An Unexpected Visitor - An Adam in Suburbia Story (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited. If there are typos or plot holes, pretend you don't see them. This was supposed to be silly but got a little deep in the middle.

Adam groaned, cracking open bleary eyes in the darkened cave that was his room. Somewhere at the front of the house, the dogs were barking like crazy. The doorbell rang a moment later. Adam glanced at the alarm clock. 10:30am…on a Tuesday? Who would be so rude as to bother someone before noon? Someone who clearly had no idea they were taking their lives into their own hands.

He tried to ignore it—them—the persistent doorbell chiming through the large house, but it was like someone was just laying on the button so it would play over and over again. Adam threw off the covers with a growl, the cool air hitting his bare chest like a slap, stumbling in the dark to shove his legs into his black Versace boxer briefs—the ones he’d pulled on last night after his shower. The ones Noah had pulled off again twenty minutes later.

Adam would have smiled at the thought if he wasn’t plotting murder. By the time he made it to the doors even the dogs looked annoyed. They weren’t used to working that hard. Dexter flopped dramatically across the entryway rug, looking exhausted at having done anything but exist for five minutes. Adam flung open the door, fully prepared to see almost anyone standing on his doorstep. Still, when he opened the door, it took him a solid minute to wrap his head around his guest.

“Freckles?”

His brother’s lip curled as he took in Adam in nothing more than boxer briefs. “Do you always answer the door in your underwear?”

Adam scoffed. “Why deprive the world of this body?” He gestured vaguely down at himself like he was doing the public a service.

Atticus rolled his eyes. 

Realization dawned as Adam took in his brother’s casual dress. “Are you wearing…jeans?”

To his credit, Atticus looked down at himself like it was news to him, like elves had come and swapped his thousand-dollar dress pants for faded denim that he clearly wore enough to have molded to his form.

Adam had seen Atticus dressed down when they’d come to get the kids, but only in the comfort of his own apartment and usually it was sweatpants or something he’d been prepared to sleep in. He’d never seen Atticus wake up and choose to wear…denim.

“Yes?” Atticus asked. “Is that weird?”

Adam’s brows went up. “I don’t recall seeing you in jeans since, like…you were in high school.”

“Yeah, well that’s because you rarely just come over to just hang out.”

Was he…pouting about that? Weird. Did he want to hang out with Adam? Why the hell would Atticus want to hang out with him? Maybe Adam was dreaming. He glanced over Atticus’s shoulder at the neighborhood outside, the one now shared with more than half of his family members. Sunlight bounced off a rogue sprinkler, the air too bright, too sharp. It didn’t feel like a dream.

But seeing Atticus in jeans and a black t-shirt touting his husband’s garage was scrambling his brain. He even had on sneakers. Real ones. With laces.

“Can I come in or are you going to make me have this conversation on the porch?”

Adam didn’t answer, just stepped back so he could enter, before closing the door again. Once his brother was inside, Adam headed deeper inside, not bothering to see if Atticus followed. When he reached the kitchen, Atticus took a seat at the bar. Adam hit the button on the machine, which instantly started dispensing the elixir that would keep him from murdering anyone without cause.The scent of roasted espresso filled the air. It was heavenly.

To his credit, Atticus didn’t say anything until Adam had his first sip of coffee, but he had cringed watching Adam dump cream and sugar into his cup. When he handed Atticus a cup of his own, plain black coffee, he looked surprised.

“You know I take my coffee black?” Atticus asked.

“You’ve been my brother since I was six, dude. Yeah.” Adam shook his head. His temples still throbbed from the doorbell assault. “So, what’s up? Why are you darkening my doorstep at this ungodly hour?”

“Ungodly hour? It’s almost eleven a.m. I’ve been up since five.”

Adam shuddered at the thought. The only time he was up at five is if he hadn’t been to bed yet. “Yeah, but you work for a living and shit.” After a minute, he added, “Why aren’t you at work?”

