Safe From the Dark (19 page)

“You
can’t just – ”

“Oh
yes, I can.”

Ignoring
his blustering attempt to regroup and come up with a suitably scathing response
to her set of orders, Evie calmly poured herself a cup of coffee and walked
out.

EVIE
KNEW THAT DREYER Morton could be a haughty, self-righteous son-of-a-bitch, but
she hadn’t realized that he could be a shrewd, calculating businessman with a spine
of steel. Which made sense, given that he owned half the town and showed no
desire to retire and hand the reins of his empire over to the next generation.

She,
Tony, and Dreyer sat at a table together in the small conference room at the
Sheriff’s Department. They had no interrogation room, but really, until
recently the department hadn’t needed one. The simple wooden table and
beige-slatted blinds seemed a little too ordinary for the discussion of murder
that Evie was about to dive into.

“My
great-great-grandfather came to Bright’s Ferry after the Civil War,” remarked
Dreyer, “He was the first freed black slave to set foot in this community, and
he took one look at the bay and knew he’d come home.”

“I’m
not accusing you of anything,” Evie began.

“Yes,
young lady, you are. By calling me in here and questioning my whereabouts on
the night of Miss Small’s unfortunate murder, you’re suggesting that I had
something to do with it, or at the very least that I am withholding information
that would allow you to sniff out the killer.”

He
leaned forward, gripping his cane.

“And
what I am telling you is that my family has roots in this town that go back a
hundred and fifty years. To insinuate that I would allow a murderer to desecrate
my family’s land is an insult.”

“Easy,
Dreyer,” muttered Tony, “The town’s littered with people who have been here
forever. I can name ten families that were here a hundred years before yours.”

Dreyer
glared at him, and Evie started again.

“It’s
obvious that you and Colin don’t have the most…agreeable…relationship.”

“I
think my feelings about our mayor have been made quite clear. But that doesn’t
mean that I would stoop to physically harming him, or any woman unfortunate
enough to be seduced.”

Evie
forced herself to not squirm in her seat as Dreyer continued.

“Of
course, my Althea had nothing to do with it, but surely there has to be someone
on his long list of conquests that holds a grudge.”

Evie
bit her lip, but held her temper.

“We
are investigating all of our options, Mr. Morton, and the fact remains that you
have no alibi for the incidents in question.”

“Miss
Asher, do I look like a man who would take potshots at your house from the
woods?”

“Alibi,”
Evie insisted.

Dreyer
sighed, disgusted.

“It
highly insulting to be harassed in this fashion, but for your information, I
spend most of my time home alone. If you insist on pursuing this nonsensical
course of action, feel free to review my video security system. It will show
you that I was precisely where I said I would be.”

Evie
exchanged a wary glance with Tony, who shrugged.

“Thanks
for coming in, Dreyer. I’ll send Zeke over to pick up those tapes.”

Dreyer
hesitated.

“I’d
prefer you review them yourself, Sheriff. As you know, I work from home and they
contain some rather, sensitive business dealings that I would rather not share
with the general public.”

Tony’s
eyebrow went up, but he nodded, “Sure. Why don’t you let me know when might be
a good time to stop by and we’ll take care of it.”

Dreyer
looked relieved, and even managed to be gracious about shaking Evie’s hand. On
the way out the door, he paused.

“Miss
Asher, the other day at the funeral – I may have overstepped my bounds. Slightly.
You are not to blame for the unfortunate transgressions of your parents, which
no doubt led to your own reckless mistakes. That being said, your grandmother
would have me skinned alive for speaking to you like that. She was a formidable
and wonderful woman, and to honor her memory, I apologize.”

With
that he tipped his hat and swept out of the room, his cane tapping on the
floor, leaving Evie flummoxed by the backhanded apology.

“So,
I’m still a fallen woman, but it’s not my fault because my parents sucked?”

“With
Dreyer, that’s probably the best you’re going to get. Accept it and move on,”
grinned Tony.

Evie
shook her head in disbelief and headed out to uncover the cork board and move
Dreyer’s name to the general pool.

“We
should go over those tapes, but I’ve changed my mind about Dreyer Morton. He’s
more likely to just stab Colin in the heart with that cane in Main Square than
go to all this trouble. He’s not a man who likes to apologize or explain his
actions, and I can’t see him hiding his feelings toward Colin or going to such
lengths to avoid recognition.”

“Yeah,
he’d rather spend his time trying to get him thrown out of office. So we’re
down to Millicent Grayson.” Tony was skeptical.

“I
have to question Tom Castillo, but that seems like a stretch, too.”

Evie
sighed.

“We
can’t go on like this. How long are we going to be able to maintain round the
clock security for Colin? He can’t stay in that house forever. Anything on the red
paint?”

“Not
purchased in Bright’s Ferry, from all accounts, and no prints on anything up at
your Gram’s cabin. For the moment, you may as well continue to stay at the
Daniels place.”

Evie
felt her cheeks heating.

“That
may not be the best idea,” she muttered to herself, but nodded.

Spending
time with Colin was only going to remind her of what she couldn’t allow herself
to have. There was too much temptation, and she’d already proven to herself
that she had no willpower where he was concerned.

Keep
him safe,
she
ordered herself,
and stay out of his pants.

THE
SLUT COP HAD spent the night. In Colin’s bed or not was a mystery – who could
get close enough with those thugs guarding the house? Zeke would have been no
problem alone – he was a jumpy boy, and always had been. He might grow into a
forthright, upstanding deputy someday, but right now he was just a rookie,
barely an adult and scared of his own shadow. Slipping by him would be no
trouble at all, or knocking him out. A simple blow to the head and he would be
down for the count.

