“The protestors have stayed well within the requirements of the law. There’s no evidence they had anything to do with the fire.” Mike tapped a finger on his closed book.
“Do you even have any leads?” Vince sneered. “Did you even have a chance to work on the case at all? I heard you spent most of the day with Rachel Parker, and that she had a body concealed in her basement. She was there last night too. Wasn’t she?”
“Yes. Miss Parker was at the municipal building last night. So was half the town, Vince. And we found a skeleton in her basement, not a body. I’m waiting to hear from the medical examiner, but the person was not killed recently.”
Vince’s face reddened. “You are unable to stop the rampant crime in our town. You don’t know anything about the fire. You don’t know much about remains in your girlfriend’s basement. Why shouldn’t we fire you?”
“Hold on there, Vince,” Herb interrupted. “No one wants to fire Mike.”
“Really?” Vince stood and leaned on the table. “He failed to catch a serial killer operating right under his nose. A woman’s death is on his head. Maybe we need a new police chief.”
Mike’s gut burned. He should have known Vince would try to use that against him.
Herb gave Vince a talk-to-the-hand gesture. “Mike practically works twenty-four hours a day, Vince. What more do you expect? The FBI didn’t catch that killer either. Mike is not responsible.”
Vince jabbed the table with a forefinger. “I expect him to keep this town safe. To protect businesses. To be professional. To not have personal relationships with those involved in his cases. Like Miss Parker.”
Mike opened his mouth to deny it but couldn’t. He did have personal feelings for Rachel, and they were messing up everything.
Herb jumped in for him. “Enough, Vince. We all know you hate the Parker woman because she’s on the opposite side of your boy’s domestic abuse case.”
“My daughter-in-law fell down the stairs. Our chief of police is biased against my son. He has a conflict of interest with the case.” Seething, Vince clenched his teeth. “Talk to the prosecutor and get the assault charges against Troy dropped or you’re fired.”
“And I suppose that’s not a conflict of interest?” Herb rolled his eyes. “You can’t do that without a vote, Vince.”
Mike looked around the table. Vince’s buddy, Lee, was openly gloating. Fred was studying his notes. Guess Vince had the votes. Mike pressed both palms to the tabletop. Listening to a seventy-year-old guy defend him made something snap inside him. He had to get out of this room before he wrung Vince’s neck.
Herb’s eyes went wide with shock. He stared at the mayor. “Fred, you can’t go along with this. Mike’s a damned good cop and you know it. We don’t have anyone to replace him.”
Fred didn’t look up, but his face reddened. It looked like Vince had his majority.
“Thanks, Herb, but I’ve got this.” Mike stood up. Vince leaned back and crossed his arms over his bony chest.
Mike stared at the councilman’s smug face, and all his rational arguments floated right out of his head. His mouth started moving without any consultation with his brain. “You know what, Vince? I’m tired of this bullshit. You’ve been in my face for the past year. But I’m not going to stop doing my job. You want to get rid of me? You’re going to have to fire my ass. But keep in mind, the only people you’re hurting are the residents of this town.”
The five men sitting at the table were staring at Mike, but he kept his eyes on Vince. Cold fury flickered in his beady buzzard eyes.
Mike couldn’t stop. “You’ve been on my ass since you were elected.” Sean’s question played over and over in Mike’s head as he leaned on the table and loomed over Vince. “I can’t help but wonder why. Do you have something to hide?”
Chapter Nineteen
Rachel woke from a fitful sleep. The throb in her shoulder echoed her heartbeat. The room was dark, the old house silent, her bed cold. She glanced at the bedside clock. Not even midnight. The long, empty night loomed ahead. Tears burned in her eyes. Though there was no one to see them fall, she blinked them away anyway. Indulging in weakness was as slippery a slope as pain pills.
But despite the fact that three other people were sleeping just down the hall, the loneliness was as discomforting as the bone-deep ache in her shoulder. But if she resorted to medication now, which would she be suppressing?
