Shiver

by Cynthia Cooke

  He had to be the man from the sketch…the man from her dreams. She should have told Riley about him earlier. If she’d told him that he’d chased her through the woods, maybe he would have been more careful. She had been so afraid he wouldn’t believe her. And because of that fear, he almost died.

  Suddenly, she knew the devil was right—she could run, but she couldn’t hide. A sudden onslaught of bone-deep chills overtook her. She couldn’t stop him. It was as if she were thirteen years old all over again and she was alone and helpless, misunderstood and without hope.

  The tremors cascading through her grew with each passing second, with each passing thought. He would kill Riley, just like he had Tommy, because of her. Because death was her constant companion and anyone who came near her, anyone who cared about her, died.

  She hadn’t seen Riley approach, but suddenly he was kneeling before her, prying the gun out of her hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “He’s gone. Are you all right?”

  She stared at him and tried to make sense of his words. All right? She didn’t think she’d ever be all right. Not again.

  The rain had matted down his hair and washed most of the mud from his face. He looked okay, except for a few scratches and an ugly red swelling on the side of his face. She wanted to wipe the blood off his cheek, but couldn’t quite bring herself to touch him.

  “Thanks for the save.” He placed his hand over hers, hanging midair between them, and brought it to his cheek.

  He was warm. He was alive. His touch was gentle, too gentle. Suddenly, something broke within her and she was flooded with emotion. Tears streamed down her face. “I was so scared. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t shoot him.”

  “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

  “I’m so sorry. I did this. I brought death to your door.”

  “I’m not dead. See, I’m right here.” His lips lifted in a small smile. “You’re not responsible.”

  She shook her head. “He’s found me again. He always does. I have to go. I have to get out of here. Running, that’s all I can do.” Her shaking became violent.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “You don’t have to go. We can fight him together. You’re not in this alone.”

  Alone. His words reverberated in her mind. Of course she was alone. She had always been alone. She clung to his chest. His warmth seeped into her skin, melting the ice in her veins, dulling the sharp edge of fear that was slicing through her ability to think.

  He was so strong, yet gentle at the same time. She clutched his rock-hard arms as a fine sprinkling of rain fell upon them, cleansing them of the mud and the hor ror. She took a deep breath as her heartbeat slowed and tender warmth filled her. He smelled so good—rich, earthy, the scent of man. A man who could protect her. A man who could love her?

  She was afraid to look up, afraid to meet his eyes. Afraid if she did, she’d see that she was fooling herself. That he didn’t care about her, wouldn’t be there for her, didn’t believe in her. Then she’d have to let him go.

  And be alone.

  And cold.

  And scared.

  Again.

  “You should have run,” he said. “You shouldn’t have taken the chance. What if something had happened to you?”

  “I couldn’t let him hurt you.” Her voice trembled as she said the words.

  “Why not?” He lifted her chin, his gaze probing hers.

  A shudder whispered through her. “Every other time the dreams…they came too late to help. Watching people die—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what could have happened to me, what matters is that nothing happened—”

  He tilted his head, bringing his face closer.

  Her gaze dropped to his lips. She tried to fight it, tried to force herself to look away.

  “—to you,” she whispered.

  His head dropped lower, his lips mere inches from hers.

  She swayed, her hands on his chest moving ever so slightly upward. His mouth barely touched hers—soft, sweet, gentle. He moved his lips over hers, parting them, softly nibbling. Languid warmth, like thick, hot honey, spread through her, weakening her legs.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth. She graciously welcomed it, savoring his taste. Seductive heat melted her limbs. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him, reveling in the way his hard, strong chest felt against her. It had been so long since she’d felt this way. She didn’t want it to stop.

  “You taste good, sugar,” he mumbled as he broke for air.

  His words quickened her blood. Light-headed, she lingered, her lips trailing the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know if it’s right, but I need you.”

  “It’s right,” he breathed, and moved his lips down the side of her neck, teasing the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. A soft moan escaped her as the warmth flowing through her body heated, moving faster, and bringing with it a tension that ached to be sated.

  Sated by him.

  “Please,” she moaned. She was finding it hard to breathe.

  “Please what?” he asked.

  The husky rasp of his voice, the quickening of his touch led her to believe that her effect on him might be as strong as his on her. The thought was intoxicating. “Please don’t let me go. I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

  Riley picked her up and carried her into the house, then set her down and locked the door behind him. She was looking up at him with those incredible blue eyes and it was all he could do not to pull her wet nightshirt over her head and make love to her right there on the floor.

  “Make love to me, Riley. Make me forget. Just for tonight.” The small embarrassed smile he’d come to love was back.

  Her words lit a fire within him, and he felt himself thicken with need. Mon Dieu, Riley had never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted this woman at this moment. But he couldn’t have her. He knew he couldn’t. It was unethical, it was wrong. She was vulnerable.

  She was beautiful.

