The Obsession

Twenty-six

It felt like an interrogation. She knew better-she knew-but when Mason came into her studio in the morning, set up a folding chair, and sat, he turned the sanctuary into an interrogation room.

“You didn’t sleep well,” he said.

“No, not very well. Neither did you.”

“Well enough, just not very long. I worked late.”

“You didn’t come down for breakfast.”

“Because it’s at dawn.” He smiled a little. “I grabbed a bagel, had coffee, talked to the tile guys. The room you’ve earmarked for the uncles is really coming along. They’re going to love it.”

“I’m not sure they should come.”

“Naomi, I know it has to feel like your life tipped sideways, but you have to keep living it.”

“If something happened to them-”

He cut her off. “The unsub’s not interested in men.”

“He’s interested in me, and they’re mine. So.”

“They’ll come anyway. Put that away for a while. I’m heading into town shortly, meeting the team. We’ll work out of the police station. He’s never had an investigation focused on him like this, Naomi. It changes things.”

“Whatever we do, it doesn’t change what’s already happened.”

“No.”

“And I know, Dr. Carson, dwelling on that, brooding on my part of it, however involuntary, isn’t healthy or productive.”

Knowing that, knowing he thought it, irritated the crap out of her.

“But I might need a couple days to dwell and brood.”

All understanding, he simply nodded. “You should play to your strengths, and you’ve always been a champion brooder.”

“Up yours, Mason Jar.”

“Another strength,” he went on, “is your power of observation. You see the big picture and the small details. It’s going to be an advantage. It’s going to help.”

“My keen powers of observation didn’t clue me in that I’ve been followed by a serial killer for a couple years.”

“Longer, I think-and being clued in now, you can go back, remember things and people you noticed. You can go back, refresh those memories by going through pictures you took-the where, when, what was going on around you.”

Longer, she wanted to dwell on longer, but pressed her fingers to her eyes, ordered herself to deal with it. “I don’t pay attention to people when I’m working. I block them out.”

“You have to pay attention to block them out. You know more than you think, and I can help you bring it to the surface.”

Though she had to stifle a sigh, she decided if she had to take another trip into a therapy session, it might as well be with her brother in the chair.

“Let’s go back first, and tell me how much longer you think this has been happening.”

“Did you know Eliza Anderson?”

“I don’t know.” Already battling a vague headache, Naomi rubbed at her temple. “I don’t think so. Mason, I’ve brushed up against dozens and dozens of people. On shoots, at the gallery on trips to New York. There are motel clerks and waitresses and gas station attendants, shopkeepers, hikers. Countless. The odds of remembering…”

But suddenly she did. “Wait. Liza-I think they called her Liza. I remember hearing about her at college, my sophomore year, after she was killed. But, Mason, it wasn’t like this. And everyone said it was her ex-boyfriend. He’d been violent with her before, which is why he was an ex. She was beaten and raped, but she was stabbed to death, wasn’t she? And-God-they found her in the trunk of her own car.”

“What do you remember about her?”

“I didn’t know her. She was a year ahead of me. But I recognized her when I saw her picture on the news, on the Net, after it happened. We didn’t have any classes together, didn’t socialize, but she came into the restaurant where I worked the first two years of college before I could intern with a photographer. I waited on her enough times to remember her face.”

Now, she brought that face back into her mind. “Blonde, short, swingy blonde hair,” she said, waving her hands just under her own ears. “Very pretty. Polite enough to actually speak to her waitress, say thanks. I understand she was blonde, killed where I went to school, but she wasn’t held for any length of time, wasn’t strangled.”

“I think she was his first. I think he panicked before he could attempt strangulation. It was messy and quick, even sloppy-and he was lucky. If the investigation hadn’t zeroed in so completely on the ex, he might not have gotten away with it. She’d had a fight with the ex that night.”

“I remember reading that, hearing it around campus.” She found her calm, pushed back for memories. “He-the boyfriend-tried to get her to come back, and they fought, he threatened her. People heard him tell her he’d make her sorry, make her pay. He didn’t have an alibi.”

“And they had no physical evidence, and no matter how hard and long they worked him, he never came off his story of being alone in his room, asleep-when she was grabbed and killed and put in the trunk of her car.

“She looked a little like you.”

“No. No, she didn’t.”

“You wore your hair longer then, not dissimilar from hers. She wasn’t as tall as you, but she was tall, slim.”

And the way he paused, the way those warm brown eyes fixed on hers, Naomi knew worse was coming.

“Say it.”

“I think he used her as a surrogate, his first, because of those similarities. It may be he couldn’t get to you, so he substituted. And then found the high of the kill, of taking those substitutes. Along the way he evolved, he learned, he refined.”

“Mason, that’s ten years. You’re talking ten years.”

“Initially, his kills would be more spread out. Months, even a year between. He’d experiment with method, study you, study Bowes. He may be competing with Bowes, and Bowes had a twelve-year streak-that can be verified. You and I know it might have been longer.”

Couldn’t sit, couldn’t, so she pushed away from the desk, paced to the window, drank in the view of the water.

The peace of it, the colors blooming in light and in shadow.

“I don’t know why, but if I believe it’s been ten years, it makes it less intimate. This isn’t about something I did, something I didn’t do-Xander was right. I’m the excuse. God, I asked myself so many times in the first couple of years after that night in the woods what I’d done or didn’t do to make my father hurt all those girls.”

“I did the same.”

She glanced back at him. “Did you?”

“Yeah, I did. Of course I did. And the answer was nothing. We didn’t do anything.”

“It took me a long time to accept that, to push away any blame. It’s not going to take me as long now. Not with this, not with him. And he’s not going to get away with using me as an excuse to kill.”

She turned back. “He’s not going to get away with it.”

“Brooding time’s over?”

“Damn right, it is. Ashley. Liza would have been the same age as Ashley when I found her.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Considering, Mason sat back. “It might have been a trigger. Not necessarily the exact age, but the college student. You saved a college student. Now you’re a college student, and he goes there to kill you, or a surrogate. To finish what Bowes had started.”

Mason rose. “I have to get into town. What I’d like you to do, when you can, is go back over that period when Eliza Anderson was killed, the days before it happened. Try to take yourself back there, the routine-class, work, study, social life.”

“I barely had a social life, but all right. I’m going to do whatever I can to help you find him. And, Mason, when you do, I want something.”

“What?”

“Something I couldn’t do, just couldn’t do, with our father. I want to talk to him.”

“Let’s catch him first.” But Mason went to her, wrapped his arms around her before stepping back. “You and Xander? Things are okay there?”

“Why?”

“You were yelling-both of you-when you came up here yesterday. And you were still off and upset when you came down again.”

“He pisses me off so I won’t panic. It works. Most of the time. He said he’s in love with me. Well, he didn’t say it, he shouted and swore, and worked it into that. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“If I knew that, I’d do it.”

“You know.” He poked a finger in the center of her forehead. “You’re still brooding on that one. I’ll let you know if I’m going to be late.”

Alone, Naomi considered brooding on that one a little longer. Instead, she sat behind her desk again, dug out files.

And took herself back to college.

–

She spent two hours, made notes before taking her camera and going outside for a break. Dirt-covered and joyful, Tag paused his love affair with the landscapers to race to her.

“Sorry about that!” Lelo called out. “He’s sure having fun, though.”

“It shows.” Resigned to carving out time to bathe the dog, she took pictures of the crew setting pavers. Another of the one she thought of as Mr. Hunk-tall, golden, built, and currently sweaty, stripped to the waist and leaning on a shovel.

Hunks at Work, she thought, immediately seeing a series of photos. Maybe a calendar, she thought, remembering Xander working on an engine, Kevin with a nail gun.

She spent longer than she’d intended, taking candids, devising poses. Then she left the dirty dog with the exterior crew and went back inside.

Back in her studio, she grabbed a bottle of water, texted Mason.

Give me the next in line, chronologically. I’ll organize notes on the college years and have them for you tonight.

Within minutes he’d emailed her two names, two dates. One eight months after Eliza Anderson he’d termed a possible, and the other, nearly eight months after that, termed probable.

She went with the possible.

And spent her day in the past. In the brisk winds of November on a college campus where Eliza Anderson had walked from the library to her car, intending to drive back to the group house she shared with friends, to the sweltering summer in New York where a runaway-only seventeen-was found beaten, stabbed, and strangled in a Dumpster behind a homeless shelter. To a bitter February weekend where Naomi had traveled with her photography group to New Bedford, where a married mother of two left her evening yoga class-and was found dead on the rocky shoreline Naomi had photographed only that afternoon.

She skipped any excuse for lunch, fueling herself on water, far too much cold caffeine, and sheer drive. When she’d ignored the headache as long as she could, she popped some Advil and finished writing up her notes in a way-she hoped-someone besides herself could follow.

Exhausted, she decided Jenny was right. She needed a love seat in the studio. If she’d had one she’d have curled up on it right that minute for a nap.

Then again, if she had a love seat to take a nap on, she’d have a dirt-covered dog roaming the house. Best to wash the dog, then think about dinner. Because now that she’d stopped, she was starving.

She stepped out of the studio, stood for a moment in the absolute silence-and decided having the house to herself was nearly as refreshing as a nap.

So she’d grab a couple of cookies to fill the hole, wash the stupid dog, then think about dinner.

But she realized as she came down the back steps into the kitchen that she didn’t have the house to herself. Seeing the accordion doors wide open would’ve stopped her heart if she hadn’t heard Xander’s voice.

“Jesus, go lie down, will you? Do I look like I have a hand free to throw that damn thing?”

She stepped out.

He sat on a rolling stool, assembling a stainless steel cabinet. The rest of the… behemoth was really all she could think, was spread out on a folding table behind him.

The dog-clean and smelling of his shampoo-managed to work his way under Xander’s arm to drop the ball in his lap.

“Forget it.”

“Is that… a grill?”

He glanced up. “I told you I’d get the grill.”

“It’s really big. Very really big.”

“No point in puny.” He fitted the bit of an electric drill into a screw, gave it a whirl.

“Don’t they come already assembled?”

“Why would I pay somebody to put something together when I can put it together myself?” To buy some time, Xander heaved the ball over the deck rail.

For one heart-stopping moment Naomi feared the dog would leap off after it, but he went into a flying scramble down the stairs.

“You bought a grill-what looks to be a Cadillac of grills.”

“I said I would.”

“And you do what you say you’ll do.”

“Why say you will if you don’t?” He shifted, watched her watching him. “What?”

“I had a headache,” she said, thoughtfully. “And I was tired-brain, body, spirit, if you want to do the hat trick. I wished I had a couch in my studio so I could take a nap. But I needed to wash the dog.”

“I washed him-for all the good it’ll do since there’s plenty of dirt out front for him to roll in again. Go take an aspirin and a nap.”

“The headache’s gone, and I’m not so tired. I earned the headache and the tired by forgetting to eat lunch and drinking too much caffeine.”

“I don’t get how people forget to eat. Your stomach says feed me. You feed it, move on.”

She let out a sigh. It surprised her as it wasn’t sad, frustrated, poignant. It was content. “Xander.” She went to him, reached down to take his face in her hands, kissed him. “You washed the dog. You bought a grill-one that looks like it needs its own zip code.”

“It’s not that big.”

“And you’re putting it together. I’ll go do the same with dinner.”

“What are you talking about? This is a grill. In about forty minutes I’m going to fire it up and cook those steaks I picked up on the way home.”

“You bought steaks? You’re going to grill steaks?” She looked at the partially assembled behemoth. “Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. Have some faith. I had them put a big-ass salad together, and if you want to be useful, you could wash the potatoes I’m going to grill.”

Just as she started to prep, Mason came in. “Listen, I want to change, have what you’re having. Then we’ll talk. I saw Xander’s truck out front.”

“He’s on the deck, assembling a gigantic grill.”

“A grill.” Mason stepped out and said, “Whoa,” in tones of awe and delight. “Now that’s a grill.”

“It will be.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

“You’ve never been mechanically inclined,” Naomi began, and got a stony stare.

“You don’t know everything.” Obviously primed, Mason stripped off his suit jacket, tugged off his tie, and then rolled up his sleeves.

Naomi stood in the kitchen, listening to them talk. There could be normal, she realized. There could be pockets of normal even in the middle of the awful.

She would prize it.

–

And she should’ve had faith. In forty minutes, despite what she considered Mason’s dubious assistance, Xander did just as he’d promised.

He fired up the grill.

“I’m duly impressed. And it’s beautiful. Big, but beautiful.”

“It gets covered.” Xander jerked a thumb at the cover, still in its package on the table. “You use it, it cools off, you cover it. Every time.”

“Without fail,” she promised. “And the side burners will be handy, plus it has all this storage.” She opened one of the doors. “That’s a rotisserie attachment.”

“Yeah. I’ll show you how to use it when you want to.”

“Restaurant kid. I know how to attach and use a rotisserie. And I will be. Let me get the potatoes ready.”

“You scrub them off, toss them on.”

“I’ll show you a trick. If I’d known this was happening I’d have picked up some liquid smoke.”

“I’ve got some. They threw in this thank-you package. There’s some in there. Why?”

“Why-get it and see.”

What he saw was her mixing up oil, the smoke, some garlic in a bowl.

“They’re just potatoes.”

