Darkness at the Edge of Town

by Jennifer Harlow

  Day. From. Hell.

  At least the pain and diarrhea helped me focus on something besides my increasingly complicated life. When I was done expelling my entire digestive lining, I didn’t want to leave the bathroom, mostly due to mortification. Mostly. Luke certainly wasn’t seeing me at my best. Mood swings, my mother, rudeness, now stomach issues. If he were ever going to fall out of love with me it would have been that night. When I left the bathroom and found the house empty, I feared that very event had actually happened. Feared as in the wind was knocked out of me and my legs felt as if they might give out. I felt as scared as I had been handcuffed in my basement with a serial killer aiming a gun at me. He wised up, I thought. She was wrong. He—

  Thirty seconds of pure torture later, I heard the master bedroom toilet flush too, and Luke walked out of my grandparents’ room. He groaned and patted his own stomach. “Damn watermelon.”

  I took a second to calm myself down, nervously chuckling like a clown on cocaine. “I know, right? Stomach. Horrible. Yeah. Yeah.” I was rambling. “Uh, my grandparents leave?”

  “I think so. They took their toothbrushes just before I…you know.”

  “Sorry you’re having such a shitty time,” I quipped with a smirk.

  “Could be worse.”

  “How?” I chuckled before rolling my eyes and frowning. “I know I’ve been Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride tonight. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re going through a lot, and you’re exhausted. I get it. And I haven’t been much better. I’ve calmed down too.”

  I was going through more than he realized. I gazed down at the ground. “Still. I’m sorry I was…weird about your Spain news. It was just a shock on a day of nine million.”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t going to tell you until there was something more definite. I don’t think I’ll get it.”

  “You should get it. You’re a hell of an agent. They’d be morons not to promote you.”

  “So you think I should take it?” he asked.

  “I think…” Be brave. I looked up at him. “I think I would miss the fuck out of you. I just got you back. If you’re asking if I want you to move across the ocean, then the answer is hell no. Of course not. I hate it enough when you’re just a state away. That we can’t have lunch every day. That we can’t even see a damn symphony together because we’re so fucking busy. But that’s selfish. I’m done being selfish. You should take it. It’s what you’ve been working for your entire career. So no. I don’t want you to go, but what I want really doesn’t matter.” I paused. “Does it?”

  Luke stared at me, mouth slightly open, but no words came out at first. It was one of the longest moments of my life. “I…hope it does.” He’d had that same look on his face that night on my porch in North Carolina, right before the police came to ruin the moment. Anticipation. Lust. Longing. I’m sure I had the same look on mine. “Iris…I…”

  Then that bitch fate ruined the moment again.

  My stomach gurgled loud enough to hear in Spain and an emergency situation occurred. I had to look away as pain rocketed through my innards. “Oh come on,” I whispered to myself. “I have to—”

  “Yeah. Go,” he chuckled nervously.

  “I…Sleep well, okay?” I said as I bumped past him into my grandparents’ room, shutting the door behind me, and headed for their bathroom. Maybe it was my body’s way of telling me it was a bad idea. That God kept turning these stoplights on for a reason. I didn’t even know what I wanted. Things were good between us the way they were. More than good. Why screw that up? What if I failed? What if it ruined everything? What if…he ended up hating me like my brother and mother did? I knew I was hard to love, that I was a lot of work. That I was stubborn and blunt and cold. Why would he want me?

  By the time I crawled into my grandparents’ bed half an hour later in my tank top and panties, mind and body at negative thirty percent, I’d convinced myself Luke and I were a bad idea. Luke Hudson deserved more than a scarred, traumatized, selfish, complicated, murderous ice maiden. I’d send him back to D.C. the next day. For his own good. It was the right thing to do. For my best friend. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Even this.

  I curled into the fetal position. Be brave. Right. I didn’t have any brave left in me.

  Chapter 14

  His lips were just as I remembered them. Soft in touch, hard in practice. Just like his hand squeezing my bare buttocks. Just like his cock gliding in and out of me in perfect rhythm to my own body. I ran my hands through his silky hair as he thrust into me again. And again. And again. Wonderful. Bliss. Perfect. I broke the kiss first to nibble his earlobe. “I love you. I love you,” I whispered in time to his thrusts.

