Sin With Cuffs (3 page)

Hitting the switch at the bottom of the stairs, the hall light came on and the empty living room was illuminated. She breathed a sigh of relief as she crossed the wood. A cool breeze swept across her body, chilling her moist skin and for a brief second, she relished the feeling until she remembered she’d closed all of the windows before bed. Stepping further into the room, a crunch sounded before she felt the sharp pain through her right foot. Looking down, she saw something shiny scattered over the floor. She stood in the middle of broken glass.

One of the windows that looked out onto the porch was shattered. The curtains billowed and the wind whistled through the opening. Fear made it difficult to breathe. Surveying the surroundings, she saw a brick in the middle of the shards. Taking small, painful steps, she hobbled toward the mason projectile, doing her best to avoid the glass. Scrawled in white letters on the red slab was the word “Leave!”

The squealing of tires sounded from the street. Holly jumped across the mess, landed and a sharp pain spread through her foot. She limped to the window, ignoring the throbbing in her heel. Rear lights disappeared down the street, too fast for her to see a license plate or make. The burning pain forced her focus on her wound and she groaned at the sight of the crimson pool at her feet.

“Shit!” She leaned against the wall, balanced on one foot and lifted the other to inspect the cut. A large piece of glass stuck out of her skin, and blood seeped from the gash. Gritting her teeth, she grasped the shard and tugged it from her skin. She dropped it to the side. Examining the injury, she guessed it didn’t require stitches, but she’d definitely need to clean and bandage the lesion.

Lowering her foot, she wobbled through the maze of glass, made it to the couch and sat down. She pulled out her phone and started to dial 9-1-1 but hesitated. The event wasn’t an emergency. Instead, she called Liam’s cell number she’d gotten from his business card. After finishing the call, she clicked end and dropped her cell on the cushion. Standing, she balanced on tiptoes and limped to the bathroom, all the while trying to figure out what bothered her more, her bloody foot or the fact she’d found this as an excuse to call Liam.

* * * *

Liam pulled up in front of the Young house. At this early hour, it was the only one with the lights on, and even from his cruiser, he could see the broken front window. That explained some of what Holly had frantically told him over the phone. He’d been half asleep when he’d answered, and the jury was out on whether he’d been dreaming or not, but he was pretty sure she said something about bastards and bricks. He’d scrambled from his bed, dragged on jeans, all while keeping her on the line, and told her to calm down. Then hung up.

In record time, considering he was only half-awake, he’d arrived and made his way to the porch. Holly opened the door before he could knock. Her disheveled hair, wide and frantic eyes, and all around look of someone who should be institutionalized, gave him pause. His first thought was to pull her in for a reassuring hug, as he would have done ten years ago, but he stopped himself. Affection wasn’t allowed. Any compassion beyond professional was off limits. He didn’t have room for those types of feelings, not when it involved a heartless woman like Holly. His mental reminder of her evil ways eliminated any empathy he previously had.

“What’s the problem, Holly?” he asked as he passed her into the foyer. Her scent reached his nostrils and he swallowed. She still wore the same perfume.

“I told you on the phone,” she said in a shaky voice. “Someone threw a brick through my window.”

The floor in the living room was covered in glass, and dark crimson smudges.
Blood?
He shot a long look down her body. “Are you bleeding?” He then saw the bandage wrapped around her foot in a slapdash manner.

“I stepped on a piece of glass. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Some first aid job,” he said sarcastically.

“Thank you,” she rolled her eyes.

 “You need to take a seat and rest that foot.”

“I’ll live,” she said.

“I’m sure you’ll live, but you’re bleeding on my crime scene. Now sit.” He wasn’t up for arguing. Doing his job was important and he didn’t need her in his way.

“I don’t want to sit.” The sharp angle of her jaw made her look defiant.

Still as stubborn as hell.
“Sit please.” He hoped that did the trick.

Shrugging, she sat down on the chair. Liam inspected the room. The only thing he came up with was a rock that read, ‘Leave!’ He placed it in a plastic evidence baggie, but he doubted there’d be any fingerprints.

He turned and Holly’s gaze held him in what looked like a bull eyeing a matador. He bit back a smile and sat down across from her on the sofa. “There isn’t much to go on here.” He lifted the bag and shook it. “I’d chalk it up to a teen prank, but it doesn’t seem likely, not with the only word being leave.” Smoothing his palm over the stubble on his chin, he sighed. “It’s probably just an irate citizen who doesn’t want you here.”

“Who wouldn’t want me here?” she asked.

“I’m sure there’s someone.”

“And you were in bed when this happened, right?” she said with an accusing tone.

“Let’s make that someone
else
who wants you gone,” he said.

“I’d suggest you get over the grudge, Liam. I’ll be here for a while.” A hard lump developed in his throat.

“There isn’t anything in this town for you.”

“That’s for me to decide, wouldn’t you say?”she said.

He squeezed the brick through the thick plastic until an ache spread through his knuckles. Having her in town just wouldn’t work for him. “You won’t stay. Your kind never does.”

 “My
kind
?” she snapped.

He relaxed his elbows on his knees. A dozen different approaches on answering came to mind. Damn, he wanted to lash out, but he couldn’t. “The selfish kind.”

