Blood Moon (13 page)

“Wondering when you could go back to work,”
David finished for me.

I nodded once. “Well, yeah. It just doesn’t
make sense for me to stay home, feeling useless, when we should be
out there figuring out who killed these people. I’ve already missed
more than enough time thanks to my extended stay in the
hospital.”

“Brooke—” he argued, but I quickly
interrupted.

Sitting up and shifting onto my knees, I
looked right at him. “Look, before you tell me no, let me assure
you that I promise to take it easy. I’ll let you know if I feel
like I need to slow down. But I can’t just sit at home while this
psychopath gets away with it.”

I was more than ready to continue pleading
my case when David smiled and placed his hand on my knee. “I
believe you, and I’m just as desperate to solve this thing. Let me
talk to your dad, okay? I’ll let him know that you’re feeling
better and that you’ll be coming in with me tomorrow.”

Even though it wasn’t a “yes,” I was
relieved by the possibility of returning to work as soon as
tomorrow. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into this
case; while I trusted O’Malley as a fellow detective, I sensed
there was something he might be missing—something he didn’t see
that I might.

T
he sun wasn’t even
out by the time I woke the next morning. I looked at the alarm
clock and saw it was barely after four a.m. Realizing that I still
had two hours before the alarm was set to go off, I rolled over,
intent on trying to go back to sleep. But I was wide awake already,
feeling my excitement about returning to work growing by the
second. I was sure it had something to do with why I was up so damn
early, and why my heart raced with what could only be
anticipation.

True to his word, David called Dad last
night and told him I wanted to return to work. My father was less
than willing to agree to this, but once David promised him that
he’d watch me for signs that I might be overworking myself and take
me home immediately, he conceded. Knowing that within the next few
hours, I’d be at my desk and looking over our latest case made me
happy. I’d never really been the housewife-type, so the thought of
staying home wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing in the world.
No, I’d rather go to work and try to solve these murders. Be
productive.

David remained locked in a deep sleep next
to me, snoring lightly, and I smiled at how adorably innocent he
looked when completely unaware that I was watching him. I took in
how smooth his forehead was when not etched with the lines of worry
that had plagued him over the last few days, the brown stubble that
was lightly scattered along his square jaw, and the way his pulse
jumped through his carotid. I still didn’t know why, but I was more
than a little fascinated by the sight of it, feeling almost
hypnotized by its steady rhythm.

An hour passed, and I was still no closer to
falling asleep. In fact, I was even more restless than before, like
I needed to be up and moving. It was no longer excitement, but
anxiety that crept into me, making my arms and legs tense, my chest
a little tight, and my skin tingly. Concerned, I considered waking
David up, but figured it would be rude since he had admitted to not
sleeping well while I was in the hospital. I crawled gently out of
bed, pulled on some shorts and a tank top, and tiptoed down the
hall to the spare room where I kept my treadmill, thinking I might
just need to burn a little energy.

I started off slow, attempting a proper
warm-up, but soon tired of the sluggish pace. Something inside of
me
needed
to go faster. I bumped the speed up to my regular
pace, but even that wasn’t sufficient after the first few minutes,
and my feet grew uncomfortable in my shoes. I paused my workout,
kicked off my shoes, and then resumed, turning up the speed once
more. Soon, I was running twice as fast as I normally would, and I
felt great—exhilarated. Breathing deeply, my lungs expanding with
the fresh pull of oxygen, I closed my eyes and ran faster. The fan
from my treadmill pushed cool air over my face and chest, and I
imagined myself running outside, my bare feet sinking into the cool
dirt before kicking it up behind me. The sky above me darkened, the
silver light of the moon shined down on me, and I felt more at
peace than ever before. The scene I painted for myself surprised me
at first, but something about it just
felt
right. Like it
was where I belonged.

“You’re up early,” a deep voice called from
the doorway, startling me slightly.

