“Tell me about your day. What crazy stuff did your kids do today?”
For a while they got lost in the day’s news. Just an ordinary couple. Just another Friday night.
“That Frankie is a riot, but he’s going to make a great firefighter someday,” Shawn said in response to one of Kat’s stories.
“They’re all pretty great.” There was something in her voice. Sadness. Regret.
“But?”
“Nothing. It’s a change I’m still trying to get used to. You know, new coworkers, new routine. You’ll see. You can’t tell me you won’t miss Rodriguez.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw a tear in his eye today when I left.”
Kat laughed. A full, hearty chuckle from deep within. Then she turned quiet for a moment, before looking at him with a sheen in her eyes. “What time are you leaving?”
“I thought I’d get an early start, around dawn.”
She blew out a breath. “Whew, that is early. How long is the drive?”
“Roughly forty-five hours. If I drive like a trucker—get in, stop for food and gas only, and get as much shut-eye as needed? I could make it in about four days. That’ll give me a couple of days with the family before I have to report to the new house.”
“You’re not going to stop anywhere? See any sights like the giant string ball or the arch in St. Louis?”
“I’ve seen it before. It’s not as impressive in person, the string ball, I mean. Besides, I wanted as much time here as I could have.”
Tears slipped past her lashes, down her cheeks. Shawn set his food on the little table and pulled Kat into his arms. “Hey, don’t cry. You’ve seen one ball of string, you’ve seen them all.”
“I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not time.” He pulled her in closer. He wasn’t ready to leave either, and while he couldn’t change things, he could make the best of the time they had left. “You know what we never got to do?”
“What?”
“Dance.” He pulled out his phone, brought up his favorite playlist, and scrolled until he found the perfect song: slow and sad. Wrapping his arms around Kat again, they rocked back and forth, with the sun just a blip on the horizon and the fire dancing in the pit.
“What song is this?”
“’Before the Dawn’, by Priest.”
“I didn't know Judas Priest sang any slow songs, much less one that's sort of romantic.”
“Greatest band ever.”
“Given you’re leaving soon, I won’t argue with you this time.”
He chuckled and held on even tighter. How had he managed to find the perfect woman, one who understood, made him laugh, could hold her own, and had the softest heart ever, right when he had to leave?
Simple. Life was a bitch.
As the song played out, they swayed back and forth, not really dancing so much as holding tight to the moment. It was hard to admit he never wanted to leave Kat, yet now he had no other choice.
Kat slipped out of his embrace, flashed a saucy smile, and crooked her finger at him. He followed, the food forgotten. Afterall, he was a guy. One who wasn’t stupid enough to turn down a beautiful woman, especially when she held his heart in her hands.
One last night.
That’s all they had, all he had to show her what she meant to him, what they could be.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“No. What was I thinking?” She pulled away. “I’d rather spend our last night binge-watching some stupid, mind-numbing reality show or playing checkers.” Her eyes flashed with fire and humor, then she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt, slowly inching it higher and higher. Her gaze penetrated him to the deepest, darkest corners of his soul. Without a single word spoken, she dared him to say no.
The shirt slipped to the floor. Kat reached up to unclasp the center hook of her bra.
His hand shot out to stop her. “Let me.” The words tumbled over dry lips.
Instead of stripping her bare, he stepped in close, wrapping one arm around her waist, relishing the feel of her skin. So soft. So silky. So hot he was surprised he didn’t burst into flames. He sank his other hand into her hair and guided her mouth closer. He needed to taste her, to take his time and memorize everything about Katarina Jones. To make a memory that would last them a lifetime.
Together they explored each other’s bodies like new lovers, slow and sensual. Yet when Kat sighed or touched him it was like they instinctively knew how to satisfy each other. Or that they were two people who had spent a lifetime together.
He knew every centimeter of those soft swells and gentle valleys. He knew she’d start to wiggle and giggle as he ran his fingertips across her lower belly, but never her ribs. He knew she hated the scars left from her accident, but he thought they showed her strength, her resilience, and made her sexy as hell. He loved the curves of her hips, her sweet rear, her long legs, and soft heart. But what he loved most of all was the fire inside of Kat.
In front of others, she kept it contained, controlled, almost smothered. But when they were alone, whether they were talking or making love, she let her passion rule.
Passion that matched his own, whether it was fast and hard, or slow and tender like now. Passion that made his heart beat and ache for more.
She matched his tempo. Met him stroke for stroke. Together they let their actions convey all the words, the thoughts, the emotions raging through them. They made every moment last.
Kat’s body tensed. She cried out as her fingers dug into his shoulders, and he followed her. Spent beyond imagining, Shawn rolled over and cradled her in the crook of his arm. And that’s when he noticed the tears trailing down her face.
“Was it that bad?” He wiped his thumb across her cheeks.
“It was awful. So boring.” She laughed through the tears.
“I’ll try to do better next time,” he promised, but they were running out of time.
Her fingers caressed his chest before landing over his heart. “I don’t want morning to come. I’m not ready. We haven’t had enough time to figure this thing out between us.”
That was his chance, the opening he’d been waiting for to bring up an idea that had been brewing for days.
