Shadow Image

by Jaye Roycraft

  “No.”

  “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do.”

  Marc rose without a word and left the office, shutting the door on the way out a good deal harder than he had coming in.

  Shelby sighed, but it erupted as more of a growl. How ironic life could be. She had left her last job to get away from the pressures of a big city department with high-profile incidents and had found herself under a bigger microscope in Cristallia County than she had ever been in Milwaukee. And if she thought small town men were any different from their city counterparts, she had been wrong there, too. For every Curt Van Allen in Milwaukee there was a Marc Montoya in Shadow Bay.

  And as for Deputy Jason Rody, she’d definitely have to have a talk with him. If Marc had heard the rumor of her and the doctor in her vehicle last night, then there was no doubt all the deputies, as well as half the office, had heard it, too. Gossip and rumors were the most destructive forces on earth. She had zero tolerance for both and would put a stop to this new crop immediately.

  Her phone rang. “Sheriff Cort.” Her voice sounded hard to her own ears, but she didn’t care. Jason and Marc had done their best to try to steer her onto paths of their own making. She was ready to push back.

  There was a short pause before the caller replied.

  “Good morning, Shelby. It’s Ric.”

  Her small world just got smaller. Speak of the devil. “Doctor. What can I do for you?” She picked up her mug.

  “I could use a relaxing evening. From the sound of your voice, you could too. I also think you could use something inside you other than milk and ice cream.”

  What? Her mug slipped in her grip, and she almost dropped it. Coffee sloshed over the rim onto her desk. “Damn it all!”

  “I would have gotten the message with a simple ‘no, thanks.’”

  “No! Sorry, I didn’t mean . . . I just spilled coffee all over my desk.”

  “Allow me to take you out to dinner tonight. Nothing too fancy.”

  Dinner with Doc French. Well, if everyone was going to talk about her and Ric, maybe she should really give them something to talk about. “Sure, Ric. How about seven?”

  “Seven’s fine. I’ll pick you up. And don’t worry about wearing leather and boots. I have a car.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s a Renault. I’d be terribly disappointed if you were to stop surprising me.”

  Soft laughter floated over the phone line. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of that. No, it’s not a Renault. Listen, I know you’re busy so I’ll let you go. Seven, then.”

  “See you then. ’Bye.”

  God, what have I just done? Damn Marc Montoya and all men! In some perverse desire to strike back at Marc, she had just violated her number-one rule of dating. She no longer got involved with coworkers.

  She furiously yanked tissues out of the box at the corner of her desk and sopped up the puddle of spilled coffee, but the memories of the past were not so easily contained. Don’t get involved with coworkers. Would having had such a rule in Milwaukee have saved her? Could anything have saved her from Curt Van Allen? She doubted it. He had been like a force of nature, unstoppable in his ability to beguile her into his bed. She had thought she was in his heart as well. As a member of the force, he had been one of her idols. She had trusted him. But he had betrayed that trust when he made the most private moments of their relationship fodder for squad car conversation. Gossip. Lies.

  When she had discovered that he had been indiscreet about their affair, she had struck back with a sexual harassment complaint. The Internal Affairs Division quickly got involved, and somehow the media got wind of the whole ugly mess. She had stuck it out with the Milwaukee Police Department for a few more years, not wanting to give up, not wanting the Curt Van Allens of the world to win, but in the end the stress had been too much to bear. She had never been able to regain the respect and credibility among her peers that she needed to do the job.

  Shadow Bay was to have been her new start. Marc Montoya had stood as a symbol of new hope as well. She had so badly wanted to give love a second chance. Small town values were different. Marc would be different—innocent of all the big-city guile and so-called sophistication. But it had been she who was the innocent. She knew better now. Or did she?