“Oh, hey,” I greeted with a bright smile. It
shocked me a little how steady my voice sounded considering I’d
been running for thirty-three minutes straight. Still feeling
pretty fired up, I continued to run as I talked to David. “Yeah, I
woke up around four and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

David looked stunned, and also a little
concerned. “You’ve been in here since
four
?”

Laughing, I shook my head, finally feeling
the first signs of fatigue when my lungs burned slightly. “No. I’ve
only been in here for just over a half hour. I was feeling pretty
restless, and you looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb
you.” I slowed the treadmill to a brisk walk, feeling pretty good
as the first wave of endorphins flooded my body. “How’d you
sleep?”

“Like a rock,” he assured me, stepping into
the room and standing next to the treadmill.

“Good.” I leaned over, kissing him lightly
before continuing my cool down. “You want to run for a bit? I’m
going to go hop in the shower and then start breakfast. What do you
feel like having?”

“I’ll cook,” he offered. “What do
you
want?”

“No way!” I exclaimed, hopping off the
treadmill with a fresh surge of energy. “You took care of me the
last few days.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. He responded in
kind by draping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. My
body tingled when his hand moved down over my backside and then
teased the waist of my shorts. “Let me cook for you.” I looked up
at him through my lashes. “I want to.”

Chuckling, David conceded. “All right then.
Surprise me. Let me go change, and I’ll get a quick run in.”

Kissing David on the cheek, I passed by him
and headed into the bathroom to have a quick shower. Down the hall,
I heard the sound of David running, and I stripped down, discarding
my slightly sweaty clothes in the small hamper. Reaching into the
stall, I grabbed the faucet handle and turned it. Much to my
surprise, the metal groaned and snapped off in my hand. I stared at
it for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell just happened
before I tried to reconnect it. It was no use. I tossed the broken
handle into the trash basket, wrapped my towel around myself, and
ventured back down the hall.

Seeing the expression on my face, David
slowed his jog to a walk. “What’s wrong?” he asked, slightly
breathless after just a few minutes.

“The shower handle broke.” He moved his hand
to turn the treadmill off, but I stopped him. “No, it’s fine. I
just need to know of a temporary fix so we can shower until I can
grab a new one tonight.”

“How bad is it?” David asked.

“The actual mechanics of the faucet still
look fine. I think it’s just the handle that broke.”

He contemplated this for a minute before
saying, “Try the adjustable, open-ended wrench that’s under your
kitchen sink.”

I located it without much trouble and headed
back to the bathroom to figure out how to use it to get my shower
started. My entire shower was spent trying to figure out how I
managed to snap it off in the first place. It wasn’t as though the
house was that old. Was the faucet just a cheap shortcut that they
used to save a couple bucks? I’d have to be sure to not repeat that
mistake when I replaced it, that’s for sure.

After my shower, I brushed my hair and
teeth, and then headed back to my room to get dressed. On my way, I
passed David in the hall as he headed to the bathroom to shower,
and he gave me a playful swat on my towel-covered ass. I giggled
like a silly schoolgirl, but before I could retaliate, he closed
the bathroom door behind him. My spirits were high, probably thanks
to the endorphins from my longer-than-usual run and the fact that I
was returning to work after almost a week away. I quickly dressed,
choosing jeans and a green fitted, long-sleeved shirt before
heading out to the kitchen.

Rifling through the fridge, I decided on
bacon, eggs, and breakfast sausage. I debated a fruit salad, but my
stomach wasn’t receptive to that idea, churning with displeasure. I
did cut a grapefruit in half for David, though, just in case he was
in the mood to balance his meal. While the food cooked, I opened
the fridge to grab the glass carafe of orange juice. I barely
grabbed the slender neck of the bottle, and it shattered in my
hand. Pain shot through my index finger and up my arm as dark red
blood seeped from a long slice in the pad of my finger. What the
hell was going on? It was like I’d been exposed to Gamma radiation
or something equally comic-book-like, because everything I touched
was falling apart.