“Come with me.” He held his breath as the seconds ticked by in silence.
“Shawn, you’re delirious. Great sex will do that.”
“It’s not the sex, although, yeah, it was great.” He sat up so she could see his face, could see the truth in his eyes. “Kat, I don’t need more time to figure out what is going on between us. But put that aside. Just come to Seattle with me.”
She sat across from him, with the sheet wrapped around her as if he didn’t already know every inch of her. “Shawn.”
“No, hear me out. All I’m asking is for you to take some time away from here, away from the spotlight this town puts on you. Let the arsonist forget about you. And that would give us more time to see what we have together. If it’s something that might last. If it’s just adrenaline pumping and lust, then so be it.”
For several long minutes, Kat said nothing. He could see the war raging behind her eyes: Should I? Is this crazy? He wanted to tell her yes and who cares? To follow her heart and him.
To choose him.
“I can’t, Shawn.” She reached out, laced their fingers together. “I want to, so much you have no idea.”
“Then why say no?”
“I signed a contract with the school, for one. I can’t leave them in the lurch, and those kids don’t need three teachers in one year. And more importantly, I refuse to run and hide, whether it’s in this house or in Seattle. If I do, then I’m allowing him to make me a victim. He wins.”
She dropped the sheet and crawled toward him. “As much as I don’t want to see this end between us, I can’t up and leave.”
“Then we’ll have to enjoy the time we have left before the dawn,” he said right before his mouth claimed hers.
&
nbsp; Chapter 19
What had it been, an hour? Maybe two since Shawn had left, not long enough for his scent to evaporate from her pillow. Flinging the covers off, Kat got up and wandered to the kitchen for the life-giving elixir—coffee. Lots of it. She’d gotten more sleep in college than she’d gotten last night. But it had been worth every lost minute of beauty rest.
Between Shawn’s departure and the nagging feeling that she’d missed something for the last few days, she had to get out of the house. November in Connecticut ruled out a day at the beach, unless she wanted to turn into a Popsicle. Besides, she had too much restless energy to sit. She needed to move and she had the perfect plan.
The clerk at the convenience store had said he thought their suspect lived close by. But canvassing the neighborhood hadn't brought them any suspects. But what if their arsonist lived close to one of the other clinics? The waitress in Norwich had said their suspect came in regularly, but then stopped. There were a ton of Airbnb properties in Pawcatuck since it was close to the beach. And they required practically nothing in the way of identification to book those places. What if the arsonist rented a place in Pawcatuck until the fire and then went back to his home base?
If nothing else, it was worth a second look. She gave Pyewacket a scratch behind her ears. She still didn’t know how the cat escaped from the fire, and didn’t really care. She was safe, that’s all that mattered. Kat laced up her walking shoes, checked that she had her pepper spray, zip ties, and gun before she headed out the door. Her theory could be wrong, but at least she could walk away from the case with a clear conscious knowing she’d done her job.
“I’ll be back,” she said in her best Terminator voice. “No parties while I’m gone.”
She headed to the Norwich restaurant first hoping to get more info from the staff, but the place wasn’t open yet. To kill time, she headed to where her last search had ended. As she got out of the car, a cool chill wrapped around her whole body. When she looked up, she found Vinnie leaning against a tree. He was decked out in white sneakers, dark-peach-colored skinny-legged shorts, and a gray Henley with a faded blue denim jacket. Apparently, he’d been hanging out at the mall again.
“New look?” she asked, trying not to snort with laughter. The outfit would look great on some college guy in the Hamptons, but just didn’t fit Vinnie, who she was pretty sure had been wearing all black with a leather jacket or a track suit when he passed.
“Yeah. You like? It’s what the cool kids are wearing now.”
“Love that peach color on you.”
“It’s grenadine.” He fell into step beside her as she headed to the first house. “Kat, what are you doing?”
She knocked on the door as she pulled up the sketch. “Following a hunch.”
A nice, elderly gentleman answered the door. After studying the picture for several minutes, he shook his head. Kat headed to the next house.
“You shouldn’t be out here, by yourself.”
“I’m not. You’re here.”
“You’re killing me, kid.”
When the resident opened the door, Vinnie disappeared. So much for having backup. She hit home after home. Lots of noes. Door-to-door wasn’t the most exciting or glamorous part of an investigation, but Kat didn’t mind. It kept her from thinking of Shawn—mostly—and burned off the restless energy plaguing her.
Maybe she’d even sleep that night.
Even better, she might burn enough calories for guilt-free chocolate cream pie.
The familiar chill swept down her side a second before Vinnie reappeared.
“Where’d you go? I thought you were supposed to be my backup?”
“Had an errand to run.”
Kat stopped in the middle of someone’s driveway, not caring if anyone saw her talking to air. She glared at the ghost as she whipped her hand up to stop him. “You better not have ratted me out to Lexie.”
“I ain’t no rat. I learned my lesson a long time ago.” His voice went from anger to sadness in a heartbeat.
She hadn’t meant to bring up his death. It was a sensitive subject, as expected. “Sorry, Vin. I’m tired of everyone treating me like a naive civilian.”