  Hadn’t she just accepted a date? Shelby wasn’t quite sure why she had agreed to go out with Ric. Would she have consented to dinner if Marc hadn’t angered her so just a moment before? Well, Marc wasn’t going to run her life. She reached for the phone and started to punch in Ric’s number. She would just cancel the date. Any excuse would do. She slammed the receiver down before the first ring completed.

  No. She would not give in to her fears. Ric wasn’t a coworker. And this was just dinner, nothing more. It would be a relaxing evening, and, as Ric had said, she needed one badly.

  SHELBY ACTUALLY managed to get through the afternoon without spending every moment thinking about Ric De Chaux. The county was being flooded with photos of Kyle Carver, the homicide victim, and spots on the evening news had been arranged with the local television stations.

  She actually was beginning to think that things were looking up with the case when she stepped into the small supply closet to get a new pen. She overheard a voice from the hallway. She was out of the speaker’s sight, but she recognized the voice easily. Jason Rody.

  “If Cameron Ford was still sheriff, you can bet we wouldn’t be under this microscope.”

  The voice faded as Rody moved away down the hall, but she caught one more scrap.

  “. . . Cam knew how to deal with the media, that’s for sure.” Marc Montoya.

  It was just as she had suspected. She was new to Shadow Bay, and she was a female. She had been in law enforcement for ten years, and nothing had changed from day one. Rules and regulations officially prohibited sexual discrimination, but it existed. She had experienced it enough times in Milwaukee, and it was no different here.

  It was just past five when Shelby stopped at Seline’s desk to tell her that she’d be leaving for the evening.

  The clerk tossed her head, swinging her long dark hair over her shoulder. Seline wore a black sleeveless top that accentuated pale arms that were almost as white as her face. “Cutting out early, huh?”

  “It’s been a long week.”

  Seline nodded, the silver glitter on her eyelids winking as her head bobbed up and down. “I understand. Well, enjoy your evening.”

  Shelby smiled. Maybe Seline did understand, just a little. “I’ll try. Hit me on my cell if you need me.”

  SHELBY DEBATED LONG and hard on what to wear. She never liked to dress too sexy on a first date. On the other hand, she wanted to look good. In the end she decided on a white camisole, a short black and white lace floral skirt, and, for modesty’s sake, a black sweater. It was curve-hugging, not baggy, but it was still something to cover her bare shoulders. She carefully applied a moderate amount of makeup and topped the outfit off with her ruby pendant.

  Promptly at seven she heard a car in the driveway and looked out. A clean, shiny, forest-green SUV rolled to a stop, and Ric eased out of the vehicle with the poise and elegance of a gymnast. She opened the front door and tried to maintain a casual attitude in the face of black trousers and an ivory shirt open at the neck that looked like pure silk. “Hi.”

  “Good evening, Shelby.”

  Never did three whispered words sound so good. They drizzled over her like icing, making her feel sticky and sweet and good enough to eat. He looked eminently edible himself. He wore his hair pulled back, his gold rim glasses sat on his nose, and a narrow gold chain hung around his neck. He looked so delicious that she didn’t even care that he once again wore the hated dark glasses.

  “Come on in. I’m all set. I just have to grab my bag.”

  Ric stepped into the li
ving room, and Flash started chattering. “Pretty boy, pretty boy!”

  Ten-four on that, Flash. She picked up a black shoulder purse that was more akin to a backpack than an evening bag. Not the sexiest accessory, but she needed enough room for her cell phone, sunglasses, wallet, and badge, not to mention essentials like lipstick and a comb.

  “Let’s go,” she said to Ric, then to the bird, “Behave yourself while I’m gone, Flash.”

  A long squawk followed them out the door.

  Ric said he wasn’t familiar yet with what the town had to offer in the way of food and let her pick the restaurant. She wanted to get away from Shadow Bay’s prying eyes, but on the other hand she didn’t want to be too far away in case of an emergency. She settled on a country inn that was about ten miles up the highway into the next county.