Using my good hand, I formed a cup and held
it under my bleeding finger as I ran for the sink and turned the
cold water on. I thrust my sliced finger beneath the cool stream,
using my good hand to help wipe away the blood so I could get a
good look at how deep the cut was. The first pass over the pad of
my finger opened the wound more, causing more blood to escape and
be washed away, and I deduced that I might need a couple stitches
if the bleeding didn’t stop soon. Every pass over the cut stung a
little, but the pain ebbed as the frigid temperature numbed my
finger. The water washed away the latest stream of crimson, and my
eyes widened in disbelief; the blood stopped flowing so freely, and
what I thought was a deep laceration was actually no more than
something the size of a paper cut. Had I imagined the severity of
the cut? No. I was fairly certain I knew what I saw. It was a deep
cut. It
had
to be to bleed that badly.

“What the hell happened out here?” David
demanded, stepping over the spilled juice and shattered glass still
on the kitchen floor as he rushed to my side. Freshly showered and
dressed in jeans and a blue button-up shirt, his forehead was
creased with worry. Because of me. Again.

Still not entirely sure what happened,
myself, I tried to explain. “The juice carafe broke when I grabbed
it. The fridge must have been too cold, and the glass was a little
more fragile when I grabbed it.” It was a plausible explanation,
backed up by science.

David took my hand, pulling it from the cold
water and inspecting my finger. “You cut yourself.”

“I did,” I replied softly. “But it’s not
very deep. Just a scratch, really.”

He lifted my damp hand to his lips and
pressed a kiss to my fingertip. The pain was almost completely
gone, only the slight sting that accompanied something like a
minutes-old paper cut remaining. “You’ve really got to stop scaring
me like this,” he teased, winking at me before turning to pick up
the glass.

I was so lost in the playful glint of his
eyes that I almost forgot our breakfast was still on the stove and
on the brink of burning. Gasping, I rushed over and saved it before
I ruined something else today. I was lucky this time, and stayed
focused on breakfast while David offered to clean the spilled
orange juice and carefully discard the shards of glass.

When we sat at the table, David eyed my
protein-rich meal and quirked an eyebrow. I shrugged in response as
I scooped some scrambled eggs onto my fork. “I had a craving.”

“A craving,” he repeated, the word sounding
a little more uneasy coming from him than I’d originally
intended.

Understanding, I smiled at him reassuringly.
“Sorry. Not that kind of craving.” I picked up a piece of bacon and
took a bite, savoring the way it tasted. “It must have something to
do with my accident. Low iron, maybe? I don’t really know.”

“Sounds like that’s a possibility,” David
agreed, taking a bite of his own breakfast. “It just struck me as
odd, is all. You’re usually a French toast and fruit kind of
girl.”

My lip curled in distaste at the mere
mention of fruit, and even I thought it was a bit weird. It was
probably just a post-accident phase, one I’d overcome in a few more
days as my system righted itself and my body healed fully. Whatever
it was, I was surprisingly okay with it, because as I finished my
breakfast, my energy levels were renewed once more and my appetite
sated.

David drove us to the precinct in his car,
and I willingly agreed to it, still not sure if I trusted myself
not to have a repeat incident of the other day. I wasn’t completely
blind to the fact that my increasing energy levels could very well
be residual adrenaline from everything that happened. If I blacked
out the last time it wore off, there was a very real possibility
that it could happen again.

When we walked into the office, everyone
welcomed me back, and as I approached my desk, I saw a few bouquets
of flowers waiting for me. It was a sweet—and totally
unnecessary—gesture, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

“Thanks, guys,” I said with a genuine smile.
Before I could tell them that I just wanted to go about work as
though none of this ever happened, O’Malley approached me and told
me that the captain asked to see me the minute I got in.

David nodded me toward Dad’s office. “Go on.
I’ll get everyone gathered for a briefing to get you caught
up.”

Taking a deep breath, I headed for the
captain’s office. He still wasn’t completely on board with my
return to work so soon after being released from the hospital, but
I hoped that he would see how good I was feeling. Maybe then he’d
be a little more accepting.