The
fact remained that the slut cop had spent the night, and though there was no
way to tell if she had convinced Colin to sleep with her, to immerse himself in
her seductive, poisonous flesh, it was an easy assumption. Evie Asher had been
stunned at the damage to her grandmother’s precious house, which was delicious,
though her expression had been difficult to see from behind the trees. There
had only been a moment to enjoy it before Tony’s volunteers had arrived,
followed by the Sheriff himself – such a sad, lonely man.

And
so tragic, what had happened to his wife.
But that was a thought for later.

Maybe
the paint had been a mistake, born from righteous rage and frustration, but a
mistake nonetheless, because now security would be doubled. But they couldn’t
keep it up forever. Colin would see the error of his ways after Evie was dead.

It
was maddening, thinking about Colin and Evie entwined together, her body
wrapping around his, choking the life and goodness out of him like a boa
constrictor compressing his soul. One had to wonder what he saw in her. She was
pretty in an odd sort of way, but her gray eyes were unnerving, and her
prickly, unlikable demeanor was far from friendly.

There
was nothing to be done about it. Colin needed to be punished, and the Asher
woman dealt with. She was getting closer to uncovering the truth.
Unfortunately, there were too many guards, too many eyes, and it was
increasingly difficult to find a crack in their defenses.

Infuriating.

No,
this called for a different sort of punishment. A change of course, a surprise,
but a clear understanding that no one was safe, not as long as Colin remained
unrepentant, smiling and flirting with women, encouraging their loathsome
advances, reveling in sin and lust and heaping disgrace upon his legacy.

A
victim was necessary. It couldn’t be helped. It was his fault entirely. And if
the slut cop was out of reach for the moment, it would have to be someone who
deserved it.

Perhaps
Grace Mallow.
Though she and Colin appeared to be uninterested in each other, he regarded her
as a sister, and she was clearly a bad influence. It was obvious from her hair,
her clothes, her taste in unwholesome literature and music, and more than
anything else, the way she watched Matt Harris with hungry, lustful eyes, sure
that no one noticed.

Someone
had noticed.

Grace
was a good option, and her death would make Colin sit up and pay attention, and
protect the young children who visited the library from her corruptive
influence.

Imagining
it brought a wave of visceral delight that came to an abrupt halt.

Grace
was an obvious choice. They would expect that.

Another
victim, then. Someone that no one would expect. A tragic loss to the community,
and a reminder to Evie Asher no one was safe.

That
she was next.

COLIN
WAS GOING STIR crazy. Though Tom had stopped by with a crate full of work to
keep him busy, he felt like the walls were closing in. Worst of all was the
feeling that while he was in here, cocooned like a porcelain doll wrapped in
cotton batting, Evie was out there trying to track down a killer. He wanted her
safe. He wanted her to let him protect her.

Protect
the woman with the gun and the iron-plated armor,
he snorted, but frowned as he
swiftly remembered that she
had
been hurt. Despite her untouchable supercop
façade, she could bleed, and she could die.

No.

Colin
paced the living room, even more worked up than before. He was alarmed at how
quickly his feelings for Evie were moving beyond just a rabid need to have her
under him, and morphing into something deeper, something much scarier. Not that
he didn’t want her under him again – yes, that was a given – but he wanted to propel
her past the fear of intimacy that
Jack
,
the bastard
, had left
her with, and take gentle possession of her fragile heart. It was lunacy, but
he was quickly coming to realize that anything less wouldn’t do.

But
how to convince her?

He
sat down on the couch, absently scribbling on a notebook, somewhat sheepish as
he looked down long moments later to realize he’d been doodling her name like a
smitten teenager. Suddenly, he froze, arrested by the sight of her name in
quirky letters on the page.

“The
handwriting,” he breathed, and jumped up, heading for the front door, “Zeke! Get
in here!”

ALAN
WILKINSON PUSHED BACK his plate with a contented sigh.

“Wonderful
as always, Candy,” he said, blowing a kiss to his wife.

Candace
smiled.

“Want
some more? There’s tons.”

“You’re
going to have to roll me to bed, honey. Your chicken and dumplings is the best
in the state.”

She
waved a dismissive hand, but he could see she was pleased with the compliment
as she stood to clear the dishes.

After
thirty years of marriage, Alan finally thought he had some insight into his
terse wife’s moods. He was still occasionally baffled at why she had wanted to
marry him in the first place. He was solidly built, and all his features were
in the right place, but he wasn’t what you might call a handsome man. He’d
spent his years managing a small fishery on the harbor that would never make
them rich, but that kept a good roof over their heads in the town they had both
grown up in.

He
had asked her, once or twice, if she ever wanted to leave Bright’s Ferry, but
she was always adamant.

“I’ve
seen the world, Alan. There’s nothing out there that we don’t have here, and
better, too.”

Alan
was reassured. They’d been together since high school, with only a brief
breakup when she insisted on traveling for a year after college. Then she’d
returned to Bright’s Ferry and pushed him for a proposal. A month later, they
were married.

 It
wasn’t what one might call a passionate marriage, but Alan supposed that a
good, solid couple didn’t need all those bells and whistles. They’d never
managed to have children, but they had each other and that was enough for him,
especially as his heart started giving him problems. It was good to have
someone to rely on.