Sweet Like a Psycho - Ch. 4

Chapter 4

Tucker

“Where the hell have you been?” Damien jogged over to me when I reached the bottom of the hill. “I’ve been running around the woods aimlessly for half an hour looking for you.”

“Sorry, I was…” I glanced back up the hill at the rundown house. I was what? Flirting with an innocent civilian? Not exactly. I hadn’t been flirting. I was simply questioning her. And she definitely wasn’t innocent. That woman was hiding something. I’d bet my badge on it. Not that such a bet would mean much...I was about to lose my badge anyway.

“You were what?” His breath was ragged from running.

I didn’t want to talk to him about the woman I had just met. He’d ask me too many prying questions and joke around about why it took me so long to question her. Besides, she was clearly married. And my number one suspect. I just wasn’t sure why neither fact made her less appealing to me. “Aw, Torres, were you worried about me?” I patted his shoulder and kept walking through the woods.

He caught back up to me. “No. These woods just give me the creeps. And it doesn’t help that there’s an escaped psychopath somewhere in the vicinity. Seriously, don’t take off like that.”

I could have kept teasing him about being worried. But I was glad someone had my back. Because no one else in this town did. “I’ll tell you next time I’m about to follow a lead.” I ducked under a branch.

“A lead? What lead? You weren’t even briefed yet.”

“A neighbor saw the woman who lived in the house run into the woods. I thought I might be able to catch her.”

He tugged the zipper on his coat higher. “No wonder I got the creeps walking out here by myself. One crazy woman on the loose is bad enough. But two? Let’s get the hell out of here.” He picked up his pace.

“What do you mean two? Are there two suspects?”

“Nah, I was just referring to Violet. I’d stay out of these woods due to her alone.”

“Who’s Violet?”

“Sometimes I forget you’re not a local. The crazy woman on the hill.” He gestured behind us.

The crazy woman on the hill? I glanced over my shoulder at the hill, but I could barely see it in the darkness. “You mean the one who lives in that dilapidated house?”

“Don’t tell me you met her?”

“I thought she might be the arsonist. There were footprints leading from the crime scene practically to her doorstep.”

Damien laughed. “She rarely leaves her house. Pretty sure she’s scared of germs or something. She’s a total nut-bag but not an arsonist.”

“Are you sure it’s not the same person? Her hair was wet. Maybe she had just dyed it. She fit Sally’s description otherwise and…”

“Who the hell is Sally?”

“That nosy neighbor at the crime scene.”

He shook his head. “And you believed the observations of a bored housewife?”

“Sally was a very credible source.” She wasn’t. She was exactly how Damien described her, only more of the gossipy variety. She had been fishing for information more than offering anything valuable. I was pretty sure she was already spreading rumors of Benjamin Harlow being a polygamist.

“Well I’m a more credible source than your new friend. And you’re barking up the wrong tree with Violet.”

“But she lied about seeing something. I think if we go back and question her again she’ll…”

“No need. We’re off the case.”

I stopped on the edge of the woods. “What do you mean we’re off the case? I already have a lead.”

Damien kept walking back toward my car. “There are no leads. Not for us anyway. I did what you wanted, we get to go have that drink now.”

“Well undo it. I really think we should go question…”

“Fine. I didn’t technically get us off the case. The captain said we no longer have proper clearance. It turned into some next level shit. The FBI will be here soon.”

Jesus. The FBI? Solving this case wouldn’t just save my career. It would set it on a much better trajectory. We passed the crime scene where the fire was finally being contained. I didn’t want to let this go. I had more questions to ask the cops and neighbors. I scanned the marred yellow caution tape that Sally had been fighting earlier, but she was nowhere in sight. The case had been so easily abandoned by everyone but me.

“Open the damn door, Tucker.” He knocked on the passengers’ side window of my car.

I pulled the keys out of my pocket and unlocked it. Damien had more information than he was letting on. He had been chatting with the captain for as long as I was running around in the woods. He had to have found out a lot about the case before we were called off it. I didn’t have much of a choice but to take him up on his offer of drinks now. I had already cracked this case wide open, I just needed a few more details. The more Damien drank, the more he’d talk.

***

“So you’re scared of Violet because she has obsessive-compulsive disorder?” I asked. Damien was three beers in while I was still nursing my first. It was the perfect time to pry more information out of him.

“I never said that I was scared of her. And I have no idea what her freaking diagnosis is. I said the woods give me the creeps because they're filled with crazy women.”

