Safe From the Dark

by Lily Rede

  “You are such a prick,” she whispered, breathless.

  Colin grinned and handed her the phone, holding her captive.

  “Hey, Tony. No, you didn’t wake me. Yes, uh huh. That’s great, we can find out if he has an alibi for last night. Okay, see you there in an hour.”

  Colin was distracted, sucking on the curve of her neck as Evie hung up the phone. She permitted the caress for a moment, and his dick throbbed hopefully against the softness of her stomach, and then she pushed him away. Colin settled back into the pillows with a regretful sigh. Her armor was definitely back up. He wasn’t surprised that the fact irked him, but the feeling of hurt was uncomfortably sharp.

  “What’s up?”

  “Dreyer Morton has graciously decided to grant us an interview to discuss his whereabouts the night of the murder and the fact that he totally hates your guts.”

  “He’s all hot air, Evie.”

  “Still, he’s on my list. And I want to grill him about yesterday.”

  Colin saw her wince and realized that she hadn’t meant to say anything.

  “What happened yesterday?” His voice dropped a register, suspicious.

  “Nothing important.” She shrugged into her shirt and hastily pulled on her jeans. “Got any coffee around here? I’m going to go see if the guys outside want any before they change shift.”

  She was barely done babbling before she was out the door.

  Frowning, Colin reached for the phone.

  EVIE HEARD HIM POUNDING down the stairs before she saw him, and leaned over the percolating coffee pot, closing her eyes in a silent prayer, which she knew was probably a wasted effort at this point.

  “What the fuck, Evie!”

  Yep, furious.

  She looked up and tried not to drool. Practically vibrating with anger, Colin had stormed into the sunny kitchen in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans he hadn’t bothered to fasten.

  “Well?”

  She was supposed to answer him?

  Evie tried to focus, but her thoughts were arrested by the insidious idea that if he really were her boyfriend, she would be perfectly within her rights to explore all that hard muscle, and he’d go willingly when she pressed him back to the scrubbed butcher block table. He’d just have to take it as she climbed up and petted his hard body all over, his big cock straining against the zipper of those open jeans. Her pussy clenched at the thought of peeling back the denim to free his shaft, and then picking up where she left off last night, when her oral exploration of that thick stalk was interrupted by his not unreasonable need to fuck her silly. This time, she’d taste every inch at her leisure, and he’d just have to surrender…

  “Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to take you on the counter, Evie.” His voice was gravely and hot, but still angry, “After you explain why you didn’t bother to tell me that your house was vandalized yesterday afternoon.”

  “I was going to tell you,” she sighed, but the words sounded petulant, even to her.

  “The other night was a warning. That’s why the stalker didn’t kill us. And now he’s after you.”

  “Good,” said Evie, grimly.

  “Good? Are you out of your mind?”

  “I apparently piss this lunatic off enough to vandalize my house in broad daylight. Anger leads to stupidity.”

  Colin stepped forward to grab her shoulders.

  “You are not going to use yourself as bait. I won’t allow it.”

  Evie shrugged out of his grip, irritated.

  “You don’t tell me what to do! I am the law enforcement officer, you are the pretty boy Mayor with the stalker problem.”

  “And you don’t have any idea who that stalker is!”

  Evie poked him in the chest.

  “For your information, I’ve narrowed it down to a short list.”

  “Who?”

  Evie started to answer, and then stopped. She’d already shared too much with him, both in terms of the investigation and her life. Every suggested suspect was met with disbelief from Colin, who trusted his friends and his community too much to really believe that one of them could harbor something so evil and dark. And now they’d slept together, and her growing emotional attachment to him was going to cloud her judgment. It was time to set some hard boundaries she should have set the moment the problem began. Before one of them got seriously hurt.

  Ready to start paying attention, Asher? Her inner cop sniffed in contempt.

