by Ranae Rose
A kiss of heat and moisture brushed her temple as he turned his head to the side, his stubble scraping her cheek as he touched his lips to her head. “Make sure I get up when you do tomorrow. I don’t want to wake up and realize you’re gone.”
CHAPTER 14
Heels clicking against the tile, Clementine made her way across the kitchen. In her favorite skirt, blouse and blazer, she felt polished – ready for her first day of work. As she laid a hand on the doorframe, the diamond on her finger sparkled, the perfect finishing touch. A splash of light and color against the charcoal grey and blue tones of her outfit, it felt like an indulgence – a promise. “See you late this evening,” she said, her heart wrenching a little.
She told herself she didn’t want to leave Donovan alone because of his recent injuries, but deep down, she knew leaving him would’ve caused a twinge of regret in any case. They were newly-engaged and a charmed, selfish part of her wanted to spend the day focusing on that instead of her new job.
“See you,” he said, setting down his coffee cup and standing, pushing his chair back from the table.
“Promise me you won’t do anything crazy like try to drive,” she said as he approached, looming over her in jeans and nothing else, making her heart beat fast beneath the buttoned-up front of her French-cuffed shirt.
“No driving,” he agreed, stepping close enough that his bare torso brushed the front of her blazer. “I’ll be here with something burnt on the table for dinner when you get back.”
She smiled. “Let me know if you change your mind and want me to pick something up.”
He pressed his mouth against hers, crushing her lips with a coffee-flavored kiss. She wore heels and he was in his bare feet, which reduced their height difference to a couple inches; he barely had to bend his neck. “I’m gonna miss you,” he said, gripping her hip through her pencil skirt.
“Likewise.” She grinned. “Now I know what I’ll be day-dreaming about during my commute.”
He frowned. “Keep your eyes and your mind on the road. Three hours round-trip during rush hour is already dangerous enough.”
She laughed. “I’m supposed to be the one who’s worried about you, remember?”
“Nothing to worry about.” His breath rushed against her cheek, hot and tempting.
“Don’t want to be late on my first day.” She pulled away reluctantly.
He nodded. “Figure I’ll give Hugh Jeffries a call while you’re gone.”
That thought brightened her outlook despite the fact that the kitchen windows revealed a leaden sky. Soon she wouldn’t have to commute so far to work. “You can let me know how it goes when I give you a call during my lunch break.”
“Bye, Clementine.”
She took one last long look at him – everything from his sleep-mussed hair to the lines of muscle slashing in a V and disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans – and opened the front door, telling him goodbye.
Outside, a cold breeze stole the heat of his kiss from her lips, chilling her through her blazer. The world still smelled like the rain that had fallen the day before, and the sky was the same color as Donovan’s eyes.
* * * * *
“See you tomorrow morning,” Clementine said, stepping onto the elevator.
Her new co-worker nodded, and the doors separated them. For a matter of hours, anyway. A long drive back to Willow Heights, a night with Donovan that would end too soon and she’d be back. After the period of unemployment she’d spent at Donovan’s house, being back on a work schedule felt a little new. She’d get used to it quickly, though – she’d always been busy in New York.
Only now she had something more to go home to than a tiny apartment and a pair of equally frazzled roommates. The thought made her smile as the elevator reached the lobby level.
She walked briskly across the tile, eager to reach her car, though it hadn’t been a bad day. Her new co-workers – the ones she’d met so far – seemed fine, and the job itself was something her education had prepared her for. There was no reason why her future at Kellogg-Hart shouldn’t be bright. It was just hard to think of that when she’d been immersed in getting to know the new company all day … now she longed to reach home and “relax” with Donovan, just like she had the night before.
Outside, on the sidewalk, she hardly noticed the chill. Someone caught her eye, distracting her – a man in a dark jacket. The sight tripped some internal sensor, and she watched him walk away as her heart skipped a beat. He was about Donovan’s height and had dark hair, though now that she focused on him, it was apparent that was where the similarities ended. Glancing down at her left hand, she smiled as the diamond there winked up at her, catching the late afternoon light.
Once in her car, she drove until she hit the freeway, then breathed a sigh. She’d done it – landed a job, worked out things with Donovan, thought of a way they could live without being apart. At one time or another, all of those things had felt impossible. The closer she got to Willow Heights, the happier she felt. Until she reached the house.
There were three police cars taking up all the space in the driveway. If there had only been one, she might’ve figured that Detective Wagner had returned for another round of questions. But three? Why would so many officers be at the house? A shiver raced down her spine as she parked her car in the grass and stepped out of her vehicle.
Two of the cruisers were empty. An officer sat behind the wheel of the third, and Clementine felt his gaze on her even before she met his eyes. “Miss Lettvin.” He opened the door and stepped out of his vehicle, directly into her path.
“What’s going on?” A gust of wind came from behind, chilling her lower legs and making the hem of her blazer flutter. A few leaves skittered across the gravel, and she anxiously awaited the officer’s reply, shutting out the sounds of autumn as best she could.