“Not when I’m done with them.” In another bowl, she mixed salt, pepper, more garlic. Then she took one of her little knives and cut wedges out of the potatoes.

“Why-” he began, but she just waved him off and put pats of butter in the wedges, then sprinkled the salt stuff in it before fitting the piece she’d cut out back on.

“It’s a lot of trouble for-”

She made a warning sound, rubbed the potatoes with the oil mixture, used the rest of the seasoning on them, then wrapped them in foil.

“Have a little faith,” she said, and handed him the three massive spuds.

When Mason came down, they were sitting on the glider with the dog at their feet.

“That’s one beautiful bastard,” he said, studying the grill.

He sat on the deck, back against the pickets. “Do you want me to wait until later?”

“No. I’m good. I’ve had a lot of time to think it through, work it out. We all need to know all we can.”

“Okay then. We profile the unsub from late twenties to early thirties.”

“More my age,” Naomi said.

“He’d have blended on campus, we believe as a student.”

“What campus?” Xander demanded.

“You’re not caught up.”

“He was in assembly mode when I came down. I didn’t talk to him about it.”

“Okay. We now believe, strongly, the first kill was a student at Naomi’s college, in Naomi’s second year.”

He filled in the blanks quickly.

“I didn’t get to all your notes, Naomi, but I did read the ones on that time period. You were part of a photography club, casually dating one of the other members. You were still living on campus, and you worked at a place called Café Café-coffeehouse, casual dining. You paid extra to have a single room-no roomie-in your dorm.”

“I learned the first year I couldn’t handle a roommate. They wanted to party when I wanted to work, and I still had nightmares off and on. I could put in extra hours at the café and pay the extra.”

“And the night Eliza Anderson was killed you got off about nine.”

“It was a Friday night-I looked it up, and I remembered. Most Fridays I got off at nine, walked back to my dorm, put in a couple hours on assignments or study. Even if the weather was bad, it was only about a ten-minute walk, on campus. But Justin came by right before I got off-the guy I was seeing. He wanted to show me some of the shots he’d taken earlier in the day, for this assignment. I liked his work, which is probably why I’d started seeing him, so he and another girl from our club walked back to my room together.”

“Three of you-not what the unsub was expecting. He’d watched you, he knew your routine. And he couldn’t move on you when you were in a group. So he took a substitute, an opportunity.”

“Eliza.”

“She left the library about nine thirty. Her car was in the lot-she lived in a group house off campus. She wasn’t dating anyone, but they were having a party at the group house, so she was expected. We believe she was forced into her car-we know she was raped and killed in it-forced to drive somewhere remote enough to do what was done. Then he put her body in the trunk, drove it back, left it in the lot. He would’ve been bloody, so it’s likely he had his own car close, he had a change of clothes, a place to stay. By the time she was found the next day, he was gone.”

She imagined the fear, like the terrible fear she’d seen in Ashley’s eyes.

“If he knew my schedule, he had to have watched me for more than a week.”

“Possibly, or he asked. Just asked someone. But he took Friday, which has proven to be significant. He may have been in school himself, taken time off. He may have gone to the same university, and have developed his obsession with you there.”

“I never felt unsafe there. You were right before about noticing things. I think I would have, I would have felt it if someone that close had been focused on me. Someone I saw routinely, on campus, in class, in the café. But I didn’t.”

“How did he know you went there?” Xander asked. “How did he know where to find you?”

“If he looked hard enough, had decent computer skills?” Mason shrugged. “You can find anybody. I’m exploring the possibility you knew him, Naomi. In New York.”

“Knew him.”

“Know him,” Mason corrected. “Even casually. Someone who came into Harry’s restaurant. You may have waited on him. He could have asked anyone, casually, about you. Especially if he’s near the same age. They’d think he had a little crush maybe, something that innocent. And it’s oh, Naomi, she’s studying photography, or Naomi’s going off to college in the fall to study photography. He says, wow, at Columbia? and it’s oh no, some college in Rhode Island. We’re sure going to miss her.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “It would be easy.”

“Bowes released another name and location the summer before your sophomore year. He was all over the press again. Vance’s book got another bump back onto the bestseller list,” Mason added. “The movie ran on cable.”

“I remember. I remember,” Naomi said again. “I was so afraid those first couple weeks back at school someone would connect me. But no one did. Or I thought no one did.”

“Something like that could’ve triggered it. Bowes got a lot of attention, a lot of mail, more visitors-more reporters getting clearance to interview him from that July when he made the deal, right through to October when the attention waned again.”

“And in November, this man came to Rhode Island, probably for me.”

“We’re checking all the correspondence, the visitors’ logs-back ten years, the records aren’t as easy to come by as they are now. But this is someone who keeps tabs, who’s probably developed a relationship with Bowes-or believes he has. Just as he believes he has one with you.”

“He does have one with me.”

“Everything you remember helps. Your memory of that first Friday night, it helps, it gives us your movements, and with them helps us see his. You remembered something else from college.”

“The club trip my junior year. Presidents’ Day weekend. Cold as it gets, but we piled in a couple of vans and drove to New Bedford. Winter beach theme. We shot for a couple of hours on the freezing beach, then we went into town to eat. That’s what I remembered. How this other student sitting across from me-Holly, I don’t remember her last name-said something about how come guys stared at me, I already had a boyfriend. And she pointed toward the bar, kind of smirked. I looked around, but the guy she’d pointed out had his back turned.”

As she had that afternoon, Naomi walked through it again.

“She got up-I guess she was feeling the beer-she was one of the seniors, and ordered a beer. She walked up to him. I even heard her say he could buy her another beer, that I was taken, but she wasn’t. He just walked out. Didn’t look back, just walked straight out, which annoyed her. And I did feel something. I felt uncomfortable, exposed. I put it down to embarrassment because she was a little drunk, and she said how Barbie dolls like me always got the attention, how he’d watched me on the beach earlier. We took some more shots around town, then drove to Bridgeport, spent the night at a motel, took more pictures the next day. We were supposed to keep at it, come back on Monday, but a storm, a bad one was coming in, and we opted to go back, finish up closer to the campus. I never heard about the woman he’d killed until you told me this morning.”

“Who was she?” Xander asked.

“She worked at the restaurant where you had your early dinner. She got off at seven that Friday, had a yoga class in a studio in town. Her car was still in the lot the next morning, her husband frantic. They found her body Sunday morning on the beach where Naomi’s club spent that Friday afternoon.”

“It’s not a coincidence. Did he use her car?” Naomi asked. “The way he did with Liza?”

“No. We believe he had his own vehicle. Incapacitated her or forced her into it.”

“Middle of February,” Xander speculated. “Cold, windy, storm coming in. He sure as hell didn’t kill her outside. Maybe he rented a motel room, or had a van.”

“A lot of motel rooms in that area. The locals checked every one, came up empty.”

“He’d had time to think about it,” Xander pointed out. “To prepare. You put down a tarp, do what you’re going to do. TV or radio on, she’s gagged, who’s going to hear?”

“I wish I’d gotten up, gone to the bar, gotten a look at him. At least I could give you a description.”

“This Holly did. Maybe she remembers.”

Naomi just shook her head at Xander. “She was half lit, a decade ago. In any case, I don’t remember her last name, have no idea where she is.”

“Your brother’s FBI. I bet he can find her.”

“Yeah, we can find her. We will find her. She’s the only one we know of who knows what he looks like. Or looked like, so it’s worth a shot. Do you want a break from this?”

“No, keep going. You said a runaway in New York. In July-between these two murders.”

He took her through that, plucking at her memories, then called it when Xander got up to grill the steaks.

“Just give me the next you have,” Naomi insisted. “So I can think about the time and place, what I was doing.”

“April of my sophomore year-your senior year. Spring break. You, me, the uncles, we road-tripped it down to South Carolina, stayed a week in that beach house Seth found.”

“I remember. It rained four of the six and a half days we were there.” Remembering made her smile. “We played a hell of a lot of Scrabble and rented movies. But… that’s nine months, isn’t it? Nine months between. Doesn’t it usually escalate?”

“It does, and I think he practiced between July and April. Disposed of the body or bodies.”

“It’s going to be like… Bowes. Even when you find him, you might never know how many he killed.”

“Let’s worry about that when we get to that.”

“But-”

“How do you want your steak?” Xander interrupted.

“Oh. Ah. Medium rare for me, medium for Mason.” She sloughed it off, rose. “I’ll go dress the salad.”

They’d take that break, she decided, dig into that pocket of normal. Then she’d go back to that rainy week at the beach, and whatever came after it.

She wouldn’t stop.

Twenty-seven

When she turned to him in the night, Xander came half awake.

“Just a dream.” He slid an arm around her, hoped she’d settle again. “You’re okay.”

“He was chasing me. Through the forest, along the beach, everywhere I went. Right behind me, but I couldn’t see him. Then I fell into a pit. But it was the cellar. And when he put the rope around my neck, it was my father.”

He lay quiet a moment. “I’m no shrink, but that’s pretty straightforward, right?”

“I dream of that cellar more than anything else. I can even smell it in the dreams. I never get out of it, in the dreams. He always comes back before I can get away, get away from him.”

“He’s not going to get out.”

“But he has an apprentice, a competitor, whatever this is. I can’t be afraid, Xander. I can’t live afraid. Before all of this, before that night, I used to dream of finding a puppy and being able to keep it, or riding the brand-new shiny bike I wanted so bad. I’ll never go back to that, that simple, that innocent, but I won’t live afraid. I did get out of the cellar. I got out. I got Ashley out. I won’t live afraid of what didn’t happen, or what’s going to happen.”

“Good. Smart. Can you go back to sleep now?”

“No.” She rolled on top of him. “And neither can you.”

Fisting her hands in his hair, she took his mouth aggressively, took her fill of it.

“I have purpose.”

“Yeah,” he managed as she ravished his mouth again. “I got that.”

“Not that.” Her laugh came low and husky. “Or not just that. Oh God, I love your hands on me, so hard and strong it feels like you could break me in half.”

Those hard, strong hands gripped her hips. “You don’t break easily.”

No, she didn’t. She’d nearly forgotten that. She didn’t break easily. She scraped her teeth along his jawline, down his throat, reveling in the taste and texture, gathering pleasure and excitement from the rapid beat of his pulse against her lips.

His heart, a quick, thick thud against the press of her breast. He’d given that heart to her. She didn’t know, not yet, couldn’t be sure, not now, what to do with it, for it. But she wouldn’t be afraid of being loved.

She wouldn’t fear the gift.

Strong, she thought. He was strong, body and mind and will. She would never be weak, never forget her own strength. His strength would remind her, even challenge her.

She rose up. Moonlight again, she thought. Here was moonlight, as it had been the first time they’d come together like this. Light, dark, shadows, living together to tint the air, to somehow sweeten it.

She took his hands, brought them to her breasts, to her own heartbeat.

“I’m what you need.”

“You are.”

For a moment, she pressed her hands to his. “Everyone should have what they need.”

She took him in, slow, slow, stretching the moment like a fine silver wire. “Oh, what being with you does inside me.”

And she began to move, a gentle, sinuous roll. Torturously arousing, a smoky, smoldering fire in the blood. He fought to let her set the pace, that slow burn of a pace, to stop himself from simply clamping around her like chains, taking her, taking his release.

Pleasure, so acute it sliced. Desire, so intense it seared. And love, so deep and yet so new it drowned him.

As if she knew, she smiled. “Wait.” Her eyes closed as she rolled her hips, kept him trapped and on the edge of torment. “Wait. And you can take what you need. Take what you want. How you want. Just wait.”

While he watched, barely able to breathe, her head fell back, her back bowed. Her arms rose to circle her head. All movement stopped. She was a statue, bathed in moonlight, made in moonlight.

She made a sound, half sob, half triumph. Then she smiled again; her eyes, opened and slumberous, met his.

His tether snapped. He had her on her back, under him, her arms still over her head, his hands clamping her wrists.

All that need, all that want, all that torment rushed together inside him. He drove into her like a man possessed; perhaps he was. Her shocked, breathless cries only added fuel.

He took what he needed, what he wanted. Took until there was nothing left for either of them.

And that was everything, for both of them.

–

In the morning Xander scowled at a tie as if deciding whether to wear it or hang himself with it.

“I don’t think Donna would care if you didn’t wear a tie.”

“No. But… I’m a pallbearer. Her daughter asked Kevin and me to be pallbearers.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.” How much harder would that be for him? she wondered, and walked to her closet-which needed organizing since most of the clothes shipped from New York remained in boxes.

“You don’t have to go.”

She stopped, her hand on the black dress. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“I don’t mean that. I mean you don’t have to. You don’t have to feel obligated.”

So much easier to stay home, she thought, to work in a quiet, empty house, as everyone in both crews would attend Donna’s funeral. And he was giving her the out.

“I didn’t know her very well, but I liked her. I know I’m not responsible for what happened, but I’m connected. I know you’ll have more friends than I can count there, but we’re together. It’s not an obligation, Xander. It’s respect.”

“I’m pissed off.” He tossed the tie on the bed, shrugged into the white dress shirt. “I’d shoved it down, but today I’m pissed off I’m going to carry a really good woman to a hole in the fucking ground.”

“I know.” She laid the dress on the bed, went to the dresser for a bra and panties. “You should be pissed off.”