Atticus took a long sip of his coffee. “’Cause I needed to talk to you without the rest of the family.”

Adam frowned. “Are… you okay? You’re not like gonna tell me you're dying or anything are you? ’Cause I’m not the one who handles the comfort shit. Like that’s Noah or Zane or Felix or any of our family members with tits.” He looked at his brother’s torso, noting—begrudgingly—his impressive physique. “Though that might include you at this point. Have you always looked like that?”

Atticus looked down at himself, then shrugged patting his flat belly. “Gotta stay in shape.”

“Why? You don’t even have to kill anyone anymore and God knows that your husband thinks the sun shines out of your ass no matter what you look like. You could totally get fat and he’d support it.”

“So would Noah, but yet you're in the gym every afternoon,” Atticus countered.

“Yeah, but I still work for the family business. You subcontracted the work to your husband so you could play mad scientist.” Adam realized they were drifting off topic again. “Out with it. Why aren’t you at work, dude?” Before he could answer he said, “You aren’t actually dying, are you?”

Atticus rolled his eyes. “Do I look sick to you?”

Adam took him in. “I mean, kinda. You’re pale as shit, bro. Like, if you laid down, the cops would probably draw a chalk outline around you. And your eyes are kinda bloodshot and your ears are red and—”

“Are you done?” Atticus asked sharply, cutting off his assessment.

“What? You asked,” Adam mumbled into his coffee cup. 

The rim clinked against his teeth, muffling the smirk.

“I came here because I need someone to tell me what the fuck is wrong with our neighbors.”

Adam glanced up at his brother, his heart doing something funny behind his ribs. Still, he didn’t want to get too excited. “Explain?”

“They’re all sus as fuck,” Atticus said.

Adam blinked at him. “Did you just say ‘sus as fuck’?”

“Yeah, why? Are you saying I used it wrong?” Atticus asked warily.

Adam shook his head. “No, but you’re acting so… normal. It’s weird. When did you, like, pull the stick out of your ass?”

Atticus stared at him for so long, Adam actually started to squirm a little. Just when he thought to say something just to move the conversation along, Atticus hit him with—

“You’re mean,” Atticus said.

There was no heat to the words, no hurt behind them. If anything, they were conversational. Two words. But they stopped him in his tracks.

“What?”

“You’re mean,” Atticus said again, calmly. “I could use bigger words if you want. Selfish, narcissistic, rude, spoiled, but ‘mean’ seemed like a word you could easily digest.”

“I—”

Atticus clearly wasn’t done roasting him. “You’ve been a bully your whole life, but everyone lets you get away with it because you’re the baby, and because they’re all psychopaths too and they don’t really have feelings you can hurt. But you’re the meanest to me.”

Adam chewed on the inside of his lip. This was hardly new information. Noah lectured him almost daily on his behavior, but Adam liked the lectures, so he never really considered changing. Besides, at his age, his personality had pretty much cemented. This was just who he was now. Right?

“But… it bothers you?” Adam asked.

Wasn’t Atticus like them? Jericho said no, but before he showed up, Atticus was exactly like them. No emotion, no guilt, no remorse. Falling in love couldn’t turn a psychopath neurotypical. So… was Atticus faking it then? Was he faking it now? Or was he just busting Adam’s balls?

He got his answer when his brother said, “Yeah, it does.”

“I talk to everyone this way?” Adam said, perplexed.

“You’re especially vicious to me,” Atticus said, tone still neutral, like they were discussing the weather. It made the words land heavier.

“Well, yeah,” Adam mumbled. “You have the best reactions. You’re fun to tease.”

Atticus sighed in a way that had Adam feeling… something. Unnerved, maybe? Uneasy? It was a sensation he was wholly unfamiliar with, like trying to balance on a moving train. He didn’t like it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Atticus said. “I didn’t come here for a heart-to-heart.”

Adam was tempted to let it go, but he knew when he recounted this to Noah later, he would get a huge lecture on letting his brother go without telling him the truth. Something only Noah knew.

