Sympathy For The Devil

by King, Asha

  ****

  Tash awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. She blinked her eyes open to stare at the ceiling and felt a body next to hers. As she stirred, an arm wrapped around her midsection and lips found her throat. She smiled and yawned, leaning into Devin.

  They hadn’t had sex when he arrived—she was too tired, and he looked exhausted as well. Instead they fell into bed at quarter to four. She didn’t bother looking at her alarm clock—she’d slept in, if the light angled across her bed was any indication—and instead snuggled against him.

  “So...you don’t really have any food beyond leftovers from last night,” he said, his voice far more awake than hers would be.

  Tash yawned again. “No.” She cleared her throat as she sounded like she’d been sucking on gravel. “There’s stuff for, uh, toast. I usually hit the bakery on my way to work.”

  “I went out.” And as he said it, her eyes settled on the nightstand where a brown paper bag waited, along with two cups of coffee. “Got take-out.”

  Her stomach rumbled but instead of heeding its call, she turned in his arms and rested her head on his bicep. He’d tossed his jeans over the end of the bed and wore a T-shirt and boxer-briefs. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up with someone in bed with her and wondered, briefly, if he could either, but she held off on asking that. At last she glanced over her shoulder at the clock and groaned—it was already after nine.

  “I have to work.” She sighed and sat up, reaching for the coffee. “I left a message with Adam about dropping by this morning—he doesn’t know it’s to return his money. Then I’ll see what the police found about who’s been prank calling and threatening you. That’s at least something of a lead.”

  He sat up next to her and reached for his cup of coffee as well. “I’ll drive you.”

  “You don’t—”

  Devin cut her a look over the rim of his mug before taking a sip. “Humor me, even if it’s daylight.”

  Eventually she nodded and sipped her coffee silently. She supposed the cat was out of the bag regarding him anyway—it didn’t matter who saw them. And backup would be a good thing, in case she didn’t have time to draw her gun if someone followed her again. She had loads of equipment back at the office as well—it wouldn’t hurt to set up some cameras at her apartment, both outside the front door as well as inside. And her car.

  She hadn’t yet told Devin about the note waiting for her after she’d been watching him and decided to hold off on it. At least while they were together, she could be pretty sure exactly where the killer was.

  He’d be watching the both of them.

  ****

  It was after ten by the time she was showered, dressed, and fed. Devin was on his second cup of coffee and he remained in the living room as she busied about. He hadn’t said anything about locking up before he left, but her front door keys were out on the coffee table when she went to grab them, so he must’ve been careful about keeping the place secure.

  If it was weird waking up to someone, it was especially weird leaving the apartment with a chaperone. The moments after mind-blowing, kinky sex? Great, she was cool with that kind of silence—it was of the comfortable variety. But going about her normal, daily routine with a shadow was something else entirely. They left the apartment, climbed in his truck, and she directed him to Malone and Associates while feeling strangely awkward about the whole thing. Now he was seeing directly into her “normal” life, and what was that supposed to mean? He hadn’t said anything specifically about them and exclusivity, beyond the fact that he was firmly in the monogamy camp, but...what the hell was it between them? Something more than a few kinky hookups? She wasn’t sure how to ask and, besides, she had a hell of a lot to think about now. So she tried to let herself grow comfortable with his presence and not question it too much, for the time being at least.

  Downtown Stirling Falls was bustling, everyone already busy as it was Monday morning. Cars lined the streets and Devin had to park behind her office building in the staff spot. The few people who glanced their way on the street stared and she figured she might as well tattoo on her forehead, “Yep, I’m with a suspected serial killer, and it’s none of your goddamn concern.” Maybe she’d get business cards with that made up and she could just throw them at busybodies.

  “The office air conditioner is broken,” she said as they left the truck and she briskly walked around the building. Sunglasses kept some of the brightness from her eyes but it was another crazy hot day, and the humidity in the air clung to her uncomfortably. “So there are fans, and some ice cream down the street.”

  “I’ll survive,” he said, walking at her side.

  “And I’m sorry I’m keeping you from your stuff—”

  “This is more important. I’m not...” He trailed off, and whatever he’d been about to say, she didn’t know. Just as she went to prompt him to continue, she caught sight of a figure standing in front of Malone and Associates waiting for her.

  Oh hell.

  There was no avoiding the confrontation. Devin tensed at her side but his steps remained steady; hers hitched but she rushed to keep going, stepping in front of him in the hopes of stopping things before they could go too far south.

  Adam Cooper tore off his sunglasses, his eyes livid and his jaw set. “What the fuck—”

  “Stop it!” She darted between him and Devin. “He’s innocent. I am going to clear his name and—”

  “Like hell he is—”

  “And I called you here this morning to give you back your money and explain things.” People on the street were watching him and if she had any hope of salvaging her reputation, it was long gone.

  “It’s okay, it’s been explained,” Adam spat, his hand jerked toward the office’s doorstep.

  Tash glanced down, her stomach turning sickly as, on some level, she knew what she’d find before she looked.

