by Brenda Novak
“Well, I’m accusing him of arson.”
“You’re that certain.”
Sadie wished she had seen more of the man who’d been in the yard Friday night. That dark figure was almost like an apparition—just an amorphous shape with little or no detail that she could tie to her ex. “I have no other explanation for what happened.”
“That doesn’t mean it was him!”
“Who else could it be?”
Maude didn’t answer that question. “He asked me not to permit a secondary investigation,” she said.
“He what?” Sadie cried.
“He says it’s a waste of money, that the work has already been done. So what’s the point? It’ll just drag his reputation through the mud for nothing. And he’s owed more than that after all the service he’s given this town. I’ve always liked him.”
“You barely knew him before I moved in, Maude. And since then, you’ve liked him because he wants you to like him. He wanted you to welcome his visits, think nothing of how often he stopped by, speak to him freely and give him whatever information about me that you would. He can’t be trusted. Please let the inspector come onto the property and do what we’ve hired him to do. I wouldn’t spend money I don’t have if I wasn’t completely convinced it was necessary.”
“But Sly’s a police officer!”
“That’s the problem! Because he’s a police officer, he knows how to get away with things other people might not. And he knows that no one on the Silver Springs force would want to find anything that leads to him, so there’s a little bit of safety there, too.”
“Safety? You’re saying the Silver Springs police force would protect him even if he were guilty? You’re accusing our entire department of corruption?”
“I’m not accusing the department. Given my suspicions, I believe I should have an unbiased party take a look—that’s all. The expert who’s coming will have no vested interest in pointing a finger at an innocent party. I’m not fabricating a case, Maude. If I were trying to do that, I’d lie and say I saw the man’s face when I looked out the window. Instead, I’ve been honest. I’m merely in search of the facts. If the facts drag someone’s reputation through the mud—Sly’s or anyone else’s—maybe that’s the way it needs to be.” What about Dawson’s reputation and what had been done to that? Sadie thought, but she didn’t bring it up, since she knew Maude would only defend his detractors. “Please? Let the inspector come,” she pressed. “Let’s see what he finds. That’s the only way I’ll be able to put my mind at ease. If I’m wrong about Sly, I’ll be the first to apologize—to both of you.”
Maude sighed into the phone. “Okay. He won’t be happy about it. I feel bad that he’ll perceive me as siding against him. But if this specialist you’ve hired can bring us some resolution, I’m all for it. At least then, like you say, you’ll be able to breathe easier.”
Sadie closed her eyes in relief. “I hope so.”
“Just tell me this isn’t because you’ve grown infatuated with Dawson Reed,” Maude said. “I don’t know anything that can cloud someone’s judgment quite like a new romance.”
“No,” she said. “How I feel about Dawson has nothing to do with it.”
“Really? Because Sly claims you’re sleeping with him. That you announced it at the diner.”
“I didn’t announce it, exactly. Sly accused me—as he always accuses me whenever I’m around another man—and I told him what he deserved to hear.”
“So it’s true...”
Sadie wasn’t willing to lie. “What happens between Dawson and I has no bearing on anything else.”
“Love makes people do crazy things, Sadie. I’d hate for you to be taken in if...if Dawson isn’t the man you think he is.”
“I understand. You have nothing to worry about. I’m not acting the way I am because I’m infatuated with him,” she said. And that was true. Dawson wasn’t the reason she believed Sly set the fire. Dawson wasn’t the reason she felt she should have the origins of the fire examined by an independent third party. Sly alone was to blame for that.
It was true, however, that she was developing feelings for Dawson. Although she’d cleaned his parents’ room because she wanted to be kind to someone who had suffered enough, someone who’d been there for her when she’d most needed a friend, kindness wasn’t what had her lingering outside his door every time she got up to go to the bathroom late at night.
22
“You’re quiet tonight.”
When he spoke, Sadie shifted her gaze to Dawson, who was sitting on the couch not far from the chair she’d taken. Since she’d put Jayden to bed an hour ago, she and Dawson had been flipping through channels, catching part of the news and then a little Sports Center. They had the house ready for Robin Strauss’s visit first thing in the morning. Every room was spotless, the vandalism had been fixed, the fields were in the process of being tamed—which showed that Dawson could likely support Angela—and all the broken junk and trash had been removed from the yard. But there were still things that needed to be fixed, things that weren’t as high on Dawson’s priority list, so Sadie guessed Dawson was nervous. He’d been quiet, too.
“Just tired, I guess.”
“Would you rather watch something else?” he asked.