“I pick on you because you’re the safest,” Adam said, words strained.

Atticus looked startled. “What?”

This time it was Adam who sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, wishing he’d put on clothes. Standing there in just boxers made the whole thing feel too exposed. This was way too fucking vulnerable a position to be in. This was all Noah’s fault. His Jiminy Cricket husband had ruined him.

He huffed again, feeling like there were flames licking at his heels. “Aside from Dad, you’re the least likely to, like, damage my face over a conversation. And you’re the only one who even reacts. Not even Dad lets it show when I bother him. You’re safe.”

“Because I am the one most likely to take it?” Atticus said, his face even pinker than before, the flush crawling up to his ears. “Got it.”

Adam made a noise of frustration. “No. Fuck. I’m so bad at this shit. Dude you…took care of me. Like, Dad was all about training. Everything was a lesson. From day one, he was all business. By the time I got there, everything was a well oiled machine and he was so focused on getting Aiden situated. So dad dumped me on you. And you, like, read me books and shit. You watched movies with me. They sucked but still, you were the only one who paid any attention to me. Then you ditched me.”

“I went to college,” Atticus said, tone almost gentle. “I didn’t ditch you. And dad never made me do anything. I wanted to hang out with you. And when I came back for break you wanted nothing to do with me. I figured you’d just… I don’t know… outgrown needing that stuff?”

Adam couldn’t bring himself to look at him. His whole body felt hot. Not angry hot. But more like he'd just accidentally revealed a weakness. Why was this shit so… something? He couldn’t put a name to the feeling but he fucking hated it. “I was just pissed you bailed on me.”

“I—”

“I know now that you went to college but I was a little kid and you were my—” Adam cut himself off. His throat felt tight, like it didn’t want to let the word out. What the fuck was he saying?

“Your what?” Atticus asked, looking genuinely distressed.

Maybe that’s why Adam blurted, “My favorite. You were my favorite brother. And you bailed and I was mad so… yeah, I was a dick to you. I am a dick to you.”

Atticus sat there, sipping his coffee, processing, probably.

After what seemed like forever, Atticus said, “I know I was away for a long time for med school and my PhD program, but we could have hung out when I came home.”

Adam scoffed. “That was nine years later. I was sixteen. What were you going to do? I was modeling. We had literally nothing in common. Besides, you only cared about your research shit. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s not a big deal. I wouldn’t have said anything at all if you hadn’t brought it up.”

Atticus looked as awkward as Adam felt when he said, “We could… hang out now? I do live almost directly behind you.”

Adam scoffed. “You have kids and a husband.”

“You have dogs and a husband? What’s your point?” Atticus asked.

Adam felt like there were fish hooks in his skin, pulling him in every direction. “Fuck, I don’t know. I need to put some clothes on.” He set down his coffee cup and started to walk down the hall. “You can come too,” he threw over his shoulder. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“You want me to watch you get dressed?” Atticus asked.

“No, you perv. I want you to talk to me while I get dressed. Does that violate some modesty code or something? We’ve seen each other naked hundreds of times.”

Adam could practically hear Atticus roll his eyes behind him, but he didn’t have to look to know he followed. Once they were in the bedroom, Adam flipped on a light then hit the remote for the blinds, hiding his eyes behind his forearm when the sun hit him like a laser.

Atticus laughed. “You’re like a fucking vampire. I have no idea how you maintain that tan.”

Adam shrugged. “Probably genetic. I’ll never know.”

His voice was breezy, but there was something tight under the words, like piano wire. He had no interest in searching for his birth family. That was an old life, a different him. His parents had been so abusive to him that the only possible outcome would be Adam ending their lives and he didn’t want to waste his time. 

Adam walked into the bedroom-sized walk-in closet, skimming through his clothes. It was the only part of the house he really loved. Noah had his own closet on the other side of the bathroom that was slightly smaller but not by much. He nodded at the chair in the corner when Atticus stood in the doorway.

