Fade To Black

by Leslie Parrish

  Tim had just sipped his coffee, but he quickly spewed it back out into his cup. This time, a real smile appeared. It emphasized his scars. It also emphasized the beautiful color of his eyes. And broke her heart a little. “Jeez, I was petrified it might happen.”

  “Me, too! I thought you were all for it.”

  “You kidding? She’s a barracuda. If a man could will himself to have a heart attack, I’d think Mr. Covey did just to get away from her.”

  “Lucky guy,” she said with a laugh. Laughing. With her brother. How rare was that?

  “Randy’s had it tough,” Tim insisted. “We’re there for each other, thick and thin. Right and wrong.”

  That right and wrong part really stuck in her head. “Tim, I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “You asking as the sheriff?” he snapped.

  “No. I’m asking as your sister. Someone who loves you.”

  His green eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, she thought he was going to open up. She braced herself to listen without reacting, knowing he was really worried about whatever was going on.

  But he hedged, repeating, under his breath, “He’s always been there for me.”

  “I know. But right now, he’s not the kind of person you need to have ‘there’ for you. He’s not helping you, and he could be hurting.”

  Tim’s coffee sloshed over his cup as he lowered it to the table. Her brother was actually shaking.

  “Tim, please, tell me what it is. Are you… Have you been taking something?”

  He rose abruptly. “I’m not on drugs.”

  “I know Randy used to do them.”

  “Years ago,” he snapped. “He’s not anymore. End of story.”

  “I’m sorry.” Stacey reached for him. “Please don’t go.”

  He hesitated, then ducked away from her hand, as if he didn’t want to be touched. But the anger left him and he quietly murmured, “You have to go to work tomorrow, keeping Hope Valley safe from the evils of the world. I’ve kept you up late enough.”

  Knowing it was useless and that he’d shut himself down for now, she rose to her feet as well. “Safe from the evils of the world, huh? Guess you haven’t been following the local news.”

  “Oh, hell, I totally forgot. I heard about Lisa. That’s rough.”

  “Her mother certainly thinks so.”

  Tim flushed. “Dick told you I was in the bar the night she disappeared.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Thanks for not calling me out all big, bad sheriff sister in front of everyone.”

  “I intended to stop by and see you tomorrow. Randy, too.”

  “He’ll tell you the same thing I did. Lisa was drunk, like everybody else in the place.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  He shook his head, sneering now, for real. “Are you kidding? She couldn’t even look me in the face. Oh, she never said anything; she might have been a little cock-tease, but she wasn’t mean.”

  Stacey zoned in on the most surprising part of his statement, ignoring the self-pity in her brother’s voice. “A cock-tease? I thought when she was using she gave it away left, right, and center.”

  “Maybe to a rich guy on the left, a well-hung guy on the right, and a drug-connected one in the center. Not with average dudes like Randy or ugly ones like me.”

  She rolled her eyes at the self-slam, too used to them to even argue with him about it anymore. Instead, she focused on this new aspect of Lisa’s personality. Had the young woman had simply turned down the wrong man one too many times and drawn the Reaper’s ire?

  “How late did you and Randy stay?”

  “I was there until closing. He left a little before that. I think he got antsy when your deputy came and hauled his brother out. I guess the punk used to run around with Seth or something, and Randy wanted to make sure his kid wasn’t trying to score beer, too.”

  “You saw Mitch show up to get Mike?”

  He nodded. “Oh, yeah. He grabbed Lisa and tried to get her to leave with them. Got ugly for a minute. Shame he didn’t convince her; things might have ended up a lot differently.”

  Yes, they might have. They probably would have, in fact. Mitch was a good guy; he’d been trying to help Lisa Zimmerman; she felt sure of it.

  But that surety still didn’t erase the tiny hint of suspicion about why Mitch hadn’t come clean about his relationship with the troubled young victim.

  “Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

  Though she wanted Tim to stay and tell her the real reason he’d come over tonight, she didn’t press her luck. This was the first time he’d reached out to her, and she wanted him to come back. She wanted him to want to come back. And hopefully, the next time he did, he’d be ready to reveal a little more.

  Despite that, as she walked him to the door and kissed him good-bye on his poor, scarred cheek, she murmured, “You could go see the doctor down at the VA again.”

  He tensed.

  “I’m not criticizing. Not judging. Just making the suggestion. If you can’t talk to me or to Dad, maybe you could talk to him.”

  Tim stared down at her, saying nothing. But she knew him well enough to know he’d at least consider it, because she hadn’t ordered, hadn’t browbeaten him. She’d simply made a suggestion. It was the only way to deal with the man lately.

  After her brother had left, Stacey locked the door behind him and returned to the kitchen. She’d barely touched her coffee, but it didn’t matter. Caffeine couldn’t jazz her up any more than she already was.

  Too bad Dean wasn’t here. Though, of course, it was better that he hadn’t been when Tim showed up. Her brother would never have stayed. But now, facing the long night, she’d like the company. Her mind swam with details about the case, things she’d learned, things she’d speculated. Tidbits that seemed important, though why they should be remained just out of mental reach.

