The NightShade Forensic Files: Under Dark Skies (Book 1)

by A. J. Scudiere

  His father had been a volatile man, and Donovan knew only one thing: don’t have friends. Everything else was up in the air. He could get yelled at for making dinner as easily as he could for not making dinner. He could get in trouble for fighting, or he could take a beat-down for having taken one at school. He’d never known which way trouble was coming. The old skills of silence and stillness crept back over him.

  His shoulders didn’t move. His breathing shallowed. Though his brain wanted to ask questions—Would he just get a new senior partner? A new case? Or would this mean he was completely out of NightShade? Could he get shuffled into the regular FBI? And what would he do there?—his past taught him to shut down. There was no advantage to be had until he knew more. He knew the drill. Listen and nod. Take what came, do what you were told and disappear. Become invisible.

  But he was now a grown man. In a tiny car. And Eleri turned on him, green eyes flaring into darker shades of jade. Her lush features pulling tight, somehow becoming sharper as she threw her anger his direction.

  When she spoke it was almost as though she was casting a curse on him, binding him from her. Had her hair flown wild and her eyes sparked he wouldn’t have been surprised. “You do not control me. You do not attempt to control me. You have no idea what you did.”

  “What did I do?” The words tumbled from him even though he knew it was wrong to ask. Even though everything he’d learned told him to stay out of it, he engaged anyway. Because Eleri wasn’t his father. Because he had chucked his father to the far winds as soon as he was able, but he couldn’t chuck this.

  Seeming to realize she’d crossed some kind of line, Eleri pulled back, both physically and emotionally. For a moment Donovan wondered if this cool, icy version was maybe worse than the fire of the moment before.

  “Did I ever put a collar on you and walk you down the street?” She stared at him, held his gaze and didn’t let him break it. “Did I demand that you change in front of me? Did I follow you and try to catch you at it?”

  He could only shake his head. He was starting to see what she meant. She hadn’t crossed the line. He had. “I’m sorry.”

  “How sorry?” The ice cracked, just a little, and she seemed to genuinely want to know.

  But Donovan had no answer. He was sorry because he’d pushed. He was sorry because she had treated him with more respect than he had shown her. He was sorry because she wanted him out and he would never have done it if he’d known she would feel so affronted and this would be the consequence.

  When he didn’t answer, she stared right through him again. “Do you know what I see?”

  A small shake of his head was all he could muster. He was still cold inside, still deathly afraid that this was the end of the road for him.

  “I have experienced a rape. I have been there when seven different people were killed—not in a car accident, though I’ve lived that, too. I watched seven different people get brutally murdered by another person. Twice, the killer wasn’t even driven to do it, it was just for fun. Three of those people were children. I have been beaten and taped to a chair. I’ve been electrocuted, thrown in a hole, and left to die. I see it. All of it.” Her voice hitched, and she was shaking with just the telling of it. Donovan realized for the first time that she never let people know the whole thing. No one would ever really understand.

  “I feel it, too.” She turned away. “And none of it actually happened to me. I wake up in the morning having been beaten bloody, but there’s nothing to show. I have to brush my hair and get dressed and get to work on time. I can’t prosecute the perpetrators because even they don’t know what they did to me.”

  He couldn’t breathe. It flooded him, the realization that it was all going to hell and it was all his fault.

  Donovan almost flinched when she turned back to face him.

  “I’ll push you but I’ll never force anything on you. I am aware that—no matter what you’ve confided in me—I’m not you, I don’t live life in your skin, and I don’t deserve to make your decisions for you. And you do not ever make those decisions for me.”

  Only one single short breath in and she kept going. Donovan felt every word like a physical blow and knew now that every one was deserved.

  Her voice was quieter, the blows sharper and sliding smoothly into his flesh.

  “In the past, I have abused it. I pushed myself for the case and at the request of others. And it landed me in a mental hospital. I won’t do it again.” Reaching up, she tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, as though it were any normal day, as though they weren’t sitting in a running car, parked at the far end of a hotel lot. As though Donovan wasn’t getting fired. “I’ll bear what comes. I’ll use it. But I won’t reach out for it. Never again. And you have no right to invite it to my doorstep, because you have no idea what you’re playing with.”

  40

  Eleri stared out the window, the drive to San Antonio seemingly longer than it was last time. They drove through unexpected rain, fat drops falling from fatter clouds, bringing moisture the air most definitely did not need.

  Angry and hollow at the same time, she thought about Wade. One friend. There was really no one else for her to call. Her mother was pretty good in certain situations, but her advice was always the same. It was also laced with liberal doses of “we knew this would happen.” Eleri had bucked her parents’ plans for her from the moment she left for college. Thus, when anything went wrong, clearly what was best for Eleri was for her to do as the Eameses had wished all along.

  So it was Wade she called, to tell him she’d be there for lunch and that this time it would be just the two of them. She didn’t speak at all again and neither did Donovan until they pulled up in front of the building where Wade had his office.

  “I’m truly very sorry, Eleri.” This time Donovan looked like he was sorry he’d done it, not just that he’d been caught. This time he understood what he pushed on her.