I should have been getting details about the case. But for some reason my mind had decided to focus on Violet. It had nothing to do with her beauty and everything to do with the fact that she was guilty. At least, that’s what I was telling myself. I needed to know more about her to figure out the perfect plan before showing up on her property again tomorrow morning. “OCD isn’t exactly creepy.”

“It’s not about the OCD. It’s everything else. It’s about the fact that she used to be so normal and then lost her mind and decided to isolate herself from the world.”

I took a sip of my beer and waited for him to continue. I knew that he would. Once he got going on a story it was hard to stop him, even if the story was terribly boring and I desperately wanted it to end. But I was dying to hear more of this one.

He leaned forward slightly and dropped his voice. “She was a few years younger than me in school. I saw her around and she wasn’t crazy then. She was normal. Popular even. I was away in college when it happened, but apparently her whole family abandoned her. Just went poof in the night. Her boyfriend too. They left her all alone, flew to the opposite ends of the country just to get away from her. And that’s when the crazy came out. At least when it started to show to everyone else apparently. Her family probably ditched her because they already knew she was a loon.”

“So you just heard about this? You weren’t there when any of it happened?” He was as bad as nosy Sally. Rumors weren’t facts. He knew that.

“Sure, rumors spread like hotcakes. But these ones are true, I’m telling you. I mean, if the woman is sane, why does she live out in the middle of the woods in that rundown shack?”

It wasn’t a shack. The house would have been beautiful in its prime. I couldn’t exactly argue with the rundown part though. It had been the first thing I’d noticed about the place. “Well if she was alone it would be crazy. But she’s not.” I remembered how defensive she got when I implied that she shouldn’t be out in the woods alone. “She’s married, right?”

He rose both eyebrows and laughed. “Married? Are you kidding? Who would marry that whack-job?”

I took another sip of my beer. So it had been another lie. She was alone in that house. Why had she been so quick to lie to me? The question had been turning around in my head for the past hour, always leading toward one conclusion. She was hiding something. “Maybe she’s out there because she’s trying to run from something she did.”

“Not this again. We’re off the case, man.”

“Just hear me out. What if we solved the case instead of the FBI? We could do no wrong after something like that.”

He just stared at me.

“All we have to do is go question Violet again and…”

“You have the hots for her.”

I laughed. “No, definitely not.”

He slowly shook his head. “You’re smitten.”

“Who uses the word smitten? I’m not smitten.”

A huge smile spread over his face. “She was hot. I haven’t seen her in years, but I remember her being at least an eight.”

She was a ten, hands down. If Damien didn’t see that, he was blind. But the captain and Violet certainly didn’t look anything alike. Damien tended to go after curvy, powerful women who he pretended he knew how to handle. Violet wasn’t like that. She seemed…delicate. Like a violet actually. A lying, timid yet audacious, sexy as sin violet. I shrugged away the thought. “I’m not attracted to her. But speaking of women…how did your chat with the captain go?”

“Great. Pretty sure she's going to say yes to a date any day now.”

Keep dreaming. “So what did she say about the case?”

“That two cops were killed in the explosion, which is why we had to rush over there. Everyone thought there was also a civilian in critical condition. He left in an ambulance before we arrived on the scene, but they IDed him at the hospital while I was on the phone. He’s actually some hotshot agent from out of town that’s part of an ongoing investigation.”

“Benjamin Harlow?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Damien shrugged. “It didn’t sound good. He’s in critical condition. I doubt he’ll make it through the night.”

Damn. I was really hoping to question him about everything. He’d even be able to ID Violet if she was the one that had been living in the house. But that theory was pretty much out the window. If everyone knew about the crazy lady on the hill, surely Sally would have known. She would have just said Violet had done it and then gone home. That wasn’t it. I was missing something.

What I needed was a good night’s sleep so I could sort through the details with a fresh perspective. All I could focus on right now was that there were two cops down. And that Benjamin guy would be a third soon enough. This case was big, just like I had suspected. Any more information Damien could give me would be helpful. “So…what’s the ongoing investigation?”

“That’s all I know. The case was ours for less than ten minutes.”

“Did you hear anything else about Benjamin? It was strange…Sally knew him. But she said his last name was Jones instead of Harlow.”

“Maybe I was wrong about you having the hots for Violet. Clearly you have a thing for Sally. What’s she look like?”

Frumpy and twice my age. “I’m not interested in Sally or Violet. I’m interested in solving the case.”

