by Debra Webb
The unit had lost two of its best. First Newt and now Bauer.
Rage boiled up inside her when she thought of Devine. It was a damned shame she hadn’t gotten to cut his fucking throat herself. She hoped he burned in hell for all eternity.
She peeled off her jacket and blouse, and then her slacks. Tonight, for the first time since she’d graduated training, she hated being a cop.
Taking care not to wake anyone, she padded quietly to the nursery. Tricia slept when the baby slept so she was likely already in bed. She had called Lynette several times to check on her since she hadn’t been home since before Bauer was murdered.
She couldn’t possibly come home until his killer was found.
At the door to Howie’s bedroom Lynette paused to relish the sweet baby scents. How was it this world could be so damned cruel and yet something as precious as a child come from it?
She went to the crib and peered down at her sweet child. The bunny rabbit night-light provided a gentle glow that highlighted his rosy cheeks and those little pink lips. He was mostly bald save for a fine scattering of red hair. Lynette loved that he would have her red hair.
A smile tugged at her lips and she fought hard to hold back the tears. They streamed down her face anyway. Major Crimes would never be the same. Her life would never be the same.
She smiled at her sleeping baby and promised, “I’ll get through this for you.”
Arms encircled her and she turned to face the woman she loved with all her heart. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Tricia kissed her cheek and took Lynette’s hand in hers. “I wasn’t asleep. I was waiting for you.” She drew Lynette from the room, down the hall and into theirs.
Lynette heard the water in the tub running before they entered the bathroom. The only light inside came from the dozens of lit candles all over the room. Steam rose from the hot water filling the tub. Tricia unfastened Lynette’s bra and slipped it off. Then she knelt next to her and drew her panties down her legs.
Tricia stood and urged her to the tub. “Relax. I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”
All Lynette could do was nod. If she opened her mouth to try and speak she would fall completely apart.
Yes. She would get through this terrible time with the help of the people who loved her.
Tomorrow they would start to rebuild the Major Crimes Unit.
Forty-Six
Criminal Investigation Division
8:50 p.m.
Bobbie couldn’t shake the headache. Her head had been throbbing all day. Lack of sleep, dehydration, there were plenty of reasons.
Weller had not been spotted. Airports, bus stations and rental car agencies had all been checked. He was simply gone. This conclusion had come from Owens since between the feds and the department Bobbie and Nick had been sequestered in separate interview rooms for hours.
“Debriefed” the feds called it.
So far everyone agreed that the kill in the Whitley barn was clean. It would be days before their official findings were passed along to the chief in a final report. Nick’s actions were clearly carried out in self-defense to save both their lives.
Deep down she wondered if he had dropped the knife when she’d first asked him to if things would have played out differently. Whether it would have or not, she would take those details to her grave. Steven Devine got what he deserved. She would never betray or second-guess Nick.
The Parker and Manning cases were now closed. Sage Parker and his sister had been reunited and would go to Nashville with their aunt to heal and be raised in a loving family. Thankfully the chief was expected to fully recover. Lieutenant Owens had left a few minutes ago to go back to the hospital. As soon as Bobbie got something for this raging headache she was going to see him. She’d spoken to him by phone and he had insisted he was fine but Bobbie needed to see for herself.
First she had to talk to Nick. They hadn’t had a moment alone until now.
They were both free to go although Holt told her the feds had a hard-on for Nick and intended to continue their investigation into his activities, particularly where Weller was concerned. It wasn’t fair but it was the way things worked sometimes.
Right now they needed to talk. Alone.
He glanced at her as the corridor cleared, leaving just the two of them for the first time since they had left that barn. His expression was impassive as if he felt numb. She was still waiting for the numbness. Strangely it refused to come.
Bobbie drew in a deep breath. “You ready to go?”
He shifted his gaze from hers but nodded in answer to her question.
They walked outside together. Her heart beat faster and faster. Devine was Nick’s first kill. She remembered that sickening feeling. No matter that the vic was a total scumbag, it still changed you inside in ways that were difficult to articulate. The idea that forcing Nick into that exact situation had been Weller’s goal from the beginning wouldn’t stop nagging at Bobbie. Eventually she intended to broach the subject with Nick. But not today.
They climbed into her Challenger. She had no idea who had brought it here but she was glad.
“You feel like eating?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Not that she was actually hungry, but he might be.
Nick shook his head.
As she drove she tried to think of something reassuring to say.
“You’ll feel better after a shower.” She’d cleaned up in the ladies’ room. Her clothes were bloody but at least her face and hair were no longer sticky with the bastard’s blood. She glanced at Nick, hoping for a response.
He said nothing.
