Denouement (The Darkness Series Book 3)

by Brightmore, Cassia

  Early mornings were the only time he felt at peace. When the demons of his past weren’t floating in front of his face reminding him that he wasn’t worthy of a peaceful, happy existence. He deserved every moment of misery, every molecule of despair that plagued him.

  Thick, black swirling smoke.

  Orange, red and yellow flames dancing up the wall to the ceiling.

  The deafening crash as the roof caved in.

  The tortured screams for help fading into silence. “West!”

  West shook his head to clear away the unwanted memories. The recollection of his brother screaming out for help haunted him on a daily basis. He could still feel the smoke choking him, the burn of the fire tearing up his arm as he’d fought to get to his brother. His chief had been the one to pull him from the burning building, otherwise he probably would have died right along with his brother that day. A fact that still infuriated him. They should have fought harder to get Bennett out and not him. He should have been the one left him behind. It should have been him that died, not his little brother. The survivor’s guilt he felt was like a thick black tar coating his lungs, it consumed his every thought, controlled every emotion. He’d failed his brother; his parents in the worst possible way. It was his job to protect Bennett and he’d let them all down. He’d never forgive himself for not saving his brother’s life.

  Ever since the fire that claimed Bennett’s life five years earlier, he’d become known as the town recluse. With the exception of leaving the house for his job as a firefighter, he kept to himself. His brother had been his last living relative leaving him completely alone when he died. He’d grown used to the long stares and loud whispers from the citizens of Stockton Crossing when he ventured into town for supplies. He wasn’t alone in blaming himself for Bennett’s death. The only time he remotely felt like himself was when he was at work. He’d been unable to give up his job as a firefighter, no matter how much the painful memories haunted him. It was the last connection he had to his brother and he refused to let it go.

  The only one that had remained friendly to him was the little red-headed librarian, Aubrey Sinclair. She was a local, like him, although their paths had never crossed seeing as he was five years her senior at thirty-two. He’d always been intrigued by her and her twin sister, Autumn. Being identical meant nothing—the two were as different as night and day. Autumn had always been known as the town’s wild child, whereas Aubrey was much more reserved; timid to a fault.

  During his self-inflicted seclusion, he’d taken to reading biographies. It passed the time during the endless hours of his days off from the station and getting lost in someone else’s life helped him forget the shambles that his own was in. Lately, during his weekly visits to the library, he’d taken a lot more notice of the shy Aubrey. She’d been more visible at the front desk checking out the books than usual and he’d overheard that the library was running short on resources and couldn’t afford to staff extra help, which was likely the reason for the increase in Aubrey’s duties. Not that he was complaining, with her long curly red hair and bright green eyes; she was a much better view than the pimple faced kid that usually checked out his books. A definite improvement in his opinion. Especially when their eyes met and a delightful blush stained her cheeks. West found himself fantasizing about what other parts of her body turned that pretty shade of pink.

  Opening the paper, the headline caught his eye, “The Matchstick Man Strikes Again.” Skimming through the article, his blood ran cold. Another body had been discovered in what was becoming a serious problem in their small town. Whoever this “Matchstick Man” was, he was a damned psychopath. Three people had been killed in the last six weeks. Each tortured beyond recognition through various stages of burning. The report stated that the coroner had confirmed that this latest victim was the same MO as the previous two. The Sheriff’s department was quoted as saying that they had the situation “under control” and their first priority was to apprehend the person responsible as quickly as possible. West’s eyes tracked down the page to the black and white photo of the pretty young girl who had been the most recent victim. Serena Collins. At twenty-three, she was way too young to have lost her life in what the report described to be a gruesome end. Evidence of severe burns over ninety percent of her body proved that she had truly suffered before succumbing to her injuries.

  “Fuck,” he swore. Something needed to be done and fast. This fucker had balls, he’d abducted Serena in broad daylight. She’d been missing for days before her body was discovered in a dumpster behind the theatre. Who knew what kind of unspeakable acts she’d been forced to endure in the sick fuck’s grasp.

