by LENA DIAZ,
She’d been kissed before, but never like this. His kiss was exquisite, magical, perfect. It wrapped around her heart and warmed her soul, giving her all the goose-bumpy feels and drugging her with desire. But more than that, it transformed her, made her feel safe, cherished, loved. He melted away her fears, soothed her hurts, and then he melted her.
By the time he ended the kiss, they were both gasping for breath and staring at each other in wonder.
His hands shook as he cupped her face again and stared into her eyes. “Hayley.” His voice was husky with desire. “That was... I don’t even know what that was. Just...wow.”
She laughed and hugged him, feeling happier in that moment than she ever had. “It was worth all the bad. More than worth it.”
He held her tight. “Hopefully all the bad will be over soon. I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through.”
She pulled back and pressed her finger to his lips. “Don’t. Don’t spoil the glow.”
His brows arched. “Glow?”
“The magic. Don’t spoil it. Not yet. We deserve a moment. Or two.”
He gently kissed her, a tantalizing taste of more to come. “It’s been a long, tough day and it’s barely past the lunch hour. Unfortunately, I’ve got a lot more work to do if we’re going to catch this killer. How about I take you home? Then I’ll stop back by when I’m done here and take you somewhere for a decent meal. You can’t have had time to go to the grocery store since getting out of jail.”
She sighed and reluctantly hopped off his lap. “You’re right. I haven’t. Dinner with you sounds great. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He stood and fished his keys from his pants pocket. He started toward the door, then turned back and grabbed the manila folder from the table. “Let’s go.”
Brielle looked up as they exited the conference room. She ran around her desk and surprised Hayley with a quick hug.
“I’m sorry, Miss Nash. After seeing that picture on the murder list today, I was just as convinced as Erin—Detective Sampson—that you were The Ghost we’ve been looking for. I’m sorry you had to go through all this to get to the truth.”
“Th-thank you. I appreciate that.”
The others in the office lined up to apologize as well, and assure her that they’d find whoever was behind this.
Once in Dalton’s truck, Hayley sniffed, fighting back tears again.
“You okay?” he asked.
“They were so nice. And I’ve been so horrible to you and—”
“I think it’s time we both let go of the past. How about we make a pact to be nice to each other going forward and figure out the rest later, okay? No more apologies or guilt.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Once they reached her cabin, he walked her to her door. She smiled up at him on the porch, ready to thank him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her.
And reaching for his gun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hayley stood frozen in indecision, staring at the open front door of her house where Dalton had just disappeared. She’d locked the door. Hadn’t she? They’d left together, in his truck, to go to the park. Of course she’d locked it. She remembered him waiting while she did, then helping her into the truck. So why was her door ajar when they’d gotten here?
Her exhausted mind couldn’t seem to process what was happening. Someone had broken into her home. And Dalton had gone inside to check it out.
She took a step forward. What if whoever had broken in was still there? What if Dalton was hurt and needed help?
He was taking far too long. He hadn’t let her take her gun with her to the park. Now she regretted not insisting that she bring it. Well, she might not have a gun. But she could call 911. She yanked out her cell phone.
“Don’t.”
He stepped onto the porch and grabbed her phone, then dropped it. She stared in horror as he stomped on it, grinding his boot heel and leaving a twisted, worthless mess.
“Why did you...” She watched in shock as he threw the ruined phone across the road into the woods. “Dalton? What’s going on?”
“We can’t risk someone tracing your phone.”
She noted the white pillowcase tossed over one of his shoulders. Something was inside. She had no idea what. And he wasn’t looking at her. He was scanning the road, left and right, as if looking for something. Or someone.
Goose bumps covered her arms. “Dalton?”
“We’re leaving. Now.”
She glanced toward the doorway. “Is someone inside the house?”
“They were, but they left before we got here.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him toward the truck.
“If no one else is here, then why do we have to leave? If the place is trashed, shouldn’t we call the police?”
His jaw tightened. “Nobody trashed your house.”
After yanking open the passenger door, he practically tossed her inside, then threw the pillowcase in the middle of the bench seat. She’d barely gotten her seat belt clicked into place before he was tearing off down the road.
The faint sound of a siren had him looking in the rearview mirror. But he didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he seemed to have expected it.
She turned around to see faint red and blue lights down in the valley, racing up the mountain.
“The police are coming,” she said. “Did you call them from my house, before we left?”
“No.”
She waited. Again, he offered no further explanations.
“Hold on,” he ordered.
She grabbed the armrest just as he jerked the wheel. The truck skidded around a curve, then shot down a narrow side road so concealed by overgrown bushes and trees that she’d never noticed it before. It was barely wide enough for the truck.
She clutched the handle above her to keep from being tossed against the door each time he swerved for one of the sharp curves. It was only about two in the afternoon and yet it was nearly pitch-dark because of the thick tree canopy, blotting out the sun. His headlights cut a swath through the darkness.