“How about the two dimes at 10 o’clock?”

I didn’t even turn to look. “Aren’t you trying to score with the captain?”

“Yeah but big fish take time. I’m just looking for tonight, not the long haul.”

“I’m going to pass.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.” He grabbed his beer and headed over to the table behind me.

I sighed and pulled out my wallet. Damien had barely given me any information. I was going to have to solve this thing on my own. And on my own time because I was already on thin ice at work.

END OF CHAPTER 4

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Sweet Like a Psycho - Ch. 3

Chapter 3

Violet

I locked the door and then just stared at it. God, I just lied to a detective. Why the hell did I just lie to a detective? It had felt right in the moment. But as soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them. I could have told him about the woman running through the woods. I could have pointed him in the direction that she had fled. I could have given him every detail he wanted and gotten him out of my hair.

But instead I lied. I shook my head. He hadn’t left me with much of a choice. I couldn’t have the cops poking around in the woods. I couldn’t have them running all around my property with police dogs and metal detectors and whatever else cops used in the search for a criminal. What if they found something? I couldn’t risk it.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Had the detective known I was lying? It looked like he did. Like he could easily see right through me. Shit shit shit.

“It wasn’t a big lie,” I said into the empty room. “It was a little white lie. A nothing lie. There are no consequences for a nothing lie.” Right?

I should have run back upstairs to finish what I had started just in case he came back, but instead I found myself pushing my ear against the door. There was no squeak of floorboards or crunch of leaves. I closed my eyes and tried to listen. The silence was incredibly loud as I pressed the side of my face harder against the wooden door.

Detective Reed’s gaze had been so intense. It felt like he had locked me in place when he was staring at me. Like I could barely even breathe. Does he feel as frozen as me right now?

I moved away from the door. Of course he didn’t. There was no way that he was as affected by our meeting as I was. It was his job to make me feel frozen. For his eyes to bore into my soul, see my darkest sins, and to travel down my body…I shook my head. No. That was most certainly not his job. But he had done that, right? I hadn’t imagined it?

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. All my nerves were on hyperdrive. The only man I had interacted with recently was mailman Joe. And he was like seventy. This was a normal response to a man my own age. Especially one who looked like Detective Reed. I glanced down at the business card in my hand. Detective Tucker Reed.

I tiptoed to the window in the living room and peered through a gap in the curtains. I expected to see him retreating through the woods, but he was just standing there. Staring at the door. Frozen. I could feel my pulse beating in my head. I hadn’t imagined it. He had been looking at me. Really looking. And it didn’t seem like it was purely for detective reasons.

I let myself stare unabashedly at him from behind the safety of the curtain. He didn’t look how I expected a detective to look. Beer bellies and mustaches were the dominant features of the detectives in my mind. But he was most certainly not like the detectives I pictured in my head. He was wearing a formfitting wool jacket that was undoubtedly not hiding a huge stomach. If anything it was probably covering perfect six pack abs. I glanced down at his left hand. There was no ring on his finger. Hot and single. I was good at smelling trouble a mile away. And Detective Reed was most certainly trouble. After all, he was clearly the reason I had lied. I couldn’t think straight when a man with a chiseled jaw, five-o’clock shadow, piercing brown eyes, and a deep sexy voice was staring right at me.

Yes, he was the reason I had lied. He had made me act poorly. It was all his fault. Jerk.

He turned his head and I threw myself down onto the floor. Ow. I cradled my elbow that had just whacked the hardwood floors. Or what was left of them.

When I peered back out the window, the detective was gone. And a part of me wondered if I had imagined him.

***

I placed the handgun and old letters back in their box. There was no reason to move the gun. It’d been sitting there for six years without causing me any harm. No one would find it here. My original plan was to grab the gun and chuck it into the lake. But the red and blue lights hadn’t ceased lighting up the sky. The cops wouldn’t be going away anytime soon, despite me denying the fact that a very guilty looking woman had been running through the woods. The gun was safer with me than out there where they could find it. Like I had told the detective…he needed a warrant. And I couldn’t see why anyone would give him one to search my house. I was a law-abiding citizen. I paid my taxes. I was most definitely not going to be a suspect in their investigation of a house fire. I lived all the way out here for a reason. They’d leave me alone.

