Chapter 18
Sloane
I was exhausted and hungry by the time the sun set. None of the homes we drove past had a VW bus in view, and we didn’t see one anywhere on the island as we drove. Archer and Colton had been going door to door and asking the owners if they could see the vehicles, but few owners were actually home.
“Can we stop somewhere for aluminum foil?” I asked. “As much as I love everything Maggie’s family serves, I’d like to make dinner tonight. Something simple and homemade will go a long way as comfort food.”
“General Store okay?” Knox asked.
“Perfect.”
We arrived a few minutes later, and Knox parked in the crumbling concrete lot. The store was small and busy inside with a long line and one cashier. I headed for the picnic supplies, hoping to find what I needed there.
Knox paused, eyes searching. “Do you want wine?”
I spotted the large Duplin display at the end of the aisle. The North Carolina company and their scrumptious muscadine wines always made me smile. My parents could keep their hundred-dollar bottles. “Always.”
Knox kissed my head, obviously pleased, and strode toward the display. “I’ll be right there,” he promised. “Two minutes.”
I turned to face the chaos in my picnic aisle.
The space was packed with people. I maneuvered slowly around a mom with one kid in a shopping cart and two holding on to the sides.
Couples debated over paper plates and plastic cups, and an older woman had practically parked her shopping cart in the center of the aisle.
I grabbed a box of foil and a can of cooking spray for good measure.
Then, I turned around, opting to keep going down the aisle and circle back to meet Knox, instead of fighting my way upstream. Halfway to the wine display, I spotted a familiar face and froze.
Walter Lehman stood in the camping section, holding a coil of rope, but he wasn’t examining it like someone deciding on a purchase. His expression was distant and strange. Grief? Fear?
When he noticed me watching, he set the rope down quickly and worked up a strained smile.
I jumped when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder from behind.
“Just me,” Knox said, voice low, meant only for my ears.
The older man abandoned all pretense of shopping and headed our way. “Knox! Hey. Odd seeing you here. Twice in one day. You’re not following me, are you?”
The joke didn’t land, and Walter’s gaze moved on to me.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” He extended a hand that I couldn’t bring myself to take. Or look away from. “Walter Lehman.”
I stared at his fingers, imagining them around my ribs, my wrists, my throat.
“Sloane,” I croaked, forcing the word through a narrowing windpipe. I held the foil in one hand, the cooking spray in the other, a silent excuse to avoid his touch.
Walter’s hand shook slightly as he returned it to his side. “You must be the friend from the Jeep. It’s nice to meet you properly.”
“We were in a hurry earlier,” I said.
“I see that.” Walter’s gaze dropped to the items we carried. “Looks like you’re headed home for a romantic night in. Don’t let me stop you.” He moved to the side, allowing us to pass.
“Have a nice night,” Knox said. He kept a protective hand on my back as he guided me to the checkout line.
I watched over my shoulder for signs of Walter Lehman, who’d disappeared into the crowd.
Knox
Sloane made dinner. Pasta with fresh grilled vegetables and a sauce that rivaled anything I’d had in Italy during a deployment layover. We ate in the solarium at the back of Sloane’s house, watching the night sky over the sound.
Sloane barely touched her pasta after working so diligently to make it. She pushed vegetables around her plate, eyes distant. Tense.
“You’re thinking about Walter Lehman,” I said. She didn’t have to worry about her safety tonight. I was here, and the security had been updated. But seeing him had obviously shaken her.
She set down her fork and looked at me as if my question was ridiculous.
“Rope, Knox. He was shopping for rope. At the same store we stopped in to buy foil. You want to talk about things that aren’t coincidental?
I just can’t decide if we truly caught him in the act, and that’s why he seemed so strange and uncomfortable, or if he followed us there, then made sure we saw him with the rope to toy with us. ”
I hated both options. They both meant he was our guy, and he was still out there, free to do as he pleased. “What’s your gut telling you?”
She deflated against her seatback. “That something was off about him. The way he looked at me. His energy. I don’t know.” Sloane wrapped her arms around herself. “But I can’t tell if I’m paranoid or if my instincts are actually picking up on something real.”
“Your instincts saved your life on that trail. I’d trust them.”
She met my eyes. “He’s the right size to be the man who grabbed me. What do you think?”
“I think he’s worth watching. His property butts up to a location Mom flagged, and she fired him for inappropriate behavior.
Now he’s offering to help us search the land beside his property and turning up at the General Store all the way across the island from his house.
” I leaned forward. “I can’t decide if it’s coincidence.
Or if he’s a predator inserting himself into the investigation. ”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit it to hold it still. “So what do we do?”
“Stay the course and tell Nash everything we learn. He can look into things or pass them on to the state police. He’ll know which.”
Sloane nodded, but fear flickered in her eyes.
“Hey.” I reached over the table and took her hand. “I won’t let him near you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can. I do.”
Sloane’s gaze flickered away, but she nodded and stood, gathering our plates. “I should probably get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“You don’t need to sleep on the floor again tonight.” She offered one dip of her chin to underscore the words. “I’ll be okay. Sleep in your bed.”