The sound of the sirens faded, then disappeared. Ahead of them, the road finally straightened and he punched the gas, making the truck jump forward, throwing her back against the seat.
“Dalton, please, would you tell me what’s going on before we die in a fiery crash? What happened at my house? Where are we going?”
He braked, then turned down yet another road. She gave up asking him any questions. Another twenty or thirty minutes passed with him driving like a madman before he finally slowed. A few more turns and the headlights illuminated a log cabin even smaller than hers.
He pulled to the far left side of the gravel driveway and parked.
“Where—”
He hopped out of the truck and slammed his door shut.
She groaned in frustration and released her seat belt. Once again, he was yanking open her door, then lifting her out before she could even try opening it herself. He set her on her feet and slammed the door shut. Then, with a quick look around as if to ensure they were alone in this remote wilderness on the edge of the earth, he grabbed the pillowcase and the manila folder, then pulled her with him to the front porch.
Once inside, he flipped on the lights, turned on the central heat, then strode into the eat-in kitchen where he set the pillowcase and folder on the table.
She rubbed her arms against the chill and noted the small living room visible from the front entrance that ran along the back, then hesitantly followed him into the kitchen. “What is this place?”
“A last resort that few people know about.” He hung his truck keys on a peg beside the window. “If something happens to me, you grab those keys and get out of here. Go to Camelot and press 911 on the keypad. One of the Seekers will help you.”
“Why are you tel
ling me this?”
“Backup plan. I want you safe. I don’t want you risking your life trying to help me. I mean that.”
She stared at him. “I could never leave you if you were hurt or needed me.”
His face softened and he pressed an achingly sweet kiss against her lips. “Let’s hope it never comes to that.” He turned away and worked on the knot in the pillowcase.
“Why are you so worried all of a sudden? Why did we have to leave my cabin and hide out here?” She rubbed her temples, then winced when she hit one of the healing bruises from her recent exploits. From hitting her head on Dalton’s driveway, to her fight in jail, to losing the battle with Jack Daniels, she felt like she’d been through a war. Unfortunately, the war wasn’t over. “All this James Bond, clandestine spy stuff is driving me crazy. I’m just an ordinary person who’s really tired and I want to understand why you—”
“This is why.” Thump. Thump. Thump.
She stared at the items he was dumping out of the pillowcase onto the table.
A baseball bat with red smears across it and, oh dear Lord no, strands of hair stuck to the wood.
A pistol that she’d never seen before.
A pill bottle that rattled and rolled across the table before coming to a rest against the bat.
There were also some bloody-looking clothes. Hers. She recognized the outfit. Of course it hadn’t been saturated with blood the last time she’d worn it.
He tossed the still half-full-looking pillowcase to the floor, then motioned toward the items on the table. “I found this. All of it. In your house. It wasn’t sitting out in the open. But while searching for an intruder, I found that bloody bat behind a door. That sent me on a different kind of search, looking in places where people typically hide proof of their crimes.”
He motioned toward the gun. “That was under your mattress. It’s consistent with the type of weapon we believe was used to kill The Ghost’s first and second victims.” He waved toward the bottle of pills. “Although there isn’t a label, I’m guessing that’s a highly lethal toxin, the same one used on the murder victim The Ghost killed several weeks ago. They were in a cabinet in your kitchen, beside some over-the-counter medicines. Those clothes were at the bottom of your laundry basket. I imagine the blood matches one of our murder victims. There’s more of the same in the pillowcase, evidence of The Ghost’s crimes.”
She frantically shook her head. “I swear to you. None of this is mine. I mean, the clothes are mine but not the blood, the pills. I don’t even own a bat. I had nothing to do with the murders. You have to believe me.”
He frowned. “Hayley, I didn’t—”
“I swear I’m not a murderer.”
He swore and tossed his Stetson on the counter, before stalking toward her.
She backed up against the wall, spread her hands in front of her. “Whatever you think I did, you have to believe me. I’m innocent.”
He shook his head. “Don’t you think I know that? If I had any doubts, any at all, I’d have left you back there in your cabin for the police.”
She slowly lowered her arms and he stopped right in front of her. “Then...the reason you took that stuff, and drove us here is because...?”
“Because, having been on the receiving end, I know a frame-up when I see one. You either have a powerful enemy setting you up, or you’re just a convenient fall guy to get someone off the hook for their crimes. Either way, they’re doing everything they can to destroy you. Gatlinburg PD is in your cabin right now, searching your place. Did I find all the evidence your enemy left? I hope so. But probably not. I knew with everything I did find that someone would have already called the police with an anonymous tip and we couldn’t risk hanging around for a more thorough search.”
“Wait. You’re saying that someone broke into my cabin and left all that stuff to make it look like I’m the killer?”
“Worse. I don’t think it’s just anyone. It’s The Ghost that we’ve been trying to hunt down. He hacked your web pages and posted the pictures from the murder scenes. He’s killed four people so far—a police officer, a defense attorney, a former prosecutor, a retired detective.”
