The Dark Side Of The Moon

by Margaret Watson

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not particularly. But I will.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

  She thought the hard look in his eyes softened a little. “Yeah, I do, if only so you’ll understand just how big a bastard I really am. Your sympathy is wasted on me, Tory. I got what I deserved.”

  “No one deserves to carry around a load of guilt for the rest of his life because of what someone did in a moment of despair.” She spoke firmly, but her heart ached for him.

  “You haven’t heard the story yet. You’d better reserve your judgment.”

  “Tell me,” she said softly.

  He stared out the kitchen window, but Tory knew he didn’t see the trees. He was looking into himself, at something that had happened long ago.

  “Barb wanted kids,” he began, finally looking at her. His eyes were full of sorrow. “Hell, so did I. After a year or so with no luck, she began to get desperate. Went to all kinds of specialists, made us both take all kinds of tests.” His jaw tightened painfully. “The final diagnosis was infertility of unknown cause. In other words, she couldn’t have kids, but they really didn’t know why.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. She knew the pain of wanting something that wasn’t possible.

  “At first Barb was numb with shock.” He shrugged, but he couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes. “She’d always been fragile and easily upset, and she couldn’t cope with the news. When it finally sunk in, she just lost it. When she wasn’t crying she was begging me to find a way to fix it.”

  “The fact that she couldn’t get pregnant was nobody’s fault, not hers or yours,” Tory said softly.

  “I knew that, and maybe deep down she did, too. But it didn’t matter anymore. The more she clung, the more I withdrew.” His voice was savage. “I could have been more understanding, could have given her more support. Hell, I could have held her while she cried.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a case.” He looked out the window again. “A serial killer who preyed on prostitutes. It was my case, and I was obsessed with catching the guy. And the case intensified as Barb disintegrated.”

  He looked at her with self-loathing in his eyes. “I wanted kids, too, Tory. I desperately wanted to have children. And when I found out that we couldn’t have any, something died inside me. But my way of handling it was to submerge myself in my cases. And it wasn’t tough to do. This killer was picking out the most vulnerable of the city’s prostitutes, the young girls. I went a little more crazy each day that went by without catching the guy.”

  “And you withdrew a little more from your wife.”

  He nodded. “A real nice guy, wasn’t I? She wanted to repeat the tests, find another doctor who would tell her what she wanted to hear. But we’d been to the best, and I knew it wasn’t any use. We had to put it behind us and get on with our lives. And for me, that was my work.” The muscles of his jaw worked. “To the exclusion of everything else.”

  “But Barb couldn’t put it behind her.”

  “No. And part of the reason was me. I could have helped her cope with it. She couldn’t bear it that she had failed at the thing she’d made the most important part of her life. For two years, she’d been completely focused on getting pregnant. When she finally stopped talking about it, I was relieved she’d accepted the fact that it wasn’t going to happen. I thought she’d handled it. I was dead wrong.”

  Not wanting to hear, but knowing that she had to, Tory whispered, “What happened?”

  “I came home one day and found her in the garage with the car motor running. She was holding on to our dog, hugging it. They were both dead by the time I got there. All she left was a note that said, ‘Forgive me.’”

  “I’m so sorry, Holt.” She moved toward him, but he stood up and walked away from her.

  “I caught the killer of those prostitutes a few days later. The day after I buried my wife. And do you know what bothered me most at the time? The fact that he’d killed two more girls before I was able to catch him. How’s that for a cold-blooded bastard?”

  “It sounds like you were trying to cope with your pain in the only way you could.”

  “Don’t try to make excuses for me, Tory. A chapter of my life was closed the day I caught that bastard. I looked at him behind the bars of the county jail and realized I’d sacrificed my wife to catch him. I stayed on the police force until he was convicted, then I quit. I came up here, hoping I could forget.”

  “Instead you’re in the same situation as in Detroit.” She ached for him, heart and soul.

  “This is a small town, Tory. It’s nothing like the situation in Detroit. There aren’t that many places for a killer to hide in Eagle Ridge.”

  “But you still blame yourself for what’s happening, don’t you? Just like you blame yourself for your wife’s death.”

  “My wife has nothing to do with Eagle Ridge. And ýes, I am to blame. Not for the first woman, maybe, but for Sally Phillips and now this one. I should have caught this guy before now.”

  “But you said yourself that there aren’t many clues.”

  “That in itself is a clue. There aren’t many people in Eagle Ridge who have the knowledge to do this and get away with it. I should be able to connect it with one of them.”

  “You want it to be Bobby Duvall, don’t you?”

  He stared at her. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s pretty obvious. He has a grudge against you. The whole town knows that. Heck, I hadn’t been here for more than a couple of days when my clients filled me in on that bit of gossip. And he used to be a policeman, so he knows what kinds of clues you look for.”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, “I want it to be Bobby. It would be so simple and so clean. But there’s no proof that it’s him. My wanting to get this case solved isn’t evidence. In the end, it boils down to one thing. Three women have been murdered, and I’m no closer to figuring out who did it.”

