Near You

by Mary Burton

  She rose and from the refrigerator grabbed two cans of lemon-lime seltzer water. Normally, she drank out of a can, but considering the sandwich, she put ice into two paper cups and grabbed two pieces of paper towel off a thick roll. “Sorry, no real dishes yet. They’re in one of these boxes or on order.”

  If he wondered why she had not taken perfectly good plates from her old home, he did not ask.

  When he sat, she did as well and bit into her sandwich, discovering it had exactly the right ratio of ham to cheese, lettuce, and bread. Nothing fancy, but it reminded her that she needed food. She ate the entire sandwich before she crumpled her paper towel and tossed it on her plate.

  He was watching her with a measure of satisfaction. And for the first time in a long time, she felt as if the world slowed a little.

  She had spoken to Bryce and his patrolmen in Helena months ago, and of course he had been here with Nate, and she had been in the car with him yesterday. But each of those times had been filled with distractions. This was the first time it had been just the two of them. Her curiosity grew, and whatever shyness she might have had vanished as she cataloged the details that told part of his story. No wedding band—in fact, no rings. Crow’s-feet etched at the corners of his eyes. A faint white scar along his jawline. The little finger on his left hand bent slightly, as if it had been broken. He was the kind of guy who found the path through the storm.

  His interest in her was as keen, and she sensed he was cataloging her features and maybe searching for the marks left behind by her past. Good luck with that one. She had worked hard to make sure they were not visible.

  “I hear the wheels in your mind grinding now,” he said.

  The rough timbre of his voice did not chase away her gaze. “They tend to do that.”

  “The case?”

  She did not know how to read the cues the sexes transmitted between them. She had thought she knew in college, but it was clear she picked very imperfect men. She opted for honesty because it cut through the BS quickly. “Thinking about you.”

  “Me?”

  “I’m attracted to you,” she said carefully. This might be the moment where he told her she was off base. And if the attraction was mutual and he liked her, then she had to worry about what was wrong with him.

  “I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” he said lightly. “Do you always overthink?”

  “Always.”

  He arched a brow, intrigued and amused. “That so?”

  “I’ve been off the market for a long time, so if I sound crazy or am out of line, tell me. We can pretend I never said anything—we can finish our drinks and get back to safer waters, like homicide.”

  “No reason for that.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He came around the island and stood in front of her. She shifted on the stool so she faced him. Gently, he took her hand and pulled her up. The feel of his calloused skin against her palms awakened the nerves in her entire body.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

  She moistened her lips, quickly trying to remember the last time she had kissed a man. Was it last year, two years ago?

  “Stop overthinking,” he said.

  “Right.” A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Desire singed her nerves like liquid fire. She leaned into the kiss, knowing the hunger that had been there for months was suddenly ravenous. Was she overdoing this? Did he feel this, too? As if he felt her thoughts, his hand came to her waist, and the touch silenced the questions. She raised her hand to his side.

  “How’s that?” he asked, his lips close to hers.

  “Very nice.” She wished now she had more than a mattress covered in rumpled blankets on her bedroom floor.

  “Well, then how about we quit while we’re ahead?” His hand did not move from her side.

  When she had been with Elijah, it had been hurried and so hormone fueled it was almost over before it began. And with Clarke every kiss ended up with them in the bedroom. Both men had left her physically satisfied but emotionally empty. “What? You don’t want to?”

  “Oh, I surely want to, Dr. Bailey. And if you still have a mind to do more of this, I am your man.” He kissed her on the lips again. “But I find things worth having take time.”

  “This isn’t what I’m used to.”

  “That’s what I figured. Which is exactly why we’ll take our time.” He kissed her again and stepped back with a look of regret in his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We have that shop to visit.”

  Her body hummed with longing, disappointment, and a deeper sense that Bryce McCabe was a good man. “Great.”

  “Good. In the meantime, you can look at those financial records and let me know if you see any patterns. And I’ll get that list from the warden.”

  “Perfect.”

  “By the way, I’m trying to reach Sarah Cameron’s boyfriend. I want to talk to him about her and who she might have known.”

  “Let me guess. He’s avoiding you.”

  “He is. But I suppose he’s gun shy when it comes to the cops.”

  “Gun shy I can appreciate.”

  He winked. “Like riding a horse, Dr. Bailey. It’s not that complicated.”

  That provoked the first real laugh she’d had in a long while. She walked him to the front door and watched as he settled his hat on his head. “When should I meet you at the Classy Cat? It opens at ten tomorrow.”

  “Ten it is.” He strode to his truck, and when he was behind the wheel, he nodded toward her before he drove off.

  Her phone buzzed with a text, and when she pulled it from her pocket, she saw it was from Gideon. All is well. Attached to the text was an image of Nate, Kyle, and Joan. The boys were sporting wide grins, and Joan looked pointedly toward the camera like a hostage trying to send a message to the world.

  Ann studied Nate’s smile and realized it telegraphed the youthful joy that had been missing the last year. He was going to be okay. So was she.