While she dressed he picked up the tie again and, resigned, slid it under the collar of the shirt. “Ties are for bankers and lawyers,” he complained. “Or like Elton John said, the sons thereof.”

In her underwear, she turned to him, finished the knot herself. “Uncle Seth taught me. He said every woman should know how to tie a man’s tie, facing him. And I’d know why someday.” She smiled, smoothed the fabric down. “And now I do. Look at you, Xander Keaton, clean shaven.” She stroked a hand over his cheek. “Wearing a tie.” She angled her head. “Who are you again?”

“It won’t last.”

“And that’s fine, too.” She pressed her cheek to his. “This time I’m going to help you through. Let me.”

He let out a curse that ended on a sigh. Then put his arms around her. “Thanks. Tell me when you need to go. They closed Rinaldo’s for the day. People are supposed to go there after, but if you-”

“Just let me help you through.”

“Right. You’re half-more than-naked, and I’m not. Something off about that.”

“I’m about to be un-naked. Maybe you could let Tag out, make sure he does everything he has to do. I don’t want to leave him outside alone while we’re gone.”

“We could take him.”

“No, we’re not taking the dog to a funeral. He’ll be fine in the house as long as he has a rawhide and his stuffed cat. And a ball. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

“You’re the first and only woman I’ve known who says that and means it. Hey!” He snapped his fingers at the dog, who instantly grabbed his ball in his jaws and body-wagged. “We’re going out the back, pal, and keeping out of that topsoil.”

Xander grabbed his suit jacket, headed out the bedroom doors to the deck with the dog flashing ahead of him. “Lock this behind me,” he told Naomi.

She did, then put on the dress she hadn’t worn in… she couldn’t quite remember, and finished getting ready for her second funeral in the Cove.

–

He waited just inside the forest until Naomi and the grease monkey she was doing it with drove by in her car. Then he waited five full minutes.

Sometimes people turned around and came back, forgot something. His mother did it all the time, and once nearly caught him digging in the fake coffee can she used to hide cash from thieves.

Not that she’d ever been robbed, except by her son.

So he waited, watching the road through the screen of trees before he began the hike to the house on the bluff.

He’d parked nearly a quarter mile away-in the opposite direction from town. Had even put a white handkerchief on the side-view mirror, like he’d had a breakdown.

Getting into the house would be a nice little bonus. He’d seen how she lived, what she had. He wanted to touch her things, her clothes. Smell her. Maybe take a little souvenir she wouldn’t miss, at least not right off.

He knew about the alarm system, but he’d gotten through that sort of thing before. He’d done a lot of studying, put in plenty of practice.

She might have forgotten to set it-something else people did all the time. And he should know.

More than once, he’d walked right into houses, and right into the bedroom where some dumb bitch was sleeping.

He didn’t always kill them. You had to mix things up or even brain-dead cops might start piecing things together. Like sometimes he used ketamine-a jab with that, and down she went. Chloroform took longer, but there was something so satisfying about the struggle.

Once you knocked her out, tied her up, gagged that bitch-blindfolded her if you figured on letting her live-you could rape the shit out of her. He really liked when they came out of it while he raped them.

Then you mixed it up. You killed them, or you didn’t. He liked the kill even more than the rape, but sometimes you had to resist. You beat the crap out of them, or you didn’t. Cut them up some, or didn’t.

And you kept your mouth shut unless you were going to shut theirs, permanently. No DNA when you wore a raincoat, no voice to remember, no face.

When the time came to do Naomi-and that time was coming right up-he’d take his sweet, sweet time. Maybe even keep her a couple weeks.

Stupid bitch got lucky, got rich enough to buy herself a big house. And was dumb enough to buy one this remote.

He could’ve taken her before, and he’d thought about it, oh, he’d thought about it so many times. But the wait, the long wait was better. And now he was-Christ-an aficionado. Oh, the things he’d do to her.

But not today. Today was a little opportunity.

Who knew he’d end up killing the fricking town sweetheart? He’d heard the buzz-he always made sure he heard the buzz. Everybody was going to her send-off. He’d never have a better chance to get in the house, get a solid lay of the land.

He could take her there, he was nearly sure of it. Just had to get the grease monkey out of the way for a few hours-or altogether. Make sure her asshole little brother was off playing Special Agent.

But he wanted the lay of the land first.

He strolled right up the drive.

He had lock picks and knew how to use them. If she’d set the alarm, he had a reader that should break her code before the alarm sounded.

If not, he just locked up again, moved off. They’d figure it was a glitch, nothing more. But the reader rarely failed him. He’d paid good money for it.

He glanced at the pots of flowers on the front porch, thought Home sweet home, and wished he’d thought to bring a little weed killer or salt. Wouldn’t she wonder what the fuck when her posies croaked?

He heard the dog bark as he got out the picks, didn’t worry about it. He had a couple of dog biscuits in his pocket-and he’d seen the stupid dog playing around with the yard crew, the carpenters. He’d even seen Naomi walking around town with him, and how the dog let anybody who came along pet him.

But as he went to work on the locks the barks grew louder, sharper, and made way for throaty growls and wet snarls.

He had a knife-Don’t leave home without it-but if he had to kill the damn dog it would spoil the surprise. And he didn’t relish the idea of having the dog try to rip a chunk out of him.

He reconsidered.

He’d go around the back first, to the glass doors. Let the dog see him-and the dog biscuit. Make friends through the glass. She may have left them unlocked on top of it.

He circled around, making note of windows on this far side-ones he hadn’t been able to study up close before. And the trees, the potential cover.

He took the stairs to the deck. More pots of flowers. Yeah, he might just come back with weed killer, give her plants a good dose for the fun of it.

Then, slapping on a big, friendly smile, he pulled out a dog biscuit and walked to the big glass doors.

The dog wasn’t even there. Some guard dog, he thought with a snort, and pulled on thin latex gloves to check if the doors were locked.

The dog-bigger than he’d remembered-flew at the glass, barking, snarling, even snapping. Shocked panic had him stumbling back, throwing up his hands as if to protect his face. His heart banged in his throat, his mouth went dry. Infuriated him even as he trembled.

“Fucker. Fucker.” Breathless, he tried the big smile again, though his eyes transmitted pure hate even as he showed the dog the biscuit. “Yeah, asshole,” he said in a friendly singsong. “See what I got. Should’ve poisoned it, you ugly fuck.”

But no matter the tone, no matter the bribe, the dog’s relentless barking increased. When he made a testing move toward the door, the dog peeled back those canine lips and showed his fangs.

“Maybe I’ll stick this down your throat instead.” He pulled the knife, stabbed out with it.

Rather than cowering back, the dog leaped at the glass and stood on his hind legs, barking madly with eyes creepy blue and feral.

“Screw this.” His hand shook as he shoved the knife back in its sheath. “I’ll be back, you fuck, I’ll be back. I’ll gut you like a trout and make her watch.”

Furious, shaken, hot tears, hot rage burning behind his eyes, he stormed off the deck. Hands fisted, he hurried around the side of the house, stomped back to the drive and down.

He’d be back. And she and that fucking dog would pay for ruining his day.

–

In Xander’s opinion no one had ever wanted to get out of a suit as badly as he wanted out of his. And once he had, he decided, he intended to toss it into Naomi’s closet, leave it there, and forget it for as long as humanly possible.

“I appreciate your staying,” he told her as he turned up her drive. “I know it was long.”

“People really loved her. I think when you hear as much laughter as you see tears it’s a testament to that. People loved her, and won’t forget her. I wanted to stay, which isn’t something I say often about any sort of event that involves so many people, but I did want to stay. And I didn’t realize until I did that I’ve become part of the community. Or at least crossed that careful border into the edges of the community.”

He parked, then just sat a moment. “You bought this place, and nobody else was willing to put the time, money, and vision into it. You shop local, you hire local, and that counts a whole hell of a lot. You put your art at Krista’s, and it’s something people notice, take stock of. You’re hooked up with me, and people notice and take stock of that, too.”

“I bet they do. New York Naomi and Our Own Xander.” She smiled now. “I’ve heard myself referred to that way, which is why it surprised me to realize I’d crossed that border.”

“You might always be New York Naomi. It has a ring. God, I’ve got to get out of this suit.”

“And I’ve got to let that poor dog out. We were longer than I thought we’d be. Where’s Lelo?” she wondered.

Xander glanced over at his friend’s truck. “Around somewhere. The rest will be coming along, get a few hours in yet.”

He waited while she unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm-and the dog raced in from the back of the house to wiggle and wag and lick and lean.

“Okay, okay, I know we were forever.” But when she started to open the front door, Xander stopped her.

“He’ll be all over the dirt. He should go out the back.”

Though he intended to go straight up and ditch the suit, he went with instinct when Tag raced toward the back of the house, ran back a few feet, raced back again.

Something’s up.

“I’ll let him out,” Naomi began as Xander started back. “I know you want to change and get to work.”

“I’ll go up the back.”

He relaxed when he saw the reason for Tag’s actions. Lelo-already out of dress clothes and into work mode-stood on the other side of the glass doors, pouring potting soil into the first of two containers.

Grinning, Lelo shifted the bag, gave a thumbs-up.

“Hey,” he said when Xander opened the door. “You’re sprung!” He laughed, setting the bag down to rub the dog all over. “I’d’ve broken him out, but the door was locked. He was pretty upset at first. Weren’tcha, yeah. Shaky and whining, but he settled down pretty quick when he saw I was sticking around. Sorry about the nose prints on the glass.”

“Yours or his?” Xander asked.

“Har. I couldn’t stay anymore at the, you know, thing after the thing. The first time I’ve ever seen Loo cry, and that just… wow. The other guys’ll be along, I guess, since you are. I got a jump.”

“Yes, you did.” Naomi studied the planters. Lelo had been exactly right. They might have grown out of the house, and were the perfect size for her needs, just steps from the kitchen. “They’re perfect, Lelo. They’re wonderful. I love them.”

“Turned out pretty good. I’ve got some herbs and tomatoes, peppers, like that, out in the truck. I can plant them up for you.”

“You got all that?”

Shuffling, he adjusted his battered straw cowboy hat. “I was going right by the nursery anyway. Anything you don’t want, I’ll take home. My mom will plug it in somewhere.”

“Can I take a look? I’d like to change and plant them myself. It’d be nice to balance out the day making something grow.”

“I hear that. These’ll be ready for planting by the time you’re ready. Oh, and Xander? It’s been a while since you’ve put in time on my dad’s crew, but you oughta know not to go stomping around on dirt just seeded.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, somebody did since we knocked off yesterday. No big. I’ll have it raked out.”

“Where?”

“Around the front side. No big, like I said. I was just ragging on you.”

“Let’s have a look. Naomi, keep the dog back.”

“We’re not going to put you-or whoever-in jail for tromping over the topsoil,” Lelo said, but led the way down. “I’ll get those plants while we’re out there. You can carry a flat unless you’re worried about getting dirt on your suit.”

“I may burn this suit.”

It took some doing, but Naomi managed to stop the dog from racing after them, pulled him inside long enough to clip on the leash.

By the time she came out the front door both Xander and Lelo had hunkered down to study the ground. And her nerves began to fray.

“Not only didn’t I walk across here, but my foot’s bigger than that, Lelo. Buy a clue.”

“Yeah, I guess I see that, but I just figured since it’s coming and going toward the back. I guess one of Kevin’s guys.”

“They knocked off before you did yesterday, haven’t been back today.” He looked up to where Naomi fought to keep the heroically straining dog from pulling her forward.

“Sit!” He snapped it out, and to Naomi’s-and probably to Tag’s-surprise, Tag sat.

“Your brother’s got about an inch on me,” Xander said. “I can’t say I noticed his feet, but I’m betting they’re close to my size. I take a thirteen.”

“Yes. I know his size because he hit it in high school. It’s not easy to find that size off the rack.”

“Tell me about it. Give him a call, Naomi. Somebody’s been out here, snooping around.”

“Well fuck, Xan.” Lelo pushed to his feet. “I never figured that. Maybe that’s why the big guy was so upset when I got here.”

Xander circled around, took the curving path of recently set pavers. “He’s on here, right?” Taking the phone out of her hand, Xander pulled up her speed dial list. “Go ahead and take the dog around the back, but don’t- Never mind. Lelo, take this dog around back and keep him away from that dirt.”

“Sure. The back door was locked,” he said as he took the same path as Xander. “Front, too, because I’m going to admit I tried it, thinking to let Tag out since he was so upset at first. The house was locked up, Naomi. I don’t think anybody got in. Probably somebody just wanted to look and see what you’re doing up here.”

“Maybe.” She surrendered the dog. “Thanks.”

When she turned to go in the house, Xander gripped her arm.

“I need to see if anything’s been taken or-”

He just shook his head, kept talking to Mason. “Yeah, they’re pretty clear. Enough to see size and tread. Yeah. Yeah, we’ll be here.”

He handed Naomi the phone. “Just wait here. I’m going to check inside.”

“It’s my house, Xander. My things. I’m not going to stand here wringing my hands while you go look under the damn bed for me.”

He’d have cursed if it wouldn’t have been a waste of breath. “Fine. We’ll go check inside.”

They went upstairs first, and she turned straight into her studio. Even the relief of seeing, at a glance, that nothing had been touched didn’t ease the anger.

Still, Xander checked the closet, the powder room, and began going systematically room to room.

