. "I mean it. You better start talking."

"Lady, you're the one who lured me here. If anyone should 'start talking', maybe it should be you."

Emma smirked, but she also tightened her grip on the firearm. "Pretty bold for a school teacher."

He was in no mood for games. "What do you know about my brother?"

"Why? Got something to hide?"

"You're the one who brought him up."

"Because he's at the center of everything."

As cryptic as she was being, Dorian couldn't help but feel as though the woman was testing him, almost like she was purposefully withholding information. Not professionally, as one would during an official police interrogation, but more like the behavior of his young students, trying to gauge his trust before letting him in.

Emma Scott, however, was not a troubled adolescent. She was a grown woman. During their first meeting, Dorian had presumed the woman didn't like him based on her demeanor alone, but she had never appeared unstable.

Then again, neither did his brother.

Would she really shoot him?

"You said Rayne was in trouble. What kind of trouble?" he finally asked.