Shiver (12 page)

Riley dropped to Devra’s side and took her hand. It was still warm. She had a pulse, she was alive. Relief surged through him. He looked up at Mac.

Something dark and cold crossed Mac’s face. He’d never seen Mac look like that. Almost…dangerous.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here, Riley. She doesn’t belong here.”

Before Riley could respond, Mac disappeared through the foliage.

He rubbed Devra’s hand between his own. “Devra. Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.”
Please, wake up and tell me my brother had nothing to do with this.

But he didn’t like the sick sensation in his stomach, or the direction his thoughts were beginning to take. Who else would care about a picture of his mother? Who else would know the significance of that picture? Had it been Mac in his house last night?

Chapter Seven

Devra moaned as blinding pain erupted through her head. She heard her name being called and tried to open her eyes. Someone lifted her head, sending a wave of pain arcing through her skull.

“Devra, are you okay?”

It was Riley, the detective with the honey voice. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up. There were yellow daisies everywhere, on the ground, on her chest, her legs. Panic swept through her. “Get them off of me!” she cried. She swatted at them, trying to brush them away, and was overtaken by sheer hopelessness as she tried to stand, but couldn’t find the strength.

“Get them off me, please,” she begged.

Riley helped her to her feet and brushed the last of the blossoms away. “It’s okay. They’re just flowers. They can’t hurt you.”

She stared down at them, and even though she heard what he said, understood what he said, she was overwhelmed with the fear that they weren’t just flowers, that they could hurt her.

“What happened?” he asked.

She looked up at him and tried to focus on his words, on what he wanted from her, but everything was fuzzy and it hurt to think. It hurt to move. “I’m sorry?” she asked, trying to clear the confusion from her mind.

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“Watching you climb into the tree house.”

“You didn’t see Mac?”

“Mac?” She shook her head. “Was he here?” Nervousness skittered along her spine.

“Mac found you.”

“Oh.” She looked around. “Then, where did he go?”

Riley hesitated. “What’s the deal with the daisies?”

A deep shiver swept through her. Images flitted through her mind: ice-cold water, raspberries, daisies. Dizziness threatened. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What about this?” He held out a paper with a picture of Tommy on it. Tommy at thirteen. Tommy smiling and happy.

Then the shakes started and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
Tommy.
Tears filled her eyes.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine.”

He said the words so easily, so casually, but nothing would be fine—not for her, not ever again.

She leaned into Riley’s strong warm chest and closed her eyes, trying to forget, trying to pretend that the game wasn’t up and there wasn’t anywhere left for her to go or anyone out there who would help her.

Hot tears slipped out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks as the pain in her head deadened into a dull ache.

After a moment, he pulled back. “Is there anything you can tell me? What is it about this picture that has upset you?”

The paper clutched in his hand shook in the wind. She stared at it, stared at the smiling image of her childhood friend.
I’m so sorry, Tommy.

“What is it?” Riley asked. He didn’t like the look of horror that had come over her face, or the way the little color her skin had gained since waking fell away, leaving her looking like a ghostly specter as the sky darkened around them.

“They wouldn’t let me say goodbye. I didn’t kill him,” she whispered. Her eyes filled with fear and became slightly unfocused as she stared at the paper. “You have to believe me.” She sounded almost desperate and her fingers clutched his arms, clinging.

“I believe you,” he whispered.

That seemed to settle her some, seemed to bring the focus back to her wild gaze as she looked up at him.

“Where did you get this?” She gestured toward the paper.

“In the tree house.”

She nodded her head in quick succession. “Then he’s here. He’s come for me.”

“Who?”

“The man who killed Tommy.”

Her words chilled him. Or maybe it was the manic way in which she said them. At that moment, the wind started up, whipping through the trees, blowing her hair around her. “Who’s Tommy and what does he have to do with Michelle?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Somewhere in the distance, thunder boomed through the sky. They had to get back to the house. “Can you ride?”

