Silent Storm

by Amanda Stevens

  She couldn’t believe how bold she’d been. How aggressive. How…creative. She couldn’t believe that she’d allowed herself to be that open and free with anyone, and there could only be one explanation for it.

  That hadn’t been her.

  That wasn’t the real Marly.

  That hedonistic creature last night had undoubtedly been the woman of Deacon’s fantasies, and he’d made those fantasies come true by getting inside Marly’s head, by manipulating her into saying and doing things she never would have on her own.

  In the dark of night, Deacon had made her want him as she’d never wanted a man in her life, made her behave in a way Marly never would have thought herself capable. And now in the light of day, she couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Used. Violated.

  A strong sentiment, she realized, and maybe she was overreacting a little. But Marly couldn’t stand the thought of someone having that kind of power over her. It was terrifying.

  As quietly as she could, she rose from bed and grabbed a clean uniform from her closet and fresh underwear from her bureau, then headed off to the shower. Locking herself in the bathroom, she turned on the taps and stood under the hot spray for as long as she could stand. When she finally came out of the bathroom, all dressed and ready for work, Deacon was up and around. Wearing only his jeans, he stood at the window staring out until he heard Marly approach and then he turned with a smile.

  And Marly’s knees went all weak in spite of her resolve.

  DEACON COULD TELL SOMETHING was wrong the moment he saw Marly in the doorway. She didn’t return his smile, nor would she meet his gaze.

  He walked across the room toward her. “You look like a woman who’s suffering from a bad case of regrets.”

  His light tone did nothing to restore her humor. She folded her arms and stared up at him. “Regrets? Yeah, you might say that.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Her tone was laced with resentment. “Because that woman you were in bed with last night wasn’t me.”

  Deacon frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about.” She unfolded her arms and moved past him to the window. But she only spent a moment gazing at the view before she spun to face him. “You made me…that way.”

  Deacon could hardly believe what he was hearing. Surely she didn’t think…

  But obviously she did. She’d managed to convince herself that last night had been all his doing. Nothing like a little finger-pointing to get the morning after started off in the right direction. His own voice deepened with anger. “Look, Marly. It was two consenting adults in that bed last night. Let’s not kid ourselves about that.”

  He saw her glance at the bed before she quickly looked away. Lifting her chin, she said, “That’s the trouble. I don’t know that I did consent.”

  He ran his hand through his hair as he stared back at her. “This is crazy. I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.” That she hadn’t been eager to do, but he didn’t think it was a good time to bring that up.

  “Yes, well, that’s the whole point. How do I know you didn’t make me want it? You’ve been inside my head before. How do I know you weren’t there again last night? How do I know you weren’t manipulating me? And if you were, I gotta say, that was a pretty nasty thing to do. You might as well have raped me.” She spat out the word so angrily, so full of contempt, that Deacon reeled from the shock. She couldn’t have stunned him more had she slapped him across the face.

  “Raped you? My God, Marly, is that really what you think? Because that’s a pretty ugly accusation. You sure that’s what you mean?”

  She glanced away. “Maybe that is too strong,” she relented. “Maybe I am overreacting. But if you did something to me—”

  “I didn’t. What we did last night was what a man and woman do when they’re attracted to each other. It’s natural.”

  Her face turned beet red. “No, what we did was—”

  “Out of control? That’s the real problem, isn’t it, Marly?” He took a step or two toward her. “What is your real concern here? You’re not so much worried that I got inside your head and manipulated your thoughts as you’re afraid that the real Marly revealed herself last night. You were passionate and needy and vulnerable…and that scares you, doesn’t it?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” But her words held no real conviction, and Deacon knew that he was hitting a little too close to home for her.

  “You can’t accept who you really are, can you?” he demanded softly. “Is that really how you want to live your life? Hiding behind those walls so you don’t end up like your mother?”

  “If that’s what it takes,” she said stubbornly. “Besides, why do you care? You’ll be gone from here soon. We’ll never see each other again. Last night was just a…one-night stand. Why do you care how I live my life?”

  His gaze softened. “Because I care about you.”

  “I don’t want you to care.”

  Too late for that, Deacon thought. He already cared far too much. He cared so much that he was in danger of getting in way over his head here.

  Because Marly was right about one thing. He had no business caring about her. He had nothing to offer a woman like her. He had a job to do and a past to make up for. He couldn’t settle down in Mission Creek, and he certainly couldn’t ask Marly to be a part of his life. Because he had no life. Not anymore.

  He was a man without a home, a man without memories. He was a soldier who’d been programmed to kill—and might do so again someday.

  It was better that Marly not trust him. It was better that she kept her distance because Deacon didn’t even trust himself.

  “Okay, you’re right,” he said, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his stomach, the emptiness inside his heart. “I made last night happen.”

  She put a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God.”

  “Marly, I’m sorry—”

  When he started toward her, she backed away from him, her eyes blazing with fury. But behind that anger was a hurt and betrayal that tore at Deacon’s resolve. “Get out,” she whispered. “Get the hell out of my apartment.”

