A Deadly Love (19 page)

“There is a full bath down here. I was planning to use it myself once I move into the attic.”

“The attic!”

“I like it up there. All those trunks and boxes are filled with mystery and romance. Neila and I had a blast when we were girls, trying on old dresses from the twenties and thirties.”

“They belonged to Eli’s mother. That’s who he got his packrat tendencies from. I swear the woman never threw away a thing.”

“I’ll clean out the junk in the front of the room and drag up a mattress. Lord knows there’s plenty of cast off furniture to choose from.”

“And mice to keep you company,” June said with a shudder.

Brooke laughed. “I’m not afraid of mice, but we could always get a cat to take care of the rodent problem.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight, our guests eating breakfast while our adorable kitty stalks a mouse, and big, clumsy Otis chases the cat in circles around the dining room table.”

“Isn’t there an old nursery rhyme based on that scenario?”

“I think it was a song. Now what was it that chased the dog? A pig or maybe a goat? We could have a whole menagerie of animals.”

A knock on the kitchen door interrupted her fit of giggling, and Brooke left the room to open it. Dillon stared at her with haunted eyes.

Her hand clenched the doorknob, her merriment evaporating. “What happened?”

He stepped into the kitchen and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He closed his eyes briefly before meeting her gaze. “I found Tricia.”

“Is she—” She broke off, choking on the word.

“She was killed a few days ago.”

“Oh God.” Brooke sank onto a chair. Her grandmother sat next to her and took her hand. She squeezed it, gathering strength.

“How?”

“The same way Cybil died. The mother fu—” He cleared his throat. “The killer left her tied to a tree. Harley called in the FBI. They’re taking over the investigation.”

Emptiness filled her, echoing in her ears. Her nose smarted, and tears burned her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. A woman died, and I could have helped her if only I’d stopped my car in time.”

“Don’t, Brooke. What ifs don’t accomplish a thing. They’ll only make you more miserable.”

“You’re right. Still—”

June stood, her knees clicking as she rose to her feet. She looked every one of her seventy-eight years as she let out a long sigh. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. I hear the school bus, and Zack will be on it.”

Dillon clamped his lips together and nodded as his son burst through the door. He rocked to a stop in his running shoes and dropped his backpack onto the floor with a thump. A smile lit his face.

“Hey, Dad, how come you’re home so early?”

“We finished up sooner than I expected. Do you have homework?”

“Just practicing my spelling words.”

“We can go over them after we visit Grandpa Jesse.”

“Can I take Otis with me?” he asked, his golden eyes sparkling with life and innocence.

Brooke nearly choked on her emotion. “Sure. He didn’t get a walk today, and I’m sure he’d love one.”

Dillon’s gaze met hers, and she wished she could tell what he was thinking. His face was drawn in tight lines, his eyes shuttered.

“Thanks, I’ll talk to you later.” Grabbing his son’s backpack, he followed him out the door. The boy’s whoops and hollers drifted through the cold air, bursts of warmth in the dying afternoon.

****

Brooke answered the door wearing a fuzzy, blue robe belted around her slim waist. Yellow flowered pajama legs stuck out below the hem, covering the tops of pink bunny slippers. Her hair was pulled back with a headband, and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked about twelve.
Which makes me the worst sort of pervert.
Dillon shifted uncomfortably, thankful his jacket hid his growing reaction.

“I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She opened the door wider and waved him inside. “Grandma went up to bed already. Have a seat in the front room.” She paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you want something to drink?”

He shook his head. “I have to make this quick. I left Zack home alone. He’s asleep, but if he wakes up—”

“He’s six years old and a bright boy. If he can’t find you at home, he’ll come straight over here.”

“I suppose so.” He held up a plastic receiver. “I dug out the old baby monitor and locked all the doors, just in case.” He flopped onto the couch and stared at her. “Come sit down. I’m here to apologize.”

She perched on the edge of the cushion. “For what?”

“Being so hard on you the other day.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You were worried and stressed and absolutely right. I was an idiot to wander around alone in the woods at night.”