  He shouldn’t have spoken. It brought everything back to the surface when she had finally managed to get herself down to a simmer. For hours, she’d been holding herself under tight rein, having found the picture after arriving back from dinner the night before. She’d been high on the details the Baxters had brought. They now knew Joseph was out and about, they knew who he talked to, and they knew he called himself James Denton. They also knew—as the Baxters had reminded them at Eleri’s frown of memory—that was Father Jim’s name at Zion’s Gate. Eleri had also been high on the Baxters’ joy at finding out something good had come from their offspring. Through dessert, she told them all about Jonah, wonderful things about his talent and his kindness and intelligence. Eleri was proud. Usually a case was about cleaning up messes, this time she made something.

  Then she’d walked into the hotel room and seen the picture on the bed.

  At first she was hit with terror, wondering if the men from the City had broken in. When she realized it was Donovan’s handiwork, she’d turned furious. Keeping herself together, she didn’t bust down the door and yell. She could have, even now she felt that would have been justified. Even now, looking at him, dealing with her own roiling anger, she stood with the car door open for a moment. She knew he didn’t have his bags packed. That he wasn’t ready to be cut loose. She knew he was shocked by her announcement.

  Well, she’d been shocked by his betrayal.

  Watching him through cool eyes, Eleri took in the dark coloring, knowing now the interesting details of his features were as useful as they were artistic. “It doesn’t matter that you’re sorry. It doesn’t fix anything. You were careless and you were arrogant, and the effect is the same.”

  She closed the door quietly and walked into the building, stopping only to flash her ID before heading back to see Wade.

  He stood up as she walked in, probably having smelled her as she came down the hallway. This time she assessed him more carefully. The same longish nose that Donovan bore hid behind his dark-framed glasses. His shoulder blades were long l
ike Donovan’s and she knew why now. Emmaline had brought her two wolves in the dream, and Eleri was glad now there hadn’t been an entire pack.

  He greeted her with, “You look like you need a hug.”

  “Actually, don’t. If you do, I’ll break.”

  He seemed to understand. He picked another hole-in-the-wall restaurant, this one Indian, and listened to her tell him what she could about the case. As he still occasionally consulted, his clearance was up to date and he was a wonderful sounding board. For a while, it was good just to eat and talk shop, not thinking about things falling apart.

  She was pushing her plate away when he finally called her bluff. “Tell me.”

  Eleri explained, trying not to crack and glad that Wade already understood most of it. So she didn’t have to explain like she had with Donovan. When her therapist initially suggested she tell Wade the truth, Eleri was convinced the woman was batshit. She almost proposed that the two trade badges; Eleri could be the sane one and this woman could wait in line for meds. But the doctor had been right.

  “Don’t request a new partner. Keep him.” Wade’s voice was ever calm, ever reasonable.

  She jolted almost as if he’d given her an electric shock. Wade was supposed to support her, her decisions. Then again, he’d never been much of a yes man. Not saying anything, not knowing how to respond, she waited.

  Wade delivered. “You didn’t have any dreams from it. It didn’t work.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay—”

  His hand came up to stop her, waving her words away. “I know. I know he violated your space and your trust and that you could have suffered greatly for it. I know you protect that carefully now.”

  She nodded, wondering how he understood all that but still suggested that she keep Donovan around.

  “But all your other partners used you, too. They learned to trust your hunches, pushed you into things, and you let them. In the profiling unit, you opened yourself up, and they ran with it until they turned on you.” He pulled his napkin from his lap and put it on the table, clearly looking for words. “What I’m trying to say is that everyone who even has an idea about this has tried to exploit it—including you. Your next partner probably will, too. The difference now is that you didn’t get hurt, and Heath has learned. He’ll never do anything like that again.”

  Eleri absorbed the ideas Wade was pushing on her. He was right, but was it the right thing to do?

  As usual, he started back up before she could process things. His brain ran about three times faster than everyone else’s, and he usually reached a conclusion while most normal people were back at the starting line. “Plus, you get a free screw-up with him. He owes you. Big time.”

  It was a half hour and a tall glass of Coke later before they left. She didn’t think Wade would go to any restaurant that didn’t have a coke for him—ethnic foods welcomed, cultural beverages be damned. But Eleri spent that time thinking and thinking hard, and in the end she had to agree with Wade. Donovan was a damn good partner; they worked together well. She needed to forgive.

  Harder to do than it sounded, it wasn’t just a switch she could flip. And she was never one to forget. If he did it again, he’d be out on his furry ass faster than he could blink. But she forced a calm and dialed his number. She offered no platitudes or niceties. “Where are you?”

  “Eating.” He offered none back.

  “Pick me up?”

  “Sure.” It was resigned sounding and she wasn’t ready to fix that just yet. If she was going to offer him his spot back, it would be face-to-face. If he suffered a while longer thinking she was going to kick him out, well, she didn’t really care.

  Eleri sent Wade back to work and was waiting just inside the front door when the little rental car pulled up, a grim Donovan behind the wheel. Sliding in, she took a moment to gather herself. She wasn’t going to apologize. “If you want, I won’t request a new partner.”