  Deacon turned, and without another word, walked away.

  AFTER BEING ON PATROL for most of the day, Marly decided to take a break that afternoon and swing by the school to see Sam. Not that she planned to unburden herself to him or anything. She and Sam were close these days, but there were still some things a sister couldn’t tell a brother, and her night with Deacon Cage was one of them.

  All day long, Marly had tried to convince herself that what had happened between her and Deacon was no big deal. People had one-night stands all the time. But she didn’t. She’d never been able to take sex that casually until Deacon had made her—

  Marly shook her head, determined not to think about it anymore. Determined not to dwell on what just might be the biggest betrayal of her life.

  Funny how even catching her own fiancé in bed with another woman hadn’t affected her so deeply. Hadn’t hurt her this badly. In fact, after her initial anger and disgust wore off, Marly had been secretly relieved because it had given her the perfect excuse to break things off.

  But what Deacon had done…

  Marly knew she wasn’t going to get over that for a very long time. He’d tapped into her worst fear and used it against her. That was unforgivable, especially considering that she had begun to suspect there was more than attraction between them. She had even started to care for him, maybe even to fall for him a little, but that was over with now. Marly never wanted to see him again.

  All she wanted to do now was talk to her brother. After seeing Max Perry at church the evening before, Marly was starting to get a strange feeling about the high school counselor, and she wanted to ask Sam a few questions about the man’s past. After all, she knew nothing about Max and he just happened to fit the killer’s profile, at least age-wise. And the more Marly thought about it
, the more she wondered if Sam might have mentioned details of their grandmother’s suicide to Max. Details like “Gloomy Sunday.”

  It was a long shot, but Marly no longer had any doubt that something very sinister was going on in Mission Creek. She’d seen too many things, felt too many things, that couldn’t be explained away.

  Pulling into a parking space at the front of the school, Marly got out and headed up the sidewalk. Following school policy, she went by the office before heading back to Sam’s classroom.

  A young woman carrying an armload of papers dashed into the office right behind Marly. She took one look at Marly’s uniform and stopped in her tracks, her face going pale. “Oh, no. What happened? Why are you here?”

  “I’m just here to see my brother,” Marly explained. “Sam Jessop?”

  The young woman let out a long sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” She walked around the counter and dropped down into a chair where she began to fan herself with one of the papers. “You’ll have to excuse me, but it’s been a crazy morning around here. We’re shorthanded and Mr. Henesey is on a real tear. He should just fire that woman and be done with it, but it’s not my place to say anything—” She caught herself and glanced up. “Sorry. Mr. Jessop, you say?” She tapped a few keys on her computer. “Oh. He’s not here today.”

  “Not here,” Marly repeated. “Did he call in sick?”

  “No, it says here he’s taking a personal leave day. Did you want to leave a message or anything?”

  “No, I’ll just catch him later. Thanks anyway.” Marly started to turn away, then paused. “What about Max Perry?”

  “I saw him just a little while ago, but I don’t know if he was heading back to his office or not. I can page him if you like.”

  “No, don’t bother,” Marly said. “I’ll just stick my head in his office and see if he’s there.”

  “Go down the hall and make a right. It’s the first door on your right.”

  “Thanks.”

  Marly had no trouble locating the door marked Counselor, but Max wasn’t inside. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was about. She could just have a quick look and be on her way before anyone was the wiser.

  Hurrying over to Max’s desk, she gazed down at the assortment of folders and reports scattered across the top. She had no idea what she was looking for. She had no real reason to suspect Max Perry of anything except that shortly after she’d seen him at the Glorious Way last night, the killer had followed her into the bathroom.

  Didn’t mean that Max was guilty, she reminded herself as she thumbed through his desk calendar. A few pages back, a notation at the bottom stopped her. Marly stared at it for a moment, frowning. Meeting AT was all it said.

  Meeting at? Marly wondered. Or Meeting A.T.?

  A.T.

  Amber Tyson.

  Marly quickly glanced at the date at the top of the page. It was the day Amber and David had died.

  Voices sounded from the hallway and Marly quickly flipped the calendar back to the current date. Then grabbing pad and pen, she began to scribble a note.

  By the time Max walked through his door, she was able to glance up and say quite convincingly, “Oh, hey, Max. I was just leaving you a note.”

  His gaze narrowed a bit before he said cheerily, “Marly! This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

  She straightened and came around the desk, putting herself between Max and the doorway. “Phil Garner called the station. He wants to know if we’re interested in doing his show again next week.”

  “Hmm. I’ll have to check my schedule.” Max walked over to his desk and glanced down at his calendar. Marly’s heart skipped a beat. Had she returned it to the proper day?

  “He didn’t mention a particular day,” she said quickly. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

  Max glanced up. “That’s fine. But you didn’t have to drive all the way over here for that. You could have called and left a message.”