I put the floorboard back in place and stood up. Yup, it was most definitely safe there. Just like it always had been. But I still wondered if police dogs could sniff out guns. I wanted to Google it on my phone, but I knew searching that question would inevitably lead me down a terrible, inescapable rabbit hole of useless facts. It was the same reason I had to ban myself from looking up anything on WebMD. No matter my symptoms, it always made me think I had a brain tumor. Or maybe there was a reason for that. My fingers itched to look up whether I did or did not in fact have a brain tumor. I took a deep, calming breath. You are banned from that site. You are banned from searching police dogs.

And honestly, who cared if police dogs could smell guns? The gun wasn’t loaded, and it was mine. Well, technically it wasn’t mine. It had been my stepfather’s. But I didn’t steal it or anything. No, it wasn’t registered in my name, but I was pretty sure I had a right to it since he was dead.

Did that look bad? God, it probably did. I looked back down at the floorboard. Honestly, I was terrified of the thing. I didn’t know how to properly use it. And I didn’t know how to discard of it or I would have done it years ago. The gun had been lying in my floorboards untouched ever since I moved in. And now I had an unregistered gun in my house. With my fingerprints all over it. It did look bad.

I took another deep breath. No one was going to find it. Because no one was coming into my house without an invitation. I walked over to my nightstand and stared down at the detective’s business card. It was easy for me to suddenly focus on him instead. He had been in the back of my head all night. All I had wanted to do since he left my front porch was send him a text. Google and WebMD searches wouldn’t have appeased me long anyway when my true desire was to talk to him. I stared at the card. A little harmless flirting would either help get him off my back or make me seem suspicious. Probably the latter.

I lifted up the card. The temptation was too strong. I needed to get rid of it before I did something I regretted. I walked into the bathroom, opened one of the drawers in my vanity, and pulled out one of my three lighters. I lit the corner of the business card and watched his information slowly disappear forever. Not that it mattered. I had remembered his number. And once something was seared into my brain it was pretty hard for me to forget it. Regardless, I watched it burn closer to my fingers. At the last second I tossed it into the toilet. It sizzled and went out with the most satisfying sound. Huh. I watched the remainder of the card grow damp. Maybe they should have suspected me for setting a house on fire. I had always liked the sound of fire. But more so the sound of a fire being extinguished. I was a lot of things, but I was most definitely not a pyromaniac. I flushed the toilet and placed the lighter back where it belonged.

Tonight was always going to be hard. I was surprised at how little the memory of Joel stung me now, though. Maybe six years truly was the magical amount of time to heal. I doubted it had anything to do with Detective Reed. A handsome face didn’t just erase years of painful memories. One chance meeting wasn’t enough for me to forget the fact that the love of my life had abandoned me here.

Despite the fact that I wasn’t sad, I still walked out of my bedroom and down the hall, trying hard not to let the floorboards creak. If I was being honest, I found myself wandering into Zeke’s room most nights. Sad, happy, grateful…all of my emotions were always heightened by him. Seeing him sleeping peacefully reminded me how little all the Joels and Detective Reeds in the world really mattered. Zeke was the only man that I needed in my life. And since he was five, he didn’t seem to mind his mother snuggling with him when she needed a little comfort.

I climbed into his twin sized bed and wrapped my arm around him.

“I don’t feel good,” he said and nuzzled his face into his pillow.

I hadn’t expected him to still be awake. I kissed the top of his head. “I know, sweetie.” I had put him to bed right after dinner. He had been complaining about his throat hurting. Although...he didn’t have a temperature. And a liar was always good at spotting another liar. Maybe he had learned it from me. But I hadn’t pressed it tonight because I had a date with the lake and memories that I should have buried long ago. “So you’re not feeling any better?”

“No. I think I have to stay home from school tomorrow.”

“You do, huh?”

He turned to face me. “Probably. I wouldn’t want to get the other kids sick.”

“Zeke.” I placed my hand on the side of his face. “Are the other children still teasing you?”

“No.” He said it too defensively, and his tone broke my heart.

I had been called into the principal’s office a week after he first started kindergarten. A very uncaring principal who just wanted to inform me that my child was being teased. He didn’t offer any way to help the situation. Just thought it was important for me to know that my boy was being called Zeke the Freak.

I hoped the last few months had been getting better. But they hadn’t. Fake stomach bugs. Headaches. He even claimed he had AIDS. I doubt he really knew what that entailed. The honest truth was that my sweet boy had the dreaded faker’s disease. Zeke was spending more time on WebMD than me to look up fake illnesses.

“Little dude, you have to go to school. It’s important.”