  “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation,” Evie blurted out, and watched the thunderclouds gather on Colin’s face.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “From now on, all information is on a need-to-know basis. I’m already going to go down as the worst cop in history for getting involved with the focus of an open case, I’d rather not make matters worse. You will not be present at any interviews, investigations, or crime scenes. You will be briefed only as occasion warrants it by Sheriff Arnetto or myself. You will maintain a security escort at all times, avoid open windows, and stay off the street until I tell you it’s safe. In fact, as of right now, I’m putting you on home protection. You step one foot outside that door and you’ll be sorry. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You can’t just – ”

  “Oh yes, I can.”

  Ignoring his blustering attempt to regroup and come up with a suitably scathing response to her set of orders, Evie calmly poured herself a cup of coffee and walked out.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EVIE KNEW THAT DREYER Morton could be a haughty, self-righteous son-of-a-bitch, but she hadn’t realized that he could be a shrewd, calculating businessman with a spine of steel. Which made sense, given that he owned half the town and showed no desire to retire and hand the reins of his empire over to the next generation.

  She, Tony, and Dreyer sat at a table together in the small conference room at the Sheriff’s Department. They had no interrogation room, but really, until recently the department hadn’t needed one. The simple wooden table and beige-slatted blinds seemed a little too ordinary for the discussion of murder that Evie was about to dive into.

  “My great-great-grandfather came to Bright’s Ferry after the Civil War,” remarked Dreyer, “He was the first freed black slave to set foot in this community, and he took one look at the bay and knew he’d come home.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything,” Evie began.

  “Yes, young lady, you are. By calling me in here and questioning my whereabouts on the night of Miss Small’s unfortunate murder, you’re suggesting that I had something to do with it, or at the very least that I am withholding information that would allow you to sniff out the killer.”

  He leaned forward, gripping his cane.

  “And what I am telling you is that my family has roots in this town that go back a hundred and fifty years. To insinuate that I would allow a murderer to desecrate my family’s land is an insult.”

  “Easy, Dreyer,” muttered Tony, “The town’s littered with people who have been here forever. I can name ten families that were here a hundred years before yours.”

  Dreyer glared at him, and Evie started again.

  “It’s obvious that you and Colin don’t have the most…agreeable…relationship.”

  “I think my feelings about our mayor have been made quite clear. But that doesn’t mean that I would stoop to physically harming him, or any woman unfortunate enough to be seduced.”

  Evie forced herself to not squirm in her seat as Dreyer continued.

  “Of course, my Althea had nothing to do with it, but surely there has to be someone on his long list of conquests that holds a grudge.”

  Evie bit her lip, but held her temper.

  “We are investigating all of our options, Mr. Morton, and the fact remains that you have no alibi for the incidents in question.”

  “Miss Asher, do I look like a man who would take potshots at your house from the woods?”

  “Alibi,” Evie insisted.

  D
reyer sighed, disgusted.

  “It highly insulting to be harassed in this fashion, but for your information, I spend most of my time home alone. If you insist on pursuing this nonsensical course of action, feel free to review my video security system. It will show you that I was precisely where I said I would be.”

  Evie exchanged a wary glance with Tony, who shrugged.

  “Thanks for coming in, Dreyer. I’ll send Zeke over to pick up those tapes.”

  Dreyer hesitated.

  “I’d prefer you review them yourself, Sheriff. As you know, I work from home and they contain some rather, sensitive business dealings that I would rather not share with the general public.”

  Tony’s eyebrow went up, but he nodded, “Sure. Why don’t you let me know when might be a good time to stop by and we’ll take care of it.”

  Dreyer looked relieved, and even managed to be gracious about shaking Evie’s hand. On the way out the door, he paused.

  “Miss Asher, the other day at the funeral – I may have overstepped my bounds. Slightly. You are not to blame for the unfortunate transgressions of your parents, which no doubt led to your own reckless mistakes. That being said, your grandmother would have me skinned alive for speaking to you like that. She was a formidable and wonderful woman, and to honor her memory, I apologize.”