  As she turned to go back inside, she glanced down to the card that had fluttered out when she had removed her phone. She picked it up and saw Paul Thompson’s name, phone number, and the scrawled address of his motel.

  Thompson was on a fishing expedition, too. And the bait he was using was her darkest secret.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Missoula, Montana

  Sunday, August 22

  2:15 p.m.

  Ann grabbed her purse and decided it was time to find Elijah. If he had leaked or suggested the truth to one of his groupies, she wanted to know about it. A quick address search, and she realized he was living blocks away. Paul Thompson might be the least of her problems. She drove the blocks separating their homes. She parked, walked up to the front door, and knocked.

  Christ, he had to know the truth.

  A full thirty seconds passed before the door opened. Elijah stood with a blue-tipped paintbrush in his hands and looking a little annoyed by the interruption. When he saw it was her, his expression turned curious.

  “Ann, did you bring me a welcome basket?” he asked.

  “I heard you’d moved in.” Her heart pummeled against her ribs, slamming blood through her arteries.

  “Would you like to come inside? Still in the midst of decorating. I could have hired someone, but I really don’t like strangers in my home.”

  She ignored the small talk. “There’s a reporter in town. His name is Paul Thompson.”

  “He’s left me messages,” Elijah said warily.

  “He’s digging into Clarke’s and your pasts.”

  Elijah frowned. “I gathered as much. Why?”

  “He’s doing a podcast, he says. He wants the world to know your story.”

  He looked amused. “Who on the planet doesn’t?”

  “Apparently, the bare facts aren’t enough. He wants a blow by blow.”

  “Why do you care, Ann? I’ve heard you’ve bec
ome pretty expert at dodging guys like him.”

  “This one is talking to your Fireflies.”

  “I’m sure they all have a story to tell. They crave fame. It’s one of the unhealthy reasons why they were attached to me.”

  “When’s the last time you were in contact with Sarah Cameron?” she asked.

  “She was from Tennessee, as I remember.”

  A sense of vindication rushed her. His simple answer had validated her working theory about the victims. “So, she was a Firefly?”

  He arched a brow. “That’s why you’re asking about her, right?”

  “What about Dana Riley? Did she contact you lately?”

  “Dana?” He seemed to riffle quickly through his memory. “Tall, light-brown hair. Looked a little like you, though not as smart.”

  Dana had also been a Firefly. “Have you communicated with her lately?”

  “No. I haven’t connected with any of my Fireflies since I was released from prison.”

  “None tried to track you down?”

  His head cocked. “Why is that any of your business?”

  “I’m looking for Dana,” she lied.

  “Why? Is she bothering you?” he asked carefully.

  “No, I’m trying to find her.” She had not come prepared with a better lie and realized she could quickly back herself into a corner. Elijah had always been perceptive, and ten years in prison had honed that radar.

  He slowly shook his head as his eyes narrowed. He did not believe her, but for whatever reason, he played along. “The final letter I had from Dana was almost a year ago. She was one of my most prolific correspondents. I think one hundred and two letters from her, if I remember. She was funny, moderately smart, and a welcome distraction.”

  “Are there any other Fireflies in the area?”

  “Why the sudden interest in the Fireflies? Who cares if Thompson talks to them? His story will soon be forgotten. Unless you’re jealous.”

  She ignored the suggestion. “Did you ever talk to your Fireflies about me?”

  “I might have mentioned you.” A smile teased the edges of his lips. “I was pretty angry with you after the trial.”

  “Who else did you tell about me?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You have a photographic memory.”

  “Then I guess I do remember. But I’m not going to tell all my secrets until you tell me yours.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “This was a mistake. I should not be talking to you.”

  As she turned to leave, he said, “There was a homicide near town on Tuesday. I hear the body was burned.” He studied her face closely. “Is the victim Dana?”

  “No, it wasn’t Dana.”

  “There was also a homicide in Helena in July. I hear that body was also burned. Was that one Dana?”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Once you’ve been branded an arsonist, you make damn sure you have an alibi when there’s a fire within a two-hundred-mile radius. And for the record, I have alibis for both dates. You can tell the cops. They’re welcome to check.” His eyes narrowed again. “I know the Montana victims weren’t Sarah Cameron. Her death was widely reported in the Knoxville media in June.”

  “You knew about Sarah.”

  A slight roll of his shoulders hinted at his discomfort. “I don’t know anything about her death, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  She had taken a risk coming here, but it had paid off. At least two victims were Fireflies. The warden’s list of Fireflies would now be a critical predictor of future victims.

  “I didn’t kill those women, Ann,” he said clearly. “And I can prove it.”

  “Who else would want Fireflies dead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  For the first time, she sensed he was off balance slightly. “Maybe you’re cleaning up loose ends.”

  He stepped toward her, using the close proximity of his body to threaten. “Be careful. You’re accusing me of murder.”

  “If you have alibis, then you have nothing to worry about.”

  A bitter smile twisted his lips. “I’ve been through the criminal justice system, and I know truth doesn’t always matter.”

  “Again, who would kill these women?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then we’re done here.” She turned to leave.