  “I love you too,” Hayden whispered back.

  I opened my eyes and moved to stare at my husband. I loved his face. A face that just missed the mark of handsome with its sharp and thin everything, but those dark brown eyes revealed his true beauty. So kind. So gentle. Always brimming with love for me since the moment I saw them. I ran my thumb across his cheekbone, his thin lips smiling sadly as I did. “I’m sorry,” I said, voice quivering. “I’m so sorry.”

  He leaned in and kissed me. Deeply. It took my breath away. He broke the kiss a moment later and hugged me, pressing his naked body against mine. I squeezed him back just as tight. “Be brave, my love. Be brave.”

  “Iris.”

  Someone shook me awake. My eyes opened with a gasp. I could still feel him inside me, still taste him, but he was gone. Again. Always. Grandma stood over me, and I realized where I was. Their bedroom. Grey Mills. Shit.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, Petal,” Grandma said, “but the sheriff’s on the phone.”

  “Wh-what?” I glanced at the clock. It was ten thirty. I’d slept over twelve hours and still felt bone weary. Literally. My bones ached. Not a great start to the day all around. “Shit.”

  “He said it was important,” she said, handing me the phone.

  Fuck my life.

  With a sigh, I took it. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Iris. I’ve been trying to reach you for half an hour,” Hancock said in a low voice.

  “I was sleeping. Why?”

  “Because I have the DEA taking over my damn station.”

  I was wide awake after those words. Funny how catastrophe does that to a person. “What?”

  “It’s just two agents—uh, Carmichael and Lucerno—but they just ordered my officers to surveil The Temple and that farm. And they’re bringing in that Helen Mitchell woman for questioning.”

  My mouth flopped open. “Fuck.”

  “What’s happening?” Grandma asked.

  “Do they have her already?” I asked.

  “She’s on her way.”

  “So am I,” I said.

  “You didn’t hear this shit from me, okay?” Hancock said.

  “I’ll say it was Joyce. They can’t do shit to her. Make sure she backs me up. And stall that interview until I get there.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He hung up, as did I.

  “What’s going on?” Grandma asked again, her voice cracking a little.

  “The DEA decided to put out the fire I started with gasoline.”

  “Is Billy—”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s fine.” I threw off the covers. “Is Luke still here?”

  “He’s in the spare room working, I think.”

  I hustled out to the hallway and knocked on his door, not bothering to wait for an invite in. He sat at the desk, laptop in front of him and phone at his side. He scanned me up and down, mouth slightly agape, and I suddenly felt naked. That’s when I realized I was wearing only my tank top and underwear. No time to be self-conscious. I hurried to my suitcase.

  “Hudson, who is it?” a woman asked over the phone.

  “Um, Darla, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Luke hung up. “Uh, morning.”

  I removed a pair of black slacks and a blue blouse. “Sorry to interrupt. I have to get to the station now
. That fucking moron Carmichael ordered surveillance on the Movement and pulled Helen in for an interview.”

  “What?”

  “Guess no one ever taught him patience is a fucking virtue,” I said, grabbing my brush and brushing my hair so hard I was practically pulling it out. “I have to get there before Helen.”

  Luke rose from the desk. “I’ll drive.”

  “No. You’re working. I—”

  “Iris, I’m coming with you. There’s nothing at work that won’t keep,” Luke said. “Not another damn word, okay? We don’t have time to waste.”

  “Okay. You’re right. Thank you.” I grabbed my makeup bag. “I’ll put my war paint on in the car. Let’s go.”

  After assuring my grandparents all was well in hand, we hopped into his car and drove to the station. Not even concealer could hide the dark circles under my eyes. “I can’t believe he didn’t listen to me. Fucking moron.”

  “I probably wouldn’t lead with that,” Luke said.

  “What the fuck was he thinking?” I hissed.

  “Reserve judgment until you talk to him, okay? Keep your cool.”

