Epiphany, p.8
Epiphany, page 8
Aidan remained still as stone, seemingly unaffected by the sheriff’s outburst. “I’m glad we got that cleared up. Are we free to go now?”
“Sure, as soon as I talk to Ms. Hill alone.”
Aidan took a step forward. “We’ve told you everything we know.”
“Now I want to hear it from her.” McFayden gestured for me to follow him, and I gulped, shooting Aidan a helpless look. As soon as we had a modicum of privacy, the sheriff lowered his voice. “Are you sure that’s all of it? Anything else you’d like to tell me?”
“That’s it,” I said, focusing on his muddied shoes.
“So you guys came up here to fool around? Why didn’t you stay in the car? It’s wet and freezing out here.”
I shrugged. “I wanted to see the rock shelter. I’d never been up here before.”
“Aidan said he talked you into the hike.”
“He didn’t have to try hard.”
His silence weighed heavily. Finally, he handed me a card. “Call if you change your mind. I’m sure you want justice for Ms. Hunsaker.”
With a nod, I clutched the card then loosened my fingers so I wouldn’t crush it. “I’ll call you if I think of anything that’ll help.”
Sheriff McFayden led me back to where Aidan waited. “Go, but don’t think I won’t be keeping an eye on you.” He waved us off, his mouth set in a hard line.
Aidan guided me toward the car. “Give me your keys. You’re too shaken to drive.”
And he wasn’t?
Figuring silence was my best option, I handed him the keys before settling into the passenger seat. He started the engine and tore out of the parking lot with tires spinning. I gnawed on my lower lip, lulled into a zombie-like state as the car weaved toward the main road. Once we reached the highway, Aidan relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. Our eyes met as he let off the accelerator. All trace of anger was gone, but something even scarier lurked.
Curiosity.
He turned onto the highway and finally fractured the quiet. “Looks like we have a few things to discuss.”
13. Secrets
Aidan drove straight to his house. I didn’t remember discussing where we’d go to “discuss” things, but now I found myself on his doorstep. I might have objected, but the thought of going home, while Six’s apartment sat next door like an empty shell, sliced too deep.
I shuffled my muddy sneakers as he unlocked the door. A scent that was distinctly Aidan—a mixture of cologne, soap, and something I couldn’t put a name to—hit me as soon as I entered the foyer.
He took my jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door, then rubbed some warmth into my shaking arms. “Shit, you’re freezing.” He stepped back, his gaze spanning my body. “And completely soaked.”
“You are too.” I clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. I’d just begun to warm up in the car when he’d pulled into the driveway. Now I was cold all over again—a chill so deep it penetrated my bones. My numbed state was dissipating, and the reality of Six’s death seeped in. I blinked rapidly, wishing I was anywhere but here with Aidan. The last thing I wanted to do was fall apart in front of him again.
“I’ll grab some towels.” He shrugged off his coat and hung it next to mine. Rainwater dripped from his hair, sliding down his neck and vanishing into the collar of his shirt. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared, heavy boots thumping down the staircase.
I wandered into the living room. Except for a navy T-shirt carelessly tossed over the arm of a brown sofa, the room was spotless and empty. The absence of personal items struck me as odd. No pictures or signs of hobbies and interests—just a couch, coffee table, and the large flat screen television mounted above the fireplace.
Two windows peered at me like bottomless eyes. I pressed against the glass and stared into the dark void where the lighthouse stood like a beacon, its beam tearing through the wall of fog creeping in off the Pacific. Maybe it was the despair grasping my insides, but I was suddenly reminded of the night Joe had packed his bags and left. I’d driven aimlessly before parking near the airport where I’d hypnotically watched the tower’s light strobe the night. Planes had come and gone, and each one had reminded me of a star. I’d wanted to hop on one and fly away.
But running away was impossible. Memories were like wounds that scabbed over yet never completely healed. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought of Six, and I knew the memory of finding her like we had tonight would never fade.
Aidan returned and draped a towel around my shoulders. “I turned up the heat. This should help too.” He flipped a switch and the fireplace lit up. A push of a button and poof—instant heat. “I’m sorry about Six,” he said.
“I failed her. She was so good to me, and I failed her.” I pulled the towel tighter, as if I could wrap myself in a cocoon that would protect me from my guilt.
“You can’t blame yourself. Trust me. It’ll eat you up until there’s nothing left.”
I turned my head and met his eyes, instantly aware of how close we stood. Equal amounts of guilt and desire stormed through me, as swift as the wind and rain. I wanted to lean back and align my body with his, take comfort and strength from the intensity of his presence.
But he was a stranger, no matter how many times I’d seen him in my dreams, had touched him, tasted him, breathed in the musky scent of his skin. The last thing I should be thinking about after finding my friend murdered was how badly I wanted to wipe away the horror with a guy I barely knew.
With a rough swallow, he averted his gaze, as if he realized the pull he had on me. I hugged myself tighter and shivered.
“You’re still freezing. Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “I won’t be responsible for you catching pneumonia.”
“Where are we going?”
