Chapter Three
The day was so busy, Kinley didn’t have time to think about the danger she might be in or the next steps she should be taking. She sure as hell thought about Easton, though. Getting the intensity of his gazes, the free-fall tumble in her belly at the most innocent touch, and the steady timbre of his voice to leave her mind was an impossible feat. She’d never felt the type of instant attraction she did with Easton. Her physical reaction to him was startling, but she wasn’t afraid. Without a doubt, Easton was a good man. One who had painful secrets shuttered behind his dark eyes. He understood her in a way she wished no one ever had to. She still received counseling and took medication for her anxiety. It didn’t shame her. Why should it? The steps she took to heal were as necessary as cleaning and covering a wound, setting a broken bone. But the majority of society shied away from discussing what it took to heal a soul. To the marrow of her bones, she knew Easton would never judge her. Would never question her personal journey.
The first thing she’d done was go straight to her lieutenant’s office. She’d spent forty-five minutes convincing him that she was still able to do her job. Watching his face go from surprise, to shock, then pity wasn’t how she wanted to begin the day. Maybe she should be grateful for all her years of anonymity. Now that she’d had a taste of being a normal person, not just “the survivor,” it was hard to be treated otherwise.
“You look like you could use some sugar.” Their dispatcher, Meredith Calder, rolled her chair to the other side of the sizeable v-shaped desk and pulled out a drawer. “Kisses or gummy peaches?” There was a reason they called the young woman Merry. She was the most considerate, kindest person in the station. Her drawer was always stacked with treats for her coworkers. That was just a stand-in for when she didn’t bake. Her smile was like a thousand-lumen floodlight. Since she joined the barracks two years earlier, everyone liked to complain about needing new clothing stipends because they’d all gone up a size. Ultimately, Merry was the best-loved person in the barracks.
“Gummies. Thanks, Merry.” She sank her teeth into the sugar-coated candy and leaned against the wall. Why did artificial fruit slices have to taste so good?
“Anytime, lovebug.”
There was that, too. Her ridiculous nicknames. Ones that only she would get away with calling the intensely alpha personalities in the station.
The doorbell to the barracks chimed, and Merry glanced at the camera positioned on the front door before hitting the buzzer to allow the person access. Kinley instantly recognized the man. Merry’s dad was friendly with the lieutenant and had been a decorated agent with the bureau before his retirement. Added to that, he clearly adored his daughter and was always bringing her coffee or lunch from the outside world. She might’ve learned to spoil those around her from her dad, but her physical features were all inherited from her late mother, who was originally from Mumbai. Merry had explained her mom was in a terrible car accident shortly after Merry’s birth.
“There’s my favorite daughter.” Mr. Calder smiled at his child with such affection it gave Kinley a pang of envy. Her parents hadn’t gone out of their way to keep in touch with her after she relocated. Then again, neither did she. Everyone coped with grief in their own way, but it still stung. “Thought you could use this.” He slid a tall coffee through the glass window. “You stay up too late studying.” Merry was just one more year away from earning her Master’s degree to become a criminologist.
She rolled her eyes and giggled. “I’m pretty sure that’s what everyone has to do in college, Dad. Thank you, though. I’ll never turn down a caramel latte.”
The sound of an incoming call made Merry straighten, her thick black hair swinging around her midsection as she reached for the phone, bronze cheeks falling with concern as she spoke.
She relayed the information of an unattended death over the radio to inform their shift, and Kinley straightened. “I’m glad I didn’t go home yet. I’ll respond.” Working would keep her mind off Easton and her tormentor. Plus, she suddenly felt like she was invading a family moment—or maybe it was just her sense of isolation that made it seem that way.
“Be safe.” Concern was evident in Merry’s tawny eyes.