  Marly tucked a stray twig of hair behind her ears. “Oh, I know. I wanted to see Sam anyway, but the receptionist told me that he’s not here today.”

  Max scowled. “He’s not? I saw him last night. He didn’t say anything about feeling under the weather.”

  When had he seen Sam? Before or after he’d attended the service at the Glorious Way?

  “I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” Marly said. “Maybe he just needed a day off. Don’t we all?” she added.

  He gave her a quick once-over. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Marly shrugged. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “You seem a little…tense today.”

  Marly couldn’t imagine why. She was chasing an elusive killer who offed people with his mind. She’d slept with a man the night before who’d turned her into a woman she didn’t even recognize. And in spite of the way he’d manipulated her, violated her, Marly still couldn’t get him out of her head.

  Tense? That was an understatement. “I’m just a little tired. It’s pretty hectic at the station these days. Someone’s kid doesn’t make it home in time for dinner, the parents call the station, frantic because they’re sure something terrible has happened. Everyone in town is on edge.”

  Max toyed with a pencil on his desk. “This has to be especially hard for you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He bounced the rubber eraser off the desktop. “Sam told me about your grandmother. That’s a pretty traumatic thing for a twelve-year-old kid to go through. He said you had nightmares about it for a long time afterward.”

  For a moment, Marly was mesmerized by the movement of the pencil. Then she glanced up, meeting Max’s gaze. There was something in his eyes…

  Or was that her imagination? Marly tried to pull her attention back to the conversation.

  “He says he sometimes still has nightmares about it,” Max said softly.

  Marly moistened her lips. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this conversation, as if Max was purposefully feeding her information to pique her curiosity. Or to taunt her.

  “Sam still has nightmares? Then why in the world did he move into Grandmother’s house?”

  The pencil eraser bounced again. “Maybe he thought he could exorcise some old ghosts.”

  “Maybe.” Marly hesitated. “Did he tell you any of the details of her death?”

  “Enough that I have a pretty clear picture of what you must have seen. She hanged herself, right?” Bounce. Bounce. “Sam said she was wearing a lilac dress that day.”

  Marly caught her breath. “He told you that?”

  A little smile tilted the corner of Max’s mouth. “He told me a lot of things, but for some reason, the color of her dress stood out in my mind.”

  “He must trust you a lot if he told you all that,” Marly said.

  He smiled again. “We have a lot in common. I’m sure that’s why our friendship has developed so quickly.”

  “Like what?”

  “Our profession for one thing. And our fathers, for another.” He glanced up. “My father was a career army man, too. He was stationed at Fort Stanton when I was around fifteen. In fact, I remember hearing about your grandmother at the time it happened. Army bases are a lot like small towns. News travels fast.” He paused. “You look a little pale, Marly. Why?”

  “I didn’t know you used to live here, that’s all. I had no idea.”

  “After the old man was sent overseas, my mother and I moved back up north for a while. But I really liked it here. That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to come back. In a strange way, I’ve always considered Mission Creek my home.” When Marly didn’t respond, he tilted his head. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Was he trying to tell her something? Marly wondered. Was he sending her some kind of message here? She summoned a smile. “Like I said, I’m just tired. Exhausted really. And I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. Besides, I have to get back to the station.” She turned toward the door, more than anxious to ma
ke good her escape. Suddenly being alone with Max Perry didn’t seem like a good idea.

  “Marly?”

  Reluctantly, she glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  He bounced the pencil one last time on the desk, then caught it in his hand, as if to demonstrate how well he could manipulate his own reflexes. “You take care.”

  Their gazes locked for a moment, and Marly shuddered.

  PATTY FUENTES HURRIED UP to Marly as she signed out at the station a little while later. “Did you hear?”

  “Hear what?” Marly asked absently as she checked her name off the roster. “I just got here.”

  “There’s been another suicide.”

  The pen fell from Marly’s fingers as she glanced up. “Who? When?”

  Patty shivered. “Crystal Bishop. A neighbor found her a little while ago and called it in. Navarro’s on his way over there right now.”

  Marly didn’t wait to hear the rest. She turned and hit the door at a run. Darting across the parking lot, she climbed back into the squad car and headed across town, to the subdivision where Crystal Bishop lived.

  All the way there, Patty’s words kept echoing in Marly’s head. Another suicide. Another suicide.

  But Marly knew better. It wasn’t suicide. It was murder.

  She wondered for a moment if she should try to find Deacon. Their personal relationship aside, she needed his help. The whole town needed his help. The killer couldn’t be stopped without him.

  But something drew her to Crystal’s house. Already dreading what she would see, Marly pulled to the curb behind Navarro’s car and got out. Another squad car was in the driveway, and Marly knew there would be more arriving shortly. The whole Mission Creek Police Department would turn out for this.

  A young deputy she barely knew was throwing up noisily in a flower bed as Marly crossed the yard. His partner, Pete Tenney, greeted Marly from the porch. “Another rough one, Jessop.”