“You need a hot shower.” My eyes grew wide as he escorted me downstairs. “I’ll dry your clothes while you warm up. Shouldn’t take too long.” He flipped the light on in the hall, and as I followed him down the narrow corridor, I hoped my cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt. The thought of being naked in his home was disconcerting. We halted at the door to what I guessed was his bedroom. It stood ajar, revealing a room cast in soft light from a lamp on the nightstand. A four-poster bed overwhelmed the space with its masculinity.
I pulled my hand from his, willing my mind away from the thought of what we could do in that bed together, skin to skin, sliding between the sheets. Oh God, this was shameful. I blinked several times, but my eyes wouldn’t stop burning. The setting was too intimate, and I was too raw from Six’s death.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Bathroom is at the end. You’ll find everything you need in the cupboard.” He cleared his throat. “Just set your clothes outside. I’ll toss them in the dryer for you.” He gave me one last lingering stare before entering his room and shutting the door.
Shadows deepened as I neared the end of the hall and gooseflesh erupted on my arms, though I blamed the chill on my soggy clothing. I pulled a door open and instantly realized it was the wrong one. A cavernous garage big enough to house two cars, though only one was parked inside, appeared to run the length of the hall. The sight rooted me to the spot. There was nothing extraordinary or out of place about the garage, except for the lone vehicle sitting there.
A silver BMW sporting Idaho plates.
I shut the door in a rush and snatched my hand back, as if I’d been caught sneaking into the cookie jar. The bathroom was across from the garage. I hurried inside and locked the door, and I could only think of one thing.
Idaho…as in Boise. As in…the Boise Hangman.
I recoiled from the thought with my entire being. I knew him. The feeling was irrational, but I’d put my life in his hands. Besides, he’d been in the emergency room the night Six disappeared. There was no way, yet…it was too coincidental. The sheriff’s words came back to me, casting new light on my discovery.
“You have zero objectivity on this. I mean it. Go home.”
As I undressed and tossed my clothes into the hallway, I tried to piece together the puzzle that was Aidan. The shower spray went a long way toward warming me up, but I still felt frozen on the inside. I leaned against the wall, palms flat against the cold tile, breaths coming in short gasps as I recalled how he’d hung around the Pour House every night, always quiet but observant, and how he’d magically shown up at Six’s apartment. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there in shock, my body steaming from the hot water, but when Aidan’s knock sounded on the door sometime later, I about jumped out of my skin.
“Your clothes are dry. I’m leaving them on the floor,” he called through the door. “I’ll be upstairs.”
I shut off the water, toweled off quickly, and my hands shook as I dressed. I straightened my shoulders and drew in a breath before leaving the bathroom. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I hurried down the hall. I bounded up the staircase and found him standing in front of the windows. He’d changed into a dry pair of jeans and a white T-shirt.
“Better?” he asked, turning to face me.
“I accidentally opened the door to the garage. I thought it was the bathroom.”
“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned which door—” He cursed under his breath. “You saw my car.”
“You’re from Boise, aren’t you?”
He looked everywhere but at me. “Yeah.”
“What’s going on, Aidan?”
His face became an impenetrable mask. “Nothing.”
I crossed my arms. “Then I guess we’re done talking.”
His jaw twitched once, twice. “We’re far from done. I covered for you tonight with the sheriff. How did you know where to find her?”
“Is that why you lied about us…fooling around out there?” My cheeks heated. There was no way in hell I could use the word he had earlier. “You wanted to be the one to question me?”
“You seemed terrified of talking to the sheriff, and yeah…I wanted the truth from you. I didn’t think about it at the time.” He moved toward me, his expression softening. “Stepping in seemed like the thing to do. Talk to me, Mackenzie. You’ve gotta start trusting someone.”
“You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Not crazy. Foolish maybe, but not crazy.”
“I dreamed about it.” I studied my feet, avoiding the moment when incredulity would flash across his face. A few seconds ticked by. “Say something,” I pleaded.
His clothes rustled as he stepped closer, and his feet came into view. He lifted my chin with fingers as warm as sun-kissed skin, and I had no choice but to look at him.
“You dreamed about her murder?”
“Yeah.”
Aidan’s eyes widened. “What did you see?”
I blinked. He believed me…and I could barely believe it. “I saw what he did to her.” My throat thickened, making it difficult to get the words out. “I saw him drag her through the woods. Saw the rock shelter.”
“What did he look like? Did you recognize him?”
“I didn’t see him. I mean, he was there, but the dream didn’t reveal any details about him. I only saw his hands.”
Disquiet settled over us. I never thought silence could be so loud. I tried to pull away, but he gripped my shoulders. His face was so close—close enough to notice the tiny golden flecks in his eyes. Something suspiciously close to grief lived in them.
“Doesn’t help much, does it?” I said. “The dream came too late. Six is dead.”
“It’s not your fault. You did what you could.”
I pulled away from him, and this time he let me go. “You’re from Boise,” I began, needing to get back to his role in all of this. “And you arrived in town around the same time the Hangman did. What’s your connection to all of this? And don’t tell me you’re only housesitting.”
“Technically, I am housesitting. My mother owns this place.”
