“Thank you for coming out tonight, Holt,” Tory murmured.
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Margaret Watson
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Copyright
“Thank you for coming out tonight, Holt,” Tory murmured.
His name felt intimate on her lips, and she wasn’t sure if she liked the feeling or not. “Especially since you weren’t on duty.”
His eyes darkened as he watched her. “It wasn’t strictly a business call, Tory.” The words sounded almost reluctant, as if he’d spoken them against his better judgment.
“You know nothing about me,” she whispered, her heart pounding. “And I know nothing about you. How could it be more than business?”
Slowly, almost unwillingly, he reached out and touched her cheek. His caress was feather light, stroking down her face and feathering across her lips, but she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning.
Holt dropped his hand as if the searing electricity had flashed through him, as well. “That’s why.”
Dear Reader,
By now you’ve undoubtedly come to realize how special our Intimate Moments Extra titles are, and Maura Seger’s The Perfect Couple is no exception. The unique narrative structure of this book only highlights the fact that this is indeed a perfect couple—if only they can find their way back together again.
Alicia Scott begins a new miniseries, MAXIMILLIAN’S CHILDREN, with Maggie’s Man, a genuine page-turner. Beverly Bird’s Compromising Positions is a twisty story of love and danger. And welcome Carla Cassidy back after a too-long absence, with Behind Closed Doors, a book as steamy as its title implies. Margaret Watson offers The Dark Side of the Moon, while new author Karen Anders checks in with Jennifer’s Outlaw.
You won’t want to miss a single one. And don’t forget to come back next month for more of the best romantic reading around—only from Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Leslie Wainger
Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator
* * *
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
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* * *
THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON
MARGARET WATSON
Books by Margaret Watson
Silhouette Intimate Moments
An Innocent Man #636
An Honorable Man #708
To Save His Child #750
The Dark Side of the Moon #779
MARGARET WATSON
From the time she learned to read, Margaret could usually be found with her nose in a book. Her lifelong passion for reading led to her interest in writing, and now she’s happily writing exactly the kind of stories she likes to read. Margaret is a veterinarian who lives in the Chicago suburbs with her husband and their three daughters. In her spare time she enjoys in-line skating, birding and spending time with her family. Readers can write to Margaret at P.O. Box 2333, Naperville, IL 60567-2333.
For Myrna, who has always been there when I’ve
needed her. Thank you for your friendship, and for
everything you’ve given me.
Chapter 1
She tasted the blood again, sharp and metallic. Its salty tang flooded her mouth as grinding terror enveloped her like a dark cloud. seeping through her pores and settling deep inside her. She tried to call for help, but blood gurgled in her throat.
The policeman stood over her, his knuckles clenched white around the baton poised for another blow, his dark eyes glittering with rage. Her blood was smeared on his face. His other hand hovered over the gun holstered at his waist as he waited for her to move.
Roadside gravel dug into her palms as she pushed to her knees. “Say it again, ” the policeman demanded. “Tell me it wasn’t you. ” The words echoed in her head, growing louder and louder until they drowned out the hum of cars from the road, drowned out the frantic fluttering of her heart, drowned out everything but her fear and his rage.
Tory woke with a start and opened her eyes, looking around the dark room with an unfocused, disoriented gaze. There was no traffic. It wasn’t dusk on a Chicago expressway. She was alone, the only sound in the room the pounding of her heart. She struggled to sit up, the residue of fear filling her mouth with a bitter taste. Her left hand automatically reached for her face, but she felt nothing except a small, thin scar high over her cheekbone. There was no blood and no pain.
“You were dreaming again,” she whispered as she slowly laid down in the bed. “Only a dream.”
She smoothed her hand over her face one more time and told herself to go back to sleep as she lay tense and rigid under the down comforter. Taking a deep, trembling breath, she inhaled the faint aroma of cleaning solution overlaying the old, musty smell of the house and the more distant scent of pine. She tried to ignore the frantic thudding of her heart, but she finally sighed and slid out of bed. She knew from experience that she wouldn’t get to sleep easily after the dream.
Padding to the window, she looked out at the surrounding woods. The moon was a thin sliver in the clear, dark sky, its weak light barely illuminating the endless forest surrounding her. The dense, dark north woods seemed to go on forever here in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
Everything looked different at night, she thought, resting her fingers against the cool glass as she stared into the darkness. But instead of the tranquillity she expected to feel from the silent forest, a sense of unease slowly stirred. The tall pines felt closer than they had this afternoon when she’d moved into the house. Swaying gently in the slight night breeze, their dark green branches almost seemed to be reaching out for her, beckoning her to come closer. Urging her to hurry to something waiting for her there. Fear twisted in her stomach as she stood at the window, unable to move.
