Night Shift (Nightshade Book 2)

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Night Shift (Nightshade Book 2) Page 2

by Carey Decevito


  “Did you want some?”

  Fuck, the child had found my weakness, but I wasn’t going to let her in on it. “No,” I smiled, “but thank you, Sweets.”

  “Okay, bye!” Running inside, I realized that Shane was still staring at me, a quirking of his lips the only indicator that he was humored by our exchange. The rest of him was rock solid, dominating…and assessing.

  With a quick wave of my hand as both hello and goodbye, I bent to pick up my tools and the bowl I used to collect the blooms I needed for the new batches of essential oils I was fixing to get started on. When I looked back from my front door, the man was gone.

  I’d just finished setting the oils to the side for cooling when my doorbell rang.

  No one came calling these days, except for the mailman and assorted courier services.

  And your ex apparently.

  Since my front door was one of those solid wood numbers with an arched top, without windows, I used the small window at its side to see who my visitor was.

  Shane Peters.

  Well, Shane’s back to be more precise.

  Shit.

  Instantly, my mind started whirling. Had I done something wrong? I had been spending more time with his daughter lately, maybe he just thought it was weird and wanted to warn me off. I mean, it is weird, right? Maybe he wanted to buy some lotion. Studying the man for a little longer, I wasn’t quick enough to quell the bubbling laughter that trickled out of me. He didn’t look like the type of man to use lotion. Then again, what would I know?

  Finally, getting a hold of my bout of hilarity, I reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

  The man turned and whatever remained of my humor fled as I took the whole of him in.

  I’d never seen him up close like this.

  His dark blond hair was a little messy, probably from running his hands through it. He wore his badge, which told me he was most likely heading back to work. He worked a lot from what Nora, Shane’s mother, and Lana Rose had told me. Then again, so did I.

  Aside from the black dress shirt and the faded denim he sported, his feet were encased in black boots. How he got that shirt to fit over his beefy shoulders and arms was beyond me, but the entire look had my mouth watering; and so did the slice of cake he was holding.

  “Hey.” His voice was smooth. “What’s so funny?”

  “N-nothing,” I stuttered, feeling like an idiot.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked, his eyes studying me.

  All I could do was shake my head, no.

  “Here.” Handing me the paper plate with the slice of cake, I took it and stared at the tasty looking morsel. “Your mouth said no, but your eyes told the truth. You weren’t imposing, by the way.”

  “I…Thank you, that’s really kind of you.” I turned to set the plate on the table next to the door, still standing on the threshold.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “No problem.”

  My, “Would you like to come in?” came at the same time as his, “I should go.” We both ended up smiling at one another, and I could feel heat rising in my face.

  “Be safe,” I bade him. “At work, I mean. You are heading to work, right?” I really should learn how to talk to hot men. Then again, being thirty-three, I doubt you could teach me that trick. If I ever entertained the thought of settling down again, that person would have to take me as I was.

  His smile was tight, his eyes darkening. “Yeah.” Turning, he walked down my front steps and turned when he reached the walkway. “Have a good night, Emberlyn.” Not waiting on my reply, he waved, crossed the street, then jumped in his car and left.

  “Thanks for the cake,” I whispered, as I watched him drive off.

  Closing the door and locking it, I grabbed the small plate, and headed for the kitchen. I jumped up to sit on my island countertop, reached over to grab a fork out of the drawer, then set to remove the plastic wrap before digging in. The decadence of the chocolate cake had me moaning and forgetting about my troubles, sitting on the same surface I was on, only a mere few feet away. Instead, I daydreamed about a certain blond detective stud who lived across the street, wondering what my current indulgence would taste like if it were smeared onto various parts of his body.

  Chapter 3

  Shane

  Will awaited me at the precinct when I arrived.

  “So? Catch me up.” I came to a stop in front of his desk.

  The man grabbed the case file and pushed it toward me. “Haven’t got the report from the medical examiner’s office yet, but let’s face it Shane, this is the same guy.”

  I perused the photos in there, trying to see if I could find something different from all the other cases. My eyes burned from exhaustion. My head hurt from trying so hard to make all of the pieces come together.

  “That’s all we’ve got?” I asked.

  “’Bout it.”

  “Did you canvass the neighborhood to see if anyone saw anything?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” Will looked about just as frustrated as I felt. “Fucker’s always hitting suburbia, where everyone works outside of the home. Vic’s boyfriend said he left yesterday morning to fly out to Vegas for a conference. He last spoke to her this morning when she was heading into work.” I nodded, looking at his case notes. Everything there matched what he was telling me.

  “There’s no reason for her to have gone home then?”

  “Nothing but a text from an unknown number,” he said. “Her boss said that she’d left in a hurry. A few coworkers noticed the same thing.”

  “Was the phone traced?”

  Our eyes met. Dead end. “Phone was a burner. He ditched it in an alleyway behind the Walmart on Western Boulevard.”

  “And the text?”

  “Same story about the partner wanting to meet,” Will gritted out. “Part of me thinks that these women know this man, or at least he seems trustworthy. I mean, they live in populated areas, they’re always found in their beds in the same manner. A settled woman wouldn’t bring in just any John off the street into their homes, right?”