  It was almost one o’clock. She needed to try to get some sleep. Still, she couldn’t help eyeing the phone as she cleaned the kitchen.

  As if by magic, it rang.

  She grabbed it, laughing and about to ask him if he’d read her mind. “Dean?”

  Silence.

  “Hello?”

  That ominous nothingness stretched on for several seconds. Unease made her throat tighten. Images of Lisa, memories of the vicious surprise someone had left on her porch, filled the recesses of her imagination. “Who the hell is this?”

  No answer at first, then one single word.

  “Bitch.”

  The call disconnected.

  12

  Though he wanted to, Dean wasn’t able to get back to Hope Valley until early Tuesday evening.

  Amber Torrington’s brutal murder had debuted at Satan’s Playground Monday morning. And her body-in two pieces-had been discovered later that afternoon.

  The team had known someone was going to die. They knew why. They’d had a rough idea who. A broad picture of where. And they’d regrettably known how.

  Yet they hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to stop it from happening.

  He had no business leaving D.C. Having spent most of yesterday and today in the woods of southern Pennsylvania, where the body had been found, he’d returned to the office to see whether Lily or Brandon was getting anywhere with the security tape. That they hadn’t had any luck provided him with a good reason to head back to Hope Valley. If they were truly working under the assumption that the man was at least familiar with the area, they needed somebody who might recognize him to watch the tape.

  Stacey.

  It was the only video he was going to ask her to watch. Because what that sick fuck had done to Amber Torrington had made him puke for the first time since he’d been on this case.

  Beheading, it seemed, was not as easy as it appeared on video games and movies. The fiend had had to work at it. Hard.

  Arriving on the outskirts of town, he headed for the sheriff’s office. Considering he hadn’t spoken to St
acey at all since he’d left her place Saturday night, he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get. Not that he hadn’t wanted to; he’d just been run ragged. He’d conducted interviews, overseen evidence collection from both scenes, talked to nearly every employee in the mall. Somewhere in there, he could have made a cell phone call to Stacey, but there was too much to say in a phone conversation.

  She’s a cop. She’ll understand.

  She was not like his ex, who’d wanted hourly reports on when he’d be home for dinner and had occasionally dumped said dinner onto his chair when he didn’t make it. As if Dean should have been able to dictate when evidence could be discovered or violent criminals could be arrested.

  When he reached the office, though, he learned Stacey wasn’t there.

  “Sorry, Agent Taggert,” said the same older, big-haired receptionist. “She’s out at the range doing some target shooting. Lots of them have been going out there the past couple of days.”

  Oh, great. If Stacey was brushing up on her marksmanship, that obviously meant she thought she might have to use a weapon sometime soon. Something he knew would not make her happy.

  “Thanks,” he said after getting directions.

  After a quick drive, he arrived at the range. That was probably an exaggerated name for the actual facility, not much more than an old farm with a dirt berm bullet stop and some shot-out weathered plywood to hang targets on. The parking lot was choked with weeds, and potholed down to bare dirt in places, showing a general lack of use that confirmed what he’d figured: Stacey and her deputies didn’t use this place very often. Until now, when he and his team had brought news of Lisa Zimmerman’s murder to their quiet world.

  He spotted her at once. Parking and cutting the engine, he sat in the driver’s seat and watched. He leaned forward, dropping his crossed arms on the steering wheel, a slow smile widening his mouth.

  Because, damn, she was hot.

  Wearing hearing protection, she hadn’t noticed his arrival. She stood alone, a few yards from his car, clothed in jeans and a bright pink tank top.

  He’d seen her in her uniform. He’d seen her in her underwear. He’d seen her naked. He’d just never seen her dressed down. And the woman did some amazing things for a pair of jeans and a clingy top.

  Her legs were slightly spread, arms extended straight out, shoulder height. The left hand cupped her other wrist, beneath the gun, for support, and the right flowed seamlessly into her Glock as if it were an extension of her own limb. As he exited the car, she grouped seventeen rounds through the center of a paper suspect’s chest. From twenty-five yards. In under twenty seconds.

  Repeat: hot.

  Knowing better than to sneak up behind an armed person who wouldn’t hear his approach, he leaned against the hood of his car, his arms crossed, watching. She was empty and had to change clips, which was when she caught sight of him. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a quick, spontaneous smile broadened her mouth.

  Despite the past couple of days, and his own bone-deep weariness, he somehow found a smile of his own and returned it.

  “Hi,” she said as she walked over, holstering the nine-millimeter. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I hope the target practice wasn’t on my account,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry I haven’t called.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t shoot guys who don’t call back. Leave the toilet seat up, however, and all bets are off.”

  “Noted.”

  The smile flashed again, brilliant and honest and so good after all the darkness that he wanted to just lose himself in it. In her.

  Yes, they had a lot to talk about regarding the case. He wanted to know if she was okay, if she’d gotten over the nightmare someone had left on her porch. But what he most wanted was to get her alone and make love to her the way he’d planned to Saturday night.

  The urge to tug her against him and kiss her overwhelmed him, but he resisted. They were out in public, in a spot where her deputies came for target practice and could pull up at any time. No way would he put her in the position of being disrespected by one of her subordinates.