  Tourist season was in high gear, and the inn had its share of summer people and “fudgies,” a sometimes affectionate, sometimes derisive, moniker the locals had dubbed years ago on vacationers who came to northern Michigan and purchased copious amounts of fudge. There were a few families in the inn, but most of the patrons were older couples. The hostess and waitresses were all young, however, and Shelby wasn’t blind to the fact that every one of them turned their heads to follow Ric’s progress as they were led through the dining room and seated. Even a good many of the mothers with kids and more mature women flicked surreptitious glances Ric’s way. Shelby knew without a doubt that even in a room full of people their own age, Ric would stand out. If she ever had any doubts about the power of his presence, they were gone now.

  “Listen, Shelby, I’m on a pretty strict diet, so I can’t eat restaurant food, but don’t let that stop you from enjoying whatever you want to have.”

  “You don’t eat meat?” she ventured. She herself had spent a number of years experimenting with vegetarianism, and it had indeed been difficult to eat out.

  “No, I don’t eat meat. But as I said, don’t let that stop you.”

  She didn’t. She ordered a combo of steak and shrimp. She didn’t eat out very often, and she planned to make the most of this outing, in every respect.

  “Ric, do you want to hear something funny?” Her fingers played with her napkin.

  “Sure.”

  “There’s already gossip going around the department that you and I are an item. Somebody saw us in the diner together, and someone even took note of us in the grocery store.”

  One side of his mouth lifted. “Self-fulfilling prophecy. You heard the rumor, and lo and behold, here we are together.”

  Shelby felt her skin flush. “I just don’t like people speculating on my personal life. Especially people I have to work with. Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “No. The foolish notions of . . . people . . . don’t concern me.”

  She was quiet for a moment, twisting a corner of the napkin around her finger. He didn’t think the idea of the two of them was a “foolish notion,” did he? He was the one who had asked her to dinner. “I’ve been here two years now, but I can’t get used to everyone knowing everyone else’s business. In the city you’re lucky to even know your next door neighbor’s name.”

  He tilted his head. “Look at it this way. Surely so many eyes and ears on alert is an aid to crime prevention.”

  “You’re right. Let’s talk about something else. So how did a young guy like you from France end up in a place like Eidolon Lake? When people talk about the ends of the earth, Eidolon Lake has got to be one of them. Do you have relatives there?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think anyone’s got relatives in Eidolon Lake. No, I needed a job, and I was willing to travel just about anywhere. I was particularly looking for the quiet of a small community, but you’re right—Eidolon Lake was too remote, even for me. Shadow Bay is much more full of . . . life.”

  “What is it that you’re hoping to find here? Peace and quiet?”

  “That’s a good part of it, yes. What about you? What brought you to Shadow Bay?”

  She cocked her head and one shoulder in unison. “The same thing that brought you, I guess. I was tired of the city. Too many crowds, too much violence, too much of everything except . . .” She caught herself. Love. But she couldn’t say it. “. . . that which makes life worthwhile.”

  Her dinner arrived, but Shelby found herself more interested in watching the subtle movements that transformed Ric’s features from moment to moment. The small, almost secret smiles that lifted only one side of his mouth, the dimple that popped in and out like a moon on a cloudy night, the eyes that shifted, barely discernible, behind the gray lenses.

  He leaned forward, so close that if she did likewise, they could kiss. “And what makes life worthwhile for you, Shelby?”

  She hesitated, chewing slowly on her bite of steak to stall for time. It was a pretty intimate question, really, and one she wasn’t sure she felt comfortable going into depth on at this stage of their relationship. Relationship. Does one date constitute a “relationship”? Jason Rody and Marc Montoya would think so. Hell, they already thought she had an affair going with the doctor. Still she hesitated. Maybe she didn’t want to reveal what was truly important to her and find out that Ric’s own genuine desires were vastly different.

  In any case, she wasn’t ready to open herself to this man. Not yet.

  “What’s the matter, Shelby? What are you afraid of?” He had lowered his voice, and his words throbbed like a heartbeat.

