Murder appeared to be on almost everyone's mind that day.

After my boyfriend paid for our delightful breakfast, we walked back outside to where our bikes were chained. The morning commuters were already out and about, flooding streets.

Sunlight cast warmth against my bare, tan shoulders and face. Summer was coming to an end, sadly. The nights were already growing colder with each passing day, and before long we'd be breaking out our windbreakers and snow boots.

When we unchained our bicycles, I noticed Casper crouched down near his front tire. He had a puzzled look on his face.

"Something wrong?" I asked him.

"My tire's been punctured," he replied, beckoning me over to take a look.

Upon closer inspection, I realized he was right. There was a rather large slit in his front tire.

"I guess you must have rode over something sharp. Maybe a piece of glass?" I suggested as I inspected my own tires to ensure none were perforated. They were perfectly fine.

We ended up having to backtrack to Casper's house since he needed to patch it up and refill it with a bit of air. He must have hit a rough patch in the sidewalk or ran over something sharp on our way to the diner. I guess he didn't notice it then. As we ate, it must have lost air.

"This was intentional. Someone slashed my tire to prevent me from chasing after the truth," Casper said.

"Punctured tires happen. Nobody's trying to keep you away from the case. You're overreacting," I replied.

Casper grabbed my arm; lips pouting as he said, "Promise me one thing, don't tell my parents I'm looking into the bones found on the beach."

I raised a brow. "I wonder why they wouldn't want their only son to go hunting after a possible killer."

"I'm serious, Silas."

"So am I," I told him. "You know I worry when you get too involved in these cases. Your last one really upset me. You could have been stabbed for crying out loud!"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not."

When I was a kid, my father used to make up tall-tells, which I naively fell for, about the olive colored carriage house my boyfriend lived in. He claimed it was where monsters resided. To be fair, the exterior was rather spooky. It was the kind of house they displayed in horror films. Not even the decorative welcome mat helped make it appear friendlier.

Despite the home's ominous demeanor, the inside of their home was very inviting. The savory smell of scrumptious pancakes wafted through my nose the moment Casper unlocked the front door.

"Mom!" He called out. "Where's the air pump at? I have a flat tire. I need to patch it up."

Mrs. Coffey emerged from the kitchen, donned in a lavender cooking apron. Her dark hair was pinned up in a messy bun.

"I think your father last had it out in the garage," she said.

"It should be on the top shelf," Mr. Coffey added; his eyes never leaving the tablet he was holding.

Oddly enough, Casper didn't look anything like his dad, who admittedly was a bit rough around the edges. However, he was a kind, loving father. Coming out as gay to your family tended to be difficult, if not dangerous in some unfortunate circumstances. Casper's dad was one hundred percent supportive of his choices.

I couldn't say the same applied to my old man. That's just life, I suppose.

"Good morning, Silas. I just finished baking some pancakes. Would you care for a plate?" Mrs. Coffey offered.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll have to pass," I told her. "Casper and I just ate down at Island Bound treats. I'm stuffed. I couldn't eat another bite."

"I'll save you boys some for later then." Mrs. Coffey prepared a platter for her husband. "Just in case."

"Did you hear about the remains they uncovered down at Saltwater Bay?" Mr. Coffey asked me, finally gazing up from the screen. "You and Casper go up to the lighthouse near there all the time, dontcha?"

I nodded, gulping. "I heard about that from Casper and saw it on the news."

"They're trying to play it off coolly by saying it's from an old shipwreck. I know that's bullcrap. It was murder. There's no doubt in my mind."

Mrs. Coffey sighed. "Now you see where Casper gets his theories."

"Come on, hon. You know I'm not far off on figuring out what happened. It was probably a boyfriend or an abusive husband," Mr. Coffey suggested.

As his father debated over potential theories, Casper emerged from the garage with the dusty air pump.

"I just hope they find out who the poor thing was. The family must be so devastated, waiting years and years to hear something. They will finally get some closure," Mrs. Coffey said.

"But what if someone in the family was responsible?" Casper questioned.

My boyfriend knew just how to stun a small room into silence. We probably could have heard a fork drop.

"Oh, don't say such horrible things, honey." Mrs. Coffey forced a half-smile as she fixed herself a plate of those scrumptious pancakes. "You boys don't get into trouble out there, okay? And Casper, you better keep your butt away from the cops investigation."

Casper gave her an innocent grin. "Of course, mom. I've got my tire fixed, so we'll be heading back out. I'll see you guys later."

How could that boy lie to his sweet momma like that? Casper knew darn well he was already too deep into the investigation.

🐶

After Casper repaired his bike tire, we set back out on our hunt for a potential killer. Before leaving the house, his mother pulled me aside for a quick word. I guess what they said about mother's intuition warranted true because she knew we were digging into the case surrounding the bones found on Saltwater Bay.

Her lovely voice still echoed in my head.

"I won't talk you out of it. I know that won't work with my boy. He doesn't just give up on things. I want you to promise me you'll keep Casper safe. You hear me now? Not one hair on my son's head better be harmed."

Honestly, I was worried about what we'd uncover. Maybe I was thinking too much into it. Maybe I was just remembering the horrible details from the case that nearly got him stabbed. Maybe I was scared that the culprit in this case he dragged me into wouldn't pull a measly Swiss Army knife, but instead something more dangerous. Like a gun.

Gazing over at my boyfriend as he peddled his bicycle at a similar pace to me, I couldn't help but smile. As my heart pounded, an overwhelming sensation of protectiveness washed over me. Just the thought of someone inflicting harm to such a sweet guy angered me.

"Thanks for tagging along on this," Casper said. "I know it must be aggravating when I poke my nose into stuff that don't concern me. I promise to make it up to you with a proper date, alright?"

"I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit curious," I confessed. "So long as no knife fights break out, I'm fine with going on these sleuths with you."

As the delightful breeze whipped my hair and nipped my cheeks, I admired the little consignment shops we passed by. A confection of colors whirled by us from the vast selection of shops and restaurants to choose from. Upon reaching the traffic light flashing red for pedestrians, I glanced over at a bridal shop.

A young woman pivoted in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection in the gorgeous frilly wedding gown. She happily looked over at her little posse cozily perched on the bench, who each nodded in what I presumed was approval. Friends and family most likely.

A stab of envy poked me in the chest. I knew I was probably too young to daydream about such lifelong commitment, but it was fun to imagine how my own wedding would be. At least, I hoped I had one sometime in the future.

My parents weren't very accepting of me coming out to them. Dad rarely spoke to me, spare the simple good morning and how are you? Mom assumed I was just going through a phase that would pass once I matured and reached college.

Thinking about a wedding, I realized I wouldn't be able to have my father walk me down the aisle. I wouldn't have my family present to watch me exchange vows. They'd never accept us. Casper wouldn't even be able to receive their blessing to propose to me. Or would it be the other way around? Who proposes in a gay relationship anyway? How do you determine that?

"Silas." My boyfriend called out my name. "Quit spacing out. We're supposed to meet Katherine at noon and it's already a quarter past twelve."

I blinked, letting my reverie fade into the wind. "Sorry. I was just thinking..."

"What about?"

I shook my head. "Nothing important."

Still a bit hazy from my daydream, I neglected to pay attention to my surroundings. With one sharp slam of my breaks, I tumbled off my bike. I was greeted by a sea of bright red.

Casper's voice echoed in the wind as I went tumbling down. "Silas!"