Born to Die

by Winter Austin

He parked the car in her drive and stared out the windshield a moment. Her heart rate increased, and a tingling sensation erupted in her abdomen; the anticipation of what might come made her jittery. Would she do it? No, more like, could she do it? She glanced at Boyce then focused on the lights twinkling on her front stoop.

  “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “Do you want to stay for a nightcap?”

  They looked at each other.

  “Cassy, what …?”

  “Boyce, I ...” She bowed her head. “It’s okay. Forget I asked.” She reached to open the door, but his hand on her shoulder halted her.

  “You’re not getting off that easily.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “A nightcap would be nice.”

  “Okay then.”

  Boyce exited the car in a hurry, or it seemed to her like he was in a hurry. He helped her out, and they were up the walk and in the house in seconds.

  Definitely in a hurry.

  She slid out of her coat and shoes then padded into the kitchen. “What do you want?” she threw over her shoulder and then faltered to a halt, slowly turning.

  His coat and suit jacket removed, Boyce was loosening his tie and undoing the top buttons of his dress shirt. The searing look he gave her sent a zing of excitement from her chest to her toes. It was almost as intoxicating as their interlude in the Murdochs’ bedroom, when she’d thought she’d melt from the feel of Boyce’s hands on her body and his mouth teasing her with promises of endless passion. She became aware of her movements but not until she’d unconsciously walked back to him.

  “I don’t believe you want anything to drink,” he said.

  Taking hold of his tie, she coiled the end around her hands and thrust her body against his, their mouths melding together. That old hunger for him rose up, and she hooked her leg around his. Boyce gripped her thigh, his warm hand on her flesh creeping higher and causing her to moan. Snaking the tie free of his collar, she tossed it away and looped her arms around his neck, driving her fingernails through his hair, deepening their kiss.

  She had missed this. Missed how he made her feel and how it helped her forget who she was. How he could drive her to the edge only to drag her back and start all over, until he left her limp and satiated. God, how she wanted that again. To forget. To believe in the unattainable again. That he could love her.

  “Cass,” he said against her lips.

  “Don’t talk. Please,” she begged. If he did, he might talk her out of this, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  “I won’t.” He hefted her up, her legs straddling his waist. “Bedroom?”

  She smiled against his mouth. “Hell, no.”

  He shuddered, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Kitchen table it is.”

  • • •

  The gentle brush of lips on her shoulder pulled Cassy from slumber. Warm breath tickled the back of her neck as those magical lips found the sensitive point at the juncture of her neck and jawline. She pushed into his muscled chest, snuggling into the curve of his body. Boyce drew her closer, his arms trapping her against him as his mouth played havoc with her earlobe.

  She peeled her eyes open, squinting at the wall of windows. A gray morning met her hazy gaze.

  “Good morning,” Boyce’s gravelly voice rumbled in her ear.

  Stretching, she rolled to face him. She traced the contours of his face, soaking in his half-lidded gaze, tousled hair, and the provocative tilt of his mouth. Cassy inched closer and kissed him. As she pulled away, he followed her, never breaking contact with her lips, pulling her flush against his warm body.

  After kissing her until she was breathless, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Let’s stay this way all day.”

  “If only, but I have to get to work.” She nipped his chin. “Won’t Liza come looking for you if you don’t pick her up?”

  “Call in sick.” Boyce ran his hand along her curves, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of her breast, down to her hip. “A text will keep both of us off Liza’s radar.”

  Cassy shivered under his ministrations. The desire for a repeat performance of last night’s lovemaking made her burn for him. “There’s a set of murderers out there. I’ve got to catch them.”

  “You’re not a one-woman justice machine, sweet pea. Don’t take this all on yourself.”

  His words were like ice water on her fire. She blinked at him, shifting out from under his exploring hand. “This is my job, Boyce.”

  He stilled, a peculiar expression taking control of his features. Her heart seized—a memory of that same look came forward in her mind, chilling her further. It was an expression he’d given her right before he’d told her about the move to Memphis. Panic poured through her, killing the last of her desire.

