I couldn’t decide if I was really in danger or not. I knew that there were real murders happening nearby, but Lester Seed was dead. If it was someone else involved, could they even know of my existence?
Finally, Dad finished the meal. It was this decadent pasta dish with vegetables all covered in an amazing sauce. We dug in together, chatting about pretty much nothing. He talked about his work and I told him some more details about being a private detective. He was surprised by how boring the whole thing actually was.
It felt good to be talking so comfortably with my dad after so many years apart. I had dreaded this moment, when I’d finally be alone with him and have to interact, but it was actually totally fine. I realized that I didn’t hate him, or even dislike him, and that I was glad to be home.
We cleaned the dishes together, joking about the old days. By the time we were finished, I was surprised to see that it was already ten at night.
“Well,” Dad said, finishing his drink. “Time for this old man to sleep.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll finish up down here.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m really glad you’re home.”
“Me too, Dad.”
“Night.” He turned and walked upstairs.
I began to finish straightening up, drying dishes, when I was suddenly intensely aware that I was completely alone.
I wasn’t very comfortable in the house yet. It just wasn’t what I was used to. It was nice, but it wasn’t home. And so standing there alone in the kitchen after thinking so long about murders and serial killers, suddenly I felt a weird little crawling sensation down my spine.
Like someone was watching me.
I shook my head. That was stupid. I was getting worked up about nothing. I grabbed my phone but had no messages. I was almost done cleaning up; I could retreat to my room soon enough.
As I put the last dish away, I heard it. It sounded like the front door creaking open and shut, but that couldn’t be right.
Had I locked it earlier? I wasn’t sure. I walked toward the short hall that led out to the front foyer, my heart beginning to beat steadily in my chest.
Every floorboard creaked underfoot. The walls loomed large, and I swore I saw shadows moving out of the corner of my eye.
I was being stupid. There wasn’t a serial killer coming in the front door.
“Hey, sis.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I let out a short little gasp and took a step backward, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Easton!” I said. “You asshole. You scared me.”
He smirked hugely, coming into the kitchen. “Good. Just means you’re on your toes.”
He was lugging a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, but he looked tired, even more tired than usual.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
He dropped the bag on the ground. “Well,” he said, “I’m moving in.”
I stared at him for a second, shock mixing with fear. I remembered the kiss, remembered the danger. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Just for a little bit. Just while I’m working this case.”
I cocked my head. “Why?”
He shrugged, avoiding the question. “Nicer here. I can concentrate better.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” I said quickly.
“Not everything is about you, princess,” he said, smirking at me.
I wanted to wipe that delicious grin off his face. I wanted to kiss his lips, make him throw me down against the island and finally feel his fingers against my bare skin.
But I knew I couldn’t. Especially not in my father’s house.
“I’m going to bed,” I said.
“Good. Exactly what I wanted to do.”
“Alone.”
He shrugged as he followed me up the stairs, carrying the bag. “I’ll be right next door,” he said as he walked down the hall. “For when you change your mind.”
I paused outside my door. “Look, about earlier—”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” he said softly, his body close to mine. “I’d rather you just show me what you want.”
“We can’t,” I said. “You’re my stepbrother. Our parents are important here. And everyone talks. You know that.”
“I don’t see anybody around right now.”
I shook my head quickly. “We just can’t.” I quickly opened my door and stepped into my room.
“Your loss.” I began to shut the door. “Night, sis,” he said.
I closed it and leaned against the knob for a second before locking it.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn’t believe Easton was staying right next door. He hated his mother and didn’t want anything to do with staying at home, and yet there he was. He said it was to be able to concentrate on the case, but I knew that couldn’t be true.
As much as I wanted him, things were just too tangled. I was afraid of him, if I was completely honest. I was afraid of what I wanted from him, and afraid of his past.
I climbed into bed with a sigh. I just needed to forget about him.
Which was pretty hard, considering we worked together. And he was just next door, his muscular body barely feet away.
I shut my eyes and tried not to remember the way he’d made me feel out there alone together on the bridge.
10
Easton
Sheriff Sloan had the AC on blast even though the night was relatively cool. We moved through the night, out toward the heavy forest. He took a small detour down a dirt track, almost identical to the one I took earlier.
We drove in silence, which suited me. I was not much interested in talking to Sloan. He was a nice enough guy, but he had no clue what he was getting himself into. How could he? Mishawaka rarely saw crime worse than drunk driving.
Tonight, though, Sloan saw the work of a true monster.
After ten more minutes, I could see the flashing red and blue lights of a police cruiser up ahead.
“Line is just up there,” Sloan commented as if I were blind.
“Yeah,” I grunted.
“When was the last time you were on a scene?”
“Not long enough.”
We lapsed back into silence as we slowly pulled up next to a cruiser.
People were milling about everywhere. The crime scene people were wandering around in their anti-contamination suits taking pictures of just about everything while the plainclothes stood around and looked important.
Sloan parked and we climbed out. “She’s just over here,” he said.
I nodded and followed him as we ducked under the yellow police tape line.
I took a deep breath. It really hadn’t been long enough since I was last at a crime scene. Vivid memories came spilling back, memories I didn’t really want. Martin, his throat bloodied, his skin pale. Seed lying on the ground, unmoving. The other agents and the damn looks they gave me, like I was some scumbag criminal myself. But I wasn’t that guy anymore.
We picked our way through the small crowd. I caught a few glances thrown my way, but Sloan’s presence meant that they weren’t going to say a word.
Sloan stopped and turned to me. “I heard about what happened with you and the bureau,” he said.