FADE TO BLACK - Thrilling Romantic Suspense - Book 1 of the BLACK CATS Series (28 page)

He hesitated, then admitted, “I’m not doing so great.”

No kidding.
She didn’t say it, hearing an unexpected vulnerability in his voice. “You didn’t get your job back.”

Shaking his head, he mumbled something, then cleared his throat and tried again. “No. And I won’t be getting it back.”

His defiant expression told her more than she wanted to know about Tim’s involvement with some missing cash at his employer’s used-car dealership. To think he could be reduced to stealing. It stunned her.

“It was fifty bucks and a couple of unauthorized joyrides in some vehicles from the lot,” he said flatly, reading her reaction. “I paid it back. He said he won’t press charges. But I’m unemployed.”

Her upstanding marine brother, a petty thief.
God.

Forcing the law-abiding-sheriff part of herself away, she tried to transition into his little sister. “You’ll get another job.”

“I don’t give a damn about a job.”

“You obviously need money,” she said, her tone pointed.

He ignored the sarcasm. “I’m working with Randy a little.”

“Oh, great. Is he opening a beer-testing business?” When he stiffened and scooted his chair back as if to rise, Stacey reached for his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He stayed seated. Barely. “I’ve just been riding along on a couple of his runs. No biggie—I give him a hand loading and unloading.”

Stacey wanted to know the rest, sensing he had more to say, especially given the way his voice had trailed off. Knowing better than to push him, she made light of it. “Come on, you’re telling me Randy does anything more than back that semi up to the loading dock and watch the store employees roll out the big flat-screens?”

“Maybe I just go along for company; his kid isn’t interested anymore,” he admitted, still studying the stupid cookie like it held the meaning of life. His tone turning bitter, he added, “I don’t really need the bucks. You think Uncle Sam isn’t compensating me?”

“So why did you take the fifty?”

He shrugged, at a loss. “I don’t know. Boredom. Stupidity.”

Anger. Tim had seemed to want to pick fights with everyone lately.

“Maybe I just want people to look at me instead of shifting their eyes.”

And that was probably the truest thing he’d said so far.

“People look at you.”

“Yeah, the circus freak.”

“That’s an exaggeration. You have beautiful eyes.”

“Miraculously.”

“Good features. Not exactly the stud you used to think you were, but there’s nothing wrong with you, Tim, other than a few lines that people who know and love you don’t even see anymore.”

“And the people who don’t know and love me?”

“Screw them.”

Another of those sad laughs. “You always did tell it like it is.”

The coffee was ready. Getting up, she fixed them each a cup, keeping her back to Tim so he wouldn’t see the way her hands shook. She’d cried herself out last night, yet still suspected she had a tear or two left for her brother, who suddenly seemed so lost, so beaten. He’d been stateside for two and a half years, the first six months of it in a VA hospital, the rest here in Hope Valley. Yet this was the first time he’d reached out to her emotionally. The first time he’d admitted he was floundering, rather than just angrily demanding that everyone make way for him and give him whatever he wanted.

There was no way she was going to blow it.

“Angie asks about you all the time.” Angie, a friend of Stacey’s, owned the new Internet café. She’d been Tim’s high school girlfriend, and he’d broken her heart when he joined the marines. Stacey sensed that the attractive divorcée still cared. But it was a little sticky; she’d been dating Randy a year ago, until Mama Covey had ruined things. Talk about best friends sharing and sharing alike.

“She pities me,” Tim snapped.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

Meaning he did still care. She knew it.

Forcing herself to let it go, she carried the coffee over. “So. If you don’t need romantic advice, and don’t need a job for money, what’s the trouble?”

His head jerked. “Trouble?”

“Something landed you on my doorstep at eleven o’clock on a Sunday night. What can I do to help?”

“Help. You’ll just help, no matter what?”

“Yes, I will,” she murmured, wondering what, exactly, he’d gotten mixed up in. God, she hoped Randy hadn’t involved her brother in any shady dealings that she wouldn’t be able to help him with. Because she loved her brother, but she couldn’t close her eyes if he were breaking the law.