  He’d gotten her in bed, taken advantage of the situation, and was about to blow her off. He’d lied about asking for an extension. Damn it, she’d fallen for it. When would she ever learn?

  “Cassy.” He reached for her, but she blocked his attempt.

  “I can’t believe you.” She scooted to the edge of the bed, out of his reach, and swung around.

  “What?” he demanded as she left the bed. “Cassy, what are you talking about?”

  Grabbing a shirt from her dresser, she jerked it on. “Get your shit and get out.”

  He bolted from the bed to block her escape, positioning himself in front of the door so she couldn’t pass him without brushing against his warm, naked body. “Not until you tell me what the hell has you going off the deep end.”

  She bit her tongue and looked away from that full-frontal assault. Yeah, like she could form a coherent thought with all that flesh parading before her. “You’re a real piece of—”

  The shrill ring of her landline put the brakes on her anger. She stomped back to the bedside table and picked up the phone on the second ring. “Rivers.”

  “Mind telling me why you’re not answering your cell?” Hamilton’s brash tone ripped through her head.

  “I forgot to turn it on, sir. Sorry. I’m on my way in right now.”

  “Don’t.” Hamilton’s voice cracked on the word, and dread socked Cassy straight in the heart. “Report to 2386 Aspen Road, ASAP.”

  She swallowed hard. “Why?”

  “Just do it, Deputy.” The connection died.

  Placing the phone on the cradle, she turned to Boyce. “I have to go now.” She stumbled to her closet and pulled out a fresh uniform.

  “Cassy, do you need me to come?”

  “No. Just leave.” She ripped the shirt from her body and began dressing.

  “No.” His clipped voice made her whirl.

  “What?”

  “No.” He pulled on his slacks. “I’m coming with you, Hamilton and your suddenly pissy attitude be damned.” He tugged on his white undershirt, his stomach muscles rippling, reminding Cassy how they felt against her abdomen during sex.

  Jerking her gaze from him, she slid into her uniform top. “Stay out of the way.”

  “Not likely.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It turned out 2386 Aspen Road was a stately home built on a bluff overlooking the river. The gravel drive was gated—which was standing wide open—and wound like a snake up the hill. Timber lined the road, helping to shield the house. If a person didn’t know about the house, they would never see it.

  Cassy parked her truck in an open spot along the drive, gripped the wheel, and sucked in air. Everyone was here, from Eider’s police chief to Con to Dr. Jasper Drummond and the EMTs. What had happened?

  Her vision tunneled on the path she took to the door, her senses becoming amplified the closer she got. The clicking sounds of the flashing lights on the squad vehicles joined the early-morning calls of birds and the crunch of snow under her boots. A cold wind whistled through the bare trees, coiling around her and pressing in. Muted voices greeted her in the open doorway.

  She entered the home cautiously, lingering on the welcome mat. Staring at the cheerful holiday design
beneath her feet, a fist of stone gripped her stomach. The heavy stench of body fluids flooded her nostrils. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Rivers?”

  Her eyes snapped open, and she lifted her head, meeting Hamilton’s grief-stricken face.

  “Sheriff—”

  He cut her off by raising his hand and then beckoned for her to follow him. She didn’t want to leave this welcome mat. She wanted to remain here, remembering the fun she’d had last night. The holiday cheer had by all. The good they did for families. She didn’t want to be here doing her job. She wanted to go back to waking up in Boyce’s arms and not seeing signs in his face that he was going to run. The instant she stepped off the mat, it would all shatter.

  “Deputy.”

  One step, then another, and another, she joined Hamilton and followed him down the short hall to the first room. The smell of death was overwhelming in here. Cassy gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Curled up in the fetal position next to a toppled Christmas tree, a young woman wearing a Victoria’s Secret Pink T-shirt and pants lay in a blackened pool of her blood, her face forever frozen in horror. Just several feet away, a half-dressed teenage boy was draped, facedown, over the sofa, his riddled backside laid open like a botched butcher job.

  “No.” She turned away only to be waylaid by the sight on the other side of the hall.