  He kissed her gently, softly, his own need dangerously close to the perilous point. He had to focus on why she was there and on the case that seemed to be growing more dangerous and explosive by the moment. “Darlin’, I’d love to take you into my room and love you all night, but I don’t think that would be best for either of us right now.”

  A flicker of pain leapt from her eyes.

  He pulled her to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She stiffened, but he held tight.

  “Soon,” he promised. “As soon as we find our way clear of this case. Because, honey, I want you. Real bad.”

  She relaxed and pulled back. “You mean as soon as you decide I’m not a killer.”

  He shook his head, but she stepped away from him, walking past him to her room.

  “Damn,” he muttered, but she was right. He had to make sure she wasn’t guilty, but even more he had to make sure she was sane.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Riley woke to a loud pounding on his front door. He swore as he stared at the clock: 6:00 a.m. Who could be here this early? “Hold your horses!” he yelled as the pounding persisted. He climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, then walked bare-chested to the front door.

  He swung it open and was surprised to find his father standing before him, red-faced and steaming. “Dad, what is it?” he asked, instantly concerned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his dad so worked up, or the last time he’d come to his doorstep.

  “You got a minute?” his dad asked, his expression hard, his voice cold as he walked into the room.

  Riley stepped back. “Sure. Give me a second and I’ll grab a shirt.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  Riley paused at the acid tone in his voice. “All right. What’s up?”

  “I want to know how you can have so little regard for your job and your family that you would bring that woman here.” Hi
s father raised a trembling hand and pointed it at him. “I saw you last night all over the woman who could very well have killed your brother’s wife.”

  Riley stood dumbstruck. His father had been there last night, watching them? He couldn’t help feeling like a child as the sting of his father’s venom swept through him. He took a deep breath. “Could is the operative word, Dad. She’s innocent.”

  “Think with your head, Riley.”

  “Why can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt? Trust, for once in your life, that maybe I know what I’m doing.”

  “I wish I could, but you always seem to step over the line, to push the envelope and damn the consequences.”

  Riley cringed at his words, but knew there wasn’t anything he could say or do to change his father’s opinion of him. There never had been. He held his father’s heated gaze and refused to back down. “I think with my head, but mostly I think with my gut. That’s who I am. Take it or leave it.”

  His father stiffened. “You’ve always been like that. Why couldn’t you have learned to stay within your boundaries? When will you ever accept the consequences of your actions?”

  “Why don’t you come right out and say it? You think it’s my fault, don’t you?”

  “You couldn’t control what Michelle did.”

  “I’m not talking about Michelle. I’m talking about Mom and we both know it.”

  His father opened his mouth to respond but, at that moment, Tony stepped through the open doorway, a grim look on his face and a manila folder in his hand.

  “Sorry to interrupt. You got any coffee on?” His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes rumpled and he looked in desperate need of a sharp razor.

  Riley took a deep breath and glanced from Tony to his dad, then back to Tony. “No, but we can fix some.” He turned toward the kitchen.

  Unfortunately, his father followed.

  “What happened to your face?” Tony asked.

  “We had an intruder last night right after you left. He attacked me outside as I was coming back from the barn.” He looked at his dad. “Devra came out with my gun and scared him off.”

  Tony’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Did you get a good look at him? Was he our devil?”

  “I don’t know. We were pretty muddy.” He turned to his father. “What about you, Dad? Did you see anything?”

  His father shook his head. “I’ll leave you two to your business. Riley, I hope you’ll keep in mind what I said.”

  “Don’t see how I couldn’t.” As he watched his father walk out of the room, he wondered if he’d ever be able to please him. Then he wondered why he still bothered trying. He turned and filled the coffee machine with water and coffee.

  “What did I walk in on?” Tony asked, leaning against the wall. “It seemed pretty intense.”

  Riley shook his head. “Old family stuff.”

  Tony nodded and let it go. “The captain wants to talk with you about your conversation with Nurse Jenkins.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He also found out Devra was staying here.”

  Riley swore. Now he knew where his father had gotten his information.

  “You might as well bring Devra in with you,” Tony continued. “I’m sure he’ll want to speak with her, too, once I tell him what I’ve discovered.”

  Riley’s stomach dropped.

  Tony continued, “The last time Devra used the name Miller she lived in Seattle. I contacted an old college buddy of mine who lives up there and had him do some checking into her background.”

  Riley forced himself to appear neutral. Devra had risked her life for him. She had gone up against their intruder, against the man who more than likely had killed Michelle. She was as much a victim in this mess as the rest of them. So why the secrets?

  “What’d your buddy find?” he asked, even though a part of him didn’t want to know. With a lurch, he realized that he’d broken his number one rule—he’d let himself become emotionally involved with a suspect.

  Not a suspect, a victim, he reminded himself.

  He pulled two cups from the cupboard as Tony slid a fax of an old police file across the table. Riley looked down into the scared eyes of a young girl—a young Devra.

  “She’d been arrested when she was thirteen for the murder of a neighbor boy,” Tony explained. “No one ever discovered exactly what had happened that day, but the kid had his head smashed in and his blood was all over her. They found her wandering the forest in a daze, a rock covered with the kid’s blood in her hand.”

