Hatchet Hollow

by Amanda McKinney

  Voices echoed through the wind as they came up on the side of the house.

  “How long ago?”

  “Her friend, Becca, found her about thirty minutes ago. Said she’d just spoken to her over the phone a few hours ago. She’s fresh. Within the last hour.”

  “What was the friend doing here?”

  “They had planned a girls’ night, watching reality shows or whatever.”

  Zander flipped up his collar as he rounded the corner to the back of the house. The rain was already starting to pick up. Multiple klieg lights illuminated a pale body on the ground, just feet from a shiny red sports car.

  “Found next to her car?”

  Deena nodded. “Friend says she was on her way to make a quick liquor run. We’re assuming that’s when she got attacked.”

  “Hey, Stone.”

  Zander nodded at Hunter, who was taking pictures of the scene.

  His stomach sank as he looked down at the young woman, sprawled out on the wet ground. Her blonde hair was matted with dirt and mud. Her bloodshot eyes were open, staring directly at him.

  “Claire Banks.”

  Hunter nodded.

  Although he didn’t even need to check, his gaze shifted to her hands, where each of her fingers had been severed off.

  He shook his head and kneeled down, taking note of the bright red marks around her neck.

  Manual strangulation, and severed fingers.

  Just like Abby Collier.

  Anger boiled in his system. He looked over his shoulder at Deena and Hunter. “Get a tent over here, immediately. This rain is going to pick up.”

  “On it.” Deena took off toward her car as Hunter kneeled down next to Zander.

  “Two.”

  Zander slowly nodded. “Two.”

  A moment of silence ticked by, neither one wanting to acknowledge that the same person who killed Abby Collier, had just killed again.

  It was just past one in the morning by the time Zander got into his truck. They’d spent the last three hours searching Claire Banks’s home, yard, and car, looking for anything that might lead them to whoever the hell brutally ended her life.

  They’d found nothing.

  Her body was tagged, bagged, and sent off for an autopsy slated to begin at first light.

  He gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white as he drove down the dirt road.

  A serial killer.

  A serial killer in Devil’s Den.

  A serial killer who possibly had their sights set on Raven Cane.

  The thought made him want to vomit, right after punching a hole through the wall.

  What was it about this girl that had him completely consumed, completely infatuated? Completely unable to concentrate on anything other than keeping her safe?

  Over the last three hours, his thoughts had trailed to Raven more times than he cared to admit. He’d even texted West—three separate times—to confirm that he was there, at her house, and that she was okay. West’s last text was thirty minutes ago, telling Zander that he was about to hit the road, and not surprisingly, Raven refused to leave her house.

  What the hell? Why was she so stubborn?

  He clicked on his cell phone and scrolled to her number, but paused. He couldn’t make her leave her house and stay somewhere else. And where would she stay anyway? Zander got the vibe that Raven didn’t have many friends—her work was her best friend.

  He stopped at a four-way and hesitated.

  A minute ticked by, and with a groan, he flicked on his turn signal and turned left toward Black Bear Mountain.

  Dammit, Zander.

  CHAPTER 15

  CLUTCHING A GLASS of whiskey—because that was the only booze that would do at that moment—Raven took a break from pacing a hole in the living room, to lean up against the window and watch the lightning outside.

  Another storm was blowing in.

  It was just past one in the morning, and not surprisingly, sleep was the last thing on her mind.

  Officer West had left thirty minutes earlier, after sweeping the house for evidence, scanning for fingerprints, and bagging up the grey stone for analysis. They determined that whoever broke in, came in through the unlocked kitchen window—adding embarrassment to an already horrible evening. It wasn’t like her to leave the house unlocked, which meant only one thing—she was extremely distracted.

  They’d found no prints, or anything useful, at all. And after hours of babysitting her, West had finally left her alone—to her own peril, he’d jokingly said as he walked out the door.

  Lightning pierced the dark sky outside, followed by the pitter-patter of raindrops.

  She clicked on her phone and listened to the voicemail for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “Miss Cane, nice undercover work at my shop yesterday. My friend, Becca, saw you leaving and informed me that you really work for Black Rose Investigations.” Pause. “I can only assume that you came to visit me to discuss what I saw Sunday night.” Her voice started to shake. “I want to meet… I’m not comfortable discussing this over the phone, considering who it is.”

  She’d tried to call Claire back, with no luck. But the message had her wheels turning.

  What did Claire see?

  Who?

  Considering who it is…

  Was it possible she was referring to Abby Collier’s killer?

  Considering who it is…

  Who the hell could she be talking about?

  She’d almost called Zander immediately after receiving the voicemail, but considering how things were left off—with the tension between them, and the fact that he’d been called to another murder scene—she decided to wait until morning.

  She glanced at the clock, again. Six more hours until sunrise. Six more hours of pacing the damn house.

  She sipped, savoring the burn of the liquor down her throat.

  As she turned from the window, a pair of headlights bounced off the walls.

  She spun around. She grabbed her gun from the coffee table, turned off the lights and squatted down.

  The engine rumbled up to her house and cut off. Her heart pounded as she heard the door slam shut.