  With that he tipped his hat and swept out of the room, his cane tapping on the floor, leaving Evie flummoxed by the backhanded apology.

  “So, I’m still a fallen woman, but it’s not my fault because my parents sucked?”

  “With Dreyer, that’s probably the best you’re going to get. Accept it and move on,” grinned Tony.

  Evie shook her head in disbelief and headed out to uncover the cork board and move Dreyer’s name to the general pool.

  “We should go over those tapes, but I’ve changed my mind about Dreyer Morton. He’s more likely to just stab Colin in the heart with that cane in Main Square than go to all this trouble. He’s not a man who likes to apologize or explain his actions, and I can’t see him hiding his feelings toward Colin or going to such lengths to avoid recognition.”

  “Yeah, he’d rather spend his time trying to get him thrown out of office. So we’re down to Millicent Grayson.” Tony was skeptical.

  “I have to question Tom Castillo, but that seems like a stretch, too.”

  Evie sighed.

  “We can’t go on like this. How long are we going to be able to maintain round the clock security for Colin? He can’t stay in that house forever. Anything on the red paint?”

  “Not purchased in Bright’s Ferry, from all accounts, and no prints on anything up at your Gram’s cabin. For the moment, you may as well continue to stay at the Daniels place.”

  Evie felt her cheeks heating.

  “That may not be the best idea,” she muttered to herself, but nodded.

  Spending time with Colin was only going to remind her of what she couldn’t allow herself to have. There was too much temptation, and she’d already proven to herself that she had no willpower where he was concerned.

  Keep him safe, she ordered herself, and stay out of his pants.

  THE SLUT COP HAD spent the night. In Colin’s bed or not was a mystery – who could get close enough with those thugs guarding the house? Zeke would have been no problem alone – he was a jumpy boy, and always had been. He might grow into a forthright, upstanding deputy someday, but right now he was just a rookie, barely an adult and scared of his own shadow. Slipping by him would be no trouble at all, or knocking him out. A simple blow to the head and he would be down for the count.

  The fact remained that the slut cop had spent the night, and though there was no way to tell if she had convinced Colin to sleep with her, to immerse himself in her seductive, poisonous flesh, it was an easy assumption. Evie Asher had been stunned at the damage to her grandmother’s precious house, which was delicious, though her expression had been difficult to see from behind the trees. There had only been a moment to enjoy it before Tony’s volunteers had arrived, followed by the Sheriff himself – such a sad, lonely man.

  And so tragic, what had happened to his wife. But that was a thought for later.

  Maybe the paint had been a mistake, born from righteous rage and frustration, but a mistake nonetheless, because now security would be doubled. But they couldn’t keep it up forever. Colin would see the error of his ways after Evie was dead.

  It was maddening, thinking about Colin and Evie entwined together, her body wrapping around his, choking the life and goodness out of him like a boa constrictor compressing his soul. One had to wonder what he saw in her. She was pretty in an odd sort of way, but her gray eyes were unnerving, and her prickly, unlikable demeanor was far from friendly.

  There was nothing to be done about it. Colin needed to be punished, and the Asher woman dealt with. She was getting closer to uncovering the truth. Unfortunately, there were too many guards, too many eyes, and it was increasingly difficult to find a crack in their defenses.

  Infuriating.

  No, this called for a different sort of punishment. A change of course, a surprise, but a clear understanding that no one was safe, not as long as Colin remained unrepentant, smiling and flirting with women, encouraging their loathsome advances, reveling in sin and lust and heaping disgrace upon his legacy.

  A victim was necessary. It couldn’t be helped. It was his fault entirely. And if the slut cop was out of reach for the moment, it would have to be someone who deserved it.

  Perhaps Grace Mallow. Though she and Colin appeared to be uninterested in each other, he regarded her as a sister, and she was clearly a bad influence. It was obvious from her hair, her clothes, her taste in unwholesome literature and music, and more than anything else, the way she watched Matt Harris with hungry, lustful eyes, sure that no one noticed.