  He was right. The bull-in-a-china-shop routine would only get me tossed out of the station. We already had one bull there wrecking everything. “You’re going to need your Iris-whispering skills today,” I said. “Right now I’m so pissed I’d punch the wind for blowing.”

  “I got your back.” He glanced at me with a smirk. “As always.”

  Be brave.

  I had to look away. My focus had to remain on not throttling Agent Carmichael and salvaging his mess. I—

  “Who’s Darla?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “We just worked that kidnap together. You met her. Tall, thin, blond hair?”

  “She wasn’t the one who you…who started crying when she saw me in D.C. on the Shepherd case, is she?”

  “No. I haven’t seen her since that day.” He paused. “Or seen anyone.” Another pause. “You?”

  I flashed back to Paul’s tongue in my mouth. “Of course not.”

  “So no three-ways with cult members for Iris Ballard?” Luke teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “In your dreams, Hudson.”

  He blushed almost as red as his hair, and I knew he’d more than likely had that fantasy. I turned a little red too. Work. Billy. Cult, I told myself. Focus. Focus.

  We were still red when we reached the station. Joyce smiled from cheek to cheek when we walked inside. “Well, hello, you two gorgeous people,” she said. “Go on back. I’ll be out here waiting for my tongue-lashing for calling you.”

  “Thanks, Joyce,” I said.

  “Be brave,” she called out as we passed.

  The bullpen was empty. Not a person to be found. They were either out on calls or staked out on New Morning duty. I knew the hoi polloi would be in the observation room. Even a small sheriff’s station had interrogation rooms. Grey County had two, with one observation room overlooking both. Agents Carmichael and Lucerno and Sheriff Hancock all stood in the small room. I could literally smell the testosterone in the ten-by-twelve closet. Not pleasant. On the other side of the mirror, Helen sat, staring at her own folded hands and shaking a little in the tiny cinder-block interrogation room.

  “…yes, but I should contact the DA’s office if—” Hancock was saying as we stepped in.

  “What the hell are you two doing here?” Carmichael boomed. “Did you call—”

  “Joyce did. The receptionist,” I lied.

  “We’ve been here two hours and we already have a leak?” Carmichael asked Hancock.

  “She’s a family friend,” I said. “And I thought we had an agreement to share information. What the hell is going on here?”

  “Why did you bring in Helen Mitchell?” Luke asked.

  “I don’t answer to you two,” Carmichael snapped.

  “You do realize what you’ve just done, right? You’ve tipped your hand. Mathias will know you’re investigating him,” I said.

  “He already knows, thanks to you. Not only are the trailers gone, but our informant told us all ambassador duty is suspended. Mathias called the majority of the members to The Apex for a spiritual weekend to heal the cracks your negativity caused. And I haven’t heard from her again since last night. We grabbed Mitchell just as she was about to leave The Temple too.”

  “I told you he would be paranoid for a while, but in a month or two when he realized I was gone, it would be business as usual,” I said. “You posting cops everywhere and pulling in one of his members will just make him more desperate.”

  “I’m not a moron, Dr. Ballard. I have double the years in law enforcement that you did. The deputies are in unmarked cars, and they’re a clear distance away. As for Helen Mitchell, you said she can be turned, so that’s what I’m doing. I was always going to bring her in, but your shit sped up my timetable.”

  “First off, for the record, I said she might—might—cooperate, but I wouldn’t take the chance. And if she doesn’t flip? You’ve played your hand. It really will be over.”

  “We have the informant’s sworn statements about the drugs in your brother and Vanessa Clarke’s cars. We have children unregistered for school. We have witnessed drug use. If she doesn’t cooperate, others will,” Carmichael said. “We’d rather keep building, but that may not be an option anymore. Because of you.”

  “She’ll flip,” Lucerno said. “Look at her. She’s terrified.”

  I stared at the still trembling Helen. She seemed as if she’d aged five years in two days. She didn’t deserve what they’d done to her, being hauled in off the street by police and DEA. She was the member with a conscience. She believed in the cause. She loved the people. She’d been through hell all her life, and for the first time in that life she had everything she ever wanted. Respect. Love. Family. She…

  Fuck, I thought.