“No.” Although she wasn’t a big sports fan, she didn’t see any reason to make him change the channel. She wasn’t paying much attention to what she saw on the screen. She had so many worries, and yet all she could think about was the night she’d made love with Dawson in the field—how raw and visceral and incredibly satisfying it had been, and how badly she wanted a repeat of that experience or the one that’d come after, in Dawson’s bed. The strength of her desire, the way she craved the opportunity to touch him whenever she saw him, surprised her. Maybe she didn’t have a low libido as Sly said—he was always telling her stuff that made her feel as if she didn’t measure up to his expectations in some way—because it was all she could do not to get up and straddle Dawson right now, while he was sitting on the couch.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
The feel of his skin. The taste of his kiss. The weight of his body as he pressed her into the mattress. That seemed to make the terrible stuff go away, at least for the moment. But she couldn’t say so. They’d managed to redraw the lines they’d crossed, needed to wait and see what the fire investigator found before making any decisions on whether or not to pursue a relationship. She was too dependent on him right now, couldn’t afford to get any more intimately involved in case it ended up ruining her job situation. Even if things between them worked out, chances were she’d have to move. Sly was in a more volatile state than he’d ever been. Why start something she might not be able to finish?
“What Maude said on the phone,” she replied, just to have an answer. “I’m shocked Sly would have the nerve to come right out and ask her not to allow Damian Steele access to her property. I mean...I lived behind her for a year. That he believed he could hold sway with her over me shows how delusional he can be.”
“I’m not shocked by that at all,” Dawson responded. “I’m shocked that she was even tempted. From what you told me of your conversation, it wasn’t all that easy to convince her to oppose his wishes.”
“I don’t hold that against her. She’s a fair person. Doesn’t like conflict. And he can be very persuasive.”
Dawson turned off the TV and set the remote on the coffee table. “Regardless of her excuse, I’m encouraged he made that move.”
“Encouraged?” she echoed.
“It shows that he’s worried.”
“I agree.” Turning off the TV seemed to create a vacuum of sound. The sudden silence made her even more self-conscious. She tucked her feet beneath her. Because the box of items she’d picked up at the police station had included only a few things, she was still limited
on clothing, so she was once again wearing his sweats with one of his T-shirts. “I wonder what he’ll do when he finds out that Maude’s going to allow it despite his request.”
“What can he do?”
“Treat her crappy from here on out. That’s how he operates. He’s nice as long as you give him what he wants. If you refuse, he tries to punish you.” She pulled the tie from her ponytail and raked her hair back so she could redo it. “I’ll feel terrible if he targets her for petty driving or parking citations he would’ve overlooked before. Now he’ll be searching for any excuse.”
“Did he do those types of things to people when you were married?”
“All the time. He used to laugh when he got the better of someone. It makes him feel powerful.”
Dawson’s lip curled in contempt. “It’s time people quit putting up with his bullshit.”
She drew a deep breath. “Yeah, well, I think he understands that I’m not coming back to him now, don’t you?”
“Would he take you back? After you told him you slept with me?” A faint smile curved his lips. “And that you liked it?”
She wasn’t sure they should be talking about this. Just the mention of their night together made her tingle. “I don’t know. He accused me of cheating on him a lot while we were married. But I never did. I never even dared to have a male friend, let alone a boyfriend.”
“About the other night...”
Her heart started to pound. “Yes?”
He opened his mouth to say something. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. We have a big day tomorrow. We’d better get some sleep.”
“Right. Time to turn in,” she agreed, but when he went upstairs, she didn’t move. She sat there for several minutes, hoping to stifle the desire that had made it almost impossible to stop her gaze from following him wherever he went.
Although she went down the list of reasons she’d be foolish to act on that desire, it didn’t make any difference in the end. All resistance fell by the wayside the moment she passed his room. He was just coming out. She wasn’t sure where he was going, and she didn’t ask. She simply walked into his arms, caught his face between her hands and kissed him as if he was all that mattered in the world.
* * *
Sly turned off his headlights as he pulled off the highway and crept through the countryside along the canal in his cruiser. He knew the way, had been here three times before.
The route he’d chosen was filled with large potholes, but it would eventually lead him to the rear of Dawson’s property, and getting there without being seen was all that mattered. Chief Thomas had chewed his ass out for what he’d done in the restaurant—and threatened his job if he went anywhere near Sadie again. Thomas wasn’t going to let Silver Springs PD become the subject of the next documentary on the abuse of power—that was what he’d said.
Sly cared about the force, too. The force was his life. But he refused to let Dawson Reed get the better of him. The same held true for Sadie. He’d do whatever he had to. He just wasn’t sure what that should be. Everything that came to mind, everything he imagined, was vicious. And if Dawson and Sadie suddenly went missing, he’d instantly become the prime suspect.
He had to be smarter than that, had to figure out a way to retaliate without putting his own ass on the line.
“You’re going to be sorry,” he muttered. He’d been saying that since he learned about the arson specialist, and his anger had only grown hotter since Maude Clevenger had called to let him know she was going to allow the investigator to come, after all. Sadie had talked her into it; Maude had said she owed it to Sadie to grant the request. Maude had also indicated that if he wasn’t responsible for setting the fire, he had nothing to worry about.
Except he did have something to worry about. He had a lot to worry about. Dawson and Sadie could cost him more than he could afford to lose—his job, the respect of his friends and family, even his freedom.