  That morning’s issue of The Falls Independent waited, front page headline overshadowed by a photo of her with Devin leaving The Box last night. Eventually her gaze trailed up to read: “Private Investigator Too Close To Her Target?”

  God. Fucking. Damn it.

  Bile rose and the steady pulse of heat on her head from the sun wasn’t helping matters. She couldn’t bear to reach for the thing, to read whatever bullshit story Harry Ingram had made up.

  Devin’s hand was on her elbow, steadying her. She took several deep breaths to calm herself and seriously considered hitting the bar instead of sitting down to work for the day.

  “Maybe you should be defending your friend instead of condemning her,” Devin snapped; sunglasses hid his eyes but she could well imagine how he glared.

  “Maybe you should get the hell out here!” Adam barked, his shoulders bunching up.

  She allowed herself just a moment to be frazzled and panicked, then she tucked those feelings away. Tash was a professional, and she’d deal with this.

  “Enough!” She looked at both of them in turn, ensuring she was directly between them in case things came to blows. “Adam, inside, and I will explain. Devin...” She hated asking him to leave, but there was no way both men would stay in the office and not beat the hell out of each other. Though she couldn’t see his eyes past his shades, he looked down at her for a moment and then nodded, releasing her elbow.

  “I’ll be fine today,” she said as he started away from her building. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  But he didn’t reply, instead turning sharply around the corner and out of sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Natasha blew out a breath, staring in the direction Devin had taken, and then turned back to Adam. “In my office.”

  He silently followed as she unlocked the door and tramped over the newspaper at her doorstep. The goddamn thing could go in the trash as soon as she could stand to touch it.

  The office was quiet and stifling hot. She turned on fans as she went and left the lights off until she reached her office. The phone blinked with me
ssages but she didn’t go near them yet; instead she sat at her desk, unlocked and drew open the top drawer, and tossed an untouched envelope of money at Adam. “Here.”

  He caught the envelope but didn’t glance in it. “What the hell are you thinking, Natasha?”

  She leaned her elbows on the desktop and buried her head in her hands. “I have no idea. None. But he didn’t do it.” Tash glanced up at Adam. “I know he didn’t.”

  He’d discarded the shades and stood there silently, as big and imposing as ever in her tiny office—perhaps more so with the anger coming off him in waves. His expression was inscrutable as he stared. “I’m going to come off sounding like a douchebag for saying this, but I don’t care: I want you to stay away from Dani right now.”

  “Excuse me? You—”

  “I’m not deciding who her friends are; I’m deciding that you are dangerous for her to be around. You’re fucking a killer, Tash.”

  “He’s not—”

  “I didn’t come here because you called me this morning, I came because I ran into your cousin and she said someone broke into your place last night. You know damn well it was him—”

  “He went straight home—I called him afterward—”

  “He had time to drive back and wait for your call.”

  Devin did have that, she had to admit, but still. Tash shook her head. “No. He’s innocent.”

  “I don’t want him around my girlfriend or around my kid.” The envelope creaked in his big hands, paper crumpling as he squeezed. “I’m serious.”

  “Well, so am I. Danyiah makes her own goddamn decisions—which, incidentally, I do too. And right now I have to work, so if you’ll excuse me.” She didn’t await a response, instead immediately picking up her phone to check her messages.

  Adam only stood there a beat longer before he left the room, stalking away.

  Fifteen messages awaited her; she listened to the newest first. Harry Ingram had called—she deleted without listening.

  Next was a familiar voice. “Oh God, Tash, it’s Dani and I—ow—oh God, I can’t find Adam—he’s not answering his phone—and I don’t know where you are—and—and Dewey’s taking me to the hospital because I have contractions—”

  Tash dropped the receiver and ran, her sneakers slapping the floor as she bolted for the front. Her heart was pounding as she flew out the door and glanced around.

  Across the street, Adam was getting into his truck.

  Traffic was heavy for the main road in town but Tash ran forward anyway. Horns honked and she shouted her apologies but kept going. Adam glanced up briefly, his frown apparent despite the sunglasses.

  “Dani!” she shouted, making it past the last of the cars before skidding to a stop by his vehicle. “She’s having the baby! Dewey’s taking her to the hospital!”

  He swore under his breath and nodded at the truck. “Get in.”

  ****

  Twelve hours of labor and Danyiah hadn’t had the baby yet.

  Adam was beside himself with concern, frantically pacing the delivery room. Dani was live-tweeting the birth for her several hundred thousand Twitter followers, or at least she did every time the doctor left the room and she could retrieve her phone from under her pillow.

  Tash forgot just about everything she was supposed to be doing at work, instead rushing to grab Dani some water, or a magazine, or to ask the doctor to sedate Adam so he would stop freaking out. The doctor, of course, disagreed with this, so Tash went out and got chamomile tea for everyone instead.

  She couldn’t remember Devin’s cell phone number, so wasn’t able to dial him from the payphone to let him know what was going on, but as night rolled around, she realized she should touch base with him somehow. When Dani didn’t look any more likely to be having the baby in the next hour or two, at last she excused herself. She wouldn’t have been able to wait in the delivery room anyway—Adam was the only one staying—but she’d planned to stay in the waiting area at least until after the birth. Still, if they’d be there awhile yet, she figured she could run home, make a quick call, and then head back to the hospital.