“There’s nothing wrong.” He rubbed both hands over his face, visibly tired, but maybe covering his eyes so she wouldn’t see the emotion in them. He seemed truly shocked that she’d offered her help so readily. Did he really think she would have refused him?

Maybe. She certainly hadn’t been sympathetic the other morning. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been contrite and vulnerable, either.

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have come. I just knew that if I stayed home, Randy would show up and I’d go out and do something stupid.”

Something stupid with Randy.
Well, alert the media.
“He’s trouble.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“I know that.”

“Look,” Tim said, getting defensive, “I’ve known him all my life. We’ve been there for each other. Since his dad died, and our mom.”

They seldom talked about their mother, primarily because Stacey had no memory of her. “I know that, too. You think I don’t remember him talking about how great it would be if Dad married Randy’s mom and you two became brothers?”

Tim had just sipped his coffee, but he quickly spewed it back out into his cup. This time, a real smile appeared. It emphasized his scars. It also emphasized the beautiful color of his eyes. And broke her heart a little. “Jeez, I was petrified it might happen.”

“Me too! I thought you were all for it.”

“You kidding? She’s a barracuda. If a man could will himself to have a heart attack, I’d think Mr. Covey did just to get away from her.”

“Lucky guy,” she said with a laugh. Laughing. With her brother. How rare was that?

“Randy’s had it tough,” Tim insisted. “We’re there for each other, thick and thin. Right and wrong.”

That
right and wrong
part really stuck in her head. “Tim, I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You asking as the sheriff?” he snapped.

“No. I’m asking as your sister. Someone who loves you.”

His green eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, she thought he was going to open up. She braced herself to listen without reacting, knowing he was really worried about whatever was going on.

But he hedged, repeating, under his breath, “He’s always been there for me.”

“I know. But right now, he’s not the kind of person you need to have ‘there’ for you. He’s not helping you, and he could be hurting.”

Tim’s coffee sloshed over his cup as he lowered it to the table. Her brother was actually shaking.

“Tim, please, tell me what it is. Are you … Have you been taking something?”

He rose abruptly. “I’m not on drugs.”

“I know Randy used to do them.”

“Years ago,” he snapped. “He’s not anymore. End of story.”

“I’m sorry.” Stacey reached for him. “Please don’t go.”

He hesitated, then ducked away from her hand, as if he didn’t want to be touched. But the anger left him and he quietly murmured, “You have to go to work tomorrow, keeping Hope Valley safe from the evils of the world. I’ve kept you up late enough.”

Knowing it was useless and that he’d shut himself down for now, she rose to her feet as well. “Safe from the evils of the world, huh? Guess you haven’t been following the local news.”

“Oh, hell, I totally forgot. I heard about Lisa. That’s rough.”

“Her mother certainly thinks so.”

Tim flushed. “Dick told you I was in the bar the night she disappeared.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Thanks for not calling me out all big, bad sheriff sister in front of everyone.”

“I intended to stop by and see you tomorrow. Randy, too.”

“He’ll tell you the same thing I did. Lisa was drunk, like everybody else in the place.”

“Did you talk to her?”

He shook his head, sneering now, for real. “Are you kidding? She couldn’t even look me in the face. Oh, she never said anything; she might have been a little cock-tease, but she wasn’t mean.”

Stacey zoned in on the most surprising part of his statement, ignoring the self-pity in her brother’s voice. “A cock-tease? I thought when she was using she gave it away left, right, and center.”

“Maybe to a rich guy on the left, a well-hung guy on the right, and a drug-connected one in the center. Not with average dudes like Randy or ugly ones like me.”

She rolled her eyes at the self-slam, too used to them to even argue with him about it anymore. Instead, she focused on this new aspect of Lisa’s personality. Had the young woman had simply turned down the wrong man one too many times and drawn the Reaper’s ire?

“How late did you and Randy stay?”

“I was there until closing. He left a little before that. I think he got antsy when your deputy came and hauled his brother out. I guess the punk used to run around with Seth or something, and Randy wanted to make sure his kid wasn’t trying to score beer, too.”

