Murder on the Mountain: A Marshall Brothers Novel

by Carolyn LaRoche

“Hello?” a voice called from the dark. “Detective Marshall?”

  “Follow the fence but don’t touch the gate when you pass through. It’s covered in black powder,” Vonda answered for him.

  A few seconds later, a young officer entered the yard. “Hey, Vonda,” he said when he saw her, passing a look of admiration in her direction.

  Vonda gave him a slight nod as she pressed a piece of lifting tape to the gate handle. “Sawyer.”

  The officer walked over to where Adam stood on the patio. He looked confused. “You needed backup, sir?”

  “I’m on a protective detail. Can you hang out here until Vonda’s done working the scene?”

  “Sure thing, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir. I work for a living.”

  Sawyer’s very fair face flushed a bright red. “Sorry, s—I mean, Detective.”

  Adam clapped him lightly on the shoulder, then pulled open the back door. “Thanks, kid.”

  Emma stood in the kitchen when the police car pulled up. As she decided to go and see why, she heard the back door open.

  “Emma?”

  “In here!”

  Adam filled the doorway with his broad, muscular shoulders, the room overflowing with his strength and presence. She sucked in a breath as her heart rate kicked up a notch. For a quick moment, she forgot that the only reason Adam stood there was because someone wanted to kill her. They weren’t young and innocent anymore. The relationship they’d had was over and done with years ago.

  His intensity as he looked at her set all the butterflies that had recently moved in to her abdomen in flight. She quickly quieted them down with a reminder of why she and Adam could never go down that road.

  “Di—did something else happen?” Emma finally remembered how to make words again.

  “No?” Adam sounded confused. “Why?”

  Emma motioned out the window. “The police just showed up.”

  Adam smiled, the warmth of it washing over her and making her think things she shouldn’t—like how nice it would be to lean into his chest and feel the strength of his arms wrapped around her.

  “Officer Sawyer is going to hang out with the crime scene tech so I can be inside with you. I don’t want you out of my sight any longer than necessary until we find this guy.”

  “I hope it won’t take too long.” Emma regretted the words immediately. She made it sound like she didn’t want Adam around, which had become the furthest thing from the truth. Even if she had no right to feel that way

  Adam smiled, maybe with a tiny hint of sadness. She couldn’t be sure; it had been so fleeting. “We’ll get your life back as quickly as we can. I know I’m the last person you want hanging around all the time.”

  Stepping closer, Emma put a hand on Adam’s arm. “I don’t feel that way at all.”

  There went that hint of sadness in his smile again. “You don’t have to do that. I understand. It’s scary having someone want you dead.”

  The back door opened. “Hey, Detective! You got a sec?” a male voice called.

  “That’s Sawyer, the patrol officer I requested. I’ll be right back.”

  Emma took a long, deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. She’d not been entirely honest with Adam. Having him around all the time wasn’t easy. There were so many things he didn’t know about adult Emma. Things that didn’t fit with the young, stars in her eyes version of Emma that Adam had always known. Things that would change the way Adam saw her forever.

  It was selfish, she knew it, especially when her heart skipped a beat or two whenever he touched her, no matter how casual the contact.

  She’d gone to Adam for help. Yes, she’d witnessed a murder and Adam was a cop. But Staunton had many cops. She could have called 911. Running to Adam was purposeful—the perfect excuse to see him again after so many years.

  Adam had been her first friend when her family had moved to Staunton. A shy second grader, Emma had had no idea how to make friends. When she fell on the playground and Adam was there, offering his hand to help her up, she knew in that moment that she’d always be able to count on him.

  If only Miranda hadn’t decided that Adam would be her New Year’s kiss. If only Emma had stopped Adam from kissing her under the mistletoe. Miranda wouldn’t have seen it and taken off in her daddy’s too-fast car. She wouldn’t have lost control of that car and wrapped it around a tree. Emma’s best girlfriend would still be alive, and Emma would have had no idea what it felt like to kiss the first man that had ever entered her heart.

  Running off to school in Richmond after graduation let her escape the choices she’d made as a teen. Staying in Richmond to work for the local paper had only led to a series of even worse choices, things that had sent her back home with her tail between her legs under the guise of house sitting for her parents.

  Mama had always said, what’s done is done. Nothing would change the past, so Emma had to focus on the future. If she had one anymore—this story was supposed to be her big break back into freelancing.

  She finished clearing up the dishes from dinner, pushing aside all thoughts of the past—even the recent past. As she dried her hands and turned off the light, Adam returned.

  “Going to bed already?” he asked.

  “Already?” Emma pointed to the clock on the microwave. “It’s nearly midnight.”

  Moonlight poured in through the window over the sink, casting shadows over Adam’s features. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were dark from the shadows or from how close they stood. His breaths fanned lightly across her face, each one stepping her heart rate up just a little more.

  He lifted his hand slightly, like he wanted to touch her, then dropped it back down to his side, his expression turning neutral. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. The tech is finished up out back. Sawyer is stationed out front. I’ll stay in the living room to keep an eye on the back door.”

  “Do you really think he will come back?” Emma asked.