  Another question that was far too intimate. If ten years as a cop hadn’t made her reluctant to allow any vulnerability to surface in front of strangers, then her handful of failed relationships had. And yet wasn’t this man, so different from anyone she had ever met, worth a risk?

  She finished chewing on both her bite of steak and her thoughts, and she came to a decision. She slowly reached out her right hand, grasped Ric’s glasses by the top and bottom rim of one lens, and gently tugged. If she was going to reveal herself, he would, too.

  He made no move to stop her. She pulled the glasses off and laid them carefully on the table. She stared. His eyes were as unusual as the man. They were amber, ringed by black lashes so thick it looked like he wore eyeliner. He was regarding her steadily, not blinking, and waves of chills, one lapping another, washed over her and through her. They were beautiful eyes, but as cold and unrevealing as the gray lenses. They made demands on her, but told her nothing about him. If his eyesight was so poor he couldn’t see her, she couldn’t tell, for the focus of his gaze seemed so sharp as to penetrate her very mind.

  “What are you so afraid of, Shelby?” he repeated, his voice as soft as the eyes were hard. The words seemed to flow through the breach his gaze had made, straight into the depths of her being.

  “Loss of control,” she whispered. With a strange, sinking feeling she realized she had just lost the thing she most feared losing. She fought against his invasion, shaking her head and tearing her sight from him. “Loss of control. Yeah. Sorry, it’s a cop thing, I guess. No cop likes to lose control.”

  “I understand. Believe it or not, I feel the same way. But surely you have more . . . personal desires as well?”

  She was not going to be trapped again. She lowered her eyes and dug back into her meal. “Sure,” she said in between bites. “Don’t you?”

  “Oh, most assuredly.”

  It seemed a strange phrase from someone surely no older than she, but one that was strangely provocative. She ignored the invitation of his voice to look at his eyes again and kept her gaze lowered. For a change he wasn’t wearing the ever-present leather gloves, and she stared at his hands. His fingers were long and slender, and his nails were shiny, almost as if he wore nail gloss. The fingertips of his right hand thrummed a steady, silent beat against the table. Her mind filled in the missing sound. Da-dum. Pause. Da-dum. Just like a heartbeat.

  “I’ve made yo
u uncomfortable. My apologies,” he said.

  That hint of innocence again. When he backed off, he was more irresistible than when he came on strong. This time she did look up, and she studied not only his eyes, but the face she could now see as a whole. “No, it’s okay. It’s just that there’re some topics, with some people, I’d rather not be flippant or casual about.”

  One side of his mouth curled up in that half-smile of his. “Do I detect a compliment buried deep in there somewhere?”

  She returned his smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I think I’m flattered.”

  “Hmm.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, so perfect in its shape and so sensuous in the fullness of his lips. The lopsided tilt to his smile, however, saved his face from the staleness of total perfection. A cold piece of art, no matter how flawlessly rendered, was the last thing she wanted. She raised her eyes to his again. “Do I take it that you enjoy flattery?”

  “No more so than the next person.”

  “Can you stand some more?”

  His smile widened, evening out his mouth a little. “I’m at your mercy. Fire away.”

  “You have incredible eyes.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She dropped her gaze to her plate, feeling stupid. “Silly me. I suppose only about a million women have told you that.”

  “Not quite a million.”

  She braved a peek up at him through lowered lashes. There was no snugness or arrogance on his face. There was a quiet confidence, but it seemed to be a natural part of him, not something put on. “Not too many young, nice-looking women in Eidolon Lake, were there?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “No. Shall I follow that up with some flattery of my own?”

  God! For someone just out of the backwoods, this guy is as smooth as silk. But was he as real as he appeared? “Go ahead.” Flattery was just flattery, but it had been ages since she had heard any that was sincere.

  “It’s been a long, long time since I’ve met a woman as . . . rich as you are.”