“Nothing’s been taken or moved,” she told him. “I know where things are. When you’re in the middle of deciding what you want where, and where to keep it until, you know.”

“I’m going to check the basement.” When she gave him that look, he did curse. “I’m not riding the white horse, okay? Nobody got in here past the locks, alarm, the dog, but I need to check.”

He stripped off the suit coat, the tie. “Mason’s going to be here any minute. I just want to go down, take a quick look. You can change out of that dress or not, but if you want to walk around outside, see what the hell, you’re going to want to get out of those skyscrapers.”

She stepped out of the classic black pumps. “I’m out, but you’re right. No one got in here, and I appreciate your being thorough and checking the basement. I’ll change.”

“Good.” He hesitated. “You know, Lelo’s not as stupid as he looks.”

“He doesn’t look stupid-and yes, he’s going to start putting things together when the police and the FBI come out here because somebody walked across the fresh dirt that’s my lawn.” She drew a breath. “You can tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“Whatever you think he should know. I’m going to tell Jenny and Kevin. I’m going to tell them all of it.”

“Good.” He took her face in a firm grip. “You crossed that border, Naomi, because you wanted to. This is part of being on the other side. I won’t be long.”

Alone, she changed into knee-length jeans, a T-shirt. She still intended to plant. Goddamn it, she’d plant her new containers. Maybe she was afraid-she wasn’t stupid either. But over that fear ran a strong, hard line of anger.

And that she’d hold on to.

She went out on the deck, saw Lelo and the dog playing throw it/fetch it, and stood, just for a moment, looking out at the blue and the green she’d made her own.

She didn’t have to tell herself she’d do whatever she had to do to keep it. She already knew.

Twenty-eight

She didn’t know the other agents in their dark suits and sunglasses, but she doubted they were much different from the ones who had swarmed over the house, the woods in West Virginia seventeen years before.

She hadn’t stood with them, as she did now, but had watched the news reports in the safe house when her mother slept.

Now she wasn’t a child; now it was her house, her ground.

So she brought out cold drinks and started a jug of sun tea on the deck because it reminded her of summers in New York and how Harry had added mint from his kitchen garden.

She didn’t interfere, didn’t ask questions-yet-but she was present.

If somehow he watched, through a long lens, through field glasses, he would see that she was present.

Sam Winston stepped over to her, adjusted his ball cap. “I’m sorry about this, Naomi. The fact is somebody could’ve taken advantage of the house being empty just to satisfy curiosity. Point Bluff’s got a lot of people curious.”

“But you don’t think that.”

He inhaled through his nose. “I think we’re going to take every precaution and turn over every stone. The FBI has people who can study those footprints, give us a sense of height, of weight, give us the shoe size, even the make. If this is who we’re looking for, he made a mistake.”

“Yes, he did.”

Maybe not the same mistake the chief meant, Naomi thought. He’d made one by coming into what was hers. He’d made one by helping her pump that anger over the fear.

She went over to Lelo’s truck. They’d be sending him away-as they had the others who’d come to work. She’d get the plants, at least take them around to the containers.

When she found none, she decided Lelo had taken them around for her already. With the dog again on a leash to keep him from rolling over the evidence, she took him around the far side of the house with her, and onto the deck.

Tears swam when she saw the flats and pots lined up on the deck, and her own garden gloves, spade, and rake beside them.

“He’s a sweet man,” she told the dog. “Remind me to stock some Mountain Dew. That’s our Lelo’s drink.”

Though Tag objected, she tied the leash to a picket. “You need to stay with me, let them do what they have to do around front.” To soften the insult, she got him a bowl of water, a biscuit.

Then she crouched, rubbing the spot between his ears that made his eyes roll back in bliss. “Was it you? Did you chase him off-big, fierce dog? Did some good fairy put you on the side of the road that day for me?” She laid her head on his. “Did you scare him as much as he scared you? Well, we’re not going to let him scare us. We’re going to take a bite out of him, you and me, if he tries it again.”

She pressed her lips to his muzzle, looked into his wonderful eyes. She’d fallen in love with the dog, just as she’d fallen in love with Xander. Against her better judgment.

“There doesn’t seem to be a thing I can do about it.”

She rose, then walked to her pretty new containers to plant.

Xander found her tamping the dirt around a tomato plant while the dog stretched out full-length in the sun, half snoozing.

“They’re pretty much done out there, and said there’s no reason the landscapers couldn’t get back to it tomorrow. Kevin’s crew, too.”

“That’s good. That’s fine.” She picked up a pepper plant. “Do you know why I’m doing this?”

“It looks obvious, but tell me.”

“Besides the obvious, I’m planting these herbs and vegetables. I’m going to water them, watch them grow, watch the vegetables flower and watch the tomatoes and peppers form. I’ll harvest them and eat them, and it all starts with what I’m doing right here. It’s a statement. I need to do some research, but I think you can plant things like kale and cabbage in the fall.”

“Why would you?”

“I can make some very good and interesting dishes with kale and cabbage.”

“You’re going to have to prove that to me.”

She kept planting while he went in, came out, and stood watching her.

“He ran away,” Xander began, and she nodded.

“Yeah, I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“The footprints. You don’t have to be an expert to conclude, or at least speculate. The ones going toward the house, toward the side are different from the ones leading away. Leading away they’re farther apart, and with a kind of skid-moving fast, even running.

“I bet he strolled around the back here. The son of a bitch. Cocky, confident. I don’t know if he’d intended to break in or just look, but he wasn’t feeling cocky and confident when he left. The dog scared him.”

Tag thumped his tail at her quick glance.

“I think he came around here, and would’ve gone in if the door hadn’t been locked-or maybe planned to get in anyway, but the dog scared him off, defending his territory. Defending what’s ours.”

“You ought to know that the scenario you just outlined is the one those trained feds and cops outlined a few minutes ago. It’s how they see it.”

“Well, aren’t I fucking clever?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I think so.”

“I’m so pissed off. I should probably level that out before I plant any more. I don’t think you should plant living things when you’re so incredibly pissed off. You’ll probably end up with bitter tomatoes.”

She yanked off her gloves, tossed them down. “He used her again, Xander. He used Donna, used the fact that everyone who’s usually here would be at her funeral. That makes me sick inside.”

“Then think of this instead. That stray, that dog who wandered from place to place as much as you used to, stuck, like you stuck. And scared the bastard off. He didn’t leave here strolling, Naomi, just like you said. He left with his heart knocking and his knees shaking.”

“Damn right, he did. Damn right,” she repeated, and strode up and down the deck. “If he tries it again, he won’t get to leave, heart knocking, because he’s going down bloody. If he thinks I’m an easy mark, that he can come for me whenever he damn well pleases, he miscalculated.”

“I get the value of mad, as long as it doesn’t walk with stupid and careless.”

She whirled to him, eyes dark green fire. “Do I look stupid and careless?”

“Not so far.”

“And that’s not going to change.” She calmed a little, told herself to keep the mad in a back corner until she needed it. “Do you think Kevin and Jenny can get a sitter? I’d like them to come over, I want to tell them sooner rather than later, but not with their kids around.”

“I’ll make it happen, if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“What time?”

“Whatever works for them will work for me. I’m going to finish these containers, clean up, so any time that works for them.”

–

Where did you confess your blood ties? Naomi wondered. The scarcity of furniture in the living and sitting rooms made that difficult. Sitting around the dining room table on folding chairs seemed too uncomfortable.

She opted for where she herself felt most relaxed and brought more chairs out to what she thought of as the kitchen deck.

“Do you want me here?” Mason asked her.

“You have work?”

Did she serve food? Naomi wondered. What sort of canapé suited the moment, for God’s sake?

My father’s a serial killer. Try the crab balls.

“I mean, of course you have work, but something specific?”

“The team’s meeting for a briefing, but I can catch up with it if you want me here. This is hard for you.”

“Why hasn’t it ever been as hard for you?”

“I wasn’t in the woods that night. I didn’t go down into that cellar. I didn’t find Mom. She was his last victim.”

“You never were.”

She remembered that day in the coffee shop, after she’d bolted from the movie theater. How young he’d been, and how strong and steady.

“You resolved so early on not to be, to be everything he wasn’t. And however much I denied it, ignored it, shoved it back, I let myself be his victim. I’m done with that. Go to the briefing. Find a way to end this, Mason.”

She put a tray together-cheese, flatbread crackers, olives. It kept her busy until Xander got back from a roadside call and Mason left.

“Do you know how many people don’t pay attention to, or just don’t believe the fuel gauge?”

“How many?”

“More than you think, so they end up paying more than double what the gas would’ve cost in the first place, so they bitch about that-like you should make the service call as a fricking favor. Are these any good?”

Look at him, she thought, heading toward scruffy again. Annoyed with some stranger who’d neglected to get gas, unsure what to make of sesame and rosemary flatbread. Idly scratching the dog’s head as he decided whether to risk the fancy.

“You brought me lilacs.”

He looked over, frown deepening. “Yeah. Was I supposed to do that again?”

“Sometime. But you brought me lilacs in an old blue pitcher. That was when.”

“When what?”

Not really listening, she thought. She’d grown up with a brother. She knew when a male wasn’t really listening.

All the better.

“You told me when, and I’m telling you.”

“Okay.”

“Stolen lilacs in an old blue vase.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal.”

“You’re wrong. It was a very big deal, the biggest of my life, because that’s when. That’s when, Xander, I knew I was in love with you. I didn’t know what to do about it,” she said as-oh, he was paying attention now-his gaze snapped to hers, hot blue and intense. “I’ve never felt what I feel for you before, never believed I could feel it, so I didn’t know what to do about it. I have a better idea now.”

“What’s the better idea?”

“To be glad you’re in love with me, too. To be grateful, really grateful it happened now after I’d already realized it was time to stop running. Or at least try to. To be happy it happened here where we both want to be. And to hope. To be brave enough to hope you’ll want to stay with me here.”

“Lilacs?”

“Lilacs.”

“Lelo needs to work one into his design.”

“It’s going out back, so we can see it from the deck. I told him I wanted to plant it myself.”

“We’ll plant it.”

Her throat closed; her eyes brimmed. “We’ll plant it.”

He stepped to her, caught her face in his hands. “I’m moving in. You’re going to have to make room.”

The first tear spilled over. “There’s plenty of room.”

“You say that now.” He kissed the tear away, then the second as it trailed down her other cheek. “Wait until I tell Kevin to build a garage.”

“A garage.”

“A guy’s got to have a garage.” He brushed his lips to hers. “Three-car garage, north side of the house, put a side door on the laundry room.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

“I was just waiting for you to get used to it. I love you, Naomi.”

She lifted her hands to his wrists, squeezed hard. “You do. I know you do. Thank God you do. I love you so much we’re going to build a garage. Wait, a three-car-”

It was as far as she got before his mouth took hers, before the kiss swept her up, swept her away. Then to the delight of the dog, he lifted her off her feet, spun her around.

“You’re what was missing,” he told her. “Not anymore.”

“You told me you made me happy, and you do. But it’s more than that. You helped me understand I deserve to be. A thousand hours of therapy never got me all the way there.”

She sighed, drew back. “I’m still screwed up, Xander.”

“Who isn’t?”

The dog let out a yip, then raced toward the front of the house.

“Early-warning system says Kevin and Jenny are here.”

She drew a breath. “All right.”

“It’s going to be okay. Have some faith.”

“I’m going to borrow some of yours. My supply tends to run low.”

“Try regular fill-ups. I’ll let them in.”

She took the tray out, set it on the folding table, went back for glasses, plates, napkins, heard Jenny’s laughter.

As she opened a bottle of wine, Jenny came in.

“Great timing! Oh, Naomi, every time I get out here there’s more done. It must be crazy living in the middle of it, but it’s amazing to see it off and on.”

“I’m glad you could come. I know it was last-minute.”

“Worked out great. We had my parents over for dinner, and they took the kids back with them for a sleepover. Fun for all.” She moved in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’ve had trouble. Kevin told me somebody was poking around out here while we were at Donna’s funeral. I’m sure it was just some kids trying to get a look in the house.”

“I think it was… something else. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“All right. You’re really upset. I shouldn’t make light of it.”

“I thought we’d sit outside.”

“Perfect. Oh! Look at these planters-Lelo built them? They’re wonderful. You’re really making this deck a wonderful outdoor living space. Kevin, look at these containers.”

“Nice,” he said as he came out with Xander. “How are you doing?” he asked Naomi.

“I’ve had better days. Then again…” She looked at Xander. Love, given and received, outweighed everything. “Let me get you some wine, Jenny. Then I’m going to dive right into this, get it done.”

“It sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“Oh God, are you sick?” Immediately, Jenny grabbed her arm. “Is something wrong, or are you-”

“Jenny.” Kevin spoke quietly, drew her back. “Come on, sit down.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.”

Naomi poured wine for Jenny, for herself, but couldn’t sit. “Okay, straight in. Carson was my mother’s maiden name. It’s my uncle’s name. Mason and I had our names legally changed a long time ago. From Bowes. Our father is Thomas David Bowes.”

She wasn’t expecting blank, quietly expectant looks, and it threw her off.

“Not everybody knows who that is, Naomi,” Xander pointed out. “Not everybody gives a damn.”

“It’s familiar,” Kevin said. “Like I ought to know.”

