Page 31 of Nightshades

“Of course, Detective Sanchez,” Sheriff says in an understanding, yet remorseful tone. “Come on, everyone. Let’s respect Lula’s privacy. Zig. Waylon. Let’s go,” Jake orders.

Zig stands, pouring his coffee down the sink and setting his mug on the counter. His hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze.

“Todo estará bien,” he says.

Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel like everything is going to be okay.

Waylon is next to pour his coffee down the sink. “Hang in there, Detective. Evidence will be on our side. You’re one of us. We have your back.” He slaps the same shoulder that Zig squeezed, and I nearly fly out of my chair.

“Thanks, Waylon. I appreciate it.”

Savannah and Bill leave without giving me another look. Good. Everything that has happened has been beyond normal. I rub my temples, wondering how the hell I have been in this townfor less than three days and somehow now need to prove my innocence.

Jake watches as they leave through the front door. The only person left in the house is him.

He grips the back of a chair with both hands and hangs his head. “I know this is stressful. Usually, stuff like this doesn’t happen. Well, that would be a lie, but it has toned down some. I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of what’s going on, but I’m on your side, okay? If you need anything, let me know. I’ve put a rush on your blood samples. I want to know as soon as possible. You’ll be okay, Lula.”

“It doesn’t feel like it, Sheriff.”

“Jake. Just call me Jake right now. I’m not here as your boss. I’m here as a friend—even if we barely know each other. You’re one of my cops. That means you’re family now.”

I swipe my fingers under my eyes to gather the tears before they break. “I promise, Jake, I didn’t kill that man.”

“I know you didn’t. Evidence already proves that. It’s why I’m not taking your gun and badge.”

“Then, why can’t I go to work? I have case files I need to work on.”

“Because you were in a car accident. You were part of something horrible that happened, and we need to figure out what it is. You’ll rest here at home today, okay? I won’t hear another word about it.”

I sit there, debating if I want to tell him the truth about what I did see. Do I tell him someone was in my house? A flipped photo isn’t enough proof for Jake to believe me. He might think I’ve lost my mind.

“Before I leave, I’m going to ask one more time, do you have anything you want to tell me?” He lifts his eyes, peering at me through the shadows of his eyelashes.

“No. I’m sorry, Jake. I don’t have anything. If I do, I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay. Try to relax, okay? And I’m sorry about your car; it will be a while before I can get a new one with the budget.”

“I have a Chevy Impala in the garage. I’ll use mine.”

“An Impala? Damn, rub it in a man’s face, why don’t you?”

I manage to smile through all the truths I’m keeping. “Maybe I’ll let you drive it one day. If you’re good.”

He snorts as he walks to the front door. “There go my chances.” Jake steps outside, giving me a curt nod before shutting the door.

Flying out of my seat, I sprint to lock the door and press my back against the wall.

“Everything will be fine. Last night was a nightmare, but what you thought you saw was just a bad dream. That’s it. Nothing more.”

I don’t care that I don’t know how I got home, or undressed, or my clothes shredded, or the message on my mirror, or the dried substance on my chest—I’m just glad I’m alone.

Growing up, my parents always told me I was a beacon for trouble, as it loved to find me. Granted, I’ve always loved the thrill of the dangers in life, it’s why I became I cop. I wanted to dive into a world where I could protect people and get what I crave.

I never really believed my parents.

Until now.

I should have told Jake the truth, and yet, the thought of speaking against the monster that was in my bed leaves a bad taste in my mouth.