I just about lost it. “No, don’t you do that. Not after everything I just told you.”
“Do what?”
“Duck and evade.” I advanced on him until we stood close enough to breathe the same air. “Six is dead. Murdered. This isn’t a game.”
“This has never been a game.” His wounded expression nearly got to me, but I stood my ground. “In fact,” he continued, “you should take what happened to her as a sign.” He brought his hands up and framed my face, and I closed my eyes against the warmth of his skin, against the emotions boiling between us. “Leave town, before something happens to you too.”
My eyes flew open. “Why do you care? Why are you even here?”
“The sheriff was right,” he said, letting his hands drop. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
“What are you talking about? You didn’t drag me into anything. I’m the one who dreamed about her murder. I’m the one who dragged you up to that rock shelter.”
He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “I should have kept my distance. I never should’ve gone back into that damn bar to apologize. Better you think I’m a complete ass.”
“Don’t worry, there’s still hope for that.” I folded my arms and glared at him. “First someone attacks you, then you slam the door in my face, and just this morning I found you in Six’s apartment. Why can’t you be straight with me?”
“Because you’re better off not knowing!” His words ricocheted off the walls, though I felt the impact of his anger deep in my gut. “You don’t want to know what goes through my head. It’s nothing but baggage.”
“I’ll find out on my own then.” I turned and stomped toward the door. Yanking my jacket from the rack, I groped the pockets. “Give me my keys.” I whirled around and bumped into him, and my breath caught.
“You’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.”
I retreated, but he matched my steps, body unyielding as he trapped me between him and the door, his strong arms braced on either side.
“If you have any sense at all, you’ll get the hell out of Dodge and forget you ever met me.”
“Maybe I’d consider getting out of Dodge if you’d tell me why.”
“A serial killer on the loose isn’t enough for you?”
It should have been, and maybe it would have been before my dreams turned horrifying—before I knew he existed. “I’m not leaving Watcher’s Point.”
“Why not?” Our breaths mingled, hot and moist, and my pulse tap-danced in my ears. His gaze fell to my mouth and lingered. Until that moment, I hadn’t known for sure.
Now I did. He felt it too, a sizzling connection, though something held him back. Baggage, he’d said. I had a good amount of it too.
“There’s nothing to go back to.”
“Don’t you have family and friends?” he asked.
“I’ve bared enough of my soul for one night, but you’ve remained a closed book.” I gave him a considering look. “What’s your story, Aidan?” For the first time in my life, I wanted to see something in my dreams. I wanted to see him.
“The bastard killed my wife.” His expression solidified into granite. “And when I find him, he’ll wish the devil himself had gotten to him first.”
14. Sweet Whiskey
Something inside me cracked right along with Aidan’s composure. Everything he’d been hiding spilled from his eyes. I reached a hand up, aching to brush my fingers against his cheek, but he recoiled.
“I need a drink.” He strode away, leaving me glued to the spot where he’d trapped me. A crash resounded from the kitchen, followed by splintering glass. I willed my feet to move, ignoring the little voice of reason pointing out that maybe I should leave him be for now.
He was sweeping broken glass into a dustpan when I walked in. “Are you okay?” Instantly, I wished I could cast a net and pull back the stupid, inconsiderate question. Of course he wasn’t okay. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not…okay.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what you meant.” He emptied the dustpan into the trashcan then opened a bottle of Jack, all the while refusing to meet my eyes.
“Mind sharing?” I asked. If there was ever a time for drinking, it was now.
“I thought you were beyond corruptible.”
I recalled how he’d said something similar on Halloween. “You remember more about that night than you let on, don’t you?”
He pulled two tumblers from a dark cherry wood cabinet. “I remember you, Bonnie.” He tipped the bottle and amber liquid sloshed into both glasses. A moment later he closed the distance between us. “Straight up?” The question sounded like a challenge.
“Sure.” I gulped down the whiskey, ignoring the burn as it slid down my throat. Heat ignited low in my belly, though whether from the alcohol or Aidan’s scrutiny, I wasn’t sure.
He leaned against the kitchen sink and finished off his own drink before pouring another. “I’m sorry I blew up on you. I didn’t come here to make friends…to complicate things.”
“I’m a complication?”
His laughter was empty, cold as a morgue. “You’re about as complicated as they come.”
I stared at the bottom of my glass. “Why’s that?”
“You look at me as if you see right through me. It’s unsettling.”
“I don’t mean to unsettle you.”
“Consider me unsettled. Problem is, I think you’re using more than eyesight.” He finished the whiskey in one long gulp, his eyes never breaking contact with mine.
I gripped my glass. I’d rather have my teeth pulled than tell him how often I’d dreamed of him over the years. “Can I have another?”
He grabbed the bottle and moved toward me, and I saw him in my mind’s eye as he’d been in the drawing. Bare chest, subtle muscles, a thin line of hair dragging my gaze below his belly button, to a place I’d shamelessly dreamed of exploring with my mouth. I stumbled back as he poured a refill.
“Thanks.” The word nearly squeaked from my lips, giving away my nervousness. I upended the glass, and the smooth whiskey went down easier the second time.