“Thomas David Bowes,” Naomi continued, “killed twenty-six women-that he’s admitted to-somewhere between 1986 and 1998. August of 1998, when he was arrested.”

“Bowes. Yeah, I remember some of that,” Kevin said slowly. “Back east somewhere.”

“West Virginia. He raped and tortured and eventually strangled his victims.”

“Your father?” With one hand gripping Kevin’s, Jenny stared at her. “Is he alive?”

“Yes. They don’t have the death penalty.”

“Did he escape? Is that what’s happening now?”

“No. No, he’s in prison. He’s been in prison for seventeen years. We changed our name, we moved away. But it doesn’t change the reality of it. You’ve been friends to me. You’re helping me make a home here. I needed you to know.”

“I remember some of it, I think. We were just kids,” he said to Xander. “They made a movie. I caught it on TV a few years ago.” His gaze shifted to Naomi. “You found that girl he had. Is that true? You found that girl and helped her, got her to the cops.”

“I never saw the movie, or read the book. I don’t know how accurate they were.”

“Close enough,” Xander said. “She followed Bowes into the woods one night, went into the cellar by a burned-out cabin, found the girl.”

“Her name’s Ashley,” Naomi added.

“Ashley. Found her, got her out, walked miles through the woods, and got her help. That’s how they found him. That’s how they stopped him.”

“Seventeen years?” Jenny repeated, eyes huge, face pale. “But you’d have been… Oh God, Naomi.” She sprang up, shoved her wine at Kevin, threw her arms around Naomi. “Oh my God, poor little girl. You were just a baby.”

“I was nearly twelve. I-”

“A baby,” she repeated. “I’m sorry, so sorry. God! Did he hurt you? Did he-”

“He never touched me. He was strict, and sometimes he’d leave for days at a time. But he never laid a hand on me or Mason. He was a deacon in the church. He worked for a cable company. He mowed the lawn and painted the porch. And murdered women.”

Jenny tightened her grip, swayed them back and forth. “You never think about the families of… You never really think about them, and what it’s like for them. You didn’t have to tell us,” she said as she drew back. “It has to be hard for you to talk about.”

“I didn’t plan to tell anyone. Just to live here, just to be here. But…” She looked at Xander. “Things changed.”

“She figured you’d probably pull back,” Xander commented. “Look at her different.”

“Xander-”

“Shut up. Some people put it together, one way or the other, and did that or went the other way and salivated for all the nitty-gritty details, so she’d pack it up and take off.”

“Some people aren’t worth spit. Is that what you thought of us?” Jenny demanded. “That’s insulting.”

“I-”

“You should apologize.”

“I… I’m sorry?”

“Accepted. Kevin, accepted?”

He half smiled at his beer. “Yeah.”

When Naomi covered her face with her hands, fought for composure, Jenny stabbed a finger at Xander, then at Naomi. Fisted her hands on her hips until he stepped over, put his arms around Naomi.

“Cut it out.”

“Oh, give her a minute,” Jenny snapped. “Where’s my wine?” She swung back to Kevin to take it, and swiped at tears. “I need a minute, too, and all I can see is a little girl only a few years older than Maddy dealing with what no little girl should even know exists. If you don’t want anyone else to know, Naomi, no one will. You can trust us.” On a huff, she pulled Naomi from Xander. “Hell, men are no good at times like this. We’re going inside for a few minutes. I’m taking the wine.”

“She’s one in a million,” Xander said as Jenny pulled Naomi into the house.

“Which one of them?”

“Looks like both. We’re lucky bastards.”

“Yeah, we are. Now tell me what Bowes has to do with Marla and Donna, and whoever was around here today.”

“I’m going to.”

Xander sat down, and did.

–

In the morning, Naomi set a mug under the coffee machine when she heard Mason coming down the back stairs. And turned to take the plate she’d already prepared out of the warmer when he stepped into the kitchen.

“Coffee and a hot breakfast? I may have to relocate. Whoa, eggs Benedict? Seriously?”

“I was in the mood to cook, and Xander’s fond. You’re wearing your suit again.”

“It’s what we do in the Bureau. I know I got in late. Since Xander’s going to be here, I may bunk in town off and on. More on than off probably until we finish this. Thanks.”

He took the coffee, drank. “But I’m not going to get eggs Benedict and coffee this good at the diner.”

“Will you finish it, Mason?”

He looked at her, those clear brown eyes-like their father’s. Nothing like their father’s.

“I won’t stop until it’s finished. He wears a size ten Wolverine Sentinel. Some wear on the treads so he’s had them awhile.”

“You found that already, from a boot print.”

“It’s what we do in the Bureau,” he said again. “We figure him for between one-sixty and one-sixty-five, between five-ten and six feet. Going by shoe size, depth of print, stride. He’s white, he’s most likely around thirty. That’s a hell of a lot more than we had a few days ago.”

“Now we just have to figure out who I know who’s average height and weight, about my age, and wants to kill me.” She held up a hand before Mason could speak. “I’m not being sarcastic. It’s something I’m racking my brain over.”

“You may not know him. Or not realize you do. But he knows Bowes. I’m going to be going over all the visits and correspondence today-starting that. Then I’m going to go see him.”

“You’re… You’re going to West Virginia.”

“It’s unlikely anyone’s obsessed with Bowes’s daughter, has been killing in a way that mimics Bowes, and hasn’t had contact with him.”

She braced herself. “Should I go?”

“It may come to that, Naomi, but no. Let me make the first pass. If we get to the point that we believe you talking to him could help, can you do it?”

“It’s something I’ve thought about, asked myself. Yes. I can go back, I can see him. I can do that to save myself, and any other women this pseudo Bowes might target. Mason, it hasn’t been fear of Bowes-or not primarily that-keeping me from going back. It’s been the need to deny it. Maybe I had to keep denying it, in my way, until I could accept, fully. I let it define me in too many ways. I’m not going to let it define me anymore. I told Jenny and Kevin last night, and it’s okay.”

“It’s a hell of a good step toward defining yourself. You made the first one buying the house. You shifted your lines then, Naomi. You’ve kept shifting them, and making your own. You did what you needed to do until you could.”

“Xander loves me.”

“I noticed.”

“You would. I’m adjusting to having a man who loves me, and enough to wait until I’m ready to shift the lines. Last night I was able to tell him I loved him. As desperately as I wanted normal, I never believed I’d have someone who knew everything about me and loved me. Someone who could get past the blocks so I could love him. It feels… miraculous.”

“He’s who I’d pick for you, if I had a vote.”

“Even though you don’t, it means a lot. He’s moving in. Not just staying here, but moving in. God.” With a hand pressed to her heart, she blew out a breath. “It’s huge for me.”

“How do you feel about it?”

A shrink question as much as a brother’s, she thought. But even that was okay.

“Nervous. Not scared, just nervous. And happy. And baffled as apparently we’re now building a three-car garage.”

“The uncles are going to go nuts.”

“I know it. I’m going to wait until they meet him. They should meet him first. Probably. Mason, get this finished before they come. Get this finished.”

“I’m working on it.”

Twenty-nine

Within a day Xander moved everything he wanted into the house on the bluff. The books presented the biggest challenge. The library wouldn’t hold all of them.

“I never imagined this house would be too small for anything.”

He shrugged, studying the shelves, now filled with books. And the tubs on the floor, still full of them.

“You don’t want all your books in one place anyway. We should scatter some around.”

“There are too many to scatter.”

“Don’t even think about saying I should get rid of some.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

Maybe she had-just for an instant-and had just as quickly rejected the idea.

“I just don’t know where to put them. They don’t deserve to be stuck in tubs either. How will I know what’s in there I want to read?”

“Kevin could do another wall of books.”

“I’d love a wall of books,” she considered. “But I don’t know where.”

“Basement. You’re putting in a darkroom down there, right?”

“Yeah, sooner or later.”

“I could use some office space. Don’t need much, but somewhere for a desk and some files.”

“You don’t want an office in the basement.”

“Works for me,” he countered. “You’re out of my way, I’m out of yours, and there’s a hell of a lot of space down there. Plenty for a wall of books. They’re okay in tubs until. I’ll spring for the office and the wall, whatever goes with it.”

Which included, to his mind, doors leading out to the yard. But he didn’t see the point of front-loading that on.

“I’ve got money, Naomi. Investing it here instead of another rental-I’ve been looking at that-makes more sense right now. Plus I just got another rental since Jimmy’s moving into the apartment over the garage. Gangly guy with the pitiful goatee deal? He works for me.”

“Yes, I met him. You… You’ve already rented it.”

“Jimmy graduates from trade school in June, wants his own place. And I like having someone over the garage. It’s a good deal on both sides as it comes mostly furnished. You don’t want the crap I had in there.”

“But don’t you?”

“I want the books. They’re nonnegotiable,” he said, idly picking up a worn paperback copy of The Illustrated Man. “Did you ever read this?”

“I saw the movie.”

“Not the same.” He pushed it into her hand. “It’s good. Anyway, unless you’ve got other plans or want to think about it, I can get Kevin thinking about office space and a wall of books.”

“Other than the darkroom, I didn’t and don’t have any plans for the basement.”

“Good. We’ll get on that. Worrying about what you’ve gotten yourself into?” he asked her.

“No. More wondering why I’m not. And I guess since I have some actual furniture coming tomorrow, we could scatter some books. Or at least consider their final location.”

She stuck the book in the back pocket of her jeans for later and would have picked up a tub, but he beat her to it. “They’re heavy,” he said.

“The little sitting area off the living room. That’s a good start.”

She led the way through the quiet house. Just the man and the dog, with all the workmen gone for the day. It didn’t seem smaller, she realized, now that she lived with a man and a dog. It seemed that was always what the house had in mind.

It seemed natural.

She mentally rearranged the sitting room furniture she’d yet to buy as she studied the space-added a funky plant stand with some interesting houseplant. And…

“There’s this open cabinet-four shelves-in the basement. I was going to use it outside for plants, but it would work right here for a bookcase-with knickknacks worked in. Books and maybe a couple of photos, some whatever. Metal frame, wood shelves.”

“I guess you want me to get that.”

“What’s the point in having a man around if he doesn’t get things from the basement?”

“Right.”

“Oh, you know, now that I see it here-in my head-Cecil has this old radio. You know, the dome-shaped vintage style. How cute would that be on the top of the case? It doesn’t work, but…”

“Doesn’t work doesn’t mean it can’t work.”

“And what’s the point in having a mechanical man around if he can’t fix a vintage radio that would be perfect in the sitting room? I think, yes, I think I’m getting used to it already.”

“I’ll get the case. How about if I see if I can get used to drinking your wine while we set it up?”

“An excellent idea.”

They drank wine, loaded books on shelves.

“Did you talk to Loo?”

“Yeah. She’s pissed. Not at you,” he said, reading Naomi’s face clearly. “Jesus, give her some credit. She’s pissed this bastard’s been stalking you since college. Pissed he killed Donna. And now she’s aware. A lot of people go into Loo’s. A lot who aren’t local, who stop in for a drink, some easy food. Or like they will Friday night to listen to the band. She’ll be looking.”

For a thirtyish guy with an average build in Wolverines, Naomi thought, but let it go.

“Mason’s going to West Virginia, to the prison, with someone from the BAU.”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“They have some names.”

Xander dropped the book he’d just picked up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t recognize any of them. But they’re going to interview anyone who sends up a flag-who’s corresponded with or visited Bowes multiple times, or whose correspondence sends up those flags.”

She picked up the book, set it on the shelf. “They’ll look into all of them. Lifestyle, travel, occupation.”

“Good. Nobody’s ever looked for him-not like this. And I’m not buying he’s so damn smart he’ll slip through now that they are.”

“Mason agrees with you. I’m working on getting there, too. He could be gone-from here, I mean. He could have moved on, at least for now.”

But when they found the body of Karen Fisher, part-time waitress, part-time prostitute from Lilliwaup, on the side of the road a half a mile from Point Bluff, they knew he hadn’t gone far.

–

The best thing about a press pass-and his was legit-was how it got you where you wanted to go. The little whore from nowhere stirred things up again, brought reporters from Seattle back. Even some national stringers.

And he was right there with them. Hell of a story that would be, he thought. If he wrote it himself he’d win the fricking Pulitzer.

Up yours, New York Times, Washington Post, and all the other creaky dinosaurs who wouldn’t give him the time of day when he’d wanted a job.

Now papers were the dodo of news, and blogging was the way to go.

He could work anywhere, and did. He’d actually doubled back and covered some of his own work before, but this marked the first time he’d been right on the spot before, during, after.

While he found it tremendously satisfying, and knee-slappingly funny, he knew he couldn’t stay in the area much longer.

Getting too hot, he thought as he recorded the droning chief of police (asshat) and the media liaison from the FBI (arrogant bitch).

Time was coming-he could feel it-to wind up the odyssey. Time to take Naomi for a ride, have some long conversations, a hell of a lot of fun.

Then end her.

After that, maybe he’d take his show on the road. Maybe up to Canada for the summer, down to Mexico for the winter.

Footloose, fancy-free. And plenty of targets to shoot when the mood struck. In memory of Naomi Bowes.

And one day he would write the story. He’d write a book-not for money. He’d have to wait until he settled somewhere. Like Argentina. He’d write and self-publish the book that rubbed everything he’d accomplished in the faces of the asshats and arrogant bitches.