  With a regretful sigh, he drained the last of the coffee from his mug and stood up, closing the paper. He wasn’t due back at the fire house until the following morning, a trip to the library to catch a glimpse of a certain librarian was just what he needed to push aside the thoughts of fires and death.

  * * *

  Aubrey Sinclair pushed her heavy cart of books down the stacks, absentmindedly searching for the geography section. Slowing to a halt, she picked up the first heavy text from the pile on her cart and made a gap on the shelf just wide enough to wedge it into the correct place.

  The library was her sanctuary, her love for the written word was no secret to anyone close to her. Her sister, Autumn, often teased that she’d learned to read before she learned to walk. She didn’t understand the absolute pleasure one could find between the pages of a good book. Escaping reality and getting lost in a history book about the First World War, or slipping into the romantic tale of a knight in shining armour saving the damsel in distress—there wasn’t anything she didn’t love to read. She considered herself a literary connoisseur; she took her job as head librarian very seriously and made it her business to know every book that the library housed.

  She knew that people perceived her as boring; but that didn’t bother her. Autumn was outgoing enough for the both of them. Her sister could be a lot to handle at times, but she wouldn’t change a thing about her. She lived her life with no regrets, no worries about what others thought about her or that she would make an irreparable mistake. Her carefree attitude was one that Aubrey admired; secretly she wished she had just a smidgen of Autumn’s confidence. To live without fear or censorship would be a refreshing change for her. Her reservations and insecurities kept her from exploring anything beyond her familiar, day-to-day routine.

  She moved farther down the aisle, placing books on the shelves as she went. Stretching up on her tiptoes to reach a higher shelf, she felt her modest black pleated skirt raise up her thighs. Pushing the book with the tips of her fingers, she almost got it back into its rightful place.

  “Ahem.” A throat cleared behind her, startling her and she let out a yelp, her body jerking. The book slipped from her grasp and tottered off the shelf, narrowly missing her head as it crashed to the floor with a thick thud.

  A muffled laugh had her spinning around, blushing when she caught sight of the figure standing there, staring at her in amusement.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, Ms. Sinclair.” Lieutenant Weston Hunt looked contrite. He uncrossed his arms from his chest and dropped them to his sides. “I was going to offer my help, but if your protocol is to create an avalanche of books, perhaps I better keep my distance,” he teased.

  Feeling her face burn even more, Aubrey fiddled with the buttons of her pale pink blouse, relieved when they were still done up to just under her chin. Bending slightly, she retrieved the fallen book from the floor.

  “It wasn’t an avalanche,” she argued. “One book. And I wouldn’t have dropped it if you hadn’t snuck up on me.” Her tart response surprised her, his comment had gotten under her skin. She respected the books she cared for and was insulted that he thought otherwise.

  West chuckled at her and held up his hands in surrender. Aubrey tried not to notice the attractive way his longish dark hair fell over one eye when he moved. “You’re right, I’m sorry.
I was hoping you could find a book for me,” he explained. For several months now, he’d been coming into the library and borrowing a few biographies at a time, always returning them in pristine condition. Aubrey had been surprised at how interested he seemed in reading; it didn’t matter the subject—as long as the book was a biography. She’d heard the gossip about him around town; how he was basically a shut-in now besides his job at the fire station. Everyone seemed to give him a wide berth, but with her, he’d always been pleasant and courteous.

  He moved forward and closed the distance between them. Her heart skipped a beat when he reached for her and she nearly took a step back until she realized he was just taking the book. His hand brushed hers, sending an unwanted tingle down her spine, causing butterflies to take up a slow beat deep in her belly at his close presence.

  He smiled at her as he easily placed the book on the top shelf, his several inches of height on her making it an easy feat. “Thank you,” she told him, offering him a shy smile.

  West turned to look at her, pinning her in place under the heat of his stare. He took in the way she nervously shifted from foot to foot, her hands jittery as her fingers fluttered over her collarbone, moving to toy with the buttons on her blouse. Small buttons that were just as tantalizing as a low-cut top exposing flesh. Something about the way Aubrey was covered up was so damn sexy. A delectable treat just waiting to be discovered.