  Boots up the porch steps, and then…

  Knock, knock.

  A knot squeezed her throat as her finger slid over the trigger.

  Ding, ding.

  She crab-walked to the edge of the den and peered into the hall. Thunder rumbled.

  The doorknob jiggled.

  Oh, my God.

  Her cell phone rang. Shit! She hit the mute button and looked at the caller ID.

  Lieutenant Zander Stone.

  She exhaled, pushed off the floor, and opened the door.

  “Hi.”

  His hair was wet, his eyes shaded and puffy with exhaustion. He was frustrated, irritable, and short-tempered—she could see it all over his face.

  “Come in. You’re soaking wet.”

  “Thanks.” He stepped inside. In almost a scowl, he asked, “Is it too late?”

  “No. Here, let me take your coat. I’ll dry it off.”

  He stared at her for a moment, and she could tell that his mind was reeling. With what, she wasn’t sure.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you still here?”

  She sighed, shook her head. “I’m not going to get into this with you right now, Zander. This is my house, and I’m not leaving. I’ve got my gun, and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to sleep. No one’s going to get past me. Not tonight. Here, give me your coat.”

  He sighed, as if he literally didn’t have the energy to fight with her at the moment, then slipped out of his coat. “Thank you.”

  “You look like you need a drink.”

  He hesitated but then nodded.

  She led him into the kitchen. “Beer?”

  “Beer.”

  She grabbed two beers, popped the tops, and handed him one.

  He tipped it up and drank half the bottle in one gulp.
<
br />   She sipped, leaned against the counter. “Tell me.”

  His eyes darkened. A moment passed, then he said, “Another one.”

  Her stomach rolled. “Just like Abby?”

  “Just like Abby.”

  A tingle ran up her spine. “My God, Zander.”

  He nodded, took another gulp. “Which is why I don’t want you staying here tonight. Raven, we can only assume it’s the same person. Whoever did this is following you, too, and knows you’re snooping around.”

  She glanced out the window at the storm beginning to rage outside. Zander was right.

  She looked back at him. “Who was it?”

  “A woman named Claire Banks.”

  The beer slipped from her fingertips and shattered on the floor.

  Zander was by her side in an instant.

  Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

  He lightly grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

  She started to speak but couldn’t force the words out.

  “Raven, what? What’s going on?”

  She grabbed her cell phone, and with a trembling hand, played the voicemail and handed it to him. His eyes widened as he listened to the message from Claire. He pulled the phone away and looked at the timestamp.

  “This was right before she was murdered. What the hell is she talking about?”

  She took a deep breath, and then told him about the afternoon rendezvous Claire had with Eric Stevens, and the story of her visit to the salon the next day. She told him about Claire’s nervous demeanor, and how Claire had been researching hatchets online. By the time she finished, her heart was racing. She was in complete shock.

  “Eric Stevens.” He said the name slowly, as if trying to remember every encounter he’d ever had with him.

  “Do you know him?”

  “No, I’ve only seen him around town a few times. You think he's just a booty call?"

  "Possibly."

  "Only one way to find out. I'll check his story..." he glanced at the clock. "First thing tomorrow."

  She couldn’t believe it. Was she last person Claire had contacted before she was murdered? What if she had answered the phone? Would Claire still be alive?

  A wave of nausea washed over her. “I need some air.” She stepped forward and slipped on a piece of broken glass. “Ow!”

  Before she could bend down, Zander swept her off her feet and sat her on the countertop. Blood dripped onto the floor as he lifted her foot.

  “Shit.”

  Her foot tingled with pain and she squeezed her face. “It’s okay. It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. You’ve got a two-inch piece of glass in your foot.”

  “Two-inch?”

  He nodded. “Might need stitches. You have a first-aid kit?”

  “Under the sink.”

  With his hand firmly on her leg—so she wouldn’t fall—he kneeled down and pulled the kit from below the sink.

  He picked up the tweezers and glanced up at her. “Want your beer for this?”

  Despite the pain shooting up her leg, she grinned. “Whiskey.”

  He laughed and grabbed the bottle from the counter.

  She took a gulp, and so did he, before leaning in and carefully removing the glass from her foot.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Yeah, it’s deep. You okay?”

  She nodded as he dabbed the wound with hydrogen peroxide, and then, with surprising gentleness, applied three butterfly stitches.

  “Stay here, let me clean this up.”

  She took another drink of whiskey while he swept up the glass from the floor.

  “Zander.” Her voice was low and weak with exhaustion. “What are you going to do?”

  He stopped, looked at her. “I’m going to find the son of a bitch.”

  She nodded, looked down, and took a deep breath. And then, she looked up to see him staring at her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

  “You need to get some sleep.” Pause. “And I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “No. No, Zander, you don’t have to…”

  “I insist.” He leaned the broom against the counter, walked over to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up as though she weighed ten pounds. She closed her eyes as he cradled her in his arms and walked out of the kitchen. He smelled of fresh rain, and that indescribable scent of masculinity—the smell of a man.

