Chapter 8
“ I ’m tired.” As if to prove it, Polly leaned her head back against the passenger-seat cushion and closed her eyes. Somehow, the truck still swirled. “Wake me when you get to my place.”
Joel’s deep rumble of a chuckle slipped into her bones. Yes, it went that deep. But right now, that didn’t worry her.
It felt good to relax. Like she’d been tense for so long, for so many reasons, but now, sitting beside Joel with the beer still swimming through her veins, she could just let it all go.
She was in that between space of awake and asleep when Joel’s gentle voice whispered through the quiet. “We’re here.”
No. She wanted to sleep. To let the hum of the engine and the forest scent of Joel keep her in the safe little bubble.
Her door suddenly opened and then Joel was beside her. She hadn’t heard him park or climb out.
“Where did you come from?” She frowned.
He offered her one of those panty-wetting smiles. “A long line of poor choices and good cologne.”
“ Really good cologne.”
His smile widened. He reached across and undid her seat belt. And Lord almighty, his thick forearm grazed her nipples, and they turned rock hard.
He helped her out and then it was like her body had a mind of its own, leaning into him, letting him take half her weight as they walked toward her door.
“Do you always drink this much at Trap?” he asked.
“No. This excessive drinking is totally stress-induced.” She took her keys from her pocket and handed them to him. “You do it. We don’t need a repeat of that whole your hand on my hand, guiding the key into the door scene.”
“Repeating that doesn’t sound so bad to me.” He opened the door.
“Of course it doesn’t.” She sighed as she stepped inside and toed off her shoes.
“I love my home. My safe little sanctuary.” She moved through the hall, then stepped into her bedroom.
Without thinking about what she was doing—without caring in the slightest—she pulled off her top, then started on the button of her jeans.
A voice cleared behind her. “Uh, want me to go, Sunshine?”
She turned.
His eyes flared as he took her in.
“Why? They’re just panties and a bra.” She pushed down her jeans. Sure, this was Drunk Polly talking. Sober Polly would be mortified and want to kick her ass, but that bitch wasn’t here right now.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, the veins in his biceps popping, and the brown-green of his eyes looked more like charcoal.
She was suddenly vividly aware of how close he was. How alone they were. And how easy it would be to close that distance between them and?—
Joel turned. “I’m going to grab you some water.”
The spell broke. Snapped like a twig.
God, what was wrong with her? She should not be considering kissing him again. Even Drunk Polly should know better.
Quickly, she grabbed her oversized sleep shirt and threw it over her head. Then she reached beneath it and unclipped her bra.
She’d just set her clothes in the wash basket when she wobbled on her feet. She touched her head.
Too many beers. Damn her and her poor judgment.
“You okay?”
Warm hands touched her upper arms. They were so large and hot, they warmed almost her entire upper body.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe she was just finally doing what she wanted without fear or apprehension, but she turned and leaned into him. Her forehead touched his hard chest. And just like in the car, the world continued to sway behind her lids. Joel became her steady.
“I just need to stand here for a second,” she whispered.
His hands slipped down and wrapped around her. And then he was holding her. It felt good and natural and familiar in a way she’d never experienced before. Because a man had never felt any of those things.
“Can I ask you a crazy question?” she asked.
“I love crazy questions.”
“Will you lie with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
A soft kiss touched her forehead. “Only because you’re cute when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” She wrinkled her nose. “Okay. Just a little drunk.”
While he turned off the lights, she slipped beneath the covers, and the world did that tilt and spin thing again. But then he was back with her, in her bed, pulling her against his chest. Her cheek lay over his heart, and his strong arm wrapped around her shoulders.
“You feel really good,” she whispered, knowing she’d regret that in the morning. But then, she’d regret all of this.
“You feel pretty good too, Sunshine.”
“What if it’s my fault?” The words slid out, completely unplanned.
Joel paused. “What’s your fault?”
“Jenna.”
His reaction was subtle. A small tightening of his arm around her. A slight tensing of his chest beneath her cheek. “Why would Jenna’s death be your fault?”
“She heard me telling Maggie about the phone. About the missing women and the drugs and the photos.”
“What phone?”
“Eileen Baker’s phone.” She only knew the last name because Ward had told her. Now it was burned into her brain.