Energy hummed from just beyond the edge of the woods, thick and dark and coiled like a rope. Waiting for her. Calling her name with its pulsating waves.
Hypnotized, she watched until a night bird screeched somewhere in the trees and broke the spell. Stumbling backward, she shook her head and reached for her robe.
“Honestly, Tory,” she chided herself. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? You should be grateful there are trees outside your window instead of gangbangers and knife fights.” Her voice echoed against the bare walls, its faint tremor mocking her.
It was the stress of moving and all the problems associated with opening the clinic that had triggered the dreaded dream, she told herself as she walked down the wooden staircase in the old house. That’s all. There was nothing outside her window besides trees.
The third stair from the bottom squeaked, the noise unnaturally loud in the dark, quiet house. She froze. Looking into the still living room, she searched the shadows for a moment then forced herself to continue.
Flicking on the light, she glanced at the woods again and pulled the curtain firmly closed. She hated the shiver that shot up her spine, hated the fear she couldn’t seem to control. Hated knowing that everything in her life had been out of control for the past several months.
They were only trees, she told herself again. The
re was nothing menacing about them. It was all because of the dream. The dream had dredged up memories she’d tried hard to suppress, and it wasn’t surprising that the fear had transferred itself to the first thing she’d seen.
She went into the kitchen and brewed herself a cup of tea, carefully avoiding looking out the bare window. Carrying her tea out into the living room, she sat on the couch and picked up a veterinary medical journal she hadn’t had time to read because of the move. If that couldn’t put her to sleep, nothing would.
She jumped when she heard the pounding on her front door, dropping her magazine onto the floor. She must have fallen asleep, she thought blearily, looking around for a clock.
It was four in the morning. Slowly she looked at the door, wondering if the knocking had been her imagination. Hoping it had. Bending, she picked up the magazine and clutched it to her chest, never taking her eyes off the door. When it reverberated with another knock, she stared at it for a moment then slowly stood. Panic washed over her.
She’d taken three steps away from the couch when she bumped into a stack of her textbooks sitting in a haphazard pile on the floor. Without taking her eyes from the door, she bent and picked one up. Her hands, slippery with sweat, could barely hold onto the thick volume. As a weapon it was a pitiful choice, but she hugged it to her as she forced herself to take one more step toward the door.
“Who is it?” she asked, barely managing to push the sound past the lump of dread in her throat.
“Eagle Ridge police. Are you all right in there?”
The deep male voice penetrated the heavy door, surrounding her with its authoritative tones. Curling her fingers more tightly around the book, hating the instinctive terror that made her shake, she stood rooted to the floor. “I’m fine,” she said.
There was a pause, then the man standing on her porch spoke with a touch of impatience. “Would you mind stepping closer to the window so I can see for myself?”
“It’s four o’clock in the morning. Why are you here?”
“I saw your lights and wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.”
Tory edged toward the kitchen and the telephone, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure through the lace curtain at the window. The faint moonlight glinted off the star on his chest, and the sight made her stomach clench with fear.
“Nothing was wrong until you showed up. Go away!”
A loose board on the porch squeaked, then his face appeared in the window as he peered into her living room. Terrified, she ran into the kitchen and picked up the phone. Her hand shook so badly she barely managed to punch 911. As she stood in the kitchen, trembling, waiting for someone to answer the phone, she heard a recorded voice telling her to hang up and try her call again.
The receiver slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor as she tried to replace it in its cradle. Before she could dial again, the man on her porch spoke, his voice louder and edgy. “If you don’t want to come closer to the window, at least turn on your porch lights.”
“I told you, I’m fine. Please leave!” She heard the desperate fright in her voice and despised her weakness, but the nightmare was replaying itself in her head, and this time she knew she was wide awake.
“I’m not going to leave until I see your porch lights go on.” He sounded implacable and much too close. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she eased across the room to the front door and flicked the switch that controlled the lights outside.
“Thank you.” His low voice reverberated around her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ease the chill. After a moment she heard his footsteps on the porch stairs, retreating. From a long way off, he said, “Leave them on for the rest of the night.”
A car door slammed and gravel crunched as he drove slowly away. Forcing herself to the window, she saw a large black four-wheel-drive vehicle on the driveway. On the side door was the insignia of the Eagle Ridge police department. Tory stood at the window, watching, until it turned onto the road and vanished into the shadows of the trees.
The breeze riffling through the pines surrounding her house sounded like a whisper of laughter.
Tory’s eyes burned and her head throbbed as she stood in the door of her veterinary clinic several hours later, watching her first client leave. “Goodbye, Mrs. Taylor. Give me a call if Frisky doesn’t feel better in a few days,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face.