  Riley set down the cups and dropped into a chair to scan the file. “Tommy Marshall,” he muttered, and cursed aloud. He remembered the way she’d looked when he’d shown her the newspaper article of Tommy’s death, the way she’d clutched him. He looked up at Tony. “She said she didn’t kill him.”

  Tony’s lips thinned into a straight line.

  Riley turned back to the papers. “How did your friend get his hands on a juvenile’s sealed file?”

  “Apparently, the police chief was the victim’s father. He believes she did it, and he’s still carrying a grudge.”

  Riley nodded. “It says here they released her.”

  “Yep, not enough evidence. Burns the chief up, though. It’s a good thing she lives far away from Washington.”

  Riley dropped the fax onto the table next to the sketch of their “devil” and rose to pour them both a cup of much-needed coffee. “There you go,” he said without turning. “She wasn’t convicted. I don’t see any reason to drag this whole sordid mess out now, especially since none of this information is admissible.”

  “There you go, nothing,” Tony sputtered, as outrage crossed his face. “Aren’t you the one who says where there’s smoke—”

  Riley handed Tony a cup. “Yeah, look for the fire.”

  “Well, this broad’s smoking more than my uncle Sal’s old diesel pickup truck.”

  Riley’s smile was grim. He walked over to the counter and picked up the paper he’d found in the tree house. “When Devra saw this, she freaked. She swears the man who killed Tommy is here and with all the stuff that’s been happening around here, I’m starting to believe her.”

  Tony looked at the paper with quiet speculation.

  “I’ll wake Devra,” Riley offered. “I’m sure she can explain what happened.”

  “Good. ’Cause I, for one, sure would like to hear about it and the sooner, the better.”

  “She swears she didn’t do it.”

  “And you believe her?”

  Riley nodded. He did. He just hoped he was right, for all their sakes.

  Tony sighed, and the tension dropped from his shoulders. “I’m so tired I can hardly see straight, let alone think.”

  Riley grinned, hoping to lighten the air between them. “Oh, is that what’s wrong with you? I thought you were just getting downright ugly in your old age.”

  “Hardy har har.”

  “And you could use a shower, too, man. Whoo-eee.”

  “You’re just a barrel of laughs,” Tony muttered as Riley walked toward Devra’s room.

  Riley knocked softly on the door and wondered how she would greet him, if it’d be with open arms or embarrassment. He hoped she didn’t think their kiss had been a mistake. Walking away from her had been one of the hardest moves he’d ever made, but he was glad he hadn’t given in to his growing attraction to her in light of what they’d have to discuss this morning. He had to be on guard, to keep himself at a distance; otherwise, he’d never be able to allow Tony and the captain to question her. She had risked her life for him, he would never forget that.

  He knocked softly. After a moment, he knocked again, then turned the door handle and walked in. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he called softly, but the words died on his lips. Devra wasn’t in the room. Her bed was made and a note lay on her pillow. He picked up the note.

  Dear Riley,

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” doesn’t seem enough after all we’ve shared. As you might ha
ve guessed, the man who took my locket, the man in the sketch, is the same man who killed Michelle. I am certain of this, because when I was a child, I saw this man kill a friend of mine and he’s haunted me ever since. I must go before I put you and your family in further danger. I can’t bear to witness the death of another person I care about. I’ll treasure the time we spent together. My only wish is that we had more.

  Fondly,

  Devra.

  P.S. You’ll find your car at my house.

  Riley winced. If she was so certain this man from her past was Michelle’s killer, why didn’t she stay? Why didn’t she confide in him? Why didn’t she trust him? He walked back into the kitchen.

  Tony took one look at his face and said, “She’s gone?”

  Riley nodded and dropped the note onto the table.

  Tony shook his head. “How far can a lady and her cat get? We’re in the boondocks out here.”

  “She took my car. She’s scared and she’s running from whomever she saw in this sketch, from whoever attacked me last night.” He pointed to the drawing on the table, but even as the excuse tumbled off his tongue, he tensed with frustration. He could have taken care of her; he could have taken care of them both.

  Tony took another slug off his cup. “Guess I can forget about that nap.”

  “Guess so,” Riley agreed and left the room to finish getting dressed.

  Five minutes later, they climbed into Tony’s car. “She couldn’t have had too much of a head start on us,” he reasoned, but couldn’t help but feel relieved when he saw his Expedition parked on the street, and Devra’s Suburban still in the driveway outside her house.

  “Listen, Tony. Do me a favor and drop me off. I need time to convince her that she should be the one to tell the captain about Tommy. It’s the best way to defuse the situation.”

  Tony threw him a skeptical look. “Are you sure you’re being objective here about our pretty Miss Morgan?”

  Riley sighed. “I’m trying. If she doesn’t talk to him then I’ll go in and do it myself. Trust me, Tony. I’m following my gut here, and my gut says she’s innocent.”