  Adam frowned. “I didn’t think he’d come here tonight at all, so we can’t assume anything. This guy means business.”

  Emma sighed and leaned on the counter, suddenly exhausted. “I can’t believe I picked that moment to look in the window of the cabin. If I’d been ten minutes later—”

  This time Adam did reach up and touch her cheek briefly. “You can’t think like that. Everything happens for a reason.”

  “Did you just hear yourself?” Emma laughed. “You sound like my mother.”

  He shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “I didn’t take you for the God-has-a-plan type.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that’s my thought process. But I do believe in karma, and she has a serious beef with this guy.”

  “Yeah, I guess she does.” Emma opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. “I’ll get you some blankets and a pillow for the couch.”

  “I don’t need much. Not planning on sleeping anyway.”

  Emma stopped walking toward the hall and turned around to look at Adam. “You can’t stay up all night.”

  “I’m not much of a sleeper. I’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t know if she should believe him or not. “I’ll bring you a blanket and pillow anyway, just in case you change your mind.”

  Adam nodded. “Okay.”

  Emma heard Adam walk to the back of the house as she pulled open the door to the linen closet. She should have known when they were kids he’d grow up to be a police officer. Seeing him now as a grown man whose protective streak had morphed into a career of protecting and serving his town did fluttery things to her heart. Grabbing a soft quilt her grandmother had made many years ago, she went to her bedroom and got one of the extra pillows from her closet. All the years she’d been gone, and her parents hadn’t changed a thing.

  Carrying the items with her, Emma returned to the living room. Adam stood by the couch, a black bag op
en on the coffee table. He pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing trim, hard planes of muscle.

  Emma sucked in a breath. Adam turned around, a look of surprise on his face as he held the shirt in front of him. “My other shirt had black fingerprint powder on the sleeve. That stuff gets everywhere.”

  It shouldn’t have been a big deal. She’d seen Adam shirtless plenty of times at his parents’ pool when they were teenagers. Adult Adam looked a lot different than teen Adam though.

  A jagged scar ran from his navel up and over the rise of his right hip. Emma stepped closer, reaching out but not quite touching the raised skin. “What happened?”

  Adam shrugged, quickly pulling another shirt over his head. “A guy brought a knife to a gunfight, and I wasn’t fast enough with my gun.”

  “You were working when it happened?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. About three years ago. Staunton had a run-in with a serial killer. The Blue Ridge Killer.”

  Emma lifted a hand to her mouth. “That was you? I mean, I read about the case but no one ever mentioned your name.”

  “There was an FBI Agent, Bill Ryan. It had been his case up until—Leslie. He deserved the glory for the capture. I wasn’t interested in any of it.”

  “But with you in a relationship with Leslie, that’s a huge detail of the case. It should have been all over the media.”

  “I asked them not to put my name in the police reports. And for once, people listened. Agent Ryan wanted the publicity. I didn’t. It was—” Adam paused and took a deep breath. “I thought it might be easier on her family if my name wasn’t connected to hers online for the rest of time, since her death had basically been my fault.”

  “Your fault? How—”

  Adam held up a hand to stop her. “He took Leslie because he wanted to taunt me. I’d figured out who he was, and we were so close to stopping him. He killed her, then himself, leaving a full video confession to eight other murders as well as a recording of what he did to her.”

  “Did you love her?” Emma asked.

  He shrugged. “We talked about getting married, having a family one day.”

  “But were you in love with her?”

  Adam nodded. “I was. You were gone. I knew we’d never be together so I tried to move on.”

  “Oh, Adam.”

  He turned away, making a big deal out of folding his dirty shirt and setting it on the coffee table. “It’s just the cost of doing business. Sometimes people in my line of work get hurt.”

  “That was so much more than sometimes people get hurt. How have you kept going? I think that would have ended me.”

  Adam turned back to face her. “I don’t have a choice. What else would I do? Police work is what I know. I live with the knowledge every single day that I couldn’t save her, but I had to go on.”

  Emma hugged the linens she held to her chest in an effort to resist wrapping her arms around Adam. The intensity of his stare could have rivaled any hurricane. “I’m so sorry you had to experience that.”

  Adam reached up and ran his fingertips lightly along the line of her jaw. He didn’t want to talk about the killer or Leslie’s death anymore. He had to focus on the current threat and preventing history from repeating itself. “It’s life, Emma. Sometimes we get hit with a curve ball and it knocks us to the ground.”

  The tiny trail of sparks his touch left in its wake shot straight through her. As she handed the blanket and pillow to him, her hands shook. Instead of taking the bedding, he clasped her hands with his. “Your fingers are freezing.”

  “They always are. Except in July. Maybe August.”

  He set the pillow and blanket on the couch and rubbed her hands gently. “I don’t remember you being like that when we were kids.”

  Emma shrugged one shoulder. “Things change. People change.”

  Adam looked at her curiously but let the subject, and her hands, go. “Thanks for the stuff. I think I’ll watch a little television. Can you show me where your dad keeps the remote control?”