“Why? You don’t leave. I don’t want to either.”

I pressed my lips together. I knew that part of his name calling was my fault. I was the crazy lady who lived at the top of the hill. I could handle housewives’ wrath. But my son? None of my idiosyncrasies were his fault. Why did bored suburban moms teach their kids to behave so poorly? Just because I liked to live out here alone didn’t mean my son was strange.

Sure, he didn’t exactly look like normal kids. I let him dress how he liked because I believed it was important for children to express themselves. His blonde hair was in short dreadlocks, he always wore bright yellow rain boots, and he preferred cargo shorts to any other kind of pants or shorts, even if it was frightfully cold. But that made logical sense. He held all sorts of things in his pockets. Whenever I needed a pen he could hand me one in under two seconds. It was impressive. The kind of thing that kids should have admired. But no. I looked down at my beautiful little son. Zeke the Freak. Children could be so idiotic. He was the light of my life. He was wonderful, and smart, and kind. He was perfect.

“Maybe you can have tomorrow off,” I said as I tucked a dreadlock behind his ear. “How does a three day weekend sound?”

“Yeah?” He looked up at me with his adorable little face.

“Yeah. You’ve earned a holiday.” He hadn’t. He was a few absences away from having to repeat kindergarten. But that was bullshit. He was smarter than all those little assholes making fun of him. And if his principal wanted to try to cross me, I’d pull the crazy card and scare him into agreeing with me.

“Thanks, Mom.” He snuggled back into my arms.

I wished that I could turn back time and name him something different. Something that didn’t rhyme with a hateful word. But children would find a way to be mean no matter what. That was what kids did. Hurt each other with words.

Zeke’s chest started to rise and fall slower. Knowing that he didn’t have to face his enemies tomorrow had put him fast asleep. I blinked away the tears in my eyes. All the thoughts of my ex, handsome detectives, and unregistered handguns disappeared. What was I going to do about Zeke? I needed to figure out something soon before he repeated my mistakes.

END OF CHAPTER 3

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Sea of Stars - Coming 6.4.19

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Blurb:
Everything I have ever known is a lie. And I’m not saying that in a dramatic teenager way. I mean that my parents lied to me my whole childhood. My friends lied. The love of my life lied. 

They hid what I truly am, apparently for my own safety. But now that I know I’m the last of my race to be born with the gift of sight? I’m not so sure it’s a gift at all. And I’m not sure they were trying to keep me safe either. 

I think they feared me. Feared what I’d one day become. Because I can’t control the symbols appearing on my skin. I don’t know what any of them mean. All I know is that I’m running of time.

No, it’s no gift. I’m pretty sure I’m cursed.

Sweet Like a Psycho - Ch. 2

Chapter 2

Tucker

Cops and firefighters were already swarming the scene, ruining any chance we had at gathering untainted evidence. Not that I was expecting any evidence. It was probably a gas leak. Tragic, but just an accident. Case closed.

I pulled up to a house on the opposite side of the street and put my unmarked Dodge Charger in park. There wasn’t anything to be done except wait until the fire was under control. I was drawing close to the end of a twelve-hour shift, and this mess would be better handed off to someone who wasn’t dead on his feet. Or the cops could just handle it. There was no point in sitting here counting down the minutes.

“Think the captain will care if we leave it to the night shift?” I asked and turned to my partner.

“She was the one that requested we get our asses over here,” Damien said. “So I’m guessing yes.”

Fair enough. I drummed my thumbs on the wheel. It took me a minute to realize that the song stuck in my head had played the first night I had met Julie. I remembered dipping her in my arms and her smile making it impossible to stare at anyone but her. I used to be able to look forward to going home to a warm bed after a long shift. Until I realized that I wasn’t the only one she’d been sharing our bed with. My hands tightened on the wheel.

“You have to stop thinking about Julie,” Damien said.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.” He put his feet up on the dash. “She sure as hell isn’t thinking about you, though, so why are you wasting your time?”

I ignored him.

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“Recently enough.” It was a lie. It had been four months since I broke it off with Julie. And I hadn’t found anyone else I was interested in. I didn’t have time to date anyway.

“You’ve been hard to work with ever since the two of you split.”

“You’ve been hard to work with ever since we got paired up.”

Damien put his hands over his heart. “That hurts, man.” But then he immediately smiled. “Not that I believe it for a second. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

I shook my head. “It’s questionable that you think another man in your life is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“You’re switching my words around. I said that I was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“Let’s hit the bar after this. Get you out of your slump.”