We moved through the evening routine. Sloane loaded the dishwasher. I did a final perimeter check. We avoided acknowledging the tension that had settled over the house like a heavy blanket.
“Goodnight, Knox,” Sloane said from the staircase, her hand on the railing.
“Night, Sloane. Call if you need anything.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I will.”
Hours later, I lay in the guest room’s massive bed, staring through the window. Listening to the house settle around me and the occasional cry of a night bird. I missed the hard floor beside her bed, because it meant being near her.
I closed my eyes, trying to find sleep and trying not to think about whether or not Sloane was still awake.
It would be so easy to cross the hall.
And what?
No. I am absolutely not going there.
I rolled over and pulled the pillow on top of my head. The fake relationship was strategic. Nothing more. Even if we’d both confessed to our attraction. Having chemistry was very different from being a couple.
Except it never felt fake when I held her hand. And it didn’t feel strategic when I pulled her close and her body melted against mine.
She’d wanted to kiss me last night. And I’d pissed her off by telling her no.
“Idiot,” I grumbled.
I rolled onto my side, frustrated, and punched the pillow into submission. I’d figure this out later. I had to keep my head straight right now. Do my job. And when the investigation was over, when Sloane was safe and the killer was caught, I’d deal with whatever was between us.
If there was anything still between us.
Until then, I just had to maintain control.
Eventually, I drifted into an uneasy sleep. A short time later, less than an hour, I was sure, I woke to the sound of a soft cry from across the hall. Then another, more distressed-sounding than the first.
I was on my feet and through the door before my mind fully registered the decision.
Sloane’s room was dark except for moonlight streaming through the windows when I arrived. She thrashed in the bed, tangled in sheets, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
“No,” she whimpered. “Please, no. Let me go. Let me—”
“Sloane.” I crossed to the bed, rubbing fatigue from my eyes as I sat carefully on the edge of her mattress. “Sloane, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
Her eyes flew open, wild and unseeing. She scrambled backward against the headboard, her hands coming up defensively, as if I was the threat.
“Hey, hey. It’s me. It’s Knox.” I kept my voice low, soothing. “You’re safe. You’re in your room. I’m right here.”
Recognition dawned. Then her face crumpled. “I could smell him. In the dream. Leather and sweat and something else. Something wrong.” Her hands shook. “It felt so real. Like he was here. In this room.”
My chest tightened. “He’s not here. The new cameras would’ve alerted us.”
“I know. Logically, I know that.” She pressed her hands to her face. “But I can’t shake the feeling that he’s watching. Always watching.”
“That’s what he wants. To make you afraid even when he’s not around.” I stayed where I was at the edge of the bed. “Don’t give him that power.”
“I don’t know how to stop.”
“You start by not being alone with the fear.” I met her eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”
What she needed was not to be alone. What she probably wanted was for me to hold her until the fear subsided. What I should do was go back to my room and maintain professional distance.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Every instinct I had screamed that this was a line we shouldn’t cross. But the look in her eyes, so vulnerable and trusting, made the decision for me.
I settled more comfortably on the bed, my back against the headboard, Sloane close enough that our shoulders touched. The contact was innocent, but I felt it like electricity through my entire body.
Silence stretched for a moment, only the distant sounds of the marsh’s nightlife drifting through the closed window. Sloane’s breathing gradually slowed, her body relaxing against mine.
“Tell me something,” she said quietly. “Something good. Something that has nothing to do with investigations or danger or any of this.”
I thought for a moment. “When I was eight, my mom took me night fishing for the first time. We went out on the sound in this beat-up little boat she’d bought from a neighbor. The stars were so bright you could see your shadow, and the water was full of bioluminescence.”
“What’s that?”
“Tiny organisms that glow when they’re disturbed.
Every time we moved the oars, the water lit up like blue fire.
” I could still see it, crystal clear after all these years.
“Mom told me that some kinds of magic only happen in the dark. That just because you can’t see something in the daylight doesn’t mean it’s not real or beautiful. ”
Sloane turned her head to look at me, and we were suddenly very close. Close enough that I could count the freckles across her nose, see the flecks of brown in her green eyes. Close enough that all I’d have to do was lean forward and—
“Knox,” she whispered, and her gaze dropped to my mouth.
I needed to move. To put distance between us and remind myself of all the reasons Sloane was off limits to me. Sloane was under my protection. And this wasn’t real, no matter how much I wished otherwise.
But God, I wanted to kiss her. And I wanted it with an intensity that didn’t care about my very valid reasons to get up and walk away.
My hands rose on autopilot and cupped her face gently, the pads of my thumbs brushed over her cheeks. Her skin was soft and warm against my palms. I groaned. “You’re killing me, Mercer.”
“Don’t leave,” she said. “At least stay until I fall asleep?”
Unable to deny her anything, I relaxed against her headboard, hands back on my lap, and counted her breaths until she slept.