She rolled to her side, but a comfortable position evaded her. Ice. She’d try a fresh ice pack.
The muffled purr of an engine came through the closed window.
She eased out of bed and shuffled to the window. The sight of Mike’s SUV in the driveway opened a flood of yearning. Memories of his arms around her and that single searing kiss flashed, the one that had warmed her chilled soul. Her head told her to wait, to think things through, not to make one more impulsive decision.
The sound of nails scrambling on hardwood spurred her into action. She hit the stairs just in time to grab an alerted Bandit by the collar. Downstairs, she snapped a leash on the dog and disengaged the alarm before stepping out the door. Her sweatpants, T-shirt, and bare feet were no match for the autumn night air. Shivering, she hugged her arms and hurried toward his vehicle. He was already getting out by the time she reached it.
“What are you doing? It’s cold out here.” Ignoring the dog pawing at his knee, he shrugged out of his zip-up hoodie, wrapped it around her, and steered her toward the house. “Your teeth are chattering.”
“I was j-just going to tell you to come in.”
“You could’ve waved.”
In the kitchen, she burrowed into his jacket. It smelled like his aftershave, like him, and carried the heat from his body.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Mike locked the door.
“No. I was awake.” Rachel went into the pantry to reset the alarm. While she was in there, she grabbed a chew and tossed it to Bandit. The dog caught it on the fly. Mike followed her and stood in the doorway. His bigger body crowded her, but she didn’t mind.
“Everything working?” He scanned the blinking control panel.
“Seems to be.” She turned to face him. The snug T-shirt outlined his heavy chest and shoulder muscles.
“You look tired. How’s the shoulder?”
“I was just going to ice it for a while. You aren’t exactly fresh as a daisy.”
“That isn’t an answer.” He frowned. He lifted her chin with a finger and turned her face to scrutinize her cheek. “The plastic surgeon did a nice job. If you take care of that right, it’ll barely show.”
“I know. Quinn went over the instructions with me twice.”
“What am I going to do with you?” He leaned closer and muttered something that sounded like “just a taste” before his lips settled on hers. Warm and soft, his mouth tasted faintly of mint. There was none of the demand of their first kiss, but a gentleness that had her heart begging for more. His hand cupped her face, and his thumb stroked her jaw in a slow arc. Something that had been tightly clenched unfurled inside her, like a fist opening. She didn’t have the strength—or the desire—to fight it. She closed her eyes and let him in. A sense of oneness, completion, belonging, flooded into the empty space inside of her.
He lifted his head a few inches. Her eyelids fluttered open. Shock clouded the soft blue of his eyes. She imagined her own gaze was equally stunned.
“Why did you come?” she whispered against his jaw.
“I don’t know. Couldn’t sleep.” He said she looked tired, but purple half circles underscored his gorgeous eyes. He-Man had had a rough day. A surge of protectiveness rushed through her. She was filled with the desire to find out who was responsible and chew him out.
“Did you get fired?”
“Not yet.” But his tone suggested termination was imminent.
“Did you eat?”
He shook his head. Rachel reluctantly moved away from him and opened the refrigerator. “You’re in luck. Sarah cooks when
she’s upset. There’s some leftover pasta and vegetables in some sort of white, cheesy sauce. It’s good. Want some?” She reached in and pulled out a Tupperware container.
His hip bumped hers. “I can help myself. You get your icepack. Do you want anything?”
“Some milk would be great.” She slid her arms into his jacket. Something dropped out of the pocket. Her shoulder protested as she bent down and picked up the roll of antacids. Mint-flavored. Rachel settled in a kitchen chair with a cold pack over her shoulder. She set the antacids in the middle of the table. “Feeling all right?”
Mike sat down across from her with a bowl of cold leftovers and two glasses of milk. He slid a glass in front of her. “Fine.”
“Maybe we aren’t as different as I’d thought.”
Chewing, Mike shot her a wry grin as he forked down the pasta. She let him eat. A comfortable quiet settled over the kitchen. He finished, then rinsed his bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. “Thanks.”