  “So when were you appointed God?”

  Eyes narrowing, he stared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was ominously low.

  “It means you’re not responsible for everything that happens in the world. Your wife killed herself because she couldn’t live with her pain. That was a fault inside her, not you. As much as we might love someone, we can’t be responsible for what they do. The blame has to rest on their own shoulders.”

  “It’s not that easy, Tory. Don’t you think I want it to be? Don’t you think I’d like to tell myself that it was Barb’s fault, not mine? She may have decided to turn on the car in that garage, but I’m at least partially responsible for not being there when she needed me.”

  “Maybe that wouldn’t have made any difference.”

  “Maybe not, but I’ll never know. And I didn’t give her a chance to find out.”

  “So you’re going to flog yourself over this for the rest of your life?”

  “I’m sure as hell not going to get involved with anyone else, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It wasn’t, but since you brought the subject up, why not?”

  “Because it hurts too damn much, that’s why. Because I don’t ever want to hurt someone that way again.”

  “That’s not the real reason, Holt, and you know it.”

  “It’s not?” The pain had been replaced by anger in his eyes. “Since you know so much, Doc, why don’t you tell me?”

  “You’re a coward, Holt Adams. That’s the real reason.”

  Chapter 11

  “A coward?”

  A smarter person would have backed off from the fury in his eyes, but anger flared inside her, a searing streak of heat that burned her heart and made her furious for the wasteland he chose to make of his life. “You’re a coward, afraid of getting hurt if you get involved with anyone. I bet you don’t even have any friends in Eagle Ridge. Do you?” she challenged.

  He didn’t answer, just stared at her, tight-lipped. Sh
e heard a whimper at her feet and looked at the dog, waiting impatiently for the rest of his dinner. Another spurt of anger pushed to the surface. “You wouldn’t even let Spike into your life because you were afraid to get attached to him.”

  “That had nothing to do with it,” he said furiously. “I didn’t want to put him in a situation where he’d be confined to a small apartment for twelve or more hours every day. That’s just common sense and kindness to him.”

  “That’s bull, and you know it. You told me you didn’t want another dog because the last one you had died.”

  Some of the fury faded from his face, and he turned away. “You’re right. But at least I admit it. I’m hell on relationships, and it’s safer for everyone else if I don’t get involved.”

  “Safer for you, you mean.”

  He turned to her, his eyes full of anger and pain. “I’m trying to protect you, Tory. Can’t you see that?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be protected.”

  “Then you’re a fool.”

  “Maybe so.” Her anger dissipated, replaced by futility. “But I don’t think you’re responsible for either your wife’s death or what’s been happening in Eagle Ridge. In fact, if anyone’s responsible for this, maybe it’s me. I’m the, one having the dreams. Maybe I’m the focus of what’s been going on.”

  “Tory, you’re not responsible for another person’s actions. You can’t think you’re to blame for this killer.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing to yourself about your wife’s death?” she said softly.

  He froze. Slowly he reached out to touch her cheek, letting his hand fall to his side at the last moment. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I would rather die than hurt you, and that’s what would happen.” He stared at her for a moment longer, then shoved his hands into his pockets and whirled around to look out the window at the fading sunset. “And on top of that, what if this killer has targeted you because of your connection to me? Have you thought about that?”

  She hadn’t. But watching his profile, silhouetted in the fiery setting sun, her heart swelled in her chest and she realized it didn’t matter. “In that case, I might as well be hung for a wolf as a lamb,” she said, taking a step toward him. “If I’m going to do the time, I can at least enjoy the crime.”

  He swung around to face her. “I don’t want you out of pity, Tory.”

  “Who says it would be pity?”

  “You hate cops.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “I can’t give you anything more than one night at a time. I can’t make any promises.”

  “I don’t recall asking for any.”

  He took a step closer to her. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, Tory, and you’re not making it any easier for me.”

  “Do you think this is easy for me?” she demanded. “I’m not exactly used to throwing myself at a man.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” His eyes softened as he watched her.

  “What would you call it?” Taking a step backward, she began to walk out of the room. Lost in the passion of the moment, she had spoken before thinking. Now the words quivered in the air between them, making the atmosphere vibrate with tension, and she longed to snatch them back.

  He caught her arm and held her, preventing her from moving away. He murmured, “I’d call it the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Your social life must be sadly lacking, then,” she retorted.

  “It has been. Because I wanted it that way.” Some of the harshness in his face disappeared as his lips curved slightly upward. “Until I met you, that is.” His eyes devoured her as he gently pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I want you, Tory, but I’m scared. Scared of what might happen to you.”

  He wasn’t talking about the murderer who haunted Eagle Ridge. And he wasn’t only scared for her. Tenderness swelled inside her at his words, words she was sure he rarely spoke. “I’m scared too, Holt.” But the need in his eyes gave her the strength to reach out to him. Cupping his cheek with her palm, she stood on her toes and brushed her mouth over his.

