Chapter 51
Knight found her in the diner. No surprise.
Ian had told him he’d dropped her off there at her request half an hour earlier.
She’d wanted something positive to remember about this little town.
Hell, he half suspected she’d hit the county visitor’s center, if there was one, to grab pamphlets or something.
Her fascination with small towns was rather obsessive in some ways.
He had to wonder if she realized what it told him.
Miranda missed home. Ached for it. The place she really belonged.
Everyone wanted somewhere to belong. Those who hadn’t had it—well, you either resented the desire for it, or you just learned to not give a damn.
He counted himself in the latter group. But…for her…
Home was where her heart really was.
There had only ever been one place he’d even felt half that sense of belonging. He would never forget.
She stood out. Even in the far back booth. The waitress looked at him, suspicion on her face.
The entire diner went quiet when he walked in.
No doubt the entire county was talking about what had happened with that moron Johnson. Especially in Buckbert.
In a town this small, homicide changed the very fabric of who the town was.
Ted Johnson was a serial killer. He fit the definition, and then some.
He’d killed four people.
He had just had abnormally long cooling off periods between his kills. It didn’t change what he was, or that his so-called motivation had been to protect that damned blond grocery clerk of his. He had killed.
Yet the only thing he had asked for was that girl. To make sure she was taken care of. It disgusted Knight to even think about it.
She had turned violent—people were dead because of her. Hagan Lindhour had a long road to recovery. He just couldn’t help wondering what would have become of Valeria Braun if Ted Johnson hadn’t been in her life?
That was a question he could not answer.
The girl…though…she was talking. And talking. And telling them everything she knew.
To save her own ass.
Not that it was going to do her much good. She was facing a litany of charges now.
To know a killer had been living amongst them, in a position of authority, of importance—it changed the fabric of a town like this. It would taint the town forever.
Hell, he hated small towns.
No way for private pain to heal.
Then again, he’d been in a damned lot of pain in a major city. No one had been there. Hard for him to ever forget that.
Two people had given a damn about him.
Taggart, that asshole, was one of them. He hadn’t let Knight push him away. Knight still didn’t know how he felt about that.
He crossed the diner, meeting the eyes of all who dared to look directly at him.
Miranda watched him.
The sling on her arm stood out. Said what had happened for all who looked at her. She’d be in the removable cast for the next six weeks.
Miranda had almost been the last victim.
He didn’t say a word, just took the seat across from her.
She looked horrible. He knew she hadn’t slept much the night before. Neither one had. He hadn’t been too thrilled at leaving her in the hospital room without him, considering.
But Alessandra Lorcan had volunteered to stay with her, while Knight handled all the bureaucracy and the windup of the case.
Miranda hadn’t been alone. There was that.
Knight wouldn’t tell her, of course, but he had checked in on her every few hours. Until Alessandra had promised him Miranda was fine, just sleeping. And asked him if he wanted to trade Alessandra places or something.
He’d just been concerned. Checking on her.
To make sure she hadn’t needed him. To protect, because every time he looked in the damned mirror he remembered being so damned vulnerable.
He never wanted that to happen to her.
“Diners everywhere,” she said. “Some have more charms than others. I…think I’m going to mark this one off my list for someday.”
“Not too keen on staying here, munching on celery?” The food on her plate looked as wilted as she did at the moment. Knight barely resisted saying something else.
“No more celery from Helery, for me. I’m ready to get out of here.” She just looked at him for a moment. “This place…brrr. Something almost evil, I think.”
“I’ve told you before, I don’t believe in that kind of superstition.” This was a debate they’d had far too many times now to count. “I believe in the evil of man.”
“Hmm. Maybe you are right. He…didn’t even realize what he was. And that is the terrifying part. He is a serial killer but he justified all of it. Made it all right and okay. I do not understand that at all. Still.”
No. And…the darkness of the world—it was taking some of the sun out of her. It hurt. To even contemplate it.
They finished breakfast. She’d turned the discussion to the photos on the wall. She was still looking at them as he picked up the tab. He stepped up to her side. Miranda had that intense, something isn’t right, look on her face. “What now?”
“Just…I do know that woman right there on the far left, though, Dr. Knight. I am sure of it—I met her when I was in Masterson at the inn. Funny coincidence. Connections? People aren’t ever really alone. That seven degrees of separation thing, right?”
Just like that, she walked out. Limped out, but she was on her feet. Stubborn. Knight followed her, out into the sun.
The warmth hit him immediately. Light always bothered him at first now. The photophobia might eventually resolve itself. It might not. He wasn’t counting on it.
He watched her as she walked away from him, that long stride eating up the sidewalk.
Miranda was ready to go home. Well, time to get her there.
Someone else’s darkness was waiting for them to find the answers.
It was a never-ending cycle.
He just hoped it didn’t destroy them all.
The stitches on his arm pulled, reminding him that this time they had won.
It might have been in the final inning, but they had survived.
Now, it was time to go home.
Just to get ready for the next one.