  Someone had noticed.

  Grace was a good option, and her death would make Colin sit up and pay attention, and protect the young children who visited the library from her corruptive influence.

  Imagining it brought a wave of visceral delight that came to an abrupt halt.

  Grace was an obvious choice. They would expect that.

  Another victim, then. Someone that no one would expect. A tragic loss to the community, and a reminder to Evie Asher no one was safe.

  That she was next.

  COLIN WAS GOING STIR crazy. Though Tom had stopped by with a crate full of work to keep him busy, he felt like the walls were closing in. Worst of all was the feeling that while he was in here, cocooned like a porcelain doll wrapped in cotton batting, Evie was out there trying to track down a killer. He wanted her safe. He wanted her to let him protect her.

  Protect the woman with the gun and the iron-plated armor, he snorted, but frowned as he swiftly remembered that she had been hurt. Despite her untouchable supercop façade, she could bleed, and she could die.

  No.

  Colin paced the living room, even more worked up than before. He was alarmed at how quickly his feelings for Evie were moving beyond just a rabid need to have her under him, and morphing into something deeper, something much scarier. Not that he didn’t want her under him again – yes, that was a given – but he wanted to propel her past the fear of intimacy that Jack, the bastard, had left her with, and take gentle possession of her fragile heart. It was lunacy, but he was quickly coming to realize that anything less wouldn’t do.

  But how to convince her?

  He sat down on the couch, absently scribbling on a notebook, somewhat sheepish as he looked down long moments later to realize he’d been doodling her name like a smitten teenager. Suddenly, he froze, arrested by the sight of her name in quirky letters on the page.

  “The handwriting,” he breathed, and jumped up, heading for the front door, “Zeke! Get in here!”

  ALAN WILKINSON PUSHED BACK his plate with a contented sigh.

  “Wonderful as always, Candy,” he said, blowing a kiss to his wife.

  Candace smiled.

&nb
sp; “Want some more? There’s tons.”

  “You’re going to have to roll me to bed, honey. Your chicken and dumplings is the best in the state.”

  She waved a dismissive hand, but he could see she was pleased with the compliment as she stood to clear the dishes.

  After thirty years of marriage, Alan finally thought he had some insight into his terse wife’s moods. He was still occasionally baffled at why she had wanted to marry him in the first place. He was solidly built, and all his features were in the right place, but he wasn’t what you might call a handsome man. He’d spent his years managing a small fishery on the harbor that would never make them rich, but that kept a good roof over their heads in the town they had both grown up in.

  He had asked her, once or twice, if she ever wanted to leave Bright’s Ferry, but she was always adamant.

  “I’ve seen the world, Alan. There’s nothing out there that we don’t have here, and better, too.”

  Alan was reassured. They’d been together since high school, with only a brief breakup when she insisted on traveling for a year after college. Then she’d returned to Bright’s Ferry and pushed him for a proposal. A month later, they were married.

  It wasn’t what one might call a passionate marriage, but Alan supposed that a good, solid couple didn’t need all those bells and whistles. They’d never managed to have children, but they had each other and that was enough for him, especially as his heart started giving him problems. It was good to have someone to rely on.

  Candace hadn’t changed in thirty years. She was still solid as a rock, focused on home, him, and keeping the Mayor’s Office running smoothly, as she had for Hank Daniels for decades. Alan liked to tease her that she saw more of her “work husband” than she did of him, and that maybe he and Martha Daniels should start a widows club. She took it good-naturedly, but he’d stopped teasing when Hank and Martha were killed. Alan was as horrified as his wife by the loss – they’d been good friends, and since then, Alan had felt Candace retreating into herself, though she looked after Colin as though he were her own.

  This recent business with a supposed stalker and Deirdre Small’s death was upsetting, and Candace had been ruffled, which was unlike her.