  The mother had fallen where she stood, her nightgown completely saturated with blood. Behind her, half in the kitchen, half in the dining room, the father was sprawled. Peter Clyde had suffered the worst, his head nearly gone and his torso practically ripped open.

  “Oh my God,” Cassy choked out.

  The walls spun, and she wobbled. A hand clamped onto her arm to steady her.

  “Get her out of here.” The command sounded like her head was underwater.

  She felt her body being propelled along, and the sudden blast of cold air slammed into her, reviving her. Tripping, she fell free of the grasp of whoever was holding her, landed on her hands and knees, and began retching.

  • • •

  Boyce squatted next to Cassy as she vomited until she was dry-heaving. He’d glimpsed the crime scene before Hamilton had ordered Cassy out of the house, and what Boyce saw had turned his heart of stone to flesh. The brutal murder of Peter Clyde and his family now gave Boyce a solid, logical reason to stay in Eider.

  Pushing herself upright, Cassy braced her hands on her knees and gasped for air. Tears dripped from her eyes and chin before she heaved a sob and started rocking. Boyce placed a hand on her shoulder. Her gaze swung his way. Those red-rimmed eyes and her grief-stricken face would haunt him forever. Since he’d bailed after her shooting, he’d missed seeing her like this, coping with her emotional upheaval. But not this time. There would be no leaving her this time.

  Movement out of the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. Con sat on the ground, and, hands gripping his head, he let out a mournful groan. Behind him came Hamilton, the police chief, both sheriff’s deputies, and Dr. Jasper Drummond. Squeezing Cassy’s shoulder, Boyce rose and met the men.

  “Sheriff Hamilton, how do you want to proceed?”

  Shane Hamilton had been the sheriff a long time, but this had to be the worst thing he’d ever seen. Boyce had watched the man be remolded into a hardened cop during The Priest case, but this situation might break the cowboy.

  “Agent Hunt, I defer to the FBI on this. I want nothing to do with these homicides.”

  Nodding, Boyce looked at the police chief, who avoided his gaze. “I’m bringing in DCI. Please make sure you can tell me exactly where you were in the house and if you touched anything. Gentlemen, I can’t express how sorry I am that you have to be witness to this. I will do my best to handle this as delicately as possible.”

  “Just find the bastard who would murder kids in cold blood,” Hamilton ground out then brushed past Boyce to get to Cassy, who was still crying.

  Boyce rotated to watch the sheriff haul her to her feet and hug her. She sobbed into her boss’s coat. Jealousy, sharp and piercing, hit Boyce in the chest. It should be him holding Cassy, not her boss. Why would the man bring her out here to such a horrific crime? Was Hamilton under the assumption that Cassy was like her sister? Boyce’s jaw ached. If her boss pushed her any further, she was going to have a mental break. She was dealing with her own demons; she didn’t deserve to have more heaped on her.

  “Wait, did anyone see Kendra?” Con asked, his voice startling a few. He scrambled to his feet. “Did any of you see Kendra in there? The Clydes have three kids.”

  “How old is she?” Boyce asked.

  “I thought she was at college,” the police chief said.

  “So was Georgia, but she was here,” Con said. “If Kendra was not in there, we need to find her, soon.”

  Boyce held up his hand, catching Con before he ran off for his vehicle. “A moment, Detective. Listen, all of you. Sheriff, I want you to handle searching for this girl. Maybe she managed to get out before the shooter got her. The problem is, we can’t go running around, fouling up the scene. With the amount of snow out here, there might be tracks. One person search around the house. The rest of us need to stay out of the house until DCI gets here. If she’s still in the house somewhere, we’ll find her then.”

  “And if we find her out here … ?” Cassy’s voice trembled. Her question seemed to deflate some of the hope the others were gathering.

  “We deal with it. Sheriff, you can proceed.” Boyce waited as Hamilton decided on Jennings to conduct the sweep around the house for any sign of who the shooter might be or what happened to Kendra Clyde. When the others were distracted with discussing how to handle what was to come, Boyce took out his phone and hit the speed dial number for Liza.