But the officer didn’t reply – at least, not before the house’s front door swung open. Two other officers stepped out onto the porch, and Donovan was between them.
Her heart leapt into her throat. One of the officers was gripping Donovan’s free arm, and the other was walking close to the one in a sling, practically breathing down Donovan’s neck. Two more cops followed from behind.
Her heels wobbled as she hurried over the gravel, and she heard the crunch of the fifth officer’s boots behind her.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, stopping a few feet from Donovan and his escorts. “Donovan?” She raked her gaze from his head to his toes. He looked okay, but unmistakable anger made his eyes a shade darker than usual. He wasn’t in cuffs, but this looked like an arrest. Why, God, why?
A memory from the kitchen flashed before her mind’s eye, replaying the time when Donovan had purposely burnt his hand. He’d said it was because he’d been so mad he’d had to distract himself, had to stop himself from doing something he’d regret. Had something happened … had he done something unlawful?
That didn’t make much sense, even to her half-panicked mind. Trevor wasn’t even alive anymore. Who else could have angered him?
“He’s under arrest,” the officer behind her finally said.
She hardly felt the chilly wind blowing against her skin, but inside, she was cold and shaking. “For what?”
“The murder of Trevor Grier.”
Tearing her gaze away from Donovan, she whirled to face the officer. “What?”
“He’s under arrest for the murder of Trevor Grier.”
“That’s ridiculous. He had nothing to do with Trevor’s death, and you can’t arrest someone without proof!”
One of the officers behind Donovan stepped forward – Detective Wagner. “We have a murder weapon with his fingerprints on it.”
A sick feeling rolled through her, making her stomach clench up as her blood pressure skyrocketed. “That’s impossible.”
The five officers were in uniform, wearing badges … how could they lie? Any way she looked at their claim, it rang false. She’d been with Donovan the
entire night, knew without a doubt that he couldn’t have laid a hand on Trevor, let alone killed him.
“It’s fact.” The look of grim satisfaction on Detective Wagner’s face filled Clementine with hatred.
Standing there, trying to hide the fact that she was shaking in her heels, she clenched her teeth. Worse than the anger was the hole the detective’s claim had shot through her heart; it gaped, growing wider by the second, leaving her open to despair. “Where are you taking him?”
It had to be some kind of mistake. They’d have to let him go soon, when the error came to the surface.
“To the station for questioning.”
“And then?”
“He’ll be booked at the county jail.”
Jail. Her gut twisted, and for half a moment, she feared she’d throw up all over the toes of her Mary Jane pumps. As she shifted her gaze back to Donovan, the terrible irony of the situation dawned on her – this was exactly what she’d left seven years ago to protect him from. Now, here she stood with his ring on her finger, completely useless.
“What about bail?” She heard herself ask the question and was half-surprised by her own words. The way Donovan had rescued Ricardo was still fresh in her mind, but she still couldn’t believe she was asking – couldn’t believe the reality of his arrest was cold and hard enough to make her think so practically when she knew he was innocent.
“That’s for the magistrate to decide.”
The officers moved forward in unison, forcing Donovan toward one of the cruisers.
“I’m coming to the station,” she said, willing as much firmness into her voice as she could muster. “Donovan, I know you’re innocent – this has to be a mistake. It’ll all work out. It has to.”
Donovan looked over his shoulder at her as one of the officers pushed his head down, forcing him into the back of a car. “Love you, Clementine.”
He might as well have reached into her chest and squeezed her heart with his bare hand. His words hurt because they were exactly what she wanted to hear, only under different circumstances. Any circumstances besides these. “I’ll be at the station while you’re being questioned,” she called as Detective Wagner shut the door, sealing Donovan inside the vehicle.
She climbed into her own car and followed the black and white caravan down the rural road, past Shady Side and into town. The sight of the trailer park at twilight stuck with her; as she idled at a light behind the last of the three police vehicles, she couldn’t help but remember the rust and squalor, the thriving weeds. If Donovan had been anything like his mother or his absent father, he would almost certainly have ended up in jail at some point.
But he wasn’t. And this was wrong. So wrong she had to wonder how it had even happened in the first place.
Could they be lying about the supposed murder weapon bearing his fingerprints? It seemed unlikely – there were laws to follow. But it seemed even more unlikely that they actually had one. So what did that mean?
Robert … had he somehow orchestrated all this? Pulled strings and lined pockets? The thought left her nauseous. Such things shouldn’t be possible, but Donovan’s baffling arrest had her grasping at straws, racking her mind for possible explanations.
When the little convoy she’d attached herself to reached the police station, she parked around front and walked inside via the main entrance. Anybody could enter, could sit on the hard bench near the door and wait on pins and needles. So that was exactly what she did.
* * * * *
7 Years Ago
The water was so cold it took the breath right out of her lungs. Donovan’s touch sparked a little warmth in the center of her being, bringing her gasping back to life. Gripping the edge of the rocky outcrop that protruded into the quarry lake, she leaned back into him, letting her back rest against his chest as water lapped over her shoulders, splashing onto the rock. It was only late May – too early for most to want to swim in the quarry.