  “No problem, sweets. So, any recommendations for me today?” he asked, keeping his tone light. Aubrey nodded and pushed her black rimmed glasses back up her nose. Moving the cart to the side of the aisle, she motioned for him to follow her.

  “I was actually thinking about you,” she began. Even with only a side view of her profile, West could see that her admission flustered her. She really was fascinating to observe in her interactions, a rare innocent soul. Tilting his head, he watched the gentle sway of her hips, appreciating the way her skirt was just tight enough to outline the shape of her ass. The little librarian was definitely alluring; he’d love to be the one to peel back her layers and discover the passion he suspected was hiding beneath her reserved exterior.

  “Steve Jobs or The Tudors?” Blinking, West came back to the present. Aubrey was looking at him expectantly, holding two thick books in her hands. He’d been so focused checking her out, he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  “Steve Jobs,” he replied automatically, hoping she didn’t ask him any questions. Who the hell was Steve Jobs?

  His choice seemed to please her and she returned the other book to the shelf. They walked to the front desk in an easy silence, West deliberately brushing her arm with his. She stiffened, but didn’t protest. Rounding the desk, she glanced up at him with her green eyes, looking away quickly when she found his gaze locked firmly on her.

  Wanting her to get used to him being close, West put both elbows on the counter and leaned forward, watching as she swiftly tapped keys on the computer.

  “Um, do you have your library card, Lieutenant?” she asked, not meeting his eyes.

  “West,” he corrected her. “You can call me West, Ms. Sinclair.” He liked the way she squirmed when he said her name that way, a long slow drawl that flowed off his tongue. He’d like to do a lot more with his tongue than just say her name. The pull he felt towards her was magnetic, growing stronger every encounter they had. His reaction to her surprised him, as he’d been so far removed from humanity and any type of emotion ever since Bennett died. Her scent invaded his nostrils, light and floral. It too had an innocence to it that just made her that much more desirable. Looking at her, he noticed the crease between her brows as she chewed on her bottom lip, nervously waiting for him to produce his library card. He couldn’t resist teasing her a bit.

  Her eyes followed him as he deliberately puffed out his chest so the muscles stretched his white t-shirt. He withdrew his wallet from the back pocket of his loose fitting jeans in a slow motion, flexing his bicep as he brought it around to the front. He inwardly chuckled as Aubrey’s eyes widened watching his display. Her reactions were so open and honest; every emotion played across her expressive face. He had an overwhelming urge to find out how she’d look coming apart beneath him.

  “Here you go. Aubrey.” He deliberately used her first name. She opened her mouth to protest as she took his card from him, slamming it shut when the front door banged, sounds of rustling and shuffling feet following.

  Autumn Sinclair burst into the library in a whirlwind, shopping bags weighing her down as she flounced to Aubrey’s side in a swirl of colour.

  “Aubs! I struck gold in shoes. I mean like, gold. You won’t even believe what I got for us and for practically nothing. No more arguing, once you see these sexy as fuck shoes, you’re finally going to stop wearing those clunkers around here. Seriously, how are we ever going to get you a date if—” she broke off mid-sentence, finally noticing West standing there, taking in the scene.

  “Well, hey there, hot stuff,” Autumn fluttered her eyelashes at him, flipping smoothly into a flirtation.

  “Ms. Sinclair,” he greeted her politely. Autumn looked between the two of them, noting West’s casual stance and the high colour on Aubrey’s cheeks. Cocking her head, she considered them; curious as to what she’d interrupted.

  “Oh God, call me Autumn. Ms. Sinclair sounds like a little old lady,” she waved her hand at him. Aubrey remained silent, tapping the keyboard and swiping West’s library card.

  She put his card on top of the book and handed both to him, jumping slightly when his thumb brushed hers. “There—there’s your card back, Lieutenant. West. I mean West,” she stammered, completely out of sorts.

  West offered her a sexy grin as he stuffed the card in his pocket and tucked the book under his arm.