“You saw Mitch show up to get Mike?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. He grabbed Lisa and tried to get her to leave with them. Got ugly for a minute. Shame he didn’t convince her; things might have ended up a lot differently.”

Yes, they might have. They probably would have, in fact. Mitch was a good guy. He’d been trying to help Lisa Zimmerman; she felt sure of it.

But that surety still didn’t erase the tiny hint of suspicion about why Mitch hadn’t come clean about his relationship with the troubled young victim.

“Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

Though she wanted Tim to stay and tell her the real reason he’d come over tonight, she didn’t press her luck. This was the first time he’d reached out to her, and she wanted him to come back. She wanted him to want to come back. And hopefully, the next time he did, he’d be ready to reveal a little more.

Despite that, as she walked him to the door and kissed him good-bye on his poor, scarred cheek, she murmured, “You could go see the doctor down at the VA again.”

He tensed.

“I’m not criticizing. Not judging. Just making the suggestion. If you can’t talk to me or to Dad, maybe you could talk to him.”

Tim stared down at her, saying nothing. But she knew him well enough to know he’d at least consider it, because she hadn’t ordered, hadn’t browbeaten him. She’d simply made a suggestion. It was the only way to deal with the man lately.

After her brother had left, Stacey locked the door behind him and returned to the kitchen. She’d barely touched her coffee, but it didn’t matter. Caffeine couldn’t jazz her up any more than she already was.

Too bad Dean wasn’t here. Though, of course, it was better that he hadn’t been when Tim showed up. Her brother would never have stayed. But now, facing the long night, she’d like the company. Her mind swam with details about the case, things she’d learned, things she’d speculated. Tidbits that seemed important, though why they should be remained just out of mental reach.

It was almost one o’clock. She needed to try to get some sleep. Still, she couldn’t help eyeing the phone as she cleaned the kitchen.

As if by magic, it rang.

She grabbed it, laughing and about to ask him if he’d read her mind. “Dean?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

That ominous nothingness stretched on for several seconds. Unease made her throat tighten. Images of Lisa, memories of the vicious surprise someone had left on her porch, filled the recesses of her imagination. “Who the hell is this?”

No answer at first, then one single word.

“Bitch.”

The call disconnected.

T
hough he wanted to,
Dean wasn’t able to get back to Hope Valley until early Tuesday evening. Amber Torrington’s brutal murder had debuted at Satan’s Playground Monday morning. And her body—in two pieces—had been discovered later that afternoon.

The team had known someone was going to die. They knew why. They’d had a rough idea who. A broad picture of where. And they’d regrettably known how.

Yet they hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to stop it from happening.

He had no business leaving D.C. Having spent most of yesterday and today in the woods of southern Pennsylvania, where the body had been found, he’d returned to the office to see whether Lily or Brandon was getting anywhere with the security tape. That they hadn’t had any luck provided him with a good reason to head back to Hope Valley. If they were truly working under the assumption that the man was at least familiar with the area, they needed somebody who might recognize him to watch the tape.

Stacey.

It was the only video he was going to ask her to watch. Because what that sick fuck had done to Amber Torrington had made him puke for the first time since he’d been on this case.

Beheading, it seemed, was not as easy as it appeared on video games and movies. The fiend had had to work at it. Hard.

Arriving on the outskirts of town, he headed for the sheriff’s office. Considering he hadn’t spoken to Stacey at all since he’d left her place Saturday night, he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d get. Not that he hadn’t wanted to; he’d just been run ragged. He’d conducted interviews, overseen evidence collection from both scenes, talked to nearly every employee in the mall. Somewhere in there, he could have made a cell phone call to Stacey, but there was too much to say in a phone conversation.

She’s a cop. She’ll understand
.

She was not like his ex, who’d wanted hourly reports on when he’d be home for dinner and had occasionally dumped said dinner onto his chair when he didn’t make it. As if Dean should have been able to dictate when evidence could be discovered or violent criminals could be arrested.

When he reached the office, though, he learned Stacey wasn’t there.