“Why is there a chair in your closet?” Adam opened his mouth when Atticus shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

Adam snorted. “It’s so Noah can tell me which outfit looks best, weirdo. What the hell do you and Coe get up to, you freaks.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re lucky you can’t get pregnant, your career would be over. You’d be raising a whole-ass herd of little Chinese/Mexican/Leprechaun babies.”

Atticus gave him the finger. “I’m Scottish, you dick.”

“Are leprechaun’s only in Ireland?” 

“Yes, idiot,” Atticus muttered, but his ears were bright red, the kind of flush that said he'd already imagined it and hated himself a little for it.

Adam snickered. “Ew. You like the idea of Coe getting you pregnant. I thought the core-four were freaks but damn, guess the freaky apple doesn’t fall far from the freaky tree where Jericho and Felix are concerned. And now he’s infected you. Got you dreaming about the omegaverse and shit.”

“The…what?” Atticus asked.

A slow grin spread across his face. “I’ll give you a book on the way out. It explains everything.”

“Alright?” Atticus said, sounding mildly concerned.

This was going to be epic. Atticus reading omegaverse. Noah would either be thrilled or pissed. Either way, Adam would get something out of it.

He only wished he could watch his brother slowly learn what omegaverse was. His ears would probably catch fire. But then again, he might actually be into it and Adam didn’t want to think about that. Like, at all.

“So why are you here again?” Adam asked, shoving his legs into Gucci track pants.

Atticus brightened. “Oh, right. What the fuck is up with this place? I feel like we’re in a David Lynch film.”

Adam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my God. Right? Did you see that freaky chick that roller skates around the fountain in the gas mask?” 

Atticus cringed. “Or that weird couple that walks there dog together every single day at the same time in the same clothes, waving at the same time? Then they say–” 

“Lovely day, isn’t it,” Adam finished. “Yeah, straight up Stepford territory. This place is the fucking Twilight Zone, dude and I’m telling you, they’re all hiding something sinister like Don’t Worry Darling style or I don’t know…something dark. I’m sure you won’t believe me—Noah doesn’t—”

“I do,” Atticus said, cutting him off. “I believe you. There’s something super weird about my neighbors.”

“Which ones?” Adam asked.

“From what I’ve seen? All of them?” Atticus said with an exaggerated shudder.

He’d never wanted to hug someone before, but he was relieved that finally someone else saw it.

“Edna thinks so too.”

“Edna? The former FBI agent? The one Noah mentioned in the group chat?”

Adam’s head snapped up. “What group chat?”

Atticus’s eyes went wide, then he shifted nervously in his seat. “Uh, the family chat, didn’t you see it?”

Liar.

“I don’t care if Noah has some super secret family chat without me,” Adam said, which was sort of true, kinda. “I know he thinks I’m crazy.”

Atticus deflated in the chair. “He thinks this whole place is insane. But he thinks you’re just…falling in with a bad crowd.” 

“A bad crowd? What is this? An after school special?” 

“Look, maybe we’re just not suburb people. I’ve never lived in a place where anyone knew their neighbor’s name. We lived at the mansion which didn’t have a house for miles, then in the penthouse. Coe and I have lived there for years and I couldn’t tell you a single distinguishing feature of one of our neighbors, much less someone’s name. But on day two, these people–” He pointed vaguely around him. “–bullied their way into our house with a muffin basket and interrogated us for over an hour.”

“Who was it? The Carters or the Angeloffs?” Adam asked, pulling on an olive green sweatshirt.

“The Carters,” Atticus said, grimly. “Do you know they drink—”

“Boxed wine,” Adam finished along with him.

Atticus nodded grimly. “The wife went on and on about how it’s more convenient. I’m sure the lake water is convenient too but I wouldn’t drink it. But that’s not even the weirdest part. I caught her going through our medicine cabinet. She said she took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and ‘accidentally’ ended up in the master bath…with the medicine cabinet open.”

Adam’s brows shot up. His interest sparked like someone had waved a red flag in front of a bored predator. “Think she was trying to steal meds?”