  “Does she know the DEA’s involved? I mean, did your people ID as DEA?” I asked.

  “No, my guys picked her up,” Hancock said.

  “Then you need to go in and ask her about an old associate,” I said. “Go read her file, pick a name, and say he or she got out of prison and was threatening her or escaped custody or something. Do not ask her a single question about the Movement or Mathias, and get her out of here ASAP.”

  “What?” Carmichael asked.

  “She’s not going to turn on anyone. That group is her whole fucking life. Her family. Those people are her children. And Mathias gave them to her. She has everything to lose by turning on him.”

  “He’s a murderer, con artist, and drug dealer who is using those supposed children. I show her that, we got her,” Carmichael said.

  “She turns, she loses them all,” I pointed out. “Don’t do this. I am begging you. You will get him. With patience and diligence. Goddamn it. Please don’t do this.”

  “She’s right,” Luke said beside me. “It’s not worth the risk.”

  “I agree too,” Hancock said. “She’s the forensic psychologist. She knows that woman. I wouldn’t take the chance.”

  Carmichael and Lucerno studied our faces as I did theirs. Lucerno’s eyes narrowed slightly, and I thought I had him in my corner too. But Carmichael’s mouth straightened and tightened like a vise. “I get you think you’re some hotshot because of what happened with the Woodsman, but this is my case. I got twenty years on the job, and I’ve flipped people with a lot less evidence and a lot more to lose. And if you were the king shit everyone seems to think you are, then why am I having to clean up the mess your ‘instincts’ have caused? I know what I’m doing. Lucerno?” Carmichael nodded toward the door. Lucerno frowned as he passed me and followed his partner out the door.

  I let out a long sigh. Hancock patted my arm. “Maybe you’ll be wrong.”

  “She’s never wrong,” Luke said solemnly.

  Those words made me shiver.

  Since they’d forgotten to kick me out, I stayed to watch the men work. At least they didn’t pull the G
ood Cop/Bad Cop routine. Carmichael knew enough to keep a light touch the hour he questioned Helen about the group, even when he began revealing the real Mathias Morning to his disciple. Helen’s posture fell with each revelation. She attempted to explain away everything, making excuse after excuse for Mathias and Ken, but the agents ignored her and kept gently prodding. She examined the photographs of the drugs in Billy’s trunk and satellite shots of motorcycles entering and exiting the trailers at The Apex with shaking hands and tears in her eyes. Part of me wanted to go in there and hug her. They were breaking her heart; it was visible in her weary eyes, in her slumped shoulders, in her trembling chin. But the more mercenary part of me grew hopeful. It wasn’t just her heart breaking; she was breaking. With each fact, with each defense of Mathias calmly explained away by the agents, more and more cracks blossomed. Yet when she burst into sobs, I physically had to stop myself from getting out of my chair to go comfort her. Even the agents appeared downtrodden and sympathetic. “We’ll give you a few minutes alone, okay? Do you need anything? A soda or coffee maybe?” Carmichael asked softly.

  “N-No,” she sobbed into her tenth tissue.

  “Okay. We’ll be right back,” Carmichael said as the men rose. A few seconds later they rejoined us in observation.

  “Good job,” I conceded as he shut the door. “Seriously. She’s at the brink.”

  “We have the facts on our side. And I think she knew something shady was going on,” Carmichael said. “We’ll give her a minute to calm down, then go in for the kill. Play up that she’d be saving more kids from drugs if she becomes an informant. She has a savior complex.”

  “Just tread carefully. Keep the focus on Mathias and Ken, no one else,” I advised.

  “Right. I’m gonna piss, then we’ll get back in there,” Carmichael told Lucerno.

  “Yes, sir,” Lucerno said.

  Carmichael left and Lucerno began checking his texts. I watched Helen in that tiny room. She was calming down with deep breaths and telling herself, “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay,” on repeat. After a minute she could breathe normally. She began looking at the pictures in the file again, shaking her head and dabbing her tears. One seemed to catch her interest especially. The more she read, the more aghast she grew. Her mouth morphed almost into a snarl. The tears stopped. I turned to Lucerno. “She’s reading the files.”