  Emma reached into a drawer in the coffee table and pulled out two. She handed him a good-sized black one. “This controls everything. Except for the volume. You need this one.” She handed him a smaller grey one. “I have no idea why, but we can’t get that other one to change the sound.”

  “Got it.” Adam grinned, his playful demeanor back in full force. “You need me to tuck you in now?”

  Emma rolled her eyes, remembering how she couldn’t fall asleep as a child unless her dad tucked the blankets in all around her. “I’m not twelve anymore, Adam. I can put myself to bed now.”

  He winked. “Just making sure. Since your mama and daddy are away and all.”

  She batted him with a throw pillow. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “But also adorable.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. He was way more than adorable. Adam had grown to be a full-blown hottie. “Good night, Adam.”

  “Good night, Emma! Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Adam called after her, repeating her father’s nightly mantra. She cursed the day she’d ever told him about that bedtime ritual.

  Seven

  Emma closed her bedroom door and leaned against it, willing her pulse to slow down. There hadn’t been a man in her life since that night Adam kissed her. Oh, she’d dated, but no one had really won her over. They’d never stacked up to her first love. And as far as she could tell from what she’d seen and experienced since showing up at the police station that afternoon, there never would be anyone who could.

  Adam had gotten finer with age in every way possible. His skinny boy frame had grown into perfection. The deepness of his voice was in high contrast to his middle school years, and the way her blood had burned when he touched her… well, that had definitely changed too.

  “You’re a hot mess, girl,” she said to her reflection in the mirror over her dresser as she pulled out a pair of pajamas.

  And, she was. In so many ways. Her hair was a matted knot. She’d probably just have to burn her clothes after all they’d been through that day. She couldn’t imagine any of her mother’s fancy smelling detergents getting the dirt, grass, and grease stains out of her shirt or her jeans, even if the denim hadn’t torn across her knee.

  The hot water of the shower felt amazing. Emma shampooed and then conditioned her hair, finger combing the tangled curls as she did. Muscles that had been tight, relaxed some. Her fall on the mountain had left her knees bruised, her face cut and her palms scraped up. The body wash burned slightly where her skin was raw. As she washed away the dirt of the day, her mind wandered back to the man sitting on her parents’ sofa. How many times had they sat there together, watching a movie or yelling at a football game? She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d missed her childhood best friend.

  Except her body hadn’t reacted to Adam like he was an old friend, the traitor.

  She stayed in the shower so long, the water began to run cool. Shutting off the taps, Emma grabbed her towel and dried off before wrapping her hair in the towel and pulling on her pajamas.

  Her joints ached, probably from all the running for her life she’d done that day. Not to mention the multiple tumbles she’d taken. All she wanted to do was collapse in bed and pass out, but her mind had switched to hypervigilant mode. Not because her life was in danger but because the man she’d worked so hard to scrub from her heart and her mind had undone all her efforts with one easy smile and a couple innocent touches. If only she were the same woman she’d been when she left Staunton all those years ago, maybe she’d be enough for a man like Adam.

  Pushing aside all thoughts of the way his scent had wrapped itself around her in the kitchen, making it hard to keep her words coherent, Emma crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.

  Tomorrow she had to find a place for the dogs to stay for a couple of days. Then she had to figure out where to go h
erself. It wasn’t fair to expect Adam to guard her day and night.

  As her eyes slowly closed and she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts traveled back to that night so long ago. She could almost feel his arms wrapped around her, the safe feeling she’d always had with her oldest friend taunting her. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Adam did have to watch over her day and night. Just for a little while.

  Adam spent a good portion of the night after Emma went to bed reliving the night of Leslie’s murder. All the anger and sadness he’d worked so hard to lock away made an appearance as the events of that night marched through his brain like a movie reel. Leslie’s lifeless body, the killer dead beside her and the video confession. How many times had he tortured himself watching that video looking for some way he could have saved Leslie?

  Agent Ryan had been beyond angry at Adam for getting to the crime scene first. He’d been working the Blue Ridge Killer case for months, so Adam understood his thirst for blood and glory, sort of. At least no more women would die and he could go home and nurse his broken heart and mourn the loss of the woman he loved.

  Sometime around sunrise, his demons finally settled back into the chest he reserved for them in the back of his mind. Stretching as he rose to his feet, Adam did a quick once over of the doors and windows then headed to the bathroom.

  A light bang sounded at the back of the house. Adam stopped and listened. It sounded again. Grabbing his gun and slipping his feet into his boots, Adam walked quietly to the back door and looked between two slats on the blinds. The sun had barely begun to peek up over the horizon, so it was hard to see the entire backyard, even with the outside lights turned on.

  There it went again. Soft, steady, and distant. He moved to the front of the house and looked out the kitchen window, just in case he’d misheard the noise.

  It sounded the same there as it had in the living room. Working hard to be extra quiet, he punched in the alarm code, unlocked the front door and slipped outside. A neighborhood cat ran out of the driveway and into the street. A stiff breeze kicked up, but it didn’t seem to stop the birds that had begun their morning chorus. The sun had finally made it up over the horizon, glazing the dew-covered yard in shades of pink.