“All true. Still, I’m sorry for snapping the way I did. I don’t want anything to happen to you, and I let my anxiety have free rein.”

She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I made myself an easy target. It was foolish.”

Dillon tugged her over to his side. Her body tensed before relaxing against him. He rested his cheek on her hair. “I’m scared to death for Marnie and Steph, but if anything were to happen to you—” He shuddered and held her tight.

“I’m being careful.”

“I know.” He nuzzled the side of her neck, breathing in the clean scent of soap and something vaguely floral. He licked the rim of her ear. She trembled in his arms. Heat burned through him in a wave of desire so strong it was painful.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was high and thin.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like.” He cupped her face in his hand and gently bit her bottom lip before deepening the kiss. She kissed him back, boldly thrusting her tongue into his mouth. When she groaned and buried her fingers in his hair, he laid her back onto the cushions. He pushed aside the lapel of her robe and felt supple flesh beneath soft flannel. Buttons slipped through their holes, baring her skin to his touch. Her nipples puckered into tight buds.

He tore his lips from hers and kissed his way down, fastening his mouth over one peak. She whimpered and squirmed beneath him. Blood pounded in his head, and for a moment he was afraid he would explode. He wrenched his mouth away, closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth, trying to take back some measure of control.

Her breath came in short pants, and her hand shook as she closed her robe. “We can’t do this again, Dillon.”

He released her and opened his eyes. Her gaze met his, full of lingering passion mixed with agitation.

“I agree your grandmother’s couch may not be the best place to start something.”

“We aren’t going to start something
anywhere
. Nothing has changed. You don’t want a committed relationship, and I don’t want to get hurt.”

Her words stung. “You’ve been back in town for a month. I don’t know what you expect from me.” The words sounded petulant, even to his own ears.

Her gaze was steady. Her smile held little humor. “I thought I could enjoy a casual fling. God knows the sex is amazing.”

He picked up her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I’ll second that.”

“Apparently I’m not great at casual flings. I can’t turn off my emotions.” She squeezed back, then pulled her hand away. “I care about you. If we keep doing
this
,
I’m afraid it will turn into more than caring.” She flung out her arm. “And voilà, I wind up with a broken heart. Again.”

Her voice was edged with fear, and he felt lower than gum on a sidewalk for not reassuring her. But he wouldn’t lie. Dillon sucked in a breath and let the truth spill out. “I care—a lot.” He took her face between his palms and looked into her eyes. “The thought of something happening to you scares the shit out of me, because you matter. Is that love?” He flopped back against the couch. “Hell, I don’t know. Am I looking for the entanglements that always seem to complicate a committed relationship? Not on your life. I didn’t start this—” He raised his hands. “—this
thing
between us wanting a commitment.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know! When you’re angry, I lose sleep. When I don’t see you, I miss the funny things you say and your smile. Then there’s the sex.” His fists clenched at his sides. “Jesus, Brooke, just thinking about you gives me a hard on at some extremely inopportune moments.”

Her lips tilted in a tired looking smile. “Basing a relationship on your overactive libido doesn’t sound like the sturdiest foundation to build on.”

He stared at the glowing embers in the fireplace. Otis rolled over on the hearth rug and groaned in his sleep. “Probably not.”

She turned to look him squarely in the eyes. He could practically see the frustration rising off her in waves. “So, do we give this an honest try, or do we stay away from each other as best we can? It’s your call.”

He stared back, watching her blue eyes darken to the color of a stormy sea. Her full lips were pressed firmly together, and her back was as rigid as a flag pole beneath the tightly belted robe. He wanted to pull her into his arms and watch the tension melt away. He wanted to see her eyes light up with laughter. What he
didn’t
want was to let her go.

“Maybe a commitment isn’t such a bad thing. It beats the hell out of the alternative.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously, Dillon, am I supposed to be overwhelmed by your enthusiasm?”

