Page 7

Recounting the nightmare she’d lived through was distressing, the roller coaster of emotions exhausting. It was also strangely cathartic. She hadn’t cried at the time it all happened.

The shock of losing her granny on top of everything else had been too much for her to process. Looking back, she’d been traumatized when she’d arrived back in Redemption. There’d been so much to do, so many details to handle with her granny’s burial and estate. She’d embraced the mind-numbing work, not ready to face the horrific reality that was her life.

The first few months, she’d been like the walking dead, doing the bare minimum to keep herself alive while jumping at shadows. Having to care for Chester had kept her from sinking too deep into depression. He wasn’t shy about demanding attention, was much too cantankerous to allow her to ignore him.

Then she’d begun to journal—a path forward for her mental and emotional health. It had been both heartbreaking and healing to set her thoughts down on paper. Memories, both good and bad, had poured onto the page. There was nothing she could do about the past, but she could make amends. Having a goal had strengthened her.

And the land, the land had slowly healed her soul. The farm—her granny’s pride and joy—had needed tending. Caring for it, watching it thrive, and harvesting the bounty was a tangible way she could honor the woman who’d raised her, the woman she’d loved and respected above all others. Her biggest regret was not doing it sooner.

It had taken months, but a healthy glow had replaced the pallor of her skin. The clothes that had hung loose on her body began to fit again as she worked muscles she hadn’t in a long time. She’d dug out the sketchbooks from her childhood and begun to draw the lavender fields and scenes from the farm, reclaiming a piece of herself she’d lost. It had solidified her sense of place, of belonging. A sense of peace had gradually crept over her.

Now those hard-won gains had been threatened. Fisting her hands by her sides, she shook her head. Not again. She was a different woman now. Like metal tempered in the fires of adversity, she’d grown stronger. If her stalker thought she’d cower behind closed doors this time, he was sadly mistaken.

It wasn’t only her life at stake, but the fate of the family farm. Without her, it would wither and die or be sold to strangers. That could not be allowed to happen. She’d let her granny down before. She would not do it again.

Many would think her foolish for not packing up and running, for risking her life for a piece of land. But it went far deeper. It wasn’t penance keeping her here. It had taken the destruction of her old life and the death of her granny to put her on the path to recovering the contentment she’d lost, the pride in a job well done. There’d even been flashes of happiness and moments of laughter, both priceless.

“You up for this?” Sam stood in the shadows of the porch. For a stranger, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Maybe it was for that very reason. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as though everything she said mattered. It was a gift, one that likely benefited him both professionally and personally.

He hadn’t offered pity or platitudes, for which she was grateful. She’d gotten too much of that from her former work friends. They’d meant well, but their words had been empty. The way they’d distanced themselves from her more telling. Sam not only asked questions, but he’d supported her and encouraged her to act.

“I am.” Surprisingly, she meant it. Detective Ramirez had kept in touch, but no one had ever been charged. Her case was open but no longer active. That had been a bitter pill to swallow, but she’d had no choice but to accept it. He’d done everything possible, but there hadn’t been much for him to go on. She was more than ready if there was a chance to catch this person once and for all.

Determined to see this through, she marched around to the front of the house and up to Chief Johnson, who was getting out of his cruiser. “I’m sorry you had to drive all the way out here, but I appreciate you coming.”

“It’s no problem.” He removed his sunglasses and tucked them over his shirt pocket.

Good manners and hospitality had been drilled into her from the time she could talk. “Would you like some lemonade or sweet tea?” It might not be a social call, but her granny would roll over in her grave if she didn’t at least offer.

“Maybe after. I’d like to see these footprints first.” He nodded at Sam, who’d followed her.

She appreciated Sam stepping back and allowing her to handle the situation. A lot of men wouldn’t have been able to resist taking the lead, which was a polite way of saying they would have taken over or tried to. But since she wasn’t sure where the prints were, she waved toward him. “Lead the way.”

“They’re over there.” Sam pointed toward the woods.

Adrianne let the chief go ahead of her and brought up the rear of the small group. It was late afternoon, but the day’s heat hadn’t subsided. Her clothes were sticking to her. She couldn’t wait to have this over and done with so she could take a cool shower and change.

Sam’s strides were long and fluid. He might be a businessman, but he moved like a man who could handle himself in any situation. The seams of his T-shirt were pulled tight against thick shoulders and a broad back. The short sleeves exposed rock-hard biceps. And the way the man filled out a pair of jeans should be illegal. Watching him was a much more pleasant way to pass the time as they walked rather than thinking about what was waiting for them at their destination.

A crow gave a raucous call from a nearby tree. Sam’s head snapped toward the sound, his lips tightening as he glared at the bird. There wasn’t time to consider his strange response before he pointed to a tall birch tree. “They’re over here.”

Placing a hand on her stomach to steady her nerves, she took a deep breath to fortify herself. Sam and the chief were already crouched beside a patch of ground. She approached cautiously, not wanting to mess up any possible evidence.