The bright sun made her head ache even more and she turned and walked into the building, glad her next client wasn’t due for a little while. A mostly sleepless night wasn’t the way she’d planned to prepare for her first day back in Eagle Ridge.
She was cleaning her exam room when she heard a car outside the building. Assuming that her next appointment was early, she tried to gather her composure as she walked into the reception area. The busier she was, she told herself as the front door opened, the less time she’d have to brood about the night before.
Tory’s hand tightened on the counter and her welcoming smile froze in place. She fought her instinctive flinch of fear at the sight of the police officer’s uniform and forced herself to look at the man’s face instead.
His dark hair was too long and carelessly combed. His face was all angles and planes, his cheeks scored with deep clefts. Eyes the color of pewter watched her, their expression carefully controlled.
“Can I help you?” she forced herself to ask, licking dry lips.
“Dr. Falcon?” His voice was deep and slightly husky and sent a shiver down her spine. She gripped the counter more tightly.
“Yes, I’m Tory Falcon. What can I do for you?” She glanced around for his pet, carefully avoiding looking at his uniform.
He waited silently until she was forced to look at his face. Holding her gaze, he stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m Holt Adams, the police chief here in Eagle Ridge. I need to talk to you.”
Reluctantly she offered her hand. His palm was unexpectedly warm as it slid against hers, and she practically jerked away from him, startled at the strength of his grip.
Wanting to take a step backward, to put some distance between them, she forced herself to stand still. “What can I do for you, Chief Adams? Is there a problem with the clinic?”
He looked startled for a moment, then he smiled. It was only a small curving of his lips, but Tory felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of her. His smile transformed his face, softening its harsh lines and turning his eyes into burnished silver. Her pulse quickened as she stared at him, fascinated by the change and unable to look away.
“This isn’t about your clinic,” he answered, his gaze flicking over the bare walls of her reception room before returning to her. “And I don’t have a pet.”
“Then why are you here?” Tory asked. Her words sounded rude, but she didn’t care. After the previous night, she didn’t want to have anything to do with a police officer. Especially one who looked and sounded like this man in front of her.
“I need to apologize, first of all.”
“Apologize? For what?” Tory asked in a cautious voice.
“I scared you last night.”
Remembered terror swept over her at his words. “That was you at my door last night?” she whispered, staring at him.
“Yes, it was.” The cool look he gave her didn’t have much regret in it. “I was patrolling the area and saw your lights on, and I wanted to make sure you were all right. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You terrified me,” she said, welcoming the rush of anger that temporarily banished her fear. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”
“I won’t have to.” His gray eyes held her gaze steadily. “The next time you’ll know who I am.”
“There better not be a next time, Chief Adams,” she warned. “I don’t like anyone coming to my door at four o’clock in the morning. I don’t care who they are.”
“I’ll do whatever I think is necessary to protect the people who live in this town. That’s my job, and I take it serio
usly.”
“I’m sure the city council will be pleased to hear that, but why did you single me out? Or do you check on everyone in town?”
“You’re new to Eagle Ridge, and you’re isolated out here.” His voice was even, and his gaze didn’t waver. “Not many people are up at four o’clock in the morning.”
“I guess city habits die hard.” Her cool tone matched his. “Now that you’ve apologized, I’ll have to ask you to excuse me. I have work to do.”
When she tried to step away from him, he put out his hand and touched her arm. His fingers barely brushed her skin, but the crackle of electricity that shot up her arm stunned her into immobility. Slowly she looked at him, seeing his uniform again, and her sudden sensual awareness of him faded as the fear rushed back. She jerked away from his touch.
“That wasn’t the only reason I came out here today.” His low voice strummed some chord hidden deep within her. “I wanted to make sure you knew about what’s been happening in Eagle Ridge.”
As she stared at him, waiting for him to continue, he seemed to move closer to her. Her heart twisted, a tiny balloon of fear swelling in her chest at the sight of his guarded eyes. “What’s been happening here?” she whispered.
His eyes changed, hardened. “There have been two murders in Eagle Ridge in the past month and a half.” His voice was blunt and without expression. “One was a tourist, a young woman named Carrie Stevens who stayed here for a couple of days. The other was Sally Phillips, the postmaster.”
Tory could feel the blood pooling in her chest, expanding and hardening into a lump of horror. “Murdered? Two people?” She stared at the man in front of her, desperate to hear that she’d misunderstood. “Are you sure it was murder and not an accident? I don’t think there’s ever been a murder in Eagle Ridge.”
The Dark Side Of The Moon Page 1