“Five.”
He looked at her in question.
“Bethany. She counts, too, doesn’t she?”
“Right. Five. If Seth was murdered by The Ghost too, that brings the count to six. The killer left blood, hair, DNA all over your home to frame you. We have to figure out who wants you locked up, and why.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it. We have to get ahead of this thing and get your life back. We have to figure out who the real killer is, fast. He expected you to go to jail tonight. Since you aren’t, he’ll have to change his plan.”
“Dalton?”
“Yes?”
“If it’s not too much to ask, could you please give me a hug? I could really use one right now.”
He pulled her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dalton stood in the kitchen, holding Hayley in his arms. She wasn’t crying this time. But she was shaking so hard he wanted to pummel whoever was doing this to her. She was a dynamo, a little firecracker, smart and sensitive. And she’d given up so much to pursue what she felt was right. He admired her for that, even though her pursuit had made it difficult for him.
Holding her now was like a balm to his battered soul. The anger and tension from moments ago seemed to melt away with her snuggled against him. He could stand here forever and be happy, just holding her.
The real world intruded all too soon when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.
She pushed out of his arms and cleared her throat, her eyes mirroring such a sense of dread that he almost wished he hadn’t brought his phone. He wanted to reassure her. But what could he say? He’d do everything he could to keep her safe. But it was hard to protect someone without knowing where the next blow was coming from.
The phone buzzed again. He checked the screen, then leaned back against the counter to take the call.
“What’s going on?” Mason demanded as soon as he answered. “Sampson said the cops are crawling all over Miss Nash’s cabin, that they’ve found evidence that she’s The Ghost after all, but she’s missing. I sent Bryson to your house to look for you, and you’re obviously not there. Where are you?”
“She’s not The Ghost, Mason. You were there today, at the office. You heard her provide an alibi for every murder.”
“Sampson’s going to bend and twist those alibis every which way until they break. She found compelling evidence that only the real killer would have at Nash’s cabin, pending DNA tests. But it’s not looking good.”
“Yeah, well, so did I. Like a bottle of pills that I believe contains the poison one of The Ghost’s victims was given. Only that bottle wasn’t in the cabinet earlier today when I took a bottle of aspirin out of that same cabinet. And those bloody clothes weren’t in the laundry basket when I put other clothes there earlier while tending to Hayley’s cuts when she fell on some broken glass at her cabin. She’s been with me every second since then. Someone is setting her up. You know even better than I do what that’s like. She deserves our support and protection, not our doubts. And no more stunts like we’ve pulled on her at Camelot, twice. If that’s a problem for you, fire me. I’m done with those bullying tactics.”
A deep sigh sounded into the phone. “No one’s quitting or getting fired. Are you sure about those pills? And the clothes? They weren’t there earlier? You couldn’t have missed them?”
“I’m sure.”
“All right. Then I agree that someone is trying to make her look guilty. But you should have called me and told me what was going on before Sampson went on the warpath and hit me out of left field. She’s convinced Miss Nash is involved, even if just as a co-conspira
tor. And since you aren’t home, she’s demanding to know where you’re hiding her.”
“What makes you think she’s with me?”
She lifted her head from studying the apparently fascinating wood designs on the tabletop.
He smiled, trying to reassure her.
“I’m not stupid, Dalton. You just said she hasn’t been out of your sight. Besides that, everyone at Camelot noticed you were wearing the same clothes two days in a row, and how disheveled Miss Nash was. Doesn’t take much to connect those dots.”
He shifted against the counter. “Okay. Here’s the sitrep. When we left her cabin to go to the crime scene at the park, the front door was locked. I’m sure of it. When I brought her back, it wasn’t. I went in to clear it, expecting to find a burglar. Instead, I found a bloody bat, bloody clothes and other items that weren’t there when we left. Since she was with me the whole time, obviously someone else went inside to stage the scene. I grabbed what I saw and took it with me. But I knew, with the scene staged like that, that whoever did it was likely to have called the cops. So we couldn’t hang around. Sure enough, sirens sounded right as we were leaving. She was set up, Mason. Feel free to let Sampson know. Like I said, I was with her the whole time. Someone else left those items in her cabin.”
“The Ghost.”
“Exactly. I’m thinking that Bryson might be the person to talk to Sampson, make her see reason. They’ve been friends a long time, even before he joined the Seekers. Then get Sampson to tell Bryson what all’s going on. She needs to pull videos from the businesses along the major routes to the mountain and see if any vehicles or drivers stand out as ones who could have planted that evidence. It’s not a busy road. It shouldn’t be that hard. There’s a good chance our killer is caught on film. If so, maybe one of the Seekers can try to get a copy.”
“I’ll put someone on it. Where are you now?”
“My cabin, the place where I lived before I bought the house.”
“You kept it? I figured you sold it.”
“Since it’s so remote, I thought it would make a great hiding place if I ever needed one.”