Another tensing of his muscles. “You found a phone that belonged to Eileen Baker?”
Did he know her? Or of her? He said her name like it was familiar to him.
“It was under a floorboard at Bloom. Jenna heard me telling Maggie about it. Jenna was so pale. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, then she was killed.
What if she went somewhere, did something with that information that got her shot? That means I got her killed.”
Polly had found a phone that belonged to Eileen Baker.
Eileen Baker, who was on their list of missing women from a decade ago.
“Polly, where’s the phone?”
“I lost it. Or it went missing. I’m not sure. I put it in a drawer at work, and now it’s not there. My employees say they didn’t touch it, so…I don’t know. I was even thinking maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe someone locked us in the cellar that night so they could take it.”
If he’d thought his muscles were tense before, that was nothing compared to now. “Who knew about it?”
“Um…Maureen.” She yawned. “Anyone who overheard my conversation with her. But I don’t know who was in the shop at the time.”
Fuck . “What exactly was on the phone?”
Polly snuggled deeper into his chest, and her next words came out in a slur, like she was too tired to separate her words.
“I can’t remember. Photos of random places, like the river and forest. A text message thread, where Eileen tells someone she knows they drugged and killed women and she was going to prove it.
Then a response to Eileen, saying she was going to pay. ”
Dread was a kick in his gut.
Eileen had known there was a killer in Deep River. She’d figured out who was taking women and making them disappear. Then she’d become a victim too.
Was Jenna gone because she’d overheard that conversation? But what was her connection to all this? Why had she been shot that day?
“But don’t worry,” Polly murmured. “I’m going to yoga tomorrow morning at the community center and I’m figuring this out.”
“ What? ”
“Mm-hmm. I’m gonna get my Nancy Drew on.”
“No. You leave this alone.”
“Can’t do that. I need to know what happened between Jenna leaving Bloom and getting shot.” Another yawn.
“Polly—”
“You’re comfy. Thank you for not being a total dick. But ’member, I’m not falling in love with you. And I’m definitely not dating you. But friends? Yeah…we can do that. No more kisses though. You’re peanut butter and I’m jelly.”
Hell no, they were not sleeping right now. “Polly, I need you to tell me you’re dropping this.”
“No can do. Night-night.”
“Polly.”
She didn’t respond, and her back moved up and down in a gentle, rhythmic motion.
He tried to relax…because fuck she felt good against him. Soft and warm.
But everything she’d just told him made him want to get up. To barricade her inside this house and not let her leave in the morning.
Eileen had looked into the deaths and gone missing. Then Jenna had overheard Polly’s conversation and been murdered. Every woman who’d touched this had been killed—now Polly wanted to look into it. Hell, she’d read through Eileen’s phone, so she had to be on the killer’s radar.
Fuck. He was not letting Polly become another name on the list. And if the phone was taken, it meant someone knew she’d had it.
He remained where he was for another thirty minutes, stewing over every word, letting them roll over in his mind again and again, before finally getting up.
Polly hummed at the movement but didn’t wake. He pulled the blankets a bit higher, and for a moment, just got lost in her. In the way a lock of brown hair fell over the smooth skin of her cheek. The soft murmurs that slipped from her on every breath.
So. Fucking. Beautiful.
And vulnerable.
Quickly, he moved around the house and checked that the doors and windows were locked. They were. It didn’t make him feel any damn better.
When he returned to the living room, he pulled out his cell to text the team.
Joel: Polly found a phone that belonged to Eileen Baker, and the morning of Jenna’s death, Jenna overheard Polly telling Maggie about it.
Ryan: What was on the phone?
Joel: A few photos of the forest and river and a text thread between Eileen and an unknown number. Eileen told the person that she knew who they were and what they’d done.
Connor: Done?
Joel: She knew who the killer was.
Ryan: Jesus.
Joel: Polly’s still following some leads.
Zac: You can’t let her do that.
Joel: Don’t worry, I’m going to stick to her.
He was going to be like fucking glue on her back. If she wanted to investigate this shit, he couldn’t stop her. But he could be a thorn in her side. A shadow. He would make sure that she didn’t make a single move without him being right there.