“I’m not in a slump.”

“So you have gotten laid since your split?”

It wasn’t worth the time lying to him. We could both sense a liar a mile away. It was part of the training.

“Tucker.” He drew out my name in a weird seductive way. And I was worried that he was right. If I thought him saying my name was seductive, I was most definitely in a slump.

“Four months isn’t that long,” I said instead of giving in. I was too tired to have this conversation with him right now.

“Um…yes. Yes, it is. As soon as we get the all clear from the goddess, we’re going out.”

I wasn’t sure whether to focus on the fact that he had just called our captain the goddess or the fact that I was 100 percent not going to a bar with him tonight. If I was in denial about my lack of a sex life, he was certainly in denial of his chances with the boss. But before I could respond, his phone bleeped in this hand.

“Speak of the sexy devil. I’ll put on my charm and plead our case to get out early. Don’t see any reason for us to be here when the officers clearly have it covered. You know she can’t resist me. Torres speaking,” he said as he opened the door and stepped out into the cool night. He slammed the door, leaving me alone in the car.

I let go of the wheel and sighed. Damien was right. I needed to move on. But this town didn’t exactly have a high population of bachelorettes. It was filled with suburban housewives like the women who resided in this neighborhood. I stared out the window at the fire. Two covered gurneys were being ushered away from the flames. Shit.

I was hoping for an easy case. That was impossible now. It would be elevated to a homicide investigation. I was about to open up the door to get filled in by the local cops when the printer beside me whirred to life.

I lifted up the first page. It was a file about Benjamin Harlow. I scanned the page. Not a civilian. He was a detective like me. There were only three reasons his file would be coming out of the printer. Either he was a suspect, he was dead, or he was injured. Detectives didn't tend to do much arson, and based on those gurneys and half of the house literally being blown to bits, I was worried that he wasn't just injured.

Suddenly I wasn't tired anymore. Not only had this arsonist blown up a house, but they'd possibly killed a detective. That meant this case was a top priority. Which meant solving it would help get the captain off my back about my recent uh...less than stellar job performance.

I grabbed the paper and stepped out into the cool night.

Damien was still talking on the phone. I ducked under the caution tape and flashed my badge at the nearest cop. “Any idea what happened here?”

“Arsonist. Took out two of our own.” He shook his head.

Two? Damn. I'd go from narrowly avoiding suspension to being the hero of the department if I solved this one. “You sure it was arson?” I thought he might have a few guesses, but he seemed pretty sure.

“Don’t you smell that, detective?”

I took a deep breath. Despite the smell of smoke, there was one more pungent scent in the air. “Kerosene?”

“The house was doused in it. A trip-wire was attached to the front door. We didn’t stand a chance.”

I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I thought they had arrived on the scene after the explosion. “Cops were here before the explosion?”

“Yeah, we were called in as backup to an ongoing investigation.”

“What ongoing investigation?”

The cop laughed. "It's above my pay grade. Guess it's above yours too.” He turned his head. “Ma’am, you have to stay on the other side of the tape.”

There was an older woman in a housecoat wrestling with the yellow caution tape. She ignored his request. He put his hand on his gun and started to walk towards her, but I put my arm out to stop him.

"I got this," I said.

He laughed again. "You don't have the case file and now you're helping with crowd control? No wonder more cases don't get solved around here."

I ignored him. Damien would fill me in on all the details when he was done flirting with the captain, but for now, I figured I might get some valuable intel from the neighborhood gossip. Or I'd end up driving an Alzheimer's patient back to their house. It could go either way.

"Ma'am, you really can't come any closer. This is an active crime scene. And that house could blow again any second."

The woman proceeded to stomp on the tape dividing us. “But I know who did it. I knew that woman wasn’t quite right in the head. I knew it. I told everyone so. I have a great eye for this sorta thing.”

"I want to hear all about her, but first we need to move to a safer location." I guided her over to my car.

“I think her husband was beating her. She must have finally snapped and blown the place up.”

“What woman blew the place up?” I asked.

“The one who lived here.”

Lived. In the past tense. It would be fitting if the woman responsible was killed in her own death trap. “What did you say your name was?” I asked.

“Sally. Sally Bennett. I know everything that goes on in this neighborhood. And she was having an affair with her gardener. Who just so happens to live right down the street.”

“And how is it that you know all this, Ms. Bennett?”