He took notes on his tablet, took some pictures. He liked focusing in on Mason, he especially liked that.

Hey, over here, fuckhead. I’m going to kill your sister soon. I’ll rape her every way there is to rape first, then strangle her like your old man should have.

Maybe send old man Bowes a picture of her. There were ways to smuggle things in-and he’d made a point of finding them. He thought that would be the whipped cream on top.

Yeah, he’d do that, and go one better. He’d publish all the pictures online, every one of the bitches he’d done. God bless the Internet.

Then everyone would know he’d outdone Bowes. Outdone them all. The Green River Killer, the Zodiac? They were nothing next to him.

Deliberately he threw out a question during the Q &A, wanting to draw eyes to him.

Look at me, look at me, look at me.

He would’ve asked a follow-up, but the ugly bitch beside him tossed a question out first.

Later he wrote up the story for the bullshit Daily Crime blog he freelanced for, working on his laptop in the pizzeria because most of the media types retreated to the motels or the coffee shop that looked out over the marina.

“Can I get you anything?”

He looked up, saw the pretty blonde he’d targeted and lost. He thought: You should be dead.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Ah, gotta get out of my head.” He offered a big smile. “Forgot where I was for a minute.”

“I can come back.”

“No, that’s okay. I could use a Coke, and, yeah, I could eat. How about the calzone-loaded.”

“Sure.”

She brought the drink in under two minutes. “Are you staying in the area?” she asked. “You’ve been in before.”

“For now, yeah. I’m a reporter.”

“Oh.” Her eyes went sad and blank.

“Sorry.” Immediately he coated himself in sympathy. “I guess you knew the… Donna Lanier. She worked here.”

“Yes.”

“I’m really sorry. If there’s anything you want to say, want me to write about her-”

“No. No, thanks. Enjoy your Coke.”

When she scurried away, he had to hide the smile.

Maybe he’d snatch her up after all. Maybe he’d just circle back for her, then make Naomi watch while he did the little bitch with her tight ass and tight tits.

Can’t save this one, he imagined saying. Not like Ashley this time. And when I’m done with her, when I’m done with you, I’m going to pay your good friend Ashley a visit, too. Finish what your old man couldn’t.

He worked right through the calzone, putting together another piece on spec, and listening to the chatter around him.

Small towns, the same everywhere, he thought. If you wanted to know what went on, you just had to sit in the same place long enough.

He learned the mechanic was moving in with the photographer, into the big house on Point Bluff. He learned people were scared, and some of them impatient with the police.

Why hadn’t they caught him? they asked.

Because he’s smarter, better, more than they are, he wanted to answer.

He learned that some people speculated the killer lived in the national forest, like a survivalist.

And thought: No. He’s sitting right here, asshole.

He heard that Naomi’s new fuck buddy was playing at the bar on Friday night.

So he began to make his plans.

–

Lucas Spinner.” Mason tapped the photo on the kitchen counter again. “You’re sure, no bells?”

“Not even a muffled gong.” But she studied the face-young, a lot of disheveled brown hair, a beard that needed shaping. “Why do you keep coming back to him?”

“He had press credentials, a small paper in Ohio, visited Bowes six times between July 2003 and August 2004. Corresponded with him for another eighteen months afterward. Then he’s reported missing, presumed dead while covering a brush fire in California in 2006.”

“Well, if he’s dead-”

“Presumed,” Mason qualified. “And shortly after, correspondence begins between Bowes and a Brent Stevens, initially with a Queens return address and postmark. But there’s no Brent Stevens from Queens during that time period. And I’ve read the correspondence, Naomi. I’d swear the same person wrote Stevens’s and Spinner’s letters. There’s an attempt to change it up, but the syntax, the terminology. We’re having an expert analyze the letters.”

“If they’re the same person, you think this is the man you’re looking for.” She picked up Spinner’s photo again.

“Some of Stevens’s letters were postmarked from areas you were in, and the timing jibes. Then he drops off the grid. It all stops.”

“And that worries you.”

“Because it wouldn’t stop. He’s found another way to communicate. Smuggled cell phone, smuggled snail mail. Somebody looking the other way when Bowes gets his supervised computer use. It happens.”

“Maybe without all the hair, the beard.” Naomi shook her head. “I’m going to scan this onto my computer, work on it. I’ll work on it while you’re flying to West Virginia. That way if I have any luck, you’ll be right there with Bowes. You could push on it.”

“He’d be older now. Remember that, too.”

“You said he blends. He wouldn’t blend with the hair and the beard, so let me work on seeing him without them. First thing tomorrow,” she promised. “We need to get going. I promise you’ll have a good time.”

While she checked the locks on the back door and got Tag a rawhide bone to keep him busy, Mason checked his watch.

“A bar, a rock band, a Friday night. Yeah, I’ll have a good time, but only a couple hours, max. We’re leaving at seven thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Will you let me know when you’re on your way back? After you’ve talked to him?”

“I’ll text you. I’ll call if there’s anything you need to know. You do the same,” he added when she set the alarm, stepped outside.

“We haven’t done this in a long time. Gone to a bar together.”

“My twenty-first birthday, you flew home to surprise me.”

“Not since then?”

“Not since. We went to the bar at the Spot, so I had my first legal drink with you, Seth, and Harry, then you took me to that weird little place.”

“The Hole in the Wall, in Chelsea. And that girl hit on you.”

“I might’ve hit back, but I had a date.”

Laughing, Naomi closed her eyes, let the wind blow over her face as Mason drove. “Let’s make a pact. Once a year, wherever we are, we meet somewhere and have a drink in a bar. Even when we’re a hundred and ten.”

He held out his hand, pinky crooked. She hooked hers with it. “Even when you’re married with five kids,” he warned.

She snorted. “That’ll be the day.”

Yes, he thought. Yes, it will.

–

He saw her come in. He’d been watching, waiting, and felt a tightening in his loins when she stepped into the bar. Pale yellow shirt, snug jeans.

Had her kid brother with her, and after one look at the stage where the mechanic and his grease monkeys hammered away on some ancient Rolling Stones bullshit, the kid brother began to scan the room.

So he angled away, picked up his beer.

Grabbing a stool at the end of the bar hadn’t been a problem. Most people wanted tables-and he didn’t. A solo at a table drew attention. A guy sitting at the bar drinking a beer didn’t.

He shifted on the stool just enough to keep them in his line of sight as they worked their way through the tables to sit with the asshole carpenter and his asshole wife.

He’d thought about killing the wife-Jenny-just for the hell of it. But she really wasn’t his type.

Maybe, if he ever decided to come back this way, just for the memories, he’d pay her a little visit. But he didn’t have time to play with her now.

Now, it was all about Naomi. So he’d watch awhile, finish his beer, leave a decent tip. Nobody remembered a decent tipper, just the lousy ones or the big ones.

Then he had things to do. It was going to be a big night.

–

You said they were good,” Mason shouted at Naomi. “You didn’t say they were really good.”

Delighted, she nudged him toward the table. “They’re really good!” She locked eyes with Xander and thought: Oh yeah, I’m with the leader of the band.

After laying a hand on Jenny’s shoulder, she leaned down. “We’re a little later than we planned. I’m going to the bar for a round. Are you guys ready for another?”

“We could be.”

She gave the shoulder a squeeze, started toward the bar. Because she wanted to connect with Loo, she aimed for the middle, idly scanning as she went.

She saw a man at the far end, bill of a ball cap pulled low, head down toward the nearly empty beer glass in front of him. And felt him watching her.

He rubbed his fingers up the bridge of his nose, shouldered away from her. Something shivered up her spine like a warning. Despite it, or maybe because of it, she changed directions, started toward the other end of the bar.

“Hey, Naomi!” Krista popped up from her table, grabbing Naomi into a hug. “We sold the print of Xander with the dog. Ten minutes before closing.”

“That’s great.”

“We need more!”

“I’ll get you more.”

“Can we have a sit-down next week, talk about it?”

“Sure. Email me. We’ll set it up.”

She broke away in time to see the man in the cap walking casually toward the exit.

Nothing, she told herself. Probably nothing. Changing directions again, she walked up to the bar and Loo.

“Guy walking out was giving you the eye,” Loo said before Naomi could speak.

“I saw that. He was sitting alone, end of the bar.”

“Didn’t like the look of him.”

“Why?”

Loo shrugged, continued to mix a dirty martini. “Warmed that seat nearly two hours, nursed one beer-and had his eye on the door half the time. Kept his head down, wouldn’t look you in the eye.” She shrugged again, added a spear of two fat olives to the glass. “But he watched you, all the way to the table.”

“I couldn’t get a good look at him. Did you?”

“Not much of one. Suz! Order’s up! Kept his head down, like I said. Early thirties, I’d say, looked like brown hair under that cap. Long, skinny fingers. Couldn’t keep them off his face. Nervous like, if you ask me.”

She pulled the next ticket, set two beer mugs under taps, drew them both at once.

“Or maybe it’s me who has the jitters, between one thing and the other.”

“Are we all right? You and me?”

“No reason for us not to be. Terry! You’re up. Are you here to chat or drink?” she asked Naomi.

“Both, I guess. A round for the table. Kevin’s beer, Jenny’s wine, and I’ll have the same. A Corona with lime for my brother. I’m so sorry, Loo.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. If you want to talk, we’ll talk when I don’t have to yell back at you. My boy up there loves you. Anything else is just noise.”

“I’m really going to try not to screw it up.”

On a bark of laughter, Loo set the two glasses of wine on a tray. “Aren’t you the positive thinker?”

“That’s pretty positive for me.”

She carried the tray to the table, served the drinks. Suz breezed by, grabbed the tray, kept breezing.

“Jenny says they’ve got a CD.” Mason hefted his bottle. “I’m going to buy it. You know the uncles are going to love this.” He drank some beer, sighed. “Thought you’d never get back with this.”

“They’re busy, and I was talking with Loo. There was this guy…”

Immediately Mason set down his beer. “What guy?”

“Just a guy at the bar. We both felt he was watching me.”

“Where?”

“He left.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“No. Mason-”

“Did she?”

“Not really.”

He got up, left his beer, and headed toward the bar.

“Hey! I was going to talk him into dancing with me.”

“He’ll be back-and he can dance.” Wishing she’d said nothing, Naomi picked up her wine.

When Mason came back, he leaned in close and spoke directly in her ear. “She says early thirties, white, short brown hair, average to slim build, about five-ten.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d say. And I can pick out twenty more guys in here that more or less fit that.”

“But you had a feeling, both of you. Feelings count. I’m going to have someone work with you tomorrow.”

“Mason.”

“People see more than they think they do, especially observant people. It can’t hurt.”

“Okay, okay. Now dance with Jenny. She wants to dance, and Kevin has to be cattle-prodded onto the dance floor.”

“I could dance.” He took another swig of beer, then got up to grab Jenny.

With Kevin grinning after them, Naomi turned her attention back to the stage. Xander watched her-and that gave her a feeling she could live with.

–

Pleasantly tired, absolutely relaxed, Naomi settled into Xander’s truck.

Ky leaned in the window. “Sure you don’t want a postgig brew, man?”

“I’m on call, as of ten minutes ago.”

Ky shook his head. “One beer isn’t going to impair you, son.”

“One beer could cost me my license. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“You shouldn’t feel like you can’t decompress because I’m here,” Naomi began.

“We go that same round after nearly every gig when I’m on call. Plus, I’m ready to head home.”

“I bet the dog’s more than ready to get out.”

“And there’s that. And there’s another way to decompress.”

She smiled. “Is that so?”

“I’ll show you.”

After the dog went out, made his rounds, and settled down for the night, he showed her why home and bed was a much better idea than a beer.

–

When his phone went off at four fifteen, Xander sincerely wished he’d stuck Jimmy (first night in his new apartment, and with a female companion) on the graveyard shift.

“Shit, fuck, shit.” He grabbed the phone, stared blearily at the readout. “Keaton’s. Uh-huh. Right. Okay, got it. About fifteen minutes.”

“You have to go.”

“Dead battery-probably. Between here and town, so I’ll check it, jump it if that’s it, and be back in a half hour.”

“You want coffee?” she mumbled.

“Like I want to breathe, but I’ll get it. Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t tell me twice,” she managed, and did just that.

Even the dog didn’t get up. Xander saw Tag’s eyes gleam as he pulled on clothes, but the dog didn’t stir or follow him down to grab that coffee before he headed out.

He used a travel mug, downing the coffee as he walked out to his truck.

Thirty, forty minutes, he thought as he gave the house one last long look. He’d be back. The doors were locked, the alarm set, the dog right there.

She’d be fine.

Still, he wished he’d dumped the shift on Jimmy. He knew about the guy at the bar-had noted him himself. The way he sat alone, head down, the way he’d kept a bead on Naomi when she’d come in.

Then again, he’d noted a guy sitting alone at a table, one who fit the basic nondescription, and who’d given Naomi a long study when she’d walked through the bar.

Until a woman had come in, hurried over, and snuggled up with him.

This murdering bastard didn’t break into houses anyway, he reminded himself. But he flicked a glance in the rearview as he drove away.

“2013 Ford Escape towing a 2006 Fun Finder RV,” he muttered. “Can’t miss that.”

He slowed rounding the turn, and indeed couldn’t miss it. SUV and camper both sat on the shoulder, emergency flashers blinking.