  Adam had said little to her during the duration of the hospital visit—he clearly didn’t want to upset Dani, but his coldness was palpable to Natasha, and he said nothing when she told them she was slipping out for a bit.

  The night hadn’t cooled much. She’d left her purse at the office—which included all of her money—so she forewent calling a cab and trekked across town by herself after ten at night. The town was silent, with the only real noise coming from the occasional car in the distance and voices in the direction of the two bars. She walked on the road rather than the sidewalk, directly under streetlights and away from the shadows. She’d never—not in her adult life—ever worried about someone jumping out of the bushes to grab her, but recent events had her extra cautious.

  Malone and Associates was dark as she’d left it. Tash glared down at the newspaper, still sitting in front of the door, before picking the damn thing up. A glance at the story revealed it was just as factually incorrect and salacious as she’d expected. The door was unlocked, as she’d left it, and she headed inside the dark front room.

  A recycling bin waited just inside the door and Tash tossed the paper in there, then flipped on the lights. Thick shadows clung to the corners and her spine stiffened as she looked around. No sign anyone had been in there. Office doors lay open at the back and she flipped on all the lights as she went, glancing around just in case. The place was empty but she was entirely unsettled; it wasn’t until she was seated at her desk and had her Beretta safe and sound in her hand again that she relaxed a little. The gun was loaded and heavy, somewhat comforting—thus far, the killer had been attacking women with a knife. She was relatively certain her gun would even the odds a bit.

  Devin’s number was back at her apartment. She glanced at the blinking phone again and lifted the receiver to check the rest of her messages.

  More from Harry. She deleted those. One from Malone wanting to know what the hell was going on as he’d seen the paper. It was late—she could call him in the morning. Maybe she’d have some explanation by then that didn’t make her sound incompetent.

  The next message caught her at attention as her cousin’s voice filled her ear. “It’s Keish,” she whispered. “Look, I’m freaking out here. I heard back about the trace on who was calling Archer...Tash, it’s Deputy Chief Perry. It came from his phone. I haven’t told anyone, I have no goddamn idea what to do, but you have to call me back.”

  The message ended and Tash hung up, staring for a moment at the phone, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. Could Perry have been the one outside Devin’s house, who left the note in her car? He’d fixated on Devin from day one but...

  She shook her head and suppressed a shiver. Devin had to know—even if he might fly into a rage upon hearing it. Maybe...maybe there were other things he might know about Perry, ways to connect him to... She didn’t even want to think it—she had no love for Perry, but the idea of someone she knew being a coldblooded killer left her feeling ill.

  Tash rose from her desk, purse in hand, and headed for the door. Her apartment wasn’t far and if Devin wasn’t there, she’d head to his place to find him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tash’s apartment had been dark and his truck wasn’t in the parking lot, so she didn’t bother heading upstairs; instead, she hopped in her car and drove straight out of town for Devin’s house.

  Her foot was heavy on the accelerator and she drove far faster than she normally did, but nervous energy ran through her and she couldn’t bear to slow down. Soon her headlights cut over the familiar fields that led to his place, and then the long driveway.

  His truck wasn’t there.

  Silently she cursed, resisted the urge to bang the steering wheel, and kept going, straight up to the front of the house. She pulled her car to the side, grabbed her purse, and climbed out.

  The porch light was on but that was it—th
e house was dark. She jogged up the creaky porch and tried the door.

  Unlocked.

  Her purse heavy on her shoulder and open so she could reach easily for her weapon, Tash eased the door open and stepped inside. She flipped on the lights, revealing the familiar lower level of the farmhouse, entirely silently.

  The floor creaked beneath her feet. She swallowed nervously and stepped forward, glancing around. Surely if he was looking for her, he’d try her place, her office, or his house. Rather than drive around and risk missing him again, it made the most sense to wait here.

  She paced through the living room, past the packed boxes and paint supplies, and toward the kitchen. Her eyes dragged over the room and stopped on a new phone hanging on the wall with its box on the floor.

  Maybe it was time to have a little chat with someone.

  Tash marched over to the phone and dialed the police station—it was late, and she wasn’t sure who would be there, but it was worth checking.

  “Deputy Chief Joel Perry,” she said when the receptionist answered. The call was redirected and Tash leaned against the wall, waiting.

  Her eyes settled on the refrigerator where a note waited.

  I’m looking for you. If you show up here, CALL ME. –D. A phone number was scrawled at the bottom—his cell number.

  “Joel Perry,” came the Deputy Chief’s tired voice as he answered.

  Tash blinked and dragged her attention back to the task at hand—she’d call Devin next. “Perry.”

  “Whitaker.” His voice was sharper, more alert. “Where are you?”

  “I know what you did,” she said coolly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve been the one calling and threatening him. Did you graffiti his house too? How about that note in my car?”

  “Listen, Whitaker—”

  “No, you listen: your personal vendetta stops now. I am going to tell Archer, the paper, and everyone else precisely what—”