“Mrs. Bennett.” She held her head up a little higher. “People like to tell me things.”

“The woman who lived here told you she was having an affair?”

“No, but it was so obvious. She and Ben were always together. It was as clear as day. Don’t know how her husband didn’t know. Or maybe he did. Oh! Maybe he was the one who set off the explosion!" She seemed so excited by the prospect of such juicy gossip.

 “What did you say this woman’s name was?”

“Aren’t you supposed to know that? By the way, I'd be happy to identify the body...bodies?”

I bet you would. She was totally fishing for information. “Yeah…I…” I looked down at the papers.

“Adeline Bell is her name. Oh and that right there is her gardener.” She pointed to the paper in my hand.

“Benjamin Harlow?” I lifted up the picture of the detective.

She shook her head. “You have the last name wrong. His name is Ben Jones. Such a gentleman. But yes, that’s definitely him. My God. Did he have a secret family? He did, didn't he? It's always the ones you least suspect.” She shook her head.

I rubbed my eyes. It would have been hard to pick out the truth from this woman's gossip when I was fresh. It was nearly impossible after a twelve-hour shift. By the morning she would probably have everyone in the neighborhood believing that Mr. Bell had blown up his cheating wife and that Ben Jones was a polygamist. “What did Adeline look like?”

“Long blonde hair. She was quite beautiful. If you ask me, she could have been a model in her prime.”

“And you think she died in the explosion? You said that she lived here. Not lives.”

“Oh, no. I just meant I doubt she’ll be coming back anytime soon. I wouldn’t come back if I was her. And there isn’t much to come back to." She gestured towards the still-burning shell of a house. "Her house is basically dust. And she took off so fast…”

“Wait, you saw her?”

“I’ve been trying to tell the cops, but they haven’t been listening. She took off in the woods a few minutes ago. Saw her with my own eyes.” She pointed towards the woods.

I glanced over at Damien still flirting on the phone. And all the cops were just standing around. I could easily catch up to the culprit if she only had a few minutes head start. This was my big chance. “Thanks for the tip, Sally.”

“Any time, officer.”

I didn’t have time to correct her. I was a detective. Not a beat cop. And I was about to prove it to her and Officer Prick. I folded up the picture of Ben Harlow or Ben Jones or whoever he was and shoved it into my pocket. The guilty woman would crack over a picture of her dead lover. Not that there were going to be many beautiful blondes who smelled like kerosene out in the woods on a cold night like tonight. I shoved the rest of the printouts into Damien’s hand as I ran past him.

“Where are you going?!” he yelled from behind me.

I ignored him as I ran toward where Sally had pointed. It didn't take long to find the trail. It had rained earlier, and there were clear shoeprints in the muddy, crunchy leaves. I turned my phone's flashlight on and ran into the woods.

***

Gotcha. The house was clearly abandoned. Paint was chipping off every visible service. There were dozens of cracked boards on the porch. It was practically as dilapidated as the house that was on fire. Yet, the lights were on in one of the rooms upstairs. And I could see the silhouette of someone walking around inside.

The trail from the crime scene had led straight here. It was like she was begging to get caught. In a lot of ways that aligned with what Sally had said. This woman could be lovesick. Dying to be caught after her regrettable decisions killed the man she was having an affair with. I looked over my shoulder and noticed how good the vantage point of this house was. It was located on top of a hill that looked down on the woods surrounding it. But it also gave a damn good view of the neighborhood where the fire was still being fought.

I paused by the rundown pickup truck and pulled out my gun. Maybe this situation wasn’t so black and white. It felt sinister up here. A chill ran down my spine and I tried to ignore the feeling. I was tired. I needed to wrap this up so that I could go home. To my cold bed. Get a grip.

I lifted my gun and tried to quietly walk up the decrepit porch steps. Each creak echoed in the quiet night. I should have told Damien to have my back. As far as I knew, he was still on the phone with the captain, though. I was out here all alone. All my backup down the hill was at least ten minutes away. I should have called in a bomb squad. But then they'd get all the credit. If I got blown up...well, the odds of that were pretty small. She wouldn't have trip-wired two houses. Right?

Before I could lose my nerve, I banged on the door. "Police! Open up!"

No answer.

Of course. The arsonist wasn't just going to invite me into her lair. I lowered my gun and was about to kick down the door when it squeaked open.

A woman stood there with her gaze trained on the ground as she pulled the silk sash closed around her robe.