“Just another day at the office.” She smiled and walked out of the dispatch room to her unmarked car. Talking to Easton had been a good thing. Her step was lighter as she approached the vehicle. Maybe she’d been intimidated, feeling a little cornered when he said he’d protect her in his home. Independence was important to her. Never did she want to be at the mercy of another again. Yes, Easton was a good man—she knew not everyone was a killer waiting to strike—but she needed to stand on her own. She didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, but it was a great way to keep people at arm’s length. She lived for her job. Lived to put criminals behind bars. To uncover deadly secrets. Now that she’d had some space, though, she realized it was probably something he’d just said in the heat of the moment. It wasn’t like he was expecting her to throw together an overnight bag or something.
Kinley slipped behind the wheel, and the radio at her hip crackled.
“Badge thirty-four. Received. Responding to 18 Highland Path.”
The voice was unmistakable. With everything going on, she was thrilled Lambert was responding to the same call as her.
Dusk was falling earlier each night. Colorful leaves peppered the trees and accumulated into dried-out piles on the sidewalks. Every few houses, a ghost, witch, or gravestone marked the coming of Halloween. As she reached the city’s outskirts, the homes thinned, and the roads became more shadowed and coiled. There was a prickling sensation along her scalp as she glanced in the rearview mirror. No one was behind her. Nothing was wrong. She was just jittery from lack of sleep the night before and that email, plus the note left on Easton’s car. Maybe that wasn’t about her, either. Perhaps he had a girlfriend or lover, and someone was unhappy with their union. Something odd and ugly twisted her gut, but she dismissed it. What did she care if Easton was attached? He was only helping her. She had no claim on him.
She eased on the brakes as she approached the two-story home on a dead-end street. Silent blue strobe lights and yellow tape framed the property line. There was already a media van on site, Lord help them, along with an ambulance, even though it wouldn’t be of much use. She parked behind one of the local cruisers and got out of her car. Strobe lights cut through the dark and illuminated boarded-up windows and a lawn overrun with coiled twigs and tall brush. Dead leaves clinging to the tall oaks lining the street rustled overhead. A car door slammed behind her, and she jerked around.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever caught you by surprise.” Lambert had arrived, parked behind her, and exited his vehicle without her even noticing. How was that even possible? She was more preoccupied than she thought. In a job like hers, distractions were deadly.
“Don’t get used to it. You made me realize I’m off my game, though. I appreciate the forewarning.” She turned back to the house, and Lambert approached, standing at her side.
“This looks like every haunted house ever depicted,” he muttered, hands on his hips, looking over the house from its boarded-up windows to the unruly landscaping.
They began walking toward a dilapidated Victorian. “It is giving off an Addams Family vibe.” With every step closer to the old house, a sense of dread hollowed a pit in her stomach.
A gust of wind whipped her hair, so powerful it nearly made her lose her footing on the cracked concrete walkway leading to the front door. She continued with purposeful strides, keeping her hands at her side even though she was desperate to bring them together. She’d visited hundreds of crime scenes over the years and understood what to expect, so why did she feel so off-kilter?
“You okay?” Lambert’s eyes narrowed as he glanced down at her.
“Yeah. Fine.” She picked up her pace, brushing off his concern. The police officer guarding the door stepped to the side as they approached.
“What do we have?” she asked, stepping upon the threshold. He offered her a pen, turning the binder to note their information in the crime scene entry log.
“In my twenty years, I’ve never seen anything like this.” The unmistakable scent of death wafted into the foyer. “Down the hall. The body’s in the kitchen,” the officer said.
She exchanged a look with Lambert before walking in the direction of the noise. The shuttering lens of a camera. The rise and fall of serious discussions. Everything seemed to slow as they approached the scene, like sprinting through waist-deep water. The crime scene photographer was taking pictures of the body at the kitchen table. She might’ve mistaken the woman for someone reading the newspaper if not for the rope holding the victim to the chair. Kinley absently dragged her damp hands down her pant legs.
“Detectives.” A patrol sergeant approached them. “Scene’s secured. This house hasn’t had an occupant in over five years.”