  “You better have a damn good reason for not returning last night,” she answered.

  “I do. Bartholomew, call the Cedar Rapids office and let them know there has been a multiple homicide and the local LEOs have asked us to lead the investigation.”

  Silence was followed by a soul-weary sigh. “I’m on it. I’ll contact DCI. You’ll make sure the scene is contained?”

  “On it. There is a missing person, and we need to search for her.”

  “Boyce, how bad is it?”

  “National news bad.” He looked at each of the people around him. They were about to have their small town invaded by all manner of people—some who would take no pity on them—and they might not survive the fallout.

  Chapter Nineteen

  No signs of escape. No blood to show injury or death. Nothing to prove one way or another if Kendra Clyde had been in the house at all.

  Cassy sat in her truck, warm air blasting through the vents, trying to heat her frozen limbs. Being wrung out emotionally was making way for exhaustion to overtake her brain. But she couldn’t stay immobile for long, because if she did, she’d flash back to the gruesome crime scene in the Clyde house.

  These things didn’t happen in Eider. Whole families weren’t slaughtered, with the killer disappearing into the night. That was an inner-city problem. This was a … Who was she kidding? Certainly not herself. After The Priest case two years ago, she’d become all too in-your-face aware of evil and death having no boundaries. The people of Eider—of McIntire County—might have believed The Priest was a fluke, but once news of the Clydes’ deaths broke, chaos would ensue. The sheriff’s department still didn’t have any answers for Officer Wallis’s death, and now this.

  Rubbing a hand over her face, Cassy grimaced at the sour taste in her mouth. She popped the console between the seats and dug out a couple of breath mints. Now that she was feeling warm enough, it was time to go back out there and do her job. She had to shut down, detach from the situation, and be a cop.

  A violent shiver racked her as the image of Andrew Clyde’s sprawled and bloodied body ripped through her mind’s eye. He’d been shot in the back, probably as he was attempting to protect his older sister. She could practically visual
ize the whole thing going down in her mind. First the parents, caught by surprise and murdered where they stood. Then the killer turned on the two young adults, Georgia pleading for her life, screaming as she was shot, curled in the fetal position. It took a heartless person to kill a family like that. A stone-cold killer.

  A light rap on the window made Cassy shriek. She practically climbed over the console to the passenger seat. Glancing back, she glimpsed Boyce’s face before the door flung open.

  “Whoa, it’s just me.”

  “What do you want, Boyce?”

  Hands up in surrender, he stared at her. Sighing, his breath condensing in the cold air, he backed away from the door. “I came to tell you the sheriff has put out an alert for the young Ms. Clyde, as she can’t be located at the college she was attending.”

  The fear and panic leached from Cassy. “Oh,” she said simply. She turned off the engine and then slid out of the truck cab.

  “Perhaps you should return to the department or, better still, home.”

  Cassy scowled. “Not likely.” She moved to try to pass Boyce, but he countered her move, corralling her inside the open door.

  “DCI arrives in thirty minutes, and you’re in no condition to be near this scene. I gave you a suggestion as a means to bail out gracefully. Take it, or I pull rank on you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  His features hardened. “Try me.”

  The muscles in her arm twitched, begging for release, while the palm of her hand itched. Oh, how she wanted to smack that stony expression right off his face. They stared each other down, Cassy determined not to let him win this. It didn’t help one damn bit that he was aware of her problem of being anywhere near a wooded area—even if he wasn’t sure exactly what that fear was.

  “Ten seconds, Deputy Rivers.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Damn it. She sounded whiny, even to herself.

  “I’ll explain later. In a more private setting.” His surreptitious look at the others lingering in the driveway was all the answer she needed.

  It was bad enough Sheriff Hamilton and Con were aware they’d been together last night, during the party and possibly after. What she didn’t need was for them to actually gather more evidence to prove she was out of her mind letting Boyce back into her bubble. A bubble she’d all too willingly allowed him to pop. How could she have let it get this far, for the second time?