“I’ll do anything to get out of here.” She shivered and rubbed her arms, looking around her, her eyes searching the bushes.

He helped her up onto Babe’s back. “Hang on.” He grabbed Storm’s reins, then climbed up on Babe behind her. “Lean back against me and hold on.”

They rode as fast as they could, but had to stop for the horse he’d left tied up at the tree house, and with two horses in tow it was slow going. The storm was blowing in fast and from the look of the swollen, purple sky, it wouldn’t be long before it cut loose.

The downpour started just as they rode into the barn to secure the horses. There was no sign of the dogs. “LuAnn must have them,” Riley said absently.

They ran to the house. “Felix!” Devra called, and gave a look of relief as the cat came running at the sound of her voice. As Devra fed Felix, Riley called his stepmother and let her know that Storm was safe and secure in his stall in the barn.

As he hung up the phone, he turned to Devra. “We should take you to the hospital and have you examined.”

She stiffened. “No.”

“You don’t know what happened out there. You were unconscious.”

“I can’t.”

He shook his head in bewilderment, then picked up
the phone again to call Tony. “How’s your head?” he asked as Tony’s line rang.

“Better.”

“Any bumps?”

“No. I wasn’t hit.”

“You weren’t?” She hadn’t mentioned that.

“No. I smelled something. Something chemical. Maybe chloroform?”

“Pretty sophisticated. Why didn’t he just hit you?”

She shrugged.

“Tony here,” Tony said as he picked up the line.

Riley turned his attention back to the phone. “Listen, Tony. I need you out here right away. Something else has happened.”

“No problem. I’m almost there.”

“Almost here?”

“Yeah, the nurse at Children’s worked with a police artist on a sketch of the man she saw watching Miss Morgan. The kid identified him as the guy he gave the locket to. I’d like to bring the sketch by for you and Miss Morgan to look at.”

Riley raised his eyebrows. That was fast. “Good work.”

“Also, I got the results back from her house. No prints on the rock.”

Riley was afraid of that.

“But the prints in the house came back to a Miss Devra Miller.”

Riley’s grip tightened on the receiver. “Miller?”

Devra looked up at him, her eyes wide.

“Yep. Apparently, she goes by a different name.”

She’d refused to be printed when they had her at the station. Now he knew why. He remembered seeing the name Miller written in the top corner of the papers describing Michelle’s murder. Her deception had been right there and he’d missed it. He sat down in the chair across from her and watched as her scared gaze turned wary. Why hadn’t she told him?

Riley hung up the phone and speared his hand through his hair. Uneasiness churned in his stomach. Villain or victim? Had she staged her little kidnapping? He shook his head, he just didn’t know. Why would she lie about something as simple as her name? She had to know he’d find out.

“Tony’s on his way.”

A worried frown creased her brow. “I know.”

“Are you Devra Miller?” He said the words casually, hoping for a small look of guilt or the embarrassed smile he’d seen numerous times cross her face. He waited for her to explain who she was and why she’d felt the need to go by a different name. Perhaps it was as simple as wanting a pen name for her books. She could give a little laugh and apologize, stating that she just didn’t think it was important.

But she didn’t say a word.

Her eyes turned cold and blank and her chameleon’s mask moved into place.

“Talk to me,” he demanded softly.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s a lot to say and I think you owe it to me to be honest.”

“Why? Because you took me in?” Her voice was
hard, her body rigid. “I don’t recall you giving me much choice.”

“I want to help you.”

“Why would you want to help your prime murder suspect?”

The anger emanating from her surprised him. Could he have been so wrong about her? “I know you didn’t kill Michelle.”

“Do you?” she mocked with arched eyebrows. “How can you be so sure?”

Exactly. Why had he been so sure?

Thunder rocked the house. Lightning forked the sky, casting an ominous glow to the room. Their silence deepened and all that could be heard was the angry beat of raindrops against the roof and bushes outside.

Devra grasped the table with splayed fingertips. “Why would Tony brave coming way out here in a torrential downpour? Just to see me? What does he really want? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Don’t you mean what did he find out about you? Why don’t you tell me what you’re hiding?”