Rather than continue trying to encourage a conversation, she let the silence fill the space between them. Ten minutes later they parked in her driveway. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how very tired she was. She walked to the door and unlocked it. Nick followed her inside. D-Boy rushed to greet them. It all felt so ordinary. But it wasn’t. Everything had changed.
Randolph Weller was free. The balance Nick had fought so long to maintain was disrupted. His ability to avoid bloodshed had been taken from him.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
She understood that place and the reality that there were no words that would give him solace just now. She asked, “You want to shower first?”
He remained by the front door.
“I could order pizza,” she offered, her pulse picking up. He was leaving. Before he uttered a single word she felt him drawing away.
“I should go. LeDoux sent me a text. He thinks he has a lead on Weller.”
“You could stay here tonight. Leave fresh in the morning.” He had to find Weller. She got that. “If LeDoux is planning to help you, the offer will still be good tomorrow.”
“I killed a man,” he said, his voice low and raw, defeated.
“You’re not your father, Nick. You did what you had to do. It’s not the same. Devine would have killed me and probably you, too, if you hadn’t stopped him.”
His gaze met hers and the pain she saw there punched a hole in her heart. “We both know what happened.”
“No one else will ever know those particular details.”
“I know.”
The ability to breathe deserted her. “What does that mean exactly?”
“I have to go.” He looked away. “I won’t be back.”
“Nick.” She moved closer. Searched for the right words to change his mind.
He held up a hand to stop her. “I can’t be here with you.”
“So you’ll leave and never look back.”
“It’s what I do.”
For a moment she mentally tallied all that she’d lost this last year. Her husband, her child, her partner, her aunt and then Bauer. She didn’t want to lose a
nyone else.
But she had no choice. She had to let him go. “I understand.”
“Goodbye, Bobbie.”
She couldn’t say goodbye. It felt too final.
He reached her door and she blurted the words she would not allow him to leave without hearing. “I’ll be here if you find yourself out this way again.”
He hesitated but he never looked back.
The door closed and then the silence echoed around her.
Bobbie pressed her forehead against the door and squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the damned tears. Every part of her hurt. How was one person supposed to survive losing so much? She held her breath, listened to the insistent pounding in her chest. And yet she just kept on living.
Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have a whole life again. Maybe being a cop was supposed to be enough.
Something Weller had said abruptly ricocheted through her. Every ounce of courage and tenacity you possess will be required to survive what’s coming, Bobbie. Remember those words if you remember nothing else.
She raised her head. “Son of a bitch.”
He had something bigger planned for Nick and it somehow involved her. He would never have said those words to her otherwise.
Determination seared through her veins as she tugged her cell phone from her pocket and made the only call she could. When Owens answered, she said, “I need some time off. I’ll call you when I’m ready to come back. Give Uncle Teddy my love.”
Bobbie ended the call before her LT could question her.
She had to go after him.
Nick couldn’t do this alone.
* * * * *
Watch for the next SHADES OF DEATH novel, THE COLDEST FEAR, coming soon from Debra Webb and MIRA Books. Did you miss the beginning? Look for the series prequel, THE BLACKEST CRIMSON, and the first book, NO DARKER PLACE!
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE COLDEST FEAR by Debra Webb
“Debra Webb is a master storyteller.”
—Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author
Looking for more suspenseful reads from award-winning author Debra Webb?
Don’t miss out on a single electrifying tale in the Shades of Death series:
No Darker Place
The Coldest Fear
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“Webb keeps the suspense teasingly taut, dropping clues and red herrings one after another on her way to a chilling conclusion.”
—Publishers Weekly on TRACELESS
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Detective Bobbie Gentry and serial killer hunter Nick Shade’s fates have been entwined since their first case—only together can they bring down the new menace to Savannah’s elite and survive.
Read on for a sneak preview of
THE COLDEST FEAR,
the next installment in the SHADES OF DEATH series
from USA TODAY bestselling author
Debra Webb.
One
Savannah, Georgia
Tuesday, October 25, 5:20 p.m.
Life had been difficult for Allison Cortland, particularly the past thirty-two years.
She stepped, one by one, out of her shoes. The grass was cold even with the setting sun doing all within its power to extend a little lingering warmth and light as it dropped behind the trees on this late October day. The task was an impossible one. There would never be enough light to chase away the cold, cold darkness encompassing Allison’s small world.
Shouldering out of her jacket, she let it fall to the ground as she stared out over the still water. Her father-in-law had given Allison and her husband this lake house forty years ago as a wedding present. He claimed he had lost the desire to visit this special place after his wife died. Allison hadn’t understood at the time. The water, the dense woods and the lovely cottage-style home were so peaceful, how could anyone not feel happy and serene here?
In time she had learned the harsh, painful truth that some losses could not be healed by anything in this big wide world.