“You are a civilian. You hung up your horseshoe and became a teacher. You hang out with seven-year olds, not criminals now.”
She laughed. If only he knew.
“What’s so funny?” Vinnie asked.
“Never underestimate a second-grader. And, I’m hanging out with you.” She started back up the driveway. “Besides, I still hold my private investigator license.”
After a few moments a lady answered the next door. Kat showed her the picture and waited for the same old song and dance. The woman glanced at the picture and shook her head.
“Sorry, I just moved in and don’t really know the neighbors yet.” She pointed to the house on the left, where Kat had already gotten a no answer. “I do know she’s a single mom. You probably won’t catch her right now. The boy plays on a recreational basketball team.”
“What about your other neighbor?” A slow hum started at the back of Kat’s head. He had to be around here and she had to find him. She couldn’t live her life looking over her shoulder.
“I’ve never seen anyone come or go into that house. Although I know someone must because I see lights at night.”
Kat thanked her and headed to the unknown neighbor. No name on the mailbox. The yard wasn’t kept up, the grass long and dying as winter swept closer, but otherwise the place was spotless outside. All the curtains were drawn, not that that was a crime, especially on a Saturday morning. A car sat in the driveway instead of under the carport. Nothing fancy, just a silver, four-door sedan. No bumper stickers, nothing to give a clue about the driver. Basically, the place looked just like every other house in the area.
“Kat, I don’t like this. Why don’t you call Lexie or, I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, Ashley?”
“It’s fine. If we spot him or someone recognizes him, I’ll call for backup.”
As she passed by the car, she glanced down. Pretty clean with the exception of a familiar brown bag. Not surprising as New England ran on Dunkin’. The bag had something written on it. When she paused to look closer, it was the letters SB inside a circle with a line across the letters. Weird, but who was she to judge other people’s doodles?
She knocked on the door. As she’d encountered numerous times, there was no response, but she’d glanced up in time to see a curtain move. “Vin, pop in and see if anyone's home. I've got a feeling.”
“And what if that's our POI? You going to break down the door and take him yourself?”
A small part of her warmed with pride as Vinnie sounded more and more like a private investigator, using terms like “person of interest,” instead of “douchebag.”
“I’m a licensed PI,” she reminded him.
“Who has lost her mind.”
“Fine, don't help.” She knocked again.
“You're killing me here, kid.”
“I wish.”
While Vinnie did his thing, Kat walked back over to the car and stared at the bag. For some reason it was bugging her. Why, she didn’t know, as almost everyone in the New England area hit up the popular donut shop.
A chill wrapped around her seconds before Vinnie reappeared. “No one inside, but I spotted a business card with the clinic logo on it.”
“From one of the doctors?”
“No, that Lenore woman we talked to.” We? If she remembered correctly, Vinnie had spent most of his time casing the place.
“The PA? This is all making sense now. The PA was supplying the gang with drugs to sell.”
“But who is she working for?”
She turned back to the car, staring at the bag. “SB. SB. It's got to mean something. Hey Vinnie, what was the guy's name up in Boston? The one into all sorts of illegal stuff . . . real estate, stolen property. Drug dealing isn't a far stretch.”
“The one you and Lexie were on your way to s
ee the day of the car accident? Stephen Bolds.”
“That's it. SB. Stephen Bolds. But what’s up with the circle and line drawn through? Do you think he’s the next target?”
“Kat, run.”
But she was caught off guard, deep in thought, until she felt the cold, hard object pressed into her back.
“Don't scream or you're dead. Start walking toward the back of the house.” He yanked her purse off her shoulder, and nudged her forward.
Crap. There went my pepper spray, not to mention my gun.
“Look, I don't know who you are, but I was just looking for my lost dog. She's a white-and-black Jack Russell terrier. Kind of scruffy-looking. I wasn't trying to break in, if that's what you were thinking.”
“Shut up, blondie. Or should I say, Miss Jones. I know exactly who you are and what you're doing here. You don't have a dog. You don't even have an apartment left.”
All the blood drained from Kat's brain. The world spun in a slow, lopsided circle as she realized who she'd stumbled on and how stupid she'd been. Great, she was that cliché blonde from every hacker movie ever made. Too stupid to live. How could she have made such a rookie mistake?
Because she’d been distracted by her love life.
“Keep him talking, Kat. I'm going for help.” Vinnie disappeared. The gun pressed harder into her spine. Stall, girl, stall.
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage Mr. . . .” Kat let her words trail off. Come on, if I can be the cliché, so can you. Talk to me. Tell me your grand plan and the why of it.
“You can call me Mr. Smith.” They’d hit the end of the driveway, and he pushed her forward.
Kat put her brakes on as she tried to look over her shoulder. “That’d be a little weird, wouldn’t it? I mean, if you know who I am, then you know my partner’s last name is Smith and, no offense, but I’m guessing you look nothing like her husband.”
“I may not have his brawn, but I have brains.” The gun pressed deeper. “Not that you or your friend could appreciate or understand. You’re all alike. Always going for looks and muscles, when what you really need is a man who can think his way out of a problem.”
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