He grinned. “Hey, I’m trying.” He reached for her and pulled her against his side. Resting his chin on top of her head, he felt some of his stress ease. “Can we go slow and see what happens?”

“Yes.”

“Can we make out some more?”

“Not right this minute. You should probably go home and check on Zack.”

His gaze flew to the silent baby monitor. “I can’t believe I forgot about my son.” He rubbed his hands across his face and stared at her. “It worries me, the way I can’t think about anything else when I’m around you.”

She frowned. “You’re overreacting. Zack is safe. You didn’t forget about him. Having a conversation with me isn’t turning your back on your son.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right! God, you must think I’m a complete basket case.”

“No, I think you’re a single parent with a lot on your mind. I
get
that, Dillon. I know Zack is your number one priority. I wouldn’t think much of you if he wasn’t.”

He stood, took her hands in his, and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “I don’t deserve you. I honest to God don’t. I’ve been a complete idiot, but I’m really going to try this time.”

“That’s all I want.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His body stirred, and he deepened the kiss. When he broke contact, his heart was pounding in his chest. “You could come home with me.”

“Slow, Dillon. We’re taking this slow. Slow isn’t jumping into bed every time you have a boner.”

“Are you sure?”

She pushed him out of the room and into the front hall. “Positive. We’ll work on that foundation before we climb back into bed together. You’ll thank me for it later.”

His jeans strained uncomfortably. “Doubtful. Seriously doubtful,” he groaned. But his heart felt lighter than it had since he’d made a mess of things between them. He kissed her one last time before going home to his son.

Chapter Twelve

The FBI agents had appropriated Harley’s office to use as interrogation central. The sheriff hammered the computer keyboard at one of his deputy’s desks, a vein pulsing at his temple. Dillon slouched on a straight backed chair, Carter on one side of him, Rod on the other. The man looked nearly comatose with bruised eyes staring out of a pale face. A second row of chairs occupied by local men faced them. He gritted his teeth as the decibel level of the bitch fest rose.

Eyes flashing, Harley leaped to his feet and let out a piercing whistle. “Enough!” Silence followed his outburst. In the corner, the coffee maker gurgled and sputtered. A cell phone trilled the theme song from
Bonanza
in someone’s pocket, breaking the tension.

“Look, I know you’re all pissed to be pulled away from work, but this is important. Two women have been killed. Two others are missing. The investigation takes precedence over your personal and professional lives, so drop the complaints. I can’t hear myself think through all the whining.”

Carter sat up straighter in his chair, his brows lowering in a scowl. “We’re happy to do anything we can to help, Harley, but why are we being questioned? Every man here has lived in this town forever. What does the FBI want with us?”

“Take it up with them.” The sheriff’s face darkened. “I’m just the gofer.”

“You called them in to help,” Dillon said in a mild tone.

Harley bared his teeth. “Don’t remind me.”

The door to the inner office opened. Elliot Locke emerged, his lips pressed together in a tight line. He pushed his glasses up his nose, grabbed his jacket off the rack by the door, and left without a word. Polk stepped into the outer room, eyed the waiting men, and hooked his thumb toward the office. “Tremayne, you’re next.”

Dillon rose to his feet and followed the shorter man. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Didn’t even flinch. Nerves of steel?” Polk’s tone was insolent.

Ignoring the taunt, he took the chair in front of the desk without being asked. Washington faced him across the cluttered expanse of battered wood. Dressed in black, Agent Johnson leaned against the wall to his right. The back of his neck prickled as she stared at him through narrowed eyes. He imagined meeting her in a dark alley and shuddered.

Washington tapped a stack of papers together and cleared his throat. “I have your statement taken by detective Watkins. We have a few additional questions.”

“I’m not sure what I can add, but ask away.”

“Rumor has it you were involved at different times with two of the women who were abducted. Could you elaborate on your relationship with them please?”

Dillon’s jaw tightened. “Cybil and I dated in high school. I haven’t seen her since her parents moved away over ten years ago. As for Marnie, we dated last summer and broke it off in the fall.”