“I’m Detective Reed,” I said, keeping both hands on my gun instead of offering a handshake.

She didn’t respond. Instead, the silence stretched between us as she tied the sash three times. Not that the sash being tight hid a damn thing. Her thin, silk robe didn’t leave much to the imagination. My eyes snapped back up to her face.

She was staring at me staring at her. And even though the accusing expression on her face should have made me look away, I just couldn’t. She was indeed beautiful. High cheekbones, full kissable lips, a perfect pale complexion with rosy cheeks. But her hair was brown, not blonde. And I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief.

“Can I help you?” she asked. I thought her voice would be filled with indignation based on how she was staring at me. But it wasn’t at all. She sounded timid. Scared.

I realized I was probably terrifying her. I slid my gun back in its holster. “What are you doing out here?” In the middle of the woods? In a robe?

“I live here.”

I wanted to laugh. But it didn’t look like she was joking. And she was…wet. Her damp hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. And there were splotches on her robe like she had thrown it on instead of taking the time to dry off properly after a shower. A very recent shower. Here in this house. She really lived here? “You live out here in the middle of the woods?”

“In a house. Why is that so strange?” She stared at me.

“It’s literally falling apart.” I tapped one of the broken floorboards with my heel. “This must violate all sorts of codes.”

She stood up a little straighter. “I’ve been fixing it up. I’m not breaking any codes.” But she didn’t sound very sure of herself.

If this was fixed up I didn’t want to think about what it had looked like before she got her hands on it. Or maybe she was just the worst house flipper on the planet.

“Is there something I can help you with, Detective Reed?” She put her hand on the doorknob. “If you don’t mind, it’s getting rather late and I…”

It was pretty clear she was trying to get rid of me. “I have a few questions for you.”

“For me?” She didn’t look surprised. She looked like she was expecting it. Only a guilty person expected questioning.

I cleared my throat as I pulled the paper out of my pocket. “Do you know this man?” I unfolded it and held it up for her.

She leaned forward slightly to get a better look. “No, I’ve never seen him.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t look back at the page. Instead, her gaze met mine.

“Positive. I’ve never seen him in my life.”

“Maybe you know him as Ben Jones?”

“I don’t know him at all.”

“What about the name Adeline Bell?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells.” She laughed awkwardly at her own joke for just a second and then pressed her lips back together. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

I folded the paper back up and slipped it into my pocket. Either she wasn’t sorry at all about his death or she really didn’t know him. But I couldn’t read her at all. And usually I could read strangers like the back of my hand. “Have you seen any suspicious activity outside tonight?”

“There was an explosion in the neighborhood down the hill. Windy Park. You should look into that instead of tramping around my property.”

“That is what I’m looking into.”

She stared at me. “And you’re here because…”

“A trail from the house on fire led me right to you.”

“Do you go following every path you see? There's a sidewalk out front of that house that blew up. Why not follow that around the neighborhood?”

“So you didn’t see anyone outside your house? A blonde woman perhaps?”

“Nope.”

It was a lie. There was only one reason to lie. She was somehow involved in all this. I looked back up at her wet hair. Was it wet with water, or wet with dye? It was the only thing that didn’t fit Sally’s description.

“You’re sure?” I asked. “No one? Nothing unusual at all?”

“Nope. Absolutely nothing.”

Absolutely a lie. “Would you mind letting me take a look around…”

Her hand shot to the doorjamb, blocking any view I had inside of her home. “Yes, I mind. This is private property.”

Damn. I really wished cop shows didn't make it so clear that people can refuse to let law enforcement in. “Fair enough,” I said. For just a moment my eyes traveled down her body again. I silently cursed. Maybe Damien was right. I needed to get laid so that I’d stop ogling murder suspects.

She cleared her throat.

I snapped my attention back to her face. “You really shouldn’t live out here all alone.” I couldn’t help it. No one that looked the way she did should be alone period. And now a murder suspect was loose in these words. Or maybe she was the suspect.

“I never said that I was alone,” she said. It should have sounded harsh, but her voice was timid again. Like there was something more hidden in her words.

But it didn’t matter what she meant. It was clear she wasn't going to give me any more information. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. If you hear or see anything, though, let me know.” I handed her one of my business cards.

She took it from me, grabbing it with the tip of her index finger and thumb like she was worried our hands might touch.

“And be careful out here, Mrs…” I waited for her to give me her last name but she didn’t. Instead she slammed the door in my face.

END OF CHAPTER 2

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