Pain stabbed her as she shifted the ice pack, draping it over her shoulder. Numb wasn’t cutting it. With a heavy sigh, she went for a pill.
“Not a fan?” Mike sank back into his chair as she stared the medicine down.
“Not really. My mother was manic-depressive. She abused alcohol and prescription drugs.” She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t press. But those eyes of his… They knew. “But if I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to be even crankier than usual.”
He didn’t react to the quip. His gaze reflected the pain of her confession. “It won’t happen to you.”
How did he do that? How did he know what was going on in her head?
“Here’s hoping.” She washed the pill down with the rest of her milk. “Let’s go in the den.”
“If you’re hitting on me,” Mike resisted, “drugged women in pain aren’t on my list of turn-ons.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, He-Man. You’re hot and everything, but sex is the last thing on my mind tonight.” She stopped in front of his chair. The thought of being alone again was a ball of unbearable emptiness behind her breastbone.
“You think I’m hot.” He grinned up at her.
Her face heated. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
She took his hand and tugged on it. He hesitated, so she used his own tactic against him. On her empty stomach, the medicine was taking effect quickly—and lowering her inhibitions. She should go to bed before she started blathering. “Please. You can sleep on the couch.”
“The couch?”
“Sorry. Kids upstairs.”
“Ah, kids.” He stood and removed his gun from its holster, then unloaded the weapon and shoved the clip into his pocket. He held up the empty gun. “Do you have something that locks?”
She led him into the den, grabbed the tiny key for her desk, and handed it to him. “Bottom drawer.”
She fetched a pillow and blanket from the closet while Mike closed the curtains. He tested the couch. The ice on her shoulder made her shiver, and she zipped up his jacket.
He patted the cushion next to him. “Come here.”
“Just for a minute.” She eased onto the sofa and leaned into him. His arm wrapped around her. Her face pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Her hand rested against his stomach, the muscles rippled and tight. She’d known he was huge and fit, but the abs under her palm were ripped in a major league man-candy kind of way. What would it feel like to snuggle up against him naked?
Maybe sex wasn’t the absolute last thing on her mind.
“How are Sarah and the girls?” he asked.
“Good as can be expected. I’d feel better if they had somewhere else to stay.” Though the stalker seemed more interested in her, she hated the thought of her sister or nieces getting in his way or getting hurt because of her.
“No other family to help out?”
Hell no. There was no way Sarah would ever take her children to their father’s house. Dad made Troy look like a teetotaler. “Families can be complicated.”
“Wouldn’t know.”
“No family?”
“None close.” He let his head fall back. “I’m an only child of two only children.”
“Parents?”
“They’re both gone.” His voice went hoarse.
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t ask any more questions, and he didn’t offer any more explanation. The sadness in his tone was enough.
In the calm silence, Mike’s torso relaxed under her. She raised her head. His eyes were closed. His wide chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. Even in sleep, his face was tight with worry. He was that kind of guy. Sleep would be no excuse to relinquish his responsibilities.
She should go to bed. Break this connection that exhaustion and stress made them both unable to deny. But she couldn’t do it. She snuggled deeper, her muscles softening, the pain and her defenses sliding away. He made her feel safe, and not just in a physical way. He accepted her for what she was.
Not many people did.
Predawn mist shrouded the forest. The woods smelled of earth, decaying leaves, and wood smoke. The chilly bite of autumn was cold enough to invigorate without being uncomfortable, which was a good thing. Once he got settled, he’d be sitting still for quite some time. Indian summer was a blessing. The day was forecast to be warm.
Hunting took patience, and just like everything else in life, discipline was the key to success.
The tree, scoped out in advance, was perfect. Medium-sized trunk. The lower section clear of branches. Enough foliage above for concealment. And best of all: a perfect line of sight for today’s observation. He had to see Rachel discover the gift he’d left her.