  “Thanks for the suggestion, Aubrey. See you next week. Autumn,” he nodded to her and then winked at Aubrey before heading out the door.

  Aubrey could feel her sister’s eyes boring into the back of her head as she busied herself moving papers around behind the desk.

  “What was that all about?” Autumn asked, moving to stand in front of her, hands on her hips.

  “What was what about?” she evaded, picking up a stack of books that had been waiting to be put away for over a week. She started to head back towards the stacks, hoping that Autumn would drop the subject.

  Hearing the clatter behind her as her sister followed her, she knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

  “Don’t try fooling me, Aubs. There was something going on there. He was looking at you like…”

  “Like what?” she pressed when Autumn broke off.

  “Like he was starving and your prissy little buttons were gonna pop right open and offer him a delicious little treat.”

  Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Lieutenant just comes here to get books. You know as well as I do that he doesn’t socialize with anyone. Not since…” she trailed off, not wanting to say the words.

  “His brother died. I know. But it sure looked to me like he’s starting to wake up and rejoin the living. And he wants to start by letting you pump the life back into him,” Autumn informed her, hopping up onto the top of a low filing cabinet, swinging her legs back and forth.

  “Get off there. And no one is going to be pumping anything, so just drop it. If he’s ready to come out of his shell again, that’s great, but I can promise you it has nothing to do with me. I’m not interested in him like that,” Aubrey’s words lacked conviction, even to her ears.

  Thankfully, Autumn grew bored with the conversation and switched topics. “So did you hear? They found another body over by the theatre. This shit is getting more fucked up by the day. They need to catch this creep.”

  “I heard it on the news this morning. It’s so awful, I remember her from school,” she replied as she placed the books on the shelf. “I’m sure the Sheriff’s department is doing everything they can to find whoever is responsible.”

  Autumn snorted. “I wouldn’t trus
t those guys to rescue my shoes from the telephone wire. But for all of our sakes, I hope you’re right. I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of this guy.”

  A chill ran down her spine at Autumn’s ominous words. For once, she agreed with her sister. It didn’t seem like this was anywhere close to being over.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jeffrey Sanders opened his apartment door with his arms loaded down with two large buckets of fried chicken and all the fixings. Kicking it closed behind him, he headed to the kitchen and set the food down, grabbing a paper plate from the stack on top of his fridge. Ever since his wife left him two years prior, his once home cooked meals had turned into him picking up fast food from whichever restaurant was offering a special on his way home from his job as a janitor at the local high school.

  Piling his plate high with drumsticks and coleslaw, he poured himself a healthy glass of Pepsi and moved to the living room to take up his usual dining spot in front of the TV. Flipping on the sports channel, he settled in his seat and dug into the delicious, greasy chicken.

  A bucket and a half and two glasses of Pepsi later, he was well on his way into a food coma. Sitting with his pants unzipped, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “Oh, come on, you idiots! This is a hockey game! You should have brought your damn skates, not ballet slippers! Unbelievable. Bloody Maple Leafs can’t hang onto a lead to save their lives,” he yelled out in disgust. If only he’d kept up with the sport, he may have been one of those players on the ice, instead of watching the game from his couch; alone.

  Letting out a loud belch, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Maybe those last couple pieces of chicken had been a bad idea. Feeling his eyelids start to droop, he got up to go to bed rather than spend another night sleeping on his couch.

  Holding his pants up with one hand, he stepped into his short hallway, intent on hitting the bathroom before bed. A shadow crossed the corner of his eye and he had a split second to think what the fuck? before a bat was swinging towards his face. He ducked, catching himself and his attacker by surprise when he tackled him at the waist, sending them both crashing to the linoleum floor. Grunting, he caught an elbow in the gut as he struggled to get to his feet. Managing to untangle himself, he got upright to run to his bedroom where his own baseball bat was hidden. He barely made it a step before he crashed to the floor once again, this time bashing his head off the wall on the way down. He’d tripped on his pants that had fell down around his ankles.