How dare Sadie work against him. Embarrass him by announcing to everyone in the diner that she was glad to be in someone else’s bed. File a complaint with the police force he worked for. Try to put him behind bars by proving he set the fire.
That fire had definitely turned into a lot more than he’d expected. It had spread so fast. But even then, it wasn’t such a big deal that it should destroy his whole life. Before he left her place that night, he’d made sure no one was going to get hurt. And Maude’s homeowner’s insurance would cover the damage. If it went down as unsolved, everyone could be okay. That was how it should go.
But Sadie and Dawson refused to let it. And if the truth came out, no one would believe he hadn’t intended to harm anyone. He’d be charged with attempted murder—and Sadie would be the first to testify against him.
The unfairness of that rankled so badly he couldn’t help grinding his teeth. Damn them. He wasn’t going to let them get away with it, wasn’t going to let them ruin his life.
He slowed as he came to a particularly narrow spot in the road and edged over to one side so he wouldn’t hit an irrigation pump. He was getting close, he could see the outline of the farmhouse in the moonlight only 200 feet or so away.
His tires crunched on the rocks that filled a low spot in the dirt road as he slowed even more. From there, he inched along until he reached the same vantage point he’d used before and cut the engine. He could see the yellow glow of a light through a second-story window. Was that Sadie’s room? Or Dawson’s? And it was late. Why was the light still on?
After what Sadie had said in the restaurant, he thought he could guess, but imagining her having sex with Dawson—moaning in pleasure as he pumped into her—created such a thirst for violence. He kept imagining sliding his hands around her neck and squeezing until her face turned blue, which made it impossible for him to focus on anything else. She’d had him so worked up the past few days he couldn’t eat or sleep!
You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you...
Yes, and I’ve never enjoyed anything more...
That was essentially what she’d said to him. The mere memory of her defiant expression made him long to smash her face. How dare she taunt him, when she knew his biggest complaint had always been how complacent she was in the bedroom. That was why he’d gone elsewhere occasionally: for some excitement! A man needed a good thrill every once in a while. It wasn’t as if he’d cared about those other women. He would never have touched them if she hadn’t been so resistant to trying some of the things he’d shown her in various porn flicks.
She was boring. Too straitlaced for him. He was glad to be rid of her, he told himself. Now he could do whatever he wanted, and he had no one to answer to. She couldn’t even give him a decent son. While other men’s boys were out playing baseball, his child was in the bedroom playing Barbies. Jayden was an embarrassment. Yet she stood up for him all the time, refused to let his own father teach him how to be a man.
He didn’t want her back. Not anymore. He just couldn’t take her running around town, acting as if she was so much happier with someone else, especially Dawson Reed. And he couldn’t let her bring that damn investigator to town.
His door creaked as he opened it, but there wasn’t anyone in the fields to hear. He waited and listened, to be sure. But it was every bit as quiet as it had been when he’d come here before.
After he climbed out, he closed the door softly and walked toward the house. Although he didn’t have any specific plans, he couldn’t make himself stay as far back as he always had before. That light, imagining Sadie inside, drew him closer—and closer.
Once he reached the yard, he crept across it and tried to peer through the windows. But everything was dark downstairs. Whatever was happening was happening above him, and he wanted to know what, if anything, that was. Otherwise, he could achieve no satisfaction.
He needed to get inside, he decided. Just to listen.
Knowing they were so close, so vulnerable, would make him feel as if he was still in control of the situation—for a few minutes, anyway. He wouldn’t stay long.
After checking, once again, to make sure he was going unobserved, he approached the back door—and tried the knob. Son of a bitch! It was locked.
But that wouldn’t stop him. He’d just have to find another way in.
* * *
Dawson could hardly catch his breath for the intensity of Sadie’s kiss. Even though he’d been dying to touch her again, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t press her. She needed time.
But his body had acted almost of its own volition. When he’d heard her footsteps on the stairs, he’d intercepted her, intent on saying something, anything, to stall her for a few moments. He told himself he just wanted to talk, but, truth was, he couldn’t stand the thought of spending another night in his bed alone.
Fortunately, it hadn’t come to that. She acted as if she’d only been waiting for the right opportunity, because she certainly wasn’t holding back.
“Trying to leave you alone has been torture,” he said as his hands found their way up the back of her shirt where he could splay his fingers against her soft, smooth skin. “I’ve been miserable. Constantly imagining you naked against me. Imagining myself inside you. Hoping but not wanting to ask.”
“With everything that’s going on, it’s crazy I can even think of sex,” she said with a husky laugh. “But I haven’t been able to get you off my mind, either.”
“Then I’m glad you broke down.”
She kissed him again and again—hungrily, as though she might never get enough. “Tell me we’re not making a mistake,” she said as they gasped for breath. “Because I’ve never wanted a man like I want you. I can’t quash the desire, can’t even curb it.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, and she put her legs around his hips to make it easier when he lifted her and carried her to the bed.
“Wait. There’s so much that could go wrong for us...” she said.
