Fated (41 page)

“Okay.”

Hart sat staring at nothing for a long time after Isaac had stepped into his sneakers and disappeared through the front door. He was going to have to find something to do with his time, or he’d go mad pining.

Hart picked up his new phone from the counter. “Captain Johnson,” he said when his boss, the head of the Riverside Police Department, answered. “Is there any way you could send a uniform by my house with the printouts from my case files? I need to do some work, or I’ll go nuts.” He could access the department network from his home computer, but he wanted to lie down and read comfortably rather than have to sit up at his desk. Plus, staring at the screen for too long was one of the only things that still brought on headaches.

There was a brief silence, the crackle of a burning cigar, and then the captain’s voice. “Who’s this?”

“Oh my God,” Hart groaned, laughing softly, and he sank back into his couch.

A
PPARENTLY
IT
was true that a body needed sleep to heal. Hours later, Hart jerked awake from a sharp rap on his front door. His neck felt stiff and sore from lying on the couch. He gave the thin blanket covering him a puzzled look before pushing it aside and rising slowly to his feet. He had no idea how long he’d slept, but his head felt fuzzy, and his left side burned with a warning that he’d let too much time pass since the last painkiller.

Expecting Isaac on his front stoop, Hart was surprised to see two uniformed cops standing there, a young man he’d seen around the station before but couldn’t remember the name of, and a woman he was sure he’d never met. She was short with a round face, her brown hair pulled back in a bun, and carrying a box. She checked him out quickly but kept her expression otherwise neutral.

The guy had far less control over his face. Big brown eyes widened as they took Hart in. With the thick, ruffled brown mane on top of his head, he reminded Hart of a large-pawed puppy.

“Yes?” Hart croaked. God, his mouth was dry. He leaned against the doorframe, hoping it would stop him from swaying from side to side.

“Lieutenant Hart?” The guy’s eyes roamed to where Hart held his aching chest, then to the burned wrist, before guiltily snapping back up. “You requested your case files?” He shifted, drawing attention to the box he carried under one arm.

“Ah yes, thanks.” Hart held out a hand, but the cop didn’t move.

“If you show us where we can put them, we’ll carry it in for you, sir.”

“I’m not—” Hart sighed, pressed the flesh of his thumb into his left eye, and stepped aside. “Fine. In the living room, if you don’t mind.” The two of them eased past him in a fragrant cloud of freshly washed clothes, and Hart closed the door behind them. “You can leave it on the coffee table.”

“Sure.” They each dropped their boxes with files and then lingered by the couch, gazes drifting around the room.

Hart supposed he better dig up some manners from somewhere. “Would either of you like a drink? Coffee? Wait….” A hurried phone conversation came to mind. “Your name’s Starr, isn’t it?”

The cop beamed. “Yes, sir. Sergeant Starr. I joined the Riverside force at the start of the summer. And I’d love some coffee. Cream and sugar, if you have it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember you,” he said to the woman, and she smiled brightly.

“I only just joined a month ago, sir. You were on leave, I think. I’m Miranda Roth.”

“Right, well, take a seat. What about you, Starr,” Hart said, glancing back as he walked to the kitchen. “You have a first name too?”

“I heard you don’t tell people yours, Lieutenant,” Starr called from the couch, and Hart smirked. He poured grounds in the coffee machine, popped a painkiller with a mouthful of tap water while Starr couldn’t see, and reached for the cupboard where he kept the mugs. A piece of paper stuck to the fridge with a donut-shaped magnet.

Stopped by with lunch. You’re cute when you drool and snore.

Sandwich is in the fridge.

Will talk later.

Isaac

Well, that explained the blanket at least.

Hart didn’t notice the awkward silence coming from the living room until Starr broke it.

“It’s Joey, sir.”

Hart’s eyebrows rose and he stuck his head around the corner so he could look at his guest. “What’s Joey?”

“My first name, sir.”

“I see,” he said, bemused, and ducked into the kitchen to get the coffee going. From a cabinet above the tank, he scooped up a little fish food and dropped it in the water. Two of the Angelfish darted up to get to the food first, and Hart grinned.

“This is a gorgeous fish tank.” Starr stood on the other side of the tank, and Hart met his eye.

“Thanks.”

“I never really managed more than a goldfish in a bowl, really. This must take a lot of work.”

“Not as much as you think. Are you fresh from the academy?” He seemed a little old for that, but then plenty of people changed their minds in the middle of college and took another route.

“No. I worked vice somewhere else, but it wasn’t what I thought it would be. I’ve been happy here in Riverside, though.” Starr stared at Hart for a long second, then said, “How do you take your coffee? I’ll bring it over and you can start looking at the files.”

What was this? Did Starr think they were going to become buddies and solve cases over coffee this afternoon? He stepped around the aquarium and into the living room. “Don’t you have to go back into work?” He watched as Roth’s face went through a whole range of emotions. “The truth, or you’re both out of here.”

Her shoulders sagged. “The captain told us to stick around as long as we could to see how you were doing. I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t—”

That conniving— “Did Captain Johnson by any chance send both of you home to change into your uniforms before he sent you here with those files?”

“Uh. Yes. But I didn’t really understand why.”

“Because I wouldn’t close the door in two beat cops’ faces. Unbelievable. I bet he thought by the end of the afternoon I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having either of you as a partner when he suggests it in a few weeks’ time.”