  “Mmm.”

  And they all look like my dead wife, I added internally to the list of victim commonalities we’d established.

  I sighed. “We keep waiting for this guy to slip up, but I’m thinking this isn’t going to happen until he comes for me, Will.”

  The man groaned. “I know it feels that way, but there has to be something we’re missing.”

  I shoved everything back into the file, and closed it. “Do you mind if I take this home with me? I need some sleep, but I want a closer look at things, see if I can figure out his angle.”

  “Sure, man,” he said. “I’m heading that way now, too. How’d dinner go with Little Miss Rosie?”

  I grinned. “Fuck, does that kid light up my life,” I told him. “It was great. Had dinner with my two favorite ladies.” And had somewhat of a conversation with my gorgeous neighbor, for the first time since she’s moved to the neighborhood, I added to myself.

  Getting up from his desk chair, I followed his move to leave. “I’m glad for you.” Will’s pat landed on my shoulder with a quick squeeze.

  “Thanks for pulling relief, brother. Breaking another promise would have killed me,” I grumbled, and ran my hand through my messy hair before scrubbing my face. “I feel like a failure with this whole parenting shit. Rosie doesn’t even ask me for a birthday party anymore. She told me that she knows that my work is important, and that if I got called in, then there wouldn’t be a party anymore and everyone would have to go home early.” Mom would have been there to look after things if I got called away, but the truth of the matter hurt. She didn’t care that her friends would have been there to celebrate with her. She wanted me. End of story.

  After I got home, the first thing I did, once I’d checked that all windows and doors were locked, was look in on Rosie. She was tucked in safely and sound asleep. Crouching down, my fingers reached to push the hair covering the side of her face, b
rushing it aside as I leaned down, kissing my princess. She looked so much like her mother, it was almost painful to look at her.

  “Goodnight, baby,” I whispered before standing upright.

  Leaving her room, I made my way to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen, grabbed a tumbler, and poured myself four fingers of whiskey, stashing the bottle before taking my glass in hand.

  “I saw what you did earlier.” My mother crept into the kitchen, grabbing herself a bottle of water from the fridge. She turned to face me, a smirk on her face. “That was nice of you.”

  “She wanted cake, but she was too shy to admit it, so I brought her cake, Mom. That’s it.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Mom,” I warned. “What’s going on?”

  “You should really think about putting yourself out there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not this again.”

  “She’s a really nice girl, Shane.”

  Taking a hefty gulp of the amber liquid, I let the burn come as I swallowed it. “I know she’s nice, Mom.”

  “But?” she prompted.

  “Look…I’m just not ready yet.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You looked damn ready to me, with that bounce in your step as you left to go meet up with Will earlier.”

  It was time for me to walk away and close out this conversation. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about this. I date, and that’s enough for me right now, but what I’m also telling you is that I will find my own dates, on my own time, at my own convenience. Drop the matchmaking act.”

  Her eyes softened and tears filled them. “I miss her too, sweet boy,” she whispered. “She’d be so proud of the way you’ve raised that daughter of yours.”

  My voice caught in my throat. “Mom.”

  “I know you’ll never admit it, but part of you holding back on love again is because you haven’t caught him yet.” When I didn’t answer, she added, “Am I right?”

  “Please drop it,” I pleaded. I didn’t want to do this right now. The day had kicked my ass, my emotions were all over the place, too close to the surface. I felt raw.

  What I wanted most, right now, was to finish my drink while watching SportsCenter, jump in the shower, then go to bed for some much-needed sleep.

  It’s just too damn bad that we don’t always get what we want.

  Chapter 4

  Shane

  I woke up feeling more exhausted than when I went to bed.

  My dreams were filled with horrific scenes of the past. Laying there awake, I focused on the svelte blonde woman from across the street. Those liquid clear blue eyes, her slender figure, and that Cupid’s bow mouth of hers; and don’t get me started on the delightful way she’d blushed earlier. The way her skin pinked up, slowly spreading toward her neckline made me wonder how far the change of color had spread beneath the edge of that t-shirt of hers. Somehow, with thoughts of Emberlyn Roth, I was able to chase the nastiness of the last eight years away, enough to fall asleep again.

  Then it would start all over.

  During my shower, I made a point to look into my neighbor right away. Leaving the bathroom, towel tucked around my hips, I grabbed my cell and pulled up my contact list, hitting call when I found the one person I needed.

  “Matthews, here.”

  Brycen and I had worked a few cases together, whenever I had time to moonlight for Nightshade Securities, a mutual friend’s—Dalton Kippers’—company. If I didn’t have a job on with the JPD, I’d probably be working with Kippers and his crew fulltime—something Dalton had been hinting about as of late.

  “Brycen, I need you to look someone up for me,” I tell him. “Name’s Emberlyn Roth. Address…” I rattled off the information as well as what I knew about her.

  “Seems like a quick and easy thing. By the address you gave me, isn’t she one of your neighbors? What do you need this for?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “Rosie’s been spending lots of time with her.”