“I can’t imagine what else she was looking for,” Atticus said. “But our kids are little assholes. We keep that shit under lock and key.” 

Adam stared at him. “Seriously, who are you? You’re just so…normal.” 

“You said that already,” Atticus said, with another eye roll.

Adam leaned on the large island in the master closet. “This is actually great.”

“That our neighbor is stealing drugs? What’s your definition of great?”

Adam shook his head. “It’s new information. I can add it to the board.”

“The board?”

“Yeah, my murder board.” He nodded to the back of the closet and the wood paneled wall.

He pressed on the panel and it swung open, revealing his pride and joy, a large white board covered in a red scrawl, red string and tons of pictures of the neighbors. Every bit of information he’d gathered over their months of living there. It looked like something Homeland Security might have used to track a domestic terror cell.

He picked up his pen and wrote ‘pill head?’ under Madelyn Carter’s picture.

Atticus walked up behind him. “Does Noah know about this?”

Adam shook his head. “This was supposed to be a gun cabinet but who needs two? So I repurposed it to hide my research.”

Atticus scanned it. “Ah, yes. The mysterious white van. Is it still in the cul-de-sac?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, but it turned out to be one of Janice’s side pieces. He’s a painter. He’s only in the cul-de-sac when Mr. Janice—Bruce—is at work.”

“Which of these people is a murderer?” Atticus asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t need my murder board,” Adam said.

Atticus gave him a pissy look. “Tell me what you know, dick.”

Adam grinned. There was a glint in his eyes. “Really?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Atticus said, sounding put upon.

“Okay, so here in the center, that’s our victim, Eleanor Beasley, heinous bitch, hated and feared by all. She dropped dead in her garden. They said it was complications from her COPD, but I don’t believe it.”

“And why don’t you believe it?” Atticus asked.

Adam opened a drawer to his left, digging under socks before coming back up with the stack of photos he hid there.

He handed over the photos, watching as Atticus looked them over.

Atticus flipped through them, eyebrows climbing with every shot. “You hide pictures of dead old women in your sock drawer?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Adam said. “They didn’t fit on the murder board.”

“You suspect aconite poisoning, right?” Atticus said.

Adam’s brows went up. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Atticus’s mouth became a flat line. “I’m a doctor? I do know the signs of poisoning?”

“Oh, right. I forget you actually know useful shit.” When Atticus hit him with another flat stare, Adam said, “You know what I mean. Anyway, that’s good, then. Edna said that aconite can be detected in a tox screen if it’s requested but Eleanor was cremated so that’s a dead end.”

Atticus had his arms folded over his chest as he took them all in. “Okay, give me the rundown. Who are these people?”

Adam grabbed his map of the neighborhood. Well, it was really just a series of rectangles that represented the houses in the neighborhood. The realtor had given it to them when they were still looking to buy. He took the sharpie he’d hooked to it, pointing to each house as he spoke.

“This is the Carters, Madelyn and Scott. Up until today, I thought they were the only boring people in Serenity Grove. Madelyn is a stay-at-home wife—no kids—and Scott owns his own marketing company. And apparently has a wife that might be a secret druggie. Though, Jocelyn did say she thought Madelyn might be the one who keeps turning the gazebo into a shrine for Prince.”

“What?” Atticus said. 

“You heard me. I told you this place is fucking weird. Noah thinks its normal weird but I think its weird weird.” 

“Then why did you let us move here?” Atticus asked, exasperated. 

Adam shrugged. “Misery loves company?” 

“Dick.” 

Adam nodded. He wasn’t wrong. 

He pointed out another house. “This is Edna Broadrick. She smells like lilacs and mothballs. Her dog and Dexter are in a tumultuous on-and-off again relationship and Edna thinks we’re going to get her dog pregnant. I personally don’t think Dexter has enough juice in the tank for that. He gets winded drinking water and if he didn’t breathe so loud people would think we had him taxidermied. Also, her daughter is dating a total douche but Noah says I can’t kill him.”