  There was a moment as the silence swelled and flooded the car.

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” He swallowed audibly and turned his whole body to look at her. His imploring expression compelled her to look at him, too, even though she didn’t really want to. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I won’t do anything like it again.”

  She wanted to be done with it all, just go back. Forgive, not forget, but get back to things the way they were. Latching on to the first thing she saw, she pointed to the empty container with a napkin and plastic spoon shoved inside. “Ice cream again?”

  “For lunch.” He grinned almost apologetically. “I felt like complete crap and figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

  She almost smiled back. “Let’s get the sonar and learn how to use it. Then we’ll drop a surprise visit on the Colliers.”

  THE REST of the day went smoother than Donovan expected. Eleri seemed to have lost most of her ire. But he wasn’t quite sure if she really felt that way or if she was using that airbrushed veneer of social politeness on him.

  When he learned she came from money, he could suddenly read the tinge of it in her actions—the slight tilt she could put into her smile, the softness she could wash across her features at a moment’s notice, even though her eyes stayed sharp. Eleri was an interesting mix, and right now her lack of anger was keeping him on edge.

  They traded out the rental car for an SUV, given the need to haul the good-sized device back to mid-Texas. At first glance, it looked like a small lawn mower or maybe a jogging stroller, but anyone who looked twice would realize it was neither. The tech referred to it as “the groundhog” without any irony.

  It took an hour to learn about the workings. Running them through the paces, the tech made sure they could each steer it easily—which was a little tricky as the wheels were large, all-terrain things. She made sure they could both operate the screen and snapshot features. They learned how to uplink the photos, so they would save even if they had to abandon the machine. She walked them through dimming the screen and dropping the volume since, like most devices, it made a noise to let you know it had completed the task. Then she marked all the settings for them. This one was one-of-a-kind, specially designed for the FBI, and ready for stealth operations like theirs.

  It took another hour to trade the rental car, and longer still to get the groundhog into the back and finally hit the road. Donovan had called the trucking company Collier worked for and found out the man had returned from a run yesterday. He hoped they’d be at home. If he and Eleri couldn’t confront the couple quickly, they would either have to come back another day or postpone the graveyard shift.

  The Colliers owned a modest home outside Leander, which was outside Austin and not at all on the direct path back to Brownwood. The road to their home was heavily wooded and relatively out of repair. Eleri, looking smaller behind the wheel of the big car, stayed quiet, leaving Donovan to wonder when the tension would completely ease. Along the way they passed stately brick homes, well-kept trailers, and places that looked like a hoarder was running a junkyard. All sat right beside each other, a stark contrast to the overly uniform gated communities that pooled out beyond the borders of Austin.

  There wasn’t much traffic in the area, so the two pulled off into the grass about a city block away, not wanting to alert the Colliers of the visit before they were ready.

  Eleri’s sigh was audible as she turned off the engine and reached for the door handle. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Walking down the road, ready to duck away should a car come up, Donovan was hoping his next assignment left them neck deep in snow. He could feel his shirt starting to stick and he wished he’d brought a water bottle, though they were trekking just far enough to scope out the house and see who was home, without pulling into the driveway yet.

  As they approached, Eleri quietly pointed to the window. Despite the fact that it was barely late afternoon, the three were clearly eating at the table. Donovan raised his phone and managed to get a picture.

  With a nod, t
hey continued around the side. Though they had confirmed the presence of the people they wanted, Donovan had learned that you didn’t stop there. Before entering, it was just as important to confirm the lack of presence of anyone else.

  Once they made a loop around the property and it became clear that the Colliers were really having dinner and not prepping for a surprise attack, Donovan and Eleri headed back to the car. Inside, she cranked the engine and ran the air for a few minutes, reading his mind.

  Plucking at his shirt again, Donovan opened the conversation and prayed that it wasn’t stilted. “So, how exactly do we do this?”

  41

  Donovan held back as Eleri knocked on the Collier’s front door. He could identify smells from the kitchen—venison and tomato sauce?

  Eleri wanted to take the lead. She’d told him to be present, be clear that he could be menacing if need be, but not just yet. He wondered if he should push his jaw out a little bit and offer a smile with some fangs, but he didn’t.

  Mrs. Collier answered the door wearing an apron over her dress, clearly interrupted from her dinner. “May I help you?”

  “Hi, my name is Agent Eleri Eames . . .”

  He listened as his partner went on with a perfectly pleasant introduction. She could have been trying to sell household cleaners, her tone was so sweet, but at the word “agent” he watched Carolyn Collier stiffen.

  “We were wondering if we could come in and talk to y’all?” Eleri ended.

  Y’all? He wondered. Good one.

  Still board straight, Mrs. Collier called over her shoulder, “Bernard, put all the dishes away. We have several guests here who wish to speak with us.”

  Her husband was clearly not catching on to her blatant hints. “Mother, can’t we just leave it here for later?”

  “No, sir. You make sure all our mess is put clean away. People don’t need to see what we’re having with us for dinner.”