Xander slid in, nose to nose, and watched the man get out of the driver’s seat.

Another reason he hadn’t dumped on Jimmy. The murdering bastard liked hunting on Friday nights. Women, but why take chances?

The man lifted his hands, waving one, blinking against the headlights. Then he turned back to the SUV and spoke to someone inside as Xander got out.

“Keaton’s?”

“That’s right.”

“Mike Rhoder. You were really quick. It just won’t start. I got my kid in the back, and we were heading to Olympia to camp for the weekend. I just pulled over-he had to pee-and it wouldn’t start back up. Just clicks. No, we’re not there yet, Bobby.” He rolled his eyes. “Just go back to sleep.”

Xander hit his own flashers. “Go on and pop the hood. I’ll take a look.”

“Thought I’d be stuck here till morning, then I’d never hear the end of it from my ex. Hope like hell I don’t need a new battery.”

With the hood latch released, Xander went around to the front while the man leaned into the SUV again. “We’re fixing it right now, and it shouldn’t take long. It’s an adventure, right, buddy? And we’re nearly there. Promise.”

“Why don’t you try to start her up?” Xander said with his head under the hood.

“Sure, I can do that.”

There was just the faintest hint of… excitement in the tone to have Xander pushing back, bracing. But the blow to the side of his head flashed pain, flashed lights, then shut out into the dark.

“Or I could do that. How about a couple more, for good measure?”

He lifted the crowbar over his head just as he caught headlights beaming ahead of the turn.

Swearing, he lowered the crowbar and gave Xander a shove with his boot to roll him off the shoulder.

The car slowed. The Good Samaritan rolled down his window.

“You all right there, pal?”

“Sure am. Getting a jump, but thanks for stopping!”

“No problem. Have a good one.”

As the car pulled off, he swiped sweat from his face. Too close, and one good crack would have to do. No time for more. He slammed the hood, got back in the SUV, and drove toward the bluff.

He checked the time, smiled to himself. Right on schedule. He’d pull the camper off the road, just far enough up her drive so any cars passing wouldn’t give it a thought, but not so close that she or that damn dog would hear.

He’d thought about poisoning the dog, even researched methods. But they all took too long, were too unpredictable. He needed fast.

He’d thought about shooting the dog, which, while satisfying, would be noisy and give her a chance to run or hide.

And the knife? That meant getting too close to those teeth.

So he’d keep back, and let her go through the routine he’d watched countless times already.

She’d let the dog out the bedroom doors, then head down to the kitchen.

All he had to do was wait.

–

The dog woke her, predictably, at five. She reached out first, hoping Xander had come back. Then she reminded herself he’d only been gone about a half hour.

“I’m up. I’m up,” she grumbled as the dog did his predawn dance.

She let him out, then considered crawling back into bed. But the routine was too ingrained. She grabbed cotton pants and a tank, pulling the top on as she walked out of the bedroom.

She’d make waffle batter-after coffee. If Xander hadn’t gotten back by that time, she could text him, get an ETA.

Was it clingy or smothering to text about that?

She didn’t feel clingy or smothering, so she’d text, if necessary.

In the kitchen she hit the lights, put a mug under the machine, and punched the button for a shot of espresso in the coffee.

While it brewed she got out a bowl, eggs, milk, flour, sugar-and stopped gathering ingredients the minute the coffee was ready. And taking it, she walked to the accordion doors.

She wanted to smell morning.

Even as she started to open the glass, she heard movement behind her.

Thirty

She whirled, saw him, threw the coffee, mug and all. The mug hit him dead center of his chest; hot coffee splashed into his face. He shouted, dropped the rag in his hand, and gave her enough time to leap toward the knives.

She grabbed one, spun back. And slowly lowered it.

“Yeah, you know what they say about bringing a knife to a gunfight.” He gestured with the.32 in his hand. “Put that down. You ruined this shirt. Let me tell you, you’re going to pay for it.”

“They’re closing in on you.”

“Yeah, you’d like to believe that, but the fact is, this is all just the way I pictured it.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“We’ll talk about it later. We’ll have plenty of time.” He grinned, pushed his fingers up the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not-”

It clicked, the gesture, the sarcastic quirk of his mouth.

“Chaffins.”

“Took you this long.” Obviously pleased, he grinned. “Well, I had Lasik-ditched the glasses. And a nose job. Decent haircut, bulked up a little. It’s been a while, Carson. Or should I say Bowes.”

“How could you… We were friends.”

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t-didn’t-give me the time of day until I headed up the yearbook committee, cleared you onto the school paper.”

“This is because I didn’t pay enough attention to you? In high school?”

“Please, like I carried a torch. I’ve had plenty of women. Girls. Old ladies.” He bared his teeth in a smile. “All of that. I figured out who you were. I figured it out, and I made a deal with you. You lied, and you sent that fucking cop over to tell me to keep it zipped.”

How had she missed the madness in his eyes all those years ago? How could she have not seen what she saw now?

“I didn’t make any deal.”

“You fucking did, then you took my idea. You wrote the story yourself. It should’ve been my byline. It was my story.”

“It was never yours.”

“Because you’re Thomas David Bowes’s daughter?”

If he lowered the gun, just lowered it, she thought, she had a chance. She’d have to be fast, but she’d take the chance.

“It’s always been about my father.”

“Maybe, maybe he kicked it off because I knew, way back, I’d put your father in the shade. It’s more about your mother.”

“My mother.”

“I said we’ll talk later. Get moving.”

“My mother.” He didn’t want to shoot her, didn’t want to kill her fast. So she planted her feet, took a stand. “You tell me what my mother has to do with any of it.”

“Fine. I’ll give you another minute. But give me any trouble, I’ll shoot you in the knee. It won’t kill you, but it’ll hurt like hell.”

“My mother,” she said again, and checked the time on the oven clock behind him. And thought: Xander. Where was Xander?

“Your mother? Other than birds, some stray cats I killed, she was the first dead body I’d ever seen. Man, it was a revelation! She was cold, and her eyes. Man, her eyes. I got such a boner.” He laughed at the look of disgust on her face. “It’s just wiring, Carson. I was born for this, just like your old man. I’ve studied up on it, researched it. I bet your kid brother and I could have a hell of a conversation about it.”

“You stay away from him.”

“He doesn’t interest me. It’s always been you. I knew when we were on the floor with your mother’s cold, dead body, I’d do you one day. Then I figured out who you were, and that made it so fucking sweet. Now move, or I’ll kneecap you. Maybe I will anyway. I’ve never started out that way be-”

He jerked back when the dog charged the door like a bull.

The wild barks and Chaffins’s shouts exploded in the air.

When he swung the gun toward the door, Naomi threw up her hands. “Don’t. Don’t. I’ll go with you. I’ll go.” She positioned herself in front of the door, hands up.

There was still time, still a chance, she thought desperately. Xander would come back. She could get close enough to try to fight, to get the gun away. Or far enough away to run.

“Out the front, and fast, or I swear to God-”

Tag shoved the opening wider, gathered himself, and leaped.

As the gun swung back, Naomi threw herself over the dog.

The shock of pain dissolved her legs. She heard the dog’s sharp yip as fire burned in her side, as the room spun, as she fell, the dog beneath her.

“Bitch! Stupid bitch, stupid bitch.”

She saw his face swimming over her, the mad fury in his eyes. “This is the way you want it? You want a bullet in the brain? Maybe that’s how it was always supposed to be.”

She stared at the gun, mildly puzzled. Why did it look so small? Like it was a hundred miles away.

Then it was gone. She heard shouting, thought something crashed, but it was all, again, so far away. Nothing really to do with her. Not when she was floating away.

–

Look at me! Damn it, Naomi, open your eyes. You fucking stay with me.”

Pain seared back, like a brand in her side. She cried out against it, her eyes wheeling open.

“That got your attention. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I have to keep pressure on it.” Xander fixed his mouth on hers. “I have to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Xander.” She lifted a hand that didn’t feel like her own, touched his temple. “You’re bleeding. You’re bleeding a lot.”

“Yeah. You, too. Help’s coming. You just look at me. You talk to me.”

“Were you in an accident?”

“No. You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I can’t…” Memory flooded back, washing through the pain. “Tag. The dog. The dog.”

“Stay down, stay still! He’s okay. He’s going to be okay, too. Hear that? Hear the sirens? Help’s coming.”

“He was in the house. He was going to shoot the dog. I couldn’t let him shoot the dog. He… the gun. He has a gun.”

“Not anymore. Don’t worry about him. Broke his nose for you,” Xander murmured, laying his brow to hers.

“I was going to fight. Going to try, but the dog-he came to save me. I need to close my eyes.”

“No, you don’t. You need to look at me. You need to stay awake. Back here!” he shouted. “Hurry, for Christ’s sake. I can’t stop the bleeding.”

“High school nerd.”

“What?”

“Chaffins. Anson Chaffins. Tell Mason,” she said, and slid away.

–

She went in and out in the ambulance, caught snippets of words, mixed voices. She felt Xander’s hand clutching hers, and once turned her head and swore she saw the dog on a gurney beside hers.

“Anson Chaffins,” she said again.

“Got it. They got it. They got him. Just take it easy.”

She surfaced again, moving fast, lights blurring overhead, voices, more voices shouting out medical terms like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

She heard, “I’m going to give you something for the pain.”

And said, “Oh, yes. Yes, please.”

–

Furious they’d blocked him from going with Naomi, Xander argued with the burly nurse who stood in his way. If she’d been a man, he’d have decked her.

He considered doing it anyway.

“You need to get that dog out of here, and you need that head wound examined.”

“The dog’s hurt. He’s been shot, for God’s sake.”

“I’ll give you the number for an emergency veterinary clinic. But you have to-”

“You’re going to take care of this dog.”

“That’s exactly right.” Mason, face set, strode up, his ID held out. “The bullet is evidence, and needs to be removed. The dog is a material witness, and needs to be treated immediately.”

“He’s a fucking hero.”

“That’s right. I suggest you get a doctor, get this dog prepped for surgery, or I swear, I’ll arrest you for obstructing a federal investigation.”

They wouldn’t let him in with Naomi, but loosened up enough to let him sit with the dog while they removed the bullet, treated the wound. And while they cleaned his own wound, stitched up his scalp.

“He’s going to be fine.”

The surgeon who’d volunteered for the procedure neatly closed Tag’s wound.

“It’s going to be sore, and he’ll limp for a few days. I’ve given him some antibiotics, and I’ll write up a report for your vet. She should do a follow-up.”

“Thanks.”

“He’ll sleep another hour, I’d say. He looks like a good dog.”

“He’s a damn good dog. Please, God, somebody find out about Naomi. Naomi Carson. Just-shit!”

“I need you to hold still.” The intern doing the scalp stitching looked at the surgeon.

“She’s doing a good job, just give her a few more minutes. I’ll check on Ms. Carson.”

Before he could, Mason came in. “How’s it going?”

“Both patients are doing well. One more cooperative than the other.”

“Where is she? How is she? Fuck! Are you mining for gold in my scalp?”

“They’re working on her. But she’s going to be fine. It was through-and-through. Through her, into Tag.”

“Your evidence, Special Agent.”

“Thanks.” Mason took the dish with the spent bullet.

“She lost a lot of blood, and a bullet never does you a favor, but it didn’t hit any organs. Just the meat. They’re going to want to keep her overnight. Probably want to do the same with you.”

Xander readied for battle if need be, because his mind was set. “I’m staying with her. So’s the dog.”

“Already arranged. Are you up to giving me a statement? It can wait.”

“I’m okay. Just tell me, where’s this Chaffins now?”

“In a cell in Sunrise Cove, but officially in federal custody. He’s been examined by a doctor, and his injuries treated. Among other things, you broke his nose, knocked out three of his teeth, cracked a couple ribs.”

“Did I?” Xander looked down at his hand, flexed his aching fingers, his raw and swollen knuckles.

“Thanks. I know you love her, but I loved her first, so thanks for saving my sister’s life.”

“No problem.”

Mason pulled up a stool. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

He ran it through.

“I should’ve seen it coming. I did see it, but too late. I actually bought the little-Bobby-in-the-backseat bullshit. And when I came to, I knew he’d gone after her. I called you while I drove back. Pulled in behind his damn camper, ran for the house. I heard the gunshot.”

He stopped, closed his eyes. “I heard the shot. I heard her scream. When I ran in he was standing over her, ranting, had the gun pointed at her head. I pulled him off, beat him unconscious. She and the dog were lying there, bleeding. So much blood. I grabbed a couple of dish towels and put pressure on her side-like they always say you’re supposed to. It hurt her. I hurt her.”

“He hurt her,” Mason corrected.

–

She dreamed she swam, slow and lazy, through the palest of pale blue water. Surfaced and floated, skimmed under to glide. Up and down, in and out, with everything warm and watery.

Once in the dream, beavers cut down trees with chain saws, deep, rhythmic buzzing. She surfaced, thought she saw the dog snoring away on a cot beside her.

She laughed in her sleep-heard Xander’s voice. Wouldn’t mind some of whatever they gave you.

And smiling, slid under again.

She thought of moonlight falling in slants over the bed, how it felt to make love with him over and under those moonlit slants.

Opening her eyes, she saw it was sunlight, sliding through the slats over the window.