  “How’s Nate?” Elijah asked in a clear, direct tone. “Is he back from his camping trip yet?”

  She froze and scrambled to maintain her calm. She faced him, deciding not to question his sources. He had a talent for knowing things. “He’s fine.”

  “He’s not the real outdoor type, is he?”

  “He loves spending time with his cousin and uncle.”

  “And Joan is along for the ride.” Even, white teeth flashed. “Joan fly-fishing has to be a sight to behold.”

  She started walking toward her car.

  “I’m glad Nate’s been able to get away,” he added as he followed her. “This town reared its ugly judgmental side after Clarke’s death. Odd that people blame the victims. I suppose it’s easier to find fault with them than to believe something bad like that could happen to us.”

  People had shied away from Nate and her because they were afraid. How many of them had looked at their own spouses and wondered whether they knew the real truth? But to utter any words of agreement created a bridge of understanding. And if anything she wanted to sever all connections between them.

  “You’ve never apologized to me, you know,” he said. “Of course, you didn’t know the real truth behind the College Fire, but I lost ten years in prison in part because of the testimony you gave in court.”

  She reached the driver’s-side door, knowing there was nothing she could say to counter that.

  He approached the car, staring at her over the roof. “Do you know how much the world changes in ten years, Ann? You were pregnant with Nate when I went away. And now look at him.”

  She had thought she could control this but now realized her presence had stoked his deep-seated anger. “He’s trying to get on with his life. He’s happy.”

  “I didn’t have a father when I was growing up, and it was hard. Is he struggling without his father?”

  “We’re managing.”

  “Oh, I know you’re doing fine without Clarke, but a boy only has one father.”

  His tone poked at the secret tightly wound in her heart. She reached for the door handle.

  In a voice only she could hear, Elijah said, “I know the truth.”

  She looked into his stark features. “You don’t know anything.”

  “I do.” Slowly, he came around the car until they stood less than a foot apart. “And soon I’m going to prove that Nate is my son.”

  She met his gaze. “He is my son. Not yours. Stay away from him.”

  Elijah’s gray eyes lit with a white-hot flame. “I’m going to claim what is mine.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. In fact, I will use every damn cent the state paid me for its mistake to get partial custody of my son.”

  “He is not your son!” She spoke louder than she had expected and quickly lowered her voice. “His father was Clarke Mead.”

  “Look at the boy. Can anyone with a passing knowledge of genetics believe Clarke was his father?”

  “Nate believes it. That’s all that matters.”

  “He deserves the truth,” Elijah said.

  “Is that what you told your Fireflies? Did you tell them about Nate? Because one of them told Paul Thompson.”

  Elijah’s fingers curled into fists. “Did he threaten you?”

  “Why do you think I’m here? Of course he did. He thinks he has leverage to get an interview out of me.” An icy chill flooded her veins. “Elijah, you have no idea how far I will go to protect my son.”

  He grabbed her by the arm, his fingers biting into her flesh. “I’m no different when it comes to the boy.”

  Ann snatch
ed her arm away. “Stay the hell away from my son.”

  She opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. As he stood beside the car and watched her, she fumbled with her keys and started the engine with shaking hands. She now realized that she had confused his silence for apathy. He clearly had been thinking about Nate far more than she had realized. She had miscalculated badly.

  Her head swirled with all the chaos Elijah could create in their lives. If a judge were to take up his petition for custody, it would alter Nate’s life forever. Now more than ever, she needed to determine if Elijah or someone else was killing Fireflies. Once Elijah’s followers were dead, what would there be to stop the killer from going after her or Nate?

  She drove away, leaving him standing in the street. She was not sure how long she’d been driving when her phone rang. Maura’s name appeared on the display.

  Ann sat straighter and cleared her voice. “Maura. The house looks great.”

  “Thanks. I have to mop floors today, and then you can stick a ‘For Sale’ sign in the front yard.”

  “Terrific. I have your check. Can I meet you at the house first thing in the morning?”

  “Sure. We can do a final inspection.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “I don’t suppose you could pay me in cash?” Maura asked.

  “Sure. But I’ll have to stop by the bank. I might be able to get enough out of the ATM.”

  “No worries. And if it takes an extra day, I can wait. Cash is easier for me now.”

  “I’ll call you when I have it.” She wound her way toward the house.

  “You sound upset. You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Ready to get my life settled.”

  “Change isn’t always fun.”

  “No, it is not.”

  “Try to enjoy the day,” Maura said.

  “Thanks.”

  At the next red light, Ann checked her text messages, and realized Bryce had obtained a list of the Fireflies.

  Bryce: Riley and Cameron are on the list.

  Ann: Assume the third victim is also on it.

  Bryce: Searching for pictures of all 13.

  Ann: I’ll dig into the list as soon as I get home.

  Bryce: Will be in touch.

  She pulled into her driveway and sat looking at her new home. In the silence, she closed her eyes and tipped her face toward the sun. Like it or not, this case had forced a wedge under the lid of Pandora’s box, and soon there would be no stopping the truth from escaping.