The crisp breeze sent goose bumps spilling over her skin as she tossed her elegant silk blouse to the ground and reached for the side zipper of her trousers. Her husband often teased her about her obsession with beautiful clothes. Edward showered her with exquisite jewelry and she had always appreciated his generosity, yet there was something cold about jewels. Give her silk and cashmere any day.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—took that deep chill from her bones. Not once in these past thirty-two years had she felt truly warm. She lifted first one foot and then the other from the legs of her pants, leaving the light gray wool twisted on the grass. Reaching behind her, she unfastened her bra and let it fall. Her panties followed that same path. Her nipples stiffened in the cold air. Not even the many lovers she had discreetly taken over the years had been able to warm her.
On this night thirty-two years ago Allison Hall Cortland’s life had drained from her body, no matter that her traitorous heart had continued to beat. She dipped a toe into the icy water. Closing her eyes she put one foot in front of the other, stepping into the water.
All these years, no matter how much alcohol she consumed, no matter the various prescription medications she tried, nothing ever expelled the aching nothingness that had invaded her very soul. For any parent there existed no greater agony, no more devastating blow than losing a child. It was unquestionably the coldest fear that haunted every mother’s heart.
The chilly water rose above her chest, washed over her shoulders and lapped at her chin. All these years she had muddled through this cold, empty life for him. Her husband needed her. They had faced the horror, as best they could, together. They had survived together. Despite the ways in which each of them had privately struggled to conquer their pain, they had slogged through the months and years...together.
As if Fate was determined to land one last, shocking blow, two weeks ago the handsome young man to whom she had said “I do” forty years ago was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The numerous specialists could do nothing more. Her husband had a month to live, possibly more, probably less.
Allison sucked in one last breath of crisp night air before the water engulfed her face. If only the bastard had possessed the courage to take his vile secret with him to his grave.
But no. He’d had to confess his sins...he’d had to plead for her forgiveness.
She wasn’t like the others. She couldn’t go on knowing this awful thing and she damned sure could not forgive him. The idea of muddling through another single day with this new weight on her heart was unimaginable.
He had stolen the only reason she had bothered to go on at all.
Allison stopped holding her breath and welcomed the rush of death.
Two
Atlanta, Georgia
Friday, October 28, 2:30 a.m.
The simple definition of fear according to Merriam-Webster: “an unpleasant emotion caused by being aware of danger; a feeling of being afraid.” Bobbie Gentry hadn’t felt that emotion for her personal safety in 309 days. It wasn’t that she no longer sensed danger or felt afraid, she did. The sense of danger that haunted her was always for the welfare of others.
As a detective with the Montgomery Police Department she encountered plenty of opportunities to fear for
her well-being. Cops felt the cold, hard edge of fear on a daily basis. But it was difficult to fear death when all that mattered most in life was gone and the small steps she had dared take toward building a new one had been derailed.
A psychopathic serial killer known as the Storyteller had murdered her husband and caused the deaths of her child and the partner she loved like a father. Nearly a year later she had learned to some degree to live with the unthinkable reality and, wouldn’t you know, along came another crushing blow. A second serial killer had devastated her life all over again. A fellow cop she dared to keep close was brutally murdered a mere two days ago. His killer had left a message for her: This one’s just for you, Bobbie. The same killer almost succeeded in taking the life of her uncle, the chief of police.
Bobbie sucked in a deep breath. How did she muster the strength to keep going? Revenge? Justice? She’d gotten both. The world was free of two more heinous killers and still it wasn’t enough. The expected relief and satisfaction came but the hollow feeling, the emptiness, remained her constant companion. But there was the tiniest glimmer of hope. A fragile bond had formed between her and the man who’d helped her stop the two monsters who had destroyed so many lives, including hers. The development was completely unexpected, but surprisingly not unwelcome.
Nick Shade had given her something she’d been certain she would never again feel: the desire to live for more than revenge...for more than merely clipping on her badge each morning. Now he needed her help—whether he would admit as much or not.
Those who knew of his existence called him the serial-killer hunter. Nick was unlike any man Bobbie had known. Brooding, intense, impossible to read and yet deeply caring and self-sacrificing. At twenty-one he had discovered his father, Randolph Weller, was a depraved serial killer with forty-two murders to his credit. Since ensuring his father was brought to justice, Nick had dedicated his life to finding and stopping the vicious serial killers no one else seemed able to catch. Like Bobbie, he’d stopped feeling much of anything beyond that driving need for justice a very long time ago. Maybe that was the bond that had initially connected them—the thin, brittle ties of utter desolation and desperation. Two broken people urgently attempting to make a difference that neither of them could completely define nor hope to quantify.