Not for them. Butterflies burst into motion, caged between her hips and heart, as Donovan tugged at her bikini strings, freeing the bottom half in a few practiced movements and tossing it onto the rock. The top half was next, and then she was naked, covered from her collarbones to toes by dark water but deliciously bare beneath the surface. Donovan ran his hands all over her body, caressing, teasing – promising – and she tipped her head back, searching the evening sky for emerging stars.
What she saw instead sent a fresh wave of coldness through her, a chill that permeated her entire being.
They weren’t alone.
“Donovan…” she breathed, gripping the rock harder than ever as she stared at the silhouette of a man near the tree line. They were at the low side of the lake, the one not circled by a cliff. Entering the water here was easy; it was level with the ground. Which meant that they were level with their observer, who was close enough to see and hear everything, to know what was going on.
Donovan buried his face in her wet hair, pressing his mouth to the side of her neck and biting lightly in response, his breath rushing hot against her chilled skin. Beneath the surface of her alarm, sparks flew.
She opened her mouth, preparing to elaborate, ignoring a bead of water that slipped in. Only she felt him against her first, the head of his cock sliding between her thighs, against her bare pussy. The pressure sent a burst of anticipation through her, causing her core to draw up tight. Ready. And then he was inside her, stretching her where she craved him even though something was wrong, even though they should stop. “Donovan!”
He flexed his hips, rocking into her, sending water gushing over the edge of the rock she held on to, slapping its surface and creating noise that didn’t quite drown out the shuffling scrape of a shoe against stone, the skitter of a few pebbles and then fading footsteps in the underbrush.
She might never have known who’d been watching them if her gaze hadn’t settled on one tiny detail – a tan leather boat shoe, unremarkable but gut-wrenchingly familiar in the fading light.
* * * * *
The day had passed slowly, awkwardly. Every time Clementine had found herself in the same room with Trevor, she’d felt his stare on her body, lingering the moment she turned her back. Just the thought made her skin prickle. Now, with the barbeque Robert was throwing in full-swing, Trevor was nowhere in sight.
That fact wasn’t as comforting as it might’ve been. Every few minutes, she thought back to the evening before, to the silhouette lurking by the quarry lake, the boat shoe that now sat with its mate on a rack by the front door. Why had Trevor followed her and Donovan … why had he watched?
She didn’t really want to know the answer, but this was the last summer she had to spend with Donovan before starting college. She had a small stack of acceptance letters now; she’d applied to a variety of schools at her mother and Robert’s behest. Columbia had wait-listed her, but who cared? She had her heart set on attending a nearby university, which would make visiting Donovan easy.
Still, she wouldn’t be able to see him as often as she did now. That fact meant that every day of summer counted – they were finite, precious. And she wasn’t about to spend the coming months constantly looking over her shoulder, holding back because she feared who might be infringing on their time together.
She’d confront Trevor – let him know that she knew what he’d done. Shaming him on her own was the logical first step; no way was she going to run tattling to her mom. The thought was mortifying for one, and Robert hated Donovan, which meant that her mother pretended not to like him, either.
Abandoning the kitchen where extra side dishes lined the counter, ready to be deployed to the patio, Clementine climbed the stairs to the second story.
“Trevor?” she called when she reached his bedroom door.
No answer.
She knocked.
Still no answer.
Maybe he was hiding – maybe he was already embarrassed.
Slowly, she opened the door.
Trevor was nowhere in sight. His b
edroom had the look of a space no one had lived in for months; everything was clean and organized, except for the slightly wrinkled comforter on the bed and the box of jumbled belongings that sat next to it, brought home from his dorm room. He’d be spending the summer at home before leaving the state again for his junior year of college – unfortunately.
Sure that he wasn’t there, she turned … directly into the small desk by the door.
“Damn it!” she hissed, clapping a hand to her hip and applying pressure in an effort to soothe the throbbing pain. The desk’s corner had collided with her hip, and she could feel a bruise blossoming over the hard curve of bone. As she swore again, Trevor’s laptop flickered to life, snapped out of screensaver mode by the bump she’d given the desk.
It took her several moments to process the image on the screen. Then reality set in, along with a pervading sense of sickness.
Trevor had left a photo viewing program up – one that displayed a picture of her. Her naked. In the snapshot, she was stepping out of the shower, reaching for a towel. Judging by the angle of the photo, it’d been taken from a crack between the slightly-open bathroom door and doorframe.
Bile rose up into her throat, and a single word echoed through her mind: when?
She was still staring at the screen when Trevor walked in, gripping a beer he was still a little too young to drink legally.
God, what had he been doing – sneaking beers and drinking them while browsing his … photo collection?
“What the hell is this?” she demanded, fueled by sudden fury.
Caught red-handed, he froze at the door. And then, seeing that it was only her, he pulled it shut and smiled – a sick, slow smile.