  “Ah, got it,” he said. “I’ll have a file sent to your NSI email before the day’s up, bro. Any chance you’ll make NSI your permanent home any time soon?”

  Maybe. I thought, but said, “Appreciated. I need to see this case through before even thinking on what Dalton’s proposing.”

  “Right. I’ll just leave your email active. You’ve been working with us often enough, I doubt the big man will be opposed.”

  “Sure, you’re just too lazy to be bothered with reactivating accounts,” I razzed him. “Anyway, get back to me with what you find.”

  Before I could hang up, I heard Brycen’s whispered, “Holy shit!”

  “What?”

  “Is she for real?” the guy asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She looks like that?”

  “If you mean a tall blonde bombshell with—”

  “With fuck me eyes, I—”

  Something akin to possessiveness struck me. “Shut the fuck up!” I ordered.

  Chuckling, Brycen said, “Relax man, but damn!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’ll get her details to you like I promised; but do me a favor?”

  I sighed. “And what would that be?”

  “If she’s clean, promise me you’ll give her a go.”

  “Bryce—” The man cut me off by hanging up.

  What was up with people and their matchmaking these days?

  As I left for work, I couldn’t help but notice Emberlyn crouched down on her porch, picking some little box up. I’m not sure why I sat there for so long, and I sure as hell didn’t like the way her face paled to that of a white sheet when she looked inside the parcel. Looking around, she retreated to the safety of her home, then closed the door.

  After witnessing this reaction of hers two days running, it was safe to say that her behavior set me on edge.

  I assured myself that with Brycen looking into her past, I didn’t need to worry about the unsettled feeling in my gut just yet, so I pushed it back, concentrating on the fucked-up day I knew I was about to have.

  Not for the first time, the medical examiner, or ME, came back with his report; one that gave us absolutely nothing.

  None of the fibers found on the body, during their preliminary sweep, were foreign. There was no hair, saliva, or skin follicles to speak of that didn’t belong to our latest victim, or her boyfriend, found on her body; yet there was clear indication that she’d had sexual penetration fairly recently.

  Going over the evidence so many times made my head hurt, and I was sure that Will felt the same way by how he seemed to be obsessively massaging his temples.

  When my desk phone rang, I was glad for the reprieve. The call display announced my mother calling.

  “Hey, Mom. How’s–”

  “Is Rosie with you?” The panic in her voice had me jumping to my feet.

  I looked at my watch, my brows furrowing. “She’s not back from school yet?”

  “She should have been here half an hour ago,” she said.

  “Did you call the school?”

  “They said one of their teachers saw her leave.” She sniffled. “Shane, she’s always home by now. Always!”

  “I’m on my way.” Hanging up on her, I headed for the door. “Rosie’s missing.”

  “Need backup?” Will asked.

  “I need you to go to the school and find out who saw what,” I told him. “I’m gonna hit my neighborhood and see if anyone knows anything else. The school’s a five-minute walk for her, someone has to have seen something.”

  Packing up a few files, I rushed to my Escalade, cranked it, and headed home.

  Chapter 5

  Emberlyn

  It was happening again—just like before I’d sold my previous home that was on the outskirts of Jacksonville when my divorce was finalized.

  The gifts. The mementos. The notes.

  I thought I’d been rid of those when he went to jail. That’s when Trevor Sykes should have ce
ased to exist for me. Or what I would have liked to have had happen.

  I guess I didn’t get my wish.

  It petrified me that the man had found me after I’d put so much effort in keeping a low profile; but the man had always had his ways. Apparently, he hadn’t lost those all-too important contacts of his over the last three years of being locked away.

  Some of the gifts were like those he used to get for me—his sick way of apologizing after terrorizing me—and others were odd and not what I’d have thought he would ever have thought to send. Those creeped me out the most.

  When I moved to Jacksonville—my grandmother’s home specifically—I’d made sure that my restraining order encompassed a no contact clause. I had one for the entire state North Carolina. And I renewed it religiously, every year on the year.

  The burning question in my mind, however, was why hadn’t my lawyer contacted me about him being let out? He shouldn’t have been eligible for parole for another six months.

  “Unless he’s got someone doing it for him,” I thought aloud, sipping my cup of tepid coffee as I stared at the small white box I’d discovered on my front steps, just moments ago. The thing sat haphazardly on the kitchen island’s edge.

  Regardless, the whole thing was giving me the willies. What’s more was the fact that my home now felt uncomfortable.

  I no longer felt safe.

  Shane’s a cop.

  Maybe I could mention what’s been going on to him, or maybe I could just get him to give me a few leads on a decent security company to install a system in my place. Either way, knowing that he was there—across the street—appeased my mind somewhat.

  Setting my coffee down, I grabbed my latest eerie gift and made for the garage. I hadn’t even stored the large bin up on its original shelf after I’d added yesterday’s delivery in it. Lifting its lid, I dropped the tiny box to join the other, snapped the top back on, then hefted it back in its intended place. One I hoped to God and all things holy, that I’d never have to fetch again.

 

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