  She gripped him tighter as he rounded the corner. The warm glow of a night-light spilled out from her bathroom.

  Her heart started to pound, her mind started to race.

  She wanted him. She wanted him bad.

  Lightning lit the room, and then, she wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey or the adrenaline, but as he leaned her down onto the bed, she reached up, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.

  Thunder boomed outside, followed by fireworks exploding in her head as her lips slid over his.

  And then–panic. Sheer panic.

  Oh, my God, Raven! What the hell are you doing?

  She pulled back, her eyes wide with shock—and embarrassment. She’d never been this forward in her life!

  Zander’s eyes rounded as he looked down at her, apparently in shock, too. And for a moment he just stared at her with an expression she couldn’t read.

  She wanted to die.

  In barely a whisper, she said, “I’m sorry, I’m…” But before she could finish the sentence, his lips crushed onto hers.

  Butterflies burst in her stomach as he kissed her. He tasted like warm whiskey.

  She wrapped her arms around his massive shoulders as he crawled on top of her, kissing her with a forcefulness—a passion—that she had never felt in her life. Her head began to spin, and every insecurity she had escaped her and was replaced with an animalistic need, an uncontrollable lust, for him—for him to be on top of her. Inside of her.

  Goosebumps spread over her skin as he slid his hand up her shirt and onto her breast. His finger trailed her nipple, then squeezed. She gripped him tighter as the sensation zinged through her body.

  It had been so long. Too long.

  And she had to have him—right now.

  She pushed up, her eyes locked on his, and ripped off her shirt. She didn’t care about her barely B-cups. She didn’t care that she was being so forward. She only knew one thing—that she had to have Zander Stone inside of her, immediately. Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

  He looked down at her breasts, and the fire in his eyes warmed her. She leaned forward and tugged at his shirt.

  Shoes were kicked off, the pants were yanked from each other’s body. And finally, her panties, and his boxers.

  His hands swept over her bare skin, and she squirmed underneath him, flushing wet with desire.

  She ran her fingers down his back as he kissed her neck. His body was as hard and cut as she’d imagined. It was absolutely perfect. She couldn’t believe it—the man she'd fantasized about for two years was here, right now, naked, on top of her.

  And they were going to have sex.

  As he kissed her ear, her hand slid down his body, bumping over his six-pack, and found his erection. Her breath caught as she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed.

  Oh, my God.

  He groaned and then answered back. His hand swept down her stomach, between her legs.

  Her heart pounded as he slowly rubbed her thighs, teasing her.

  She gripped his back, digging her nails into his skin, begging for him to take her.

  His fingertips finally found her opening and slowly slid inside. She closed her eyes, as he glided back and forth.

  He kissed her, peaking all of her senses, and pulled his fingers out, sweeping the wet tips over her inner lips. She pressed her hips forward in anticipation of his finger to move up, just a little higher.

  And then, it did.

  A jolt of electricity shot through her as he glided his finger onto her clit, and began to lightly circl
e the tiny, swollen bud. Tingles broke out over her skin. Euphoria gripped her. She was completely overcome by the sensation. The warmth began to spread between her legs, and just as she thought she was about to release, he pulled away and positioned himself over her.

  Thunder shook the windows.

  With his gaze locked on hers, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. Her heart skipped madly in her chest as she looked back at him, willing to do whatever he told her to. At that moment, he had complete control over her, and she allowed it. She loved it. And it made her absolutely crazy.

  She bit her lip as he lowered onto her, found her opening, and plunged into her wetness.

  He released a low, husky groan as he slowly slid out, then back in. She closed her eyes, savoring the sweet pain, as she squeezed around his rock-hard cock.

  “Raven.” A breathy whisper in her ear, followed by a kiss.

  She thrust her hips forward as he pushed deeper inside her, slowly at first, and then faster and faster.

  His breath picked up, and hers did, too.

  Lightning sliced through the sky outside, illuminating the room and the sheen of sweat on his skin.

  Her clit tingled, her whole body began to tense.

  “Zander.”

  “Say it again,” he demanded.

  “Zander.”

  He thrust deeper, harder, filling her with every inch of him.

  “Oh, Zander.”

  The sensation peaked, and as the orgasm ripped through her, he released at the same time.

  His heavy body collapsed on top of her, and for a moment, they both lay there, heads spinning, chests heaving.

  “That was…”

  He looked up with a twinkle in his eye. A small smile crossed his lips—an agreement of what didn't need to be said.

  He swept a strand of sweat-soaked hair from her face, and then kissed her. A soft, sweet kiss that had her melting.

  And before she could catch her breath, they did it all over again.

  And again.

  CHAPTER 16

  RAVEN CLICKED HER windshield wipers on high and squinted to see ahead. The rain poured down from the steep mountain that hugged the road, and then snaked across the narrow lanes, draining off the cliff on the opposite side.

  It was a hell of a drive home.

  After their wild, mind-blowing sex the evening before, Raven had fallen asleep in Zander’s arms, only to wake up in the exact same position, to his beautiful face in the morning. And after a quick rerun, Zander left to pick up where he'd left off the night before—solving two homicides.