The Watcher raised his knees and drew the lower platform of his climbing stand upward. Pushing down with his feet, he set the platform against the trunk. The rear bar dug into the bark. Repeating the process, he worked his way up the tree foot by foot, like a vertical inchworm.
Twenty feet off the ground, he reached the lower branches and let the autumn foliage settle around him. The clerk at the outdoor store had been right. This camouflage print was perfect for fall hunts. From fifty feet away, he’d be practically invisible. No one could see him at a distance of two hundred yards.
He lifted his camera from his chest and adjusted the focus until he could see the individual stones in the old farmhouse. Rachel was going to have a big surprise, and he was going to catch every frame.
Chapter Twenty
Hot dog breath wafted across Rachel’s face. She cracked an eyelid. Tail wagging, tongue lolling, Bandit stood on the bed, his masked muzzle inches from her nose.
Three things occurred to Rachel as she scratched the dog behind the ears. One, her bedroom was fully lit, meaning she’d overslept. Two, she was still wearing Mike’s jacket. She pressed the soft fabric against her face and inhaled his comforting scent. He must have carried her up to bed at some point during the night, and dammit, she’d missed it. And three, she didn’t hurt nearly as badly as she’d expected. Cotton-mouthed, she squinted at the bedside clock. No wonder. It was ten freaking o’clock. She’d slept for nine hours straight.
She lifted her clock and inspected it. Someone had switched off the alarm. Mike. Grrr. Words would be exchanged on that topic later. But for now, there was work that needed to be done. Cripes, the horses hadn’t been fed or watered.
She shuffled into the bathroom. Cold water on her face helped with the pain med hangover, but stiffness made getting dressed a challenge. Something banged from downstairs. Bandit jumped off the bed and trotted off. Dog nails clattered down the wood treads and faded away. By the time her bare feet crossed the duct-taped seam of the kitchen floor, her shoulder had loosened to a tolerable dull ache. As long as she didn’t do anything too stupid today, it should continue to improve.
“Oh, you’re up. Good timing.” Sarah opened the oven. The aged metal door squeaked. Using a dish towel as an oven mitt, she removed a pan of muffins and set them on a st
ove top burner to cool. At her feet, Bandit stared up hopefully.
The scent made Rachel’s mouth water. “Blueberry?”
“Uh-huh.”
Snap!
Sarah pulled a mug from the cabinet. “Coffee? I’ve just made a fresh pot.”
Rachel shook her head. “No time. I have to get down to the barn.”
“Uhm.” Sarah picked at her cast. “No rush on that.”
“What do you mean, no rush?” Suspicion flared. “The horses haven’t been fed.”
“Yeah. Actually they have.”
“What?” Rachel shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers by the door. “Who? Mike?”
“Not exactly. He left really early. Was he here all night?” Sarah waggled her eyebrows comically.
“Oh, geez. Nothing happened. He was parked in the driveway around midnight. I thought that was dumb and let him sleep on the couch.” Rachel reached for the knob. “What do you mean, not exactly?”
“I’m not getting into this one.” Sarah grabbed Bandit’s collar.
Rachel closed the door on the comment. The sky was a cloudless azure. The air, unnaturally warm and still for the season, had an eerie buzz that portended a change in the weather pattern. The sun’s rays warmed her back as she crossed the back lawn. In contrast, the barn was cool, dim, and empty. All the horses had been turned out. The aisle was freshly raked. She stuck her head into the first stall. Clean and bedded with sweet-smelling straw. Her shoulder practically sang with relief. Feeding wouldn’t be too difficult, but she hadn’t figured out how she was going to manage a pitchfork one-handed.
“Oh, hi.” A lean, wiry young man was pushing her wheelbarrow through the back door. From the hard lines around his eyes, he was probably over eighteen, but with all those freckles the kid would be carded till he was thirty-five.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Brandon.” He wiped his hand on his jeans and held it out. “Brandon Sandler.”
Rachel shook it. “Who sent you here, Brandon?”
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