  When he got her alone in private again, though… well, as she’d said, all bets were off.

  “You okay?” she asked. “I saw on the news that the body had been found.”

  So much for a tender reunion. She was already back into the case. Exactly as he’d expect her to be. “Yeah. It was a rough scene.”

  “In Pennsylvania?”

  “Right over the state line. Talk about jurisdictional nightmares. But you might be able to help.”

  She nodded immediately.

  “We’ve got surveillance tape from the mall where the victim was snatched. There’s a good chance the unsub was stalking her, memorizing her movements and her schedule.”

  “You want me to watch the tapes? See if there’s anyone who might have had a connection with Lisa on there?”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask. We’re talking hours and hours.”

  “Of course. I’ll start right away.”

  He nodded in appreciation, though he’d had no doubt she would do it. Seeing her wipe a sheen of sweat off her brow, he said, “The car’s still cool. Want to sit?”

  She was one step ahead of him, already opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. Before Dean had even started the engine, she reached for the air-conditioner controls, adjusting a vent to blow cold air directly on her face. She sighed in pleasure as the AC blew tendrils of her hair loose.

  Since they were inside the closed car, he risked personal contact, knowing he had to touch her or lose his mind. He reached over, brushing his fingertips over the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck.

  She turned into his hand, rubbing her cheek against his palm. That was all. The touch was simple, nonsex ual, yet loaded with personal connection. It pleasured him the way even an embrace with any other woman wouldn’t have.

  Which said a lot about how much she’d been on his mind in the past few days. How much they’d been on his mind, as crazy and impossible as it was.

  “Are you going to be in town for a while?”

  He shook his head. “I have to be back in the office tomorrow morning. And tomorrow evening I get to spend time with my son.”

  She nodded.

  “But D.C.’s not that far a drive,” he said with a slight smile. “I could see myself commuting in the morning.”

  “Mm,” she murmured, lightly kissing his palm, “and I am noble enough to save you from the bedbugs at the inn, if you’d like to stay at my place.”

  “Thought they didn’t have them. Immaculately clean, you said.”

  “Maybe I exaggerated. My bed’s nicer, isn’t it?”

  “Infinitely.”

  Staring into his eyes, she admitted, “I’ve been hoping you’d come back.”

  “I’m back.” His voice was husky, the touch of his hand on her lips sizzling and electrifying. He wanted her again. Badly. “I don’t know which I find more arousing, you kissing my hand, or shooting out that target in under twenty seconds.”

  Stacey laughed softly, sounding so sweet and feminine, such a fascinating mix of strength and softness. Wondering about that strength, and how she’d held up after he’d had to walk out on her the other night, he asked, “Are you okay? After what happened Saturday?”

  She nodded, obviously realizing he was asking about the horror on her doorstep. “I don’t know who did it, but I’m working on it. I helped my dad bury her on Sunday.”

  “Stacey, I don’t want to worry you, but we have to at least consider the possibility that the guy we’re looking for is afraid you’re getting a little too close, and wants to scare you off.”

  “It occurred to me. And then I unoccurred it.”

  He didn’t laugh. This wasn’t funny in the least.

  “Honestly, it’s not me he’d be after; it’s you guys. And he’s not exactly the subtle type. If he did want me, I don’t think he’d leave a mes
sage.”

  No, probably not.

  “It’s never been anything this bad before, but it’s not the first time some redneck, beer-swilling asshole has decided to get even with me for writing him a ticket or hauling him in on a DUI. I’d lay money that’s what we’re talking about here.” She opened her mouth, then closed it quickly, as if she had more to say but had thought better of it.

  “What?”

  Indecision washed across her features. But before she could continue, a car drove by, flying down the country road at an unsafe speed. She jerked away from him and leaned forward toward the windshield, glaring after it. “Damn. Missed the license plate number.”

  Soft woman to hard-edged cop in less than ten seconds. What an irresistible combination.

  Clearing her throat, she spoke again, as if the subject of the dog, and whatever else she’d been about to tell him, had never come up. “You said you’re having problems with jurisdiction in the case?”

  He let her get away with it, knowing Stacey wasn’t the type to hold back if something was really important. She said what needed to be said, when it needed to be said. He had no doubt that if she had something else on her mind, she’d tell him when she was ready. “Yes. Wyatt’s jumping through hoops to keep on top of it. But at least it’s made the BAU sit up and take notice. They’ve stopped stonewalling the agent working on the profile. We should have it in a couple of days.”

  “I bet we can make a couple of assumptions about this guy even without it.”

  “You know, assume is a very bad word in law enforcement.”

  “I know, I know. But come on, there are a few obvious points.”

  “Such as?”

  “He was probably an abuser of animals.” Incredulous, given what they’d just discussed, he merely stared.

  “I still don’t think what happened to Lady is connected to this,” she insisted.

  Giving up, he merely replied, “Okay. Animal abuse is actually a strong commonality among serial killers. Know anyone with a history of that kind of thing?” Frowning, he added, “Or two anyones?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I know of. But I’ll ask my dad.”