“Oh.” Roth’s eyes widened comically, but the excitement quickly fled. “Who says
we’re
not opposed to the idea?”

Hart laughed, surprised. Behind them, the coffee pot sputtered and Hart moved toward the kitchen, but Starr waved him off. “I’ve got it, sir. You sit down. And how
do
you take your coffee?”

“Black as tar,” he said, and aimed for the couch. “How about you, Roth?”

“The same, thanks, Joey.”

Hart suppressed a deep groan of relief when he could lean back and relax. Even standing up for ten minutes had taken it out of him. Fuck. How long was it going to take before he was back to normal? He’d been promised a full recovery, and Dr. Brent here in Riverside would take care of follow-ups, but he hadn’t seen him yet. He didn’t want to risk hearing any bad news.

Either way, none of this had anything to do with the police officers in his house, and it was unfair to be so rude. “I haven’t worked with a partner in a long time,” Hart said when Starr returned with three mugs of coffee carefully balanced. It made him think of Freddie, but that wasn’t the same. Their partnership in Brightly had been temporary, but she’d be waiting to hear from him too, and he resolved to call her soon. Freddie had lost a good friend on that mountain. He shouldn’t forget that either.

“I see,” Starr said, and Hart appreciated him being polite. “So was there anything in particular you wanted to go over in these files?”

“Just taking my mind off being bored and in pain,” Hart said with a small smile.

Starr grinned back and pointed at the box. “Do you mind if we take a look?”

Hart grabbed his coffee mug and made himself comfortable. “You knock yourselves out.”

“E
ZRA
W
INTERS
,”
Roth said after Hart had dismissed a couple of other cases. That name made him perk up, and he pointed at the file.

“That wasn’t so long ago. Happened right before my father died and I had to go to Brightly.” He chewed his lip and narrowed his eyes as he gingerly stretched his left arm above his head. “Caucasian male, late thirties. Married to another man, found in an open grave at the cemetery that was meant for a funeral later that morning.”

“Yes. He disappeared a week before he was killed, and his body had been kept somewhere for another week before it was found. The autopsy showed he’d died of starvation and dehydration.” Roth’s cheeks puffed out as she lowered the file to look at Hart. “No DNA or prints on the body, and not a trace of evidence of where he was being held.”

“That case went cold the instant they found the body. Not a single clue as to where he’d been killed or how he’d ended up at the cemetery,” Hart said.

“This is fascinating.” Starr took the file from Roth and began to leaf through it. While he winced slightly when he came across the autopsy report and the photographs that accompanied it, he didn’t recoil entirely. So whatever had pushed him away from vice, it hadn’t been the sight of dead bodies. “He was bathed before being dumped. Bathed and dressed in new clothes. And…. Oh my God.” Starr swallowed thickly and Hart suddenly remembered too. “Signs of sexual intercourse, possibly after death. This is horrid. What kind of human being would do such a thing?”

“I asked myself the same thing.” A few weeks ago Hart wouldn’t even have entertained the idea, but now a very small part of him questioned if it could be anything other than a human being after all.

“That’s disgusting,” Roth whispered, looking pale.

Hart shook his head and nearly laughed. So much had changed over the past few weeks, like knowing a being existed that could heal the dying. Who was to say there weren’t more creatures around with inexplicable powers? But if vampires turned out to be real, Hart was packing up and moving himself, his fish, and Isaac to the sunniest place on earth he could find, away from the Mountain and its riddles.

“Go on, then.” Hart set his mug down, stretched out on the couch, and closed his eyes. “This man died a gruesome death, and it’s our job to find out who was responsible. If the captain sent you to babysit me, you may as well make yourself useful. Read the entire file to me from the beginning.” He hooked his hands behind his head—the left one cautiously—and let his mind drift as Sergeant Joey Starr began to read.

I
NDRA
V
AUGHN
moved from Belgium to Michigan in 2008, leaving everything behind that wouldn't fit in a single suitcase. She now lives in the suburbs of Detroit with a dog who thinks he's a toddler and a toddler who resembles Bam Bam in more ways than one.

Indra’s professional background is in nursing and Chinese medicine, but she prefers to spend time making up stories about mysterious men and their unrequited love.

If you ever meet her, ask her about that teenage angst-infused poetry collection. That'll break the ice for sure.

Blog: http://indra-vaughn.livejournal.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/VaughnIndra

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/indra.vaughn.7

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7132113.Indra_Vaughn

E-mail: [email protected]

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Pastry chef and bakery owner Jason Wood bakes a mean chocolate soufflé, yet his love life keeps falling flat. He’d blame his past if he wasn’t trying so hard to avoid it.

When his family’s farmhouse burns to the ground, he’s summoned to identify a body found in the ashes. Jason returns to Hancock, Michigan, and reunites with a childhood friend, small town vet Henry McCavanaugh. After fifteen years apart, their rekindled friendship soon develops into much more. But Jason’s baggage threatens their blossoming romance, and he leaves town unannounced to escape his feelings—and Henry’s feelings for him. He has learned the hard way if something seems too good to be true, it’s best to run for the hills. Jason stress-bakes more confections than he knows what to do with before wondering if he’s running in the wrong direction.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com