  He hesitated for an agonizingly long moment, then he curled his arms around her and pulled her against him. Instead of kissing her, he looked at her, his face taut with control.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he whispered, his breath feathering over her cheek.

  “Yes.” She answered without hesitating, her heart thundering as she read the desire in his eyes. “I’m very sure.”

  He watched her as he lowered his mouth to her lips. The pewter of his eyes shone as though a fire burned in their silver depths, and she felt an answering heat unfurl deep inside her. When his mouth met hers she closed her eyes, savoring his taste.

  She could feel the effort it took for him to keep his mouth gentle on hers. His rock-hard muscles trembled with the strain wherever she touched him, and his hands on her back were tense and stiff. Her heart expanded as she realized that he was holding himself in check so he wouldn’t frighten her.

  Opening her mouth, she scraped her teeth over his lower lip then soothed the spot with her tongue. Holt groaned, his shaking arms pulling her closer to him. When she slowly traced his lips with the tip of her tongue, he shuddered violently then suddenly crushed her against him.

  His control shattered. He took possession of her mouth, rocking his lips against hers as his tongue demanded entrance. She opened to him willingly, helpless to resist, his male taste filling her senses and stirring a response deep inside her. He’d had this power over her from the beginning, from the first time he’d walked into the clinic. She’d been imagining this moment ever since.

  Now she wanted to glory in it, to grab hold of it with both hands and not let go. She wanted to give herself up to the sensations singing through her veins, to let herself drown in the passion that swirled around them.

  His hands roamed over her back, tracing the hollows of her spine and pressing against the curves of her ribs as though he could drink in her essence through the cotton of her blouse. Tentatively she flexed her hands on his back, needing to touch him, too. She ached to test the strength of his muscles and slide her fingertips over his sweatslicked back, to feel his heat blending with hers as skin touched skin.

  Groaning, he tore his mouth away from hers and pressed his head against her shoulder, his hands tightening around her ribs. “Tell me to stop, Tory.” The words were wrenched out of him, his breathing harsh and rapid and hot against the skin of her neck. “Tell me to stop now, because in another second I’m not going to be able to stop.”

  The heavy evidence of his arousal throbbed against her abdomen, burning her through the material of her slacks, and tongues of fire licked at her everywhere they touched. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Don’t stop, Holt.”

  He lifted his head and looked at her, and she drew in a breath when his eyes fixed on hers. They were molten silver, the flames of desire and passion burning fiercely. Slowly he eased himself away from her.

  “Tell me you want me, Tory.”

  He wasn’t going to make it easy for her, for either of them. She wouldn’t be able to look at him tomorrow morning and tell herself they had been swept away. Making love had to be a conscious choice—her choice.

  Her heart pounded harder, filling her chest, anxiety mixing with desire. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, watching the flame that burned there, she allowed it to steady her. To reassure her. Laying her palms on his chest, she whispered, “I want you, Holt.”

  Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Even when I knew I had no right and no business wanting them.”

  “I’ve wanted to say them to you,” she murmured, touching his face. “Even when I told myself I couldn’t mean it, I wanted you.”

  A sigh shuddered through him. “I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you, Tory. But I’ll try my damnedest.”

  “I know.” Leaning forward, she pressed her mouth against his, not w
anting to hear any more promises he might not be able to keep. He captured her lips, taking the kiss deeper and deeper, until she felt the tide of passion crashing over her head, pulling her under to the unknown depths that waited to claim her.

  When she thought she would never be able to draw another breath and didn’t care, he pulled away from her. Dragging her eyes open, she watched his face as he slid his hands down her arms. Squeezing her fingers once, he let her arms drop and reached for his own chest.

  Puzzled, she opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, then caught her breath. Watching her all the time, he unfastened the badge that was pinned to the left side of his chest. The kitchen was so quiet that she heard the faint rasp of metal against material as he slid the pin out of the cloth. Then, still holding her gaze with his own, he laid the badge on the counter next to them.

  Barriers in her heart crumbled as she watched him. He was telling her he would never use his superior strength against her or try to use his power to control her. Nothing could have moved her more or touched her more deeply. Biting her lip to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes, she raised her hand to cup his cheek.

  The trace of stubble on his cheek bristled against her palm, and his scent surrounded her, filling her with need. “You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered. “I see only you now, not the badge.”

  “That’s good, Tory,” he murmured as he reached for her again. “Because that’s what I want. No one but you. Only you, with nothing standing between us.”

  He kissed her again, but there was no struggle for selfcontrol this time, no holding himself back. Tory tasted his passion in the pressure of his lips, felt his desire in the strength of his arms. Crushed against his chest, she felt nothing but his heart beating fast and strong against hers. There was no cold metal badge pressing into her, pushing her away from him, and no bitter memories throwing up fences around her heart.

  With a murmur deep in her throat, she wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed closer. His arms tightened almost painfully, then he let her go and took her hand.