“There she is. Are you staying with me this time around?”

She turned her head, met Xander’s eyes.

He looked so tired, she thought, and pale under the scruff. Bruised-badly-on the temple.

“We… had an accident.”

“Not exactly.”

“I can’t remember what…” She turned her head again, saw Tag watching her from a cot. “He is sleeping on a cot. And we’re… we’re in the hospital. He shot me. He shot us.”

“Simmer down.” Xander pressed a hand on her shoulder, kept her in place. “Anson Chaffins.”

“Yes. Yes, I remember. I remember all of it. He got in the house.”

“Bedroom. You let the dog out, he waited, came in that way, caught you in the kitchen. Mason said you went to school with him.”

“Yes. He was a year ahead of me. I only got to know him for a few months-yearbook committee, school newspaper. But he was with me when I found my mother. He said-he told me-it was his revelation. He said it was wiring, he and my father, both born to be what they are. And seeing my mother’s body opened things up for him. Excited him. All this time…”

“Don’t worry about it now.”

“How bad am I hurt? Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Well, baby, they did the best they could.” And laughed when her mouth fell open. “That ought to cure some of that pessimism. You’re fine. As fine as anybody who’s been shot. Hit your left side, just above the waist, pinched right through, and straight into the dog’s right hindquarters. He’s fine, too. I’m saying right now, no Cone of Shame, not for him.”

“No Cone of Shame.” She reached out, stroked the dog. “Not ever. He can have the Pants of Heroism.”

“You jumped in front of the dog, didn’t you? He was going to shoot the dog, and you jumped in front of him.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

“Yeah.” Shakier than he wanted to be, Xander blew out a breath. “Yeah, probably. Idiots.”

“How did you get hurt? Your head. You were covered with blood.”

“Head wounds bleed a lot.”

“He was the call-that’s it. The breakdown. It was him. He could’ve killed you.”

“He didn’t.”

“He could have-”

“He didn’t. Get used to it.” He pulled her hand to his lips, held it there, rocked for a moment. “I’ve still got to get used to him nearly killing you-but not. We’re both right here. Jesus, Naomi. Jesus, I didn’t know I could be that scared and live through it. I didn’t know how bad it was. I couldn’t tell, just you lying there, and the blood.”

“Did you save me?”

He pressed his lips to her hand again. “You’d have done the same for me.”

“Yeah. Probably. We’re both right here.” She smiled as Tag nosed under her other hand. “We’re all three right here. And Chaffins?”

“In custody. I don’t know where they’re taking him, probably later today. News is all over. I spent some time reading on my phone last night. It’s all over the news. They broke your connection to Bowes. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. I should never have let it matter so much. How long do I have to stay in here? I want to go home.”

“They’ll want to look you over, but they said you could probably go home today.”

“I need to go home, Xander, but I need to see him first. I need to see Chaffins. I never saw or spoke to my father, but I’m going to see and speak to Chaffins.”

“Okay. Let’s see about getting you out of here, and see what Mason can do.”

It took two hours, a lot of paperwork, a lot of warnings, and she had to leave in a wheelchair, use a side entrance where Mason had a car waiting.

He helped her stand, then just held her. “You’ve looked better.”

“I’ve felt better.”

With his help she eased into the car while Xander and Tag took the backseat.

“The press are all over town. If you do this, you can’t avoid them completely.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“He had a press pass,” Mason said as he drove. “He came to briefings, booked a motel room-though he stayed in the camper, too. Even when he wasn’t using it for other reasons.”

Just a smart, nerdy kid who’d gone to a school dance with her, who’d put a couple clumsy moves on her, easily brushed off.

And a monster, all along.

“He held his victims there-like Bowes and the cellar.”

“Yeah. Different campgrounds, different names. He’s collected several IDs over the last several years. He’s got skills, computer skills.”

“He always did.”

“He kept a log of his victims-names, locations, dates. He has photos of them. We’ve got enough evidence to put him away for a dozen lifetimes. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”

“I’m not. I won’t. You’ve told the uncles I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I talked to them. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want them to. I’ll call them as soon as I get home.”

“Then you’re taking one of those pills,” Xander said, “and zoning out.”

“I probably won’t argue about that one. Are you still going to see Bowes?”

“I will.” Mason nodded. “But it can wait.”

He drove into town, pulled into the slot closest to the station house they’d cleared for him. The minute Xander helped Naomi out of the car, reporters rushed toward them, shouting.

“Tag, too. He should see the dog, too.”

Sam Winston opened the door for them, stepped out.

“Every one of you keep back, and stop yelling or I’ll have every last one of you arrested for disturbing the peace. This is my town, and I’ll do it.”

He closed the door, took Naomi’s hand. “This is your town, too. Are you feeling up to this? You’re certain?”

“Yes. It won’t take long.”

Not so different, she thought, no, not so different, from that police station so long ago. They’d have put her father in one of the cells in the back, behind the steel door.

“Mason, Xander, and Tag. All of us.”

It hurt to keep her back straight, but she’d deal with it. She needed to walk in, unbowed. When she did, Chaffins rolled off the bunk where he’d sprawled. And, despite the blackened eyes, the bruised, swollen, and taped nose, the split lip, he smiled, showing gaps from missing teeth.

“Kid brother, grease monkey, and your little dog, too. Afraid of me, Naomi?”

“Not in the least. I just wanted us all to have a look at you in what’s now your natural habitat.”

“I’ll get out,” he snapped as Tag growled low in his throat.

“No, you won’t.”

“I’ll get out, and come for you. You’ll always look over your shoulder.”

“No, I won’t.” She laid a hand on Xander’s arm, felt it vibrate. “Would you give us a minute?”

“Sure.” But Xander stepped up to the cell first, whipped a hand through quick as a snake, rapped Chaffins against the bars. She couldn’t hear what Xander murmured in his ear, but it drained the color from Chaffins’s face.

“Fuck you! I should’ve beat you to fucking death.”

“But you didn’t,” Xander said easily, and, stepping back, looked at Naomi. “You don’t move from this spot unless it’s back.”

“Don’t worry.” She took his hand, kissed his bruised knuckles. “You, too, Mason. Just for one minute.”

“I’m on the door,” he said.

Naomi waited, studying Chaffins, seeing the boy he’d once been, the monster he was.

“They might write books about you.”

“Damn right, they will.”

“Even make movies. You can have the sick glory your kind enjoys. I’m fine with that. But you and I, and everyone else, will know that when you came for me, you lost. You lost, Chaffins. I put my father in a cell, and he once meant something to me. Now I’ve put you in one, and you mean nothing.”

“You got lucky. Next time-”

“Dream about it. I hope you do. Every cold, dark night, dream about me.”

“You’ll dream about me.”

“No. I’ll forget you, just like I forgot you years ago. I’m the daughter of a monster. Monsters don’t scare me. Come on, Tag. Let’s go get you a Milk-Bone.”

“Come back here! You come back here, I’m not finished with you.”

“But I’m finished with you.”

She kept walking.

“Feel better?” Xander asked her.

“Yes. Yes, I do. But oh God, I’ll feel better once I get home and take that pill.”

She closed her eyes on the drive so she could focus on pushing through the pain. She had only to get home now, let everything go.

She breathed out relief when the car stopped. “Definitely drugs, but I’d really like to sit-sprawl out on the deck for- Whose car is that?”

Before Mason could speak, the front door of her house flew open.

“Oh God. Oh God.” Tears spilled as Seth yanked open her door.

“Don’t you think about getting out by yourself. I’m going to carry you.”

“You came, you’re here. You’re both here. How? No, you can’t carry me. I can walk.”

“You’re not walking anywhere.” Harry eyeballed Xander. “You’re Xander?”

“Yeah. I’ve got her.”

To settle it, Xander slid his arm under her legs, wrapped the other around her back, gently lifted her.

“Take her right up to bed. We’ve got it all ready for her.”

“No, please. I’m okay. I’d really like to sit out on the deck. I need to hug both of you.”

“I’ll get pillows.” Seth rushed off.

“I made pink lemonade, remember?”

“With crushed ice.” She took Harry’s hand as Xander carried her. “When did you come? How did you get here so fast?”

“Private jet. We’ve got connections. My baby girl,” he murmured, kissed her hand. “Your people said we could come in, Mason. They’d cleared it. And you’d gotten a crew in to…”

“Yeah. It’s clean,” he said to Naomi.

By the time they got her to the deck, Seth was fussing with pillows, with a light throw. And had a little vase of flowers on the small table.

“There now, set her right down.” As Xander did, Seth went down on his knees, wrapped arms around her. “My sweetheart, my baby.”

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m okay.”

“She needs a pill. I’m sorry,” Xander added, “but she really needs the pain pill.”

“I’ll get you some lemonade to wash it down. Do you want lemonade?” Harry asked Xander.

“I’d about kill for a beer.”

“I’m going to get you a beer. Mason?”

“I have to go. I’ll be back, but I have to go right now.”

“You be here for dinner. I’m going to make something spectacular.”

As Harry hurried inside, Seth pushed to his feet. Still weeping, he turned, enfolded Xander.

“Ah.” Xander looked into Naomi’s wet, smiling eyes. “Okay.”

“You are now and forevermore a hero to me.” Sniffling, Seth stepped back. “She is the light of my life. She and Mason are the lights of our lives.”

“She brightens up mine, too.”

“I’ve got to go.” Mason kissed Seth’s cheek. “Sit down. Take a breath.”

“Not yet. This boy-handsome,” he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows for Naomi. “He needs some ice for those knuckles. I hope you beat the crap out of that vicious little shit.”

“Broke his nose, knocked out three teeth,” Naomi said.

“Well done.”

Harry came out with a tall glass filled with crushed ice and frothy pink liquid and garnished with a twist of lemon. He handed it to Naomi, then handed a beer-in a pilsner-to Xander. Then, as Seth had, he wrapped his arms around Xander.

“I’m Harry, and this is my best girl. It’s very nice to meet you, Xander.”

“Nice to meet you.” He pulled a pill bottle from his pocket, tapped one out. “Take this.”

“Actually, I want to hold off just until-”

“Take it.”

She sighed, but swallowed the pill. “Oh, Harry, nobody makes pink lemonade like you.”

“Could you eat? Something soft and soothing. Cheesy eggs on toast?”

Tears just flooded up again. “My favorite sick-day meal, Harry.”

“I’m going to make you some eggs, both of you. And I’m going to fix this amazing dog something special. No kibble for you today, my brave boy.”

Tag sent him a look of adoration, laid a head on Harry’s leg. “Some beef. We’ll call it Beef à la Tag.”

When Harry went in, Tag limped after him. Before Xander could sample the beer, Seth bustled out with a zip-top bag of ice.

“Here now. Why don’t you sit on the glider? Naomi can put her legs in your lap. You’ll ice that hand, drink your beer. And look at this beautiful view. It’s the best day of our lives. How’s your pillow, honey?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“When you’re ready, Xander’s going to carry you upstairs so you can sleep awhile. We’ll all be right here. Just right here.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to help Harry. You call if you need anything.”

She smiled, sipped lemonade when he went inside. “It’s starting to feel like a dream. Did you know they were here?”

“Mason told me. They flew in early this morning.”

“You’re going to like them.”

“I already like them. What’s not to like? I’ve got a beer and I’m getting cheesy eggs.” He had to set the ice aside to dig the phone out of his pocket. “I’ll answer later. I’ve been getting calls and texts for hours. Everybody wants to know how you’re doing, come see you. Bring food, flowers, Jesus knows.”

“Everybody?”

“Name somebody. I bet they’ve called or texted.”

Like family, she thought. Friends and community could be like family if you let it happen.

“We could have some over-Harry loves to cook for people. It’s nice they want to. I’m just tired. Pill’s already kicking in.”

“Tomorrow. They can come tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

“That’s probably better. It’s okay now.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I’m not going to ask what you said to him, but thank you for whatever you did say that drained the blood from his body.”

“You finished him off.”

“I finished.” She nodded. “I’m where I want to be, with who I want to be with, and I’m done worrying about blood ties and how people I don’t care about react.”

“Good.”

“And I love this spot. I love looking out at the water, and knowing I will day after day.”

“It’s a good spot. We ought to get married down there in the backyard.”

“It’s a good spot for- What?”

“Fall’s nice, all the color.” Contemplatively he sipped the beer. “October. That’d give you time to do what women think they need for it. Flowers and the dress, whatever.”

“But married? That’s-”

“How it ought to be.” Casually, he rubbed his big hand up and down her calf. “You’ve got until October to get used to it. That’s long enough.”

“You actually consider this a proposal?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Seth said from the doorway, then wiped his eyes and stepped back inside.

“I’ll get you a ring. We’ll make a good life here.”

“I haven’t said I’d-”

“You will,” he said easily. “I love you, Naomi. That’s the start, the finish, and everything in between.” He looked at her, those strong blue eyes. “You love me.”

“I do. I really do. I just never thought about getting married.” She took his injured hand, laid the ice over it again. “But I think I could get used to it.”

“Good. October. Anything else is negotiable.”

“The uncles are going to want one hell of a show.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they? Shows are fine, as long as there’s this.”

He leaned over, touched his lips to hers.

As long as there’s love, she thought, sighing into the kiss. And the good, strong place to build a life together.

A life of sunrises and lilacs, of friends and quiet moments.

And a really good dog.