“Speaking of douchebags,” Adam stabbed his finger on the house across from theirs. “This douche is Wade Griggs, my arch-nemesis-slash-neighbor. He sucks. Like, truly sucks. He blows his leaves into our drain.”

“I doubt that makes him a murderer,” Atticus said. “Though it might make me one if I caught him doing it.”

“Right?” Adam said. “Noah said I can't kill him either, even though that dick cost me a two-hundred-dollar fine.”

“That’s robbery,” Atticus said, just incensed enough for Adam to feel validated.

“Thank you,” he cried.

“Is this the grass dad?”

“I mean, his kids only visit on the weekends, but yes. His grass is perfect. I hate him, but I had to know his secret. How did you know that?” Adam asked.

“The aforementioned group chat,” Atticus said, sounding slightly apologetic.

Adam grunted, clearly wounded. “My digital exclusion has subcommittees?”

He tapped another house. “The Angeloffs are either the world’s most volatile couple, Russian spies or both. The translations are all over the place. Arsen says most of the fights are over food and money, but every now and again they start saying weird shit like ‘dogs barking can’t fly without umbrellas.’”

“That’s a quote from Jumping Jack Flash,” Atticus said without missing a beat. “Which, to be fair, is a spy movie…but a comedy. Could it be they know you’re listening and are now just fucking with you?”

Adam froze. “Huh. Maybe. If so, good on them.”

Adam shook his head, then pointed to a picture. “This is Janice.” He gestured to a house nestled catty-corner from Atticus and Jericho’s, the porch perpetually decorated with seasonal wreaths that screamed 'trying too hard.' “She, her husband Bruce, and her two—possibly three—side pieces live here.”

Atticus’s brow shot up. “Does Bruce know about their open marriage?”

“Hard to say,” Adam admitted. “He either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. I’m guessing the former, given the lengths she goes to sneak them past the doorbell camera. But I’ve never talked to Bruce. Truthfully, I’ve never actually seen Bruce. Is there even a Bruce? If not, why is she sneaking men in her house?”

“These are your suspects?” Atticus asked, expression dubious.

Adam shook his head. “No, I’m just giving you the lay of the land. The people who are really suspect are these people here—the garden club.”

Atticus smirked. “The garden club you infiltrated?”

“Does Noah tell you people everything?” Adam asked, voice sharp with mock offense but tinged with real irritation.

“He’s worried.”

“He should be. We’re surrounded by lunatics.” 

Atticus snorted. “Said the psychopath.” 

Adam rolled his eyes, then jabbed a finger at another house. “This is Claude’s house. He’s the catty gay member of the garden club.”

“You’re not the catty gay member of the garden club?” Atticus asked drolly.

“Keep it up, Freckles, and I’m gonna tell the HOA that you’d like to volunteer for the neighborhood watch.”

Atticus’s eyes went wide, his voice getting louder and more exasperated with every word. “Don’t even joke about that. Those people are the real psychos. I saw one of them measuring our grass with a ruler. And the day we moved in, they tried to fine us for the movers’ truck in the road. What were we supposed to do? Carry the furniture on our backs from the entrance like pack mules?”

“Careful, brother. This place will make you crazy,” Adam said with a grin, one eyebrow cocked in warning like he was already halfway gone.

“Who else is in the garden club?” Atticus asked, scanning the map and the many red Xs like he was reading the layout of a battlefield.

“Jocelyn is the head of the garden club. She’s a real bitch—rules with an iron trowel. She claims her and Eleanor were friends, but she chose blue for her funeral flowers…to match her skin. Which is massively fucked up.”

“She said that? She got the blue to match her skin?”

“No, she said there was a ‘theme.’”

“Who has a funeral theme?” Atticus asked.

Adam shrugged. “Exactly. Speaking of, Dottie wore violet to Eleanor’s funeral and spent the whole time looking down her nose at everyone. She’s obnoxious, but Jocelyn won’t kick her out because she brings the best seedlings and cuttings to the monthly swaps.”