Her dark blue eyes shimmered with frustration. Riley wanted to tell her about the sketch but, at this point, he had too many doubts about her, too many questions. Surprise would be his best strategy. He needed to study her reaction before she had time to school her features, to protect herself from whatever she might see in that sketch. It could be nothing, a nobody, a hospital orderly she’d never met. Or it could be an old lover or even an accomplice. He couldn’t be sure. Not of her, not of anything.

What did Michelle’s death have to do with a boy
murdered fifteen years ago? A boy Devra claimed she hadn’t killed. And what did that have to do with why his mother’s picture had been taken off his mantel? “If you’re innocent, if you have nothing to hide, why do you care if Tony’s coming over?”

“Why are you working so hard to prove I’m not innocent?”

“Dammit, Devra! Don’t you think I want to believe you?”

Her eyes widened.

His tone softened. “Do you actually think I would have brought you into my home and introduced you to my family if I believed you were capable of murder?”

Tears watered her eyes and his gut clenched.

“I can’t trust you,” she murmured.

“You can. Open up and tell me!”

They stared at one another as the storm thundered above, the rift between them growing wider with each passing second.

“I can’t help you if you won’t let me in.”

Headlights shone through the front windows.

“He’s here,” Riley said.

Devra stood, her frightened eyes growing large and filling her face.

What was she so afraid of?

Tony burst through the front door, peeled off his parka and hung it on a rack. Rainwater ran in rivulets down the slick fabric to puddle on the floor. “She’s a live one. I just about drowned coming in from the car.” Lightning flashed, emphasizing his words and illuminating the trees outside the window.

“Can I get you some hot tea?” Devra asked with only the slightest quiver to betray her anxiety. Riley couldn’t help but be impressed by her ability to hide her emotions.

Surprise widened Tony’s eyes as he stared at her. “Yes, ma’am. That’d be nice,” he responded with a warm smile dimpling his cheeks.

Riley nudged him.

“Whoo-eee,” Tony said as Devra left the room to get the tea. “That’s quite a transformation.”

“She’s the same woman you saw at the station,” Riley said dryly, not liking Tony ogling her.

“Nah, that woman in the station was a potted plant, this woman’s a real looker.”

Even though she was only wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, the soft cotton molded Devra’s curves, perfectly outlining her heart-shaped bottom and ample breasts. Her natural beauty highlighted by lustrous curls and shockingly blue eyes took Riley’s breath away. Yeah, he knew how Tony felt.

“I’m not sure how she managed to hide her looks so well. That babe’s a knockout. How’d I miss it?”

“She’s good at hiding herself,” Riley muttered. “Either that or you’re one lousy cop.”

“Very funny.”

“I just can’t stop asking myself why she’s trying so hard to hide,” Riley said.

“Perhaps it has something to do with our mystery man.”

THE EYES of the devil.

Devra’s hands trembled as she took the sketch from Tony’s outstretched hand.

“Have you seen him before?”

His voice sounded as if it were traveling down a long, dark tunnel, echoing somewhere she couldn’t quite place. She shifted her weight and swallowed, forcing back the rising nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. She dropped the paper on the table and fought the urge to run, to hide.

“Devra, have you seen him before?” Riley touched her arm.

She turned to him, but she didn’t know what to say.

“Devra?” His tone became more determined.

She’d seen him. Every time she closed her eyes. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the picture. The artist had done an incredible job capturing the eyes. The portrayal of glimmering evil shook her to the core of her soul. “All that’s missing is the sardonic twist of his lips…and the glint of laughter shining in his eyes.” Everything in the room receded, so that all that was left, all she could see were coal-black graphite eyes.

“What? Devra, do you recognize him?” Tony persisted.

Devra nodded.

“Who is he?” Riley asked, stepping closer.

“The devil,” she whispered, looking up at him. She reached for him as the room spun and the world tilted beneath her feet.