Scooting to the edge of her seat, she didn’t blink as she said, “Being selfish must be better than bitter. It’s interesting that you carry so much resentment considering two months after I left, you married Tiffany Stillwater. Now who should have the most resentment? Me or you?”

“You left without a word, Holly. We were engaged. We’d planned a future together.” A familiar raw twinge spread across his chest.

“You eloped with Tiffany Stillwater
two
months later! You sent a letter telling me goodbye and good riddance, you’d found your true love. I’d say that’s pretty fast, wouldn’t you? But oh, so fitting. The football star of Raven High and the captain of the cheer squad. Where’s Tiffany now?” She glanced at his left hand. “I don’t see a wedding band. Did she get smart and leave too?”

“She’s dead.”

“What?” Holly’s expression went from irritation to remorseful in record speed. “What do you mean?”

Talking about Tiffany with Holly was the last thing he wanted or needed at this ungodly hour. He stood up. “I’m tired. I’ll need you to come down to the station tomorrow and make a report. In the meantime, if anything else happens give me a call.” He didn’t mean the last part. Moving toward the door, he was ready to get the hell away from her and the demons that came along.

CHAPTER THREE

HOLLY STOPPED AT the police station the next morning to fill out a statement. Liam wasn’t at work yet, and although she was a bit disappointed, she wasn’t ready to face him again so soon. Their argument last night had brought old wounds to the surface. She’d had no idea Tiffany had died.

The smell of coffee brought her attention to Officer Hartman. “Here’s your coffee,” he said.

She took the cup from him. “Thanks, Officer Hartman.”

“No problem. But you can call me Dante.” He went to sit down behind his desk.

She looked at the young man and noticed his wide smile. Was he flirting? He was a handsome man, but she wasn’t interested. If his youth wasn’t enough to make him off limits, then his genetic pool certainly would. He was the preceding Mayor’s son. Her stomach turned at the thought of Mayor Hartman. Memory of the man carried a lot of resentment and she wasn’t about to fight those demons this morning. “Okay, Dante. I appreciate you helping me fill out the statement, but I should be heading home.” She set the plastic cup on the desk, its contents untouched.

“Maybe some evening we can grab a cup of coffee?” he asked. “And you’ll finish it.”

She wanted to run, but controlled herself enough to stand to her feet and remain calm. Her mind filtered through excuse after excuse, and finally came to a good enough one. “That might be uncomfortable for Liam.” Yeah, it fizzled. It sounded much more reasonable before she’d said it aloud.

Dante raised one brow and the corners of his mouth drooped. “Are you two, well, you know. Back together?”

That’s what she got for lying. Telling him she wasn’t interested would have been the best thing. “No, but we did date. Once upon a time.” She made an effort to move toward the exit door and pulled it open. Her escape was close—

“Yeah, I remember you two being an item,” he said.

“Long time ago.” One foot was on the other side of the threshold.

“If you change your mind, just call,” he called out.

And she was out, shutting the door before he could expand on that last note.

She shook her head all the way to the parking lot. In town for two days and things were rapidly going downhill. Had she stepped into a twilight zone? Maybe she should rethink staying in Raven for any period. She climbed into her car, started the engine and drove away from the police station.

Pondering her future, she pulled in front of the house and her mother’s white Cadillac sat along the street. Holly checked the time. Eight-thirty. Her mother never came early. What was special about this visit? Holly couldn’t say it was because of her grandma’s death. If so, Vicki would have arrived days ago.

Holly waited in her car. Sixty-seconds passed, then five minutes. After ten minutes, she realized she was hiding much like she did as a child. Hiding never worked then, and it wouldn’t work now. She needed to change things. She got out and made her way toward the house, reminding herself that she was an adult capable of protecting herself.

She stepped into the house and she heard hushed voices coming from the living room. When she slammed the door, the talking stopped. With smile in place, she made her way into the room.  

Her mother quickly stood up from the couch. “Where have you been? And what in the world happened to the window?”

Vicki had always looked young and vibrant; however, Holly could see that worry had etched new lines around Vicki’s eyes. Holly wanted to believe that Vicki’s youthfulness was genetic, but truth was, her mother had enough collagen in her face to kill an experimental rat. No doubt the woman looked like she’d stepped out of a beauty salon. Her perfectly teased hair, her makeup applied with a professional hand and her designer clothes were always in place. Her purses and shoes were never fake, unlike everything else.

Even with all that she knew about her mother, Holly still loved her. She’d always hoped one day Vicki would change into the parent Holly had dreamt of. Her confidence was fading on the mother-daughter relationship happening.

“It’s okay,” Holly said, referring to the patched window. “There was a little accident last night.”

“Looks like more than an accident to me.” That’s when Holly saw the man who she guessed was Vicki’s husband. Holly wondered if he’d been standing in the threshold of the kitchen this entire time? He was a tall man, his head almost reached the arch of the doorway. His dark skin, angled jaw and expensive clothes reminded Holly of a model from a catalogue. She’d expected that since her mother put a lot of consideration into physical appearance, yet Holly hadn’t anticipated that he’d be so young—maybe in his mid- thirties. Vicki normally went for the older man who had years of experience as well as a cushioned bank account.