“Mm,” Atticus said, clearly also judging everyone involved.

“She’s rude, but as far as I can tell, she had no reason to kill Eleanor,” Adam said, his voice taking on the tone of someone who absolutely hoped she did anyway, just to justify the drama.

“Then there’s Marjorie and Jeanette. They’re supposedly best friends but Marjorie will tell anyone she meets all about Jeanette’s drinking problem. Not that it’s a secret. Most days she’s so wasted, she walks at a slant like a tipsy cruise ship passenger in choppy water.”

Atticus scoffed. “They sound lovely.” 

“And finally, we have Tanner Rigsby. He had beef with Evelyn and he grows monkshood.”

Atticus gave him a pissy look. “Were you just saving the best for last? That’s clearly our guy.”

“Our guy?” Adam echoed.

Atticus’s ears turned bright red as he shifted on his feet. “I’m just saying, why waste time with those people when this dude is practically screaming his guilt?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. It almost seems too easy. Who’d kill someone over credit for a flower?”

“Oh, please. You’d kill someone for spilling wine on your sweatshirt if Noah wasn’t here to stop you.”

Adam scoffed. “Rude but…not entirely off-base. Noah said the same thing.”

“Are you sure you’re not just imagining all this?” Atticus asked.

“Dude,  you’ve seen how weird this place is…” 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make them killers?” 

“Well, how about this? Someone sent me texts telling me to mind my own business and leave Evelyn’s death alone.”

Atticus leaned in. “Did you trace the number?”

Adam nodded. “Burner phone. I was able to trace it to the store but there were no surveillance cameras. They either lucked out or were smarter than I imagined.”

Atticus frowned, arms crossing again like a reflex. “Lotta work to scare you off over one old lady. They clearly don’t know who they’re messing with.” He leaned on the corner of the island. “Speaking of, Noah said you’re friends with a retired FBI agent? Are you nuts?”

“Nobody else was taking me seriously,” Adam said. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. She thinks I’m onto something.”

“Hopefully, it's not our family.” When Adam just looked at him, he sighed. “Is she going to help you investigate?”

“No.”

Atticus frowned. “No? What do you mean no?”

Adam made a who knows gesture. “She said she’s retired and the bitch had it coming.”

“Well, damn. Is she a suspect?” Atticus asked.

Adam shook his head. “No, she was visiting family when Eleanor died.”

“Did anyone else have a solid alibi?”

“Everyone else claimed they were home sleeping.”

“Have you looped in Calliope?” Atticus asked.

Adam hesitated before he said, “No.”

“No? Why not?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to do it on my own.”

“Oh, so you don’t want my help?” Atticus asked.

Adam looked at him incredulous. “Are you offering to help?”

Atticus waved a hand vaguely. “Jericho joined some softball league on Wednesday nights when the boys are at Dad’s. I obviously have to go to his games but I refuse to sit through practice too. I could do some research…you know, if you wanted.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”

Atticus gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, if you don’t want my help just say—”

“Okay, let’s do it,” Adam said, cutting him off. “You and me. Let’s…solve a murder?”

Atticus shrugged. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Adam grinned so wide it almost hurt. “Be prepared to get booted out of the family group chat. Now they’ll all talk about you behind your back.”

Atticus snorted. “Nothing new there. But I gotta get back. Jericho’s coming home for lunch.” 

“Oh, right. Before you go, let me get you that book I promised.” He gave him what he hoped was an innocent look. “Maybe you can read it together?” 

Atticus followed as he walked across the house to the library that doubled as Noah’s home office. He looked through the shelves until he found it. “Aha.” 

He turned and handed the book to Atticus. He watched his brother study the cover that was delightfully vague. 

“Knot?” Atticus asked. “Does omegaverse have something to do with ropes?” 

An evil grin spread across his face. “You’ll see.” Atticus glowered at him until he said, “Seriously. I think you and Coe will love it…Trust me.”