“You can see it’s smaller than my foot.” Sam’s boot was placed carefully beside a depression in the ground. He pointed toward the house. “Gave whoever was here an excellent vantage point.”

“Hmm.” Chief Johnson began taking pictures with his phone from all angles. He pulled a small tape measure from his pocket, pulled out a length, and laid it beside the print before making notations in a small notebook. When he was done, he began to walk in slow circles around the area, getting wider with each pass. “Those the only ones you found?”

“I stopped looking when I found this. Didn’t want to mess up any potential evidence.”

The chief gave a curt nod. “Good move. You spend much time in this area, Adrianne?”

“No.” She studied the dirt with the impression of a boot. Such a small thing, but with huge ramifications. On its own, it wasn’t much. Combined with the note she’d found, it was definitive proof—at least in her mind—her stalker had found her. “Since the harvest, I’ve been busy with processing and orders. I haven’t taken a walk in the woods in a couple of months.”

She wanted to slam her sneakered foot on top of the print and wipe it from existence. It was as close as she could get to kicking the man who’d turned her life into a living nightmare.

“Over here.” Sam was pointing to a tree about ten feet away. She beat the chief there, but Sam stuck out his arm, keeping her back. She shot him an annoyed glare, but he didn’t notice, all his attention on whatever he’d found.

“What is it?” She tried to see, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her view with his much larger body. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t need to see this.”

He did not just say that to her. Hands on her hips, she lifted her chin. “I have more of a right than you do.”

He flinched and took a step back. “You’re right.”

She swallowed the apology on the tip of her tongue. “I know you mean well, but I have to know.”

“Adrianne.” The chief now stood in front of her as well, his lips compressed into a thin line, a muscle in his jaw working.

Their reactions warned that whatever it was, it was bad. “No.” She cut off whatever he was about to say. “I need to know.” When both men looked at each other, irritation made her snap. “Hey, I’m right here. Last I checked this was my land and my life.”

The chief removed his hat and rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. “I wish I could spare you this.” The pity in his gaze had her stomach rolling. “Remember, look but don’t touch.”

With those final instructions ringing in her ears, she took two steps forward. It was no mere footprints. Not this time. She swallowed heavily. The world around her went silent. The ground seemed to disappear from beneath her feet. Her vision tunneled until all she could see was the series of three pictures tacked to the tree.

The first was from Chicago. It was of her standing outside her apartment door, the bouquet of roses, the first gift, clutched in her hands, a bemused smile on her face. The one above it was of her in her office at work, sipping the café mocha that had been delivered. The third and final one had bile rising to her throat. It was far more intimate and invasive than the other two. It was also more current. She was sleeping without a care in the world, the sheet and comforter kicked off. The pale purple sleep shorts and tank top set she wore exposed her long legs and arms.

Someone had photographed her while she slept.

Spinning around, she stumbled away. Voices called her, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying. She needed to get away before she contaminated the evidence. She made it a few feet before she fell to her knees and began to throw up. When she started to fall forward, a strong arm wrapped around her.

“I’ve got you,” Sam murmured. He knelt behind her, his thighs on the outside of hers, his chest against her back, surrounding her as much as humanly possible, a buffer between her and the macabre display.

There was nothing overtly violent about the content of the pictures. Not until you factored in that they’d been taken without her knowledge. It drove home how vulnerable she’d been and still was. The implied threat was that the stalker could get to her any time he wanted.

With her hands resting on her knees, she took a deep breath, doing her best to ignore the sour taste in her mouth. The black dots in front of her eyes gradually faded, bringing the world back into sharp focus. After insisting she needed to see the evidence, she’d fallen apart. Not exactly the competent, levelheaded image she was trying to project. “Sorry about that.”

“Stop it.” The sharp retort was unexpected and totally at odds with the gentle way Sam held her. “You had a shock.”

She leaned back, allowing herself to rest against his solid chest. Despite the heat, she was chilled to the bone. “I don’t understand. How could he take those pictures without me knowing?”

“Here.” Chief Johnson thrust a bottle of water toward her, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Drink some of this.” He held a field kit in his other hand. He must have gone back to his cruiser while she’d been tossing her cookies.

“Thank you.” It was warm but tasted like heaven. “I’m sorry I lost it.”

The lines around his eyes deepened a fraction; his gaze narrowed. “I’m going to echo Sam here. No need to apologize. That’s one hell of a shock for anyone. As for how he got those pictures, I’m only speculating, but he likely set up a remote camera in your hallway for the first. Easy enough to install and remove. The second, he might have been the delivery person or followed them into your building. It’s the work of a second to snap a picture, and it is a bit blurry. The third.” He scrubbed his hand over his chin. “I’m no expert, but I’d say it was taken through your bedroom window from the outside.”

It was a balm to her pride he wasn’t trying to shut her out of the investigation. “I need to call Detective Ramirez.”

Chief Johnson shook his head. “That’s for me to do. I have questions.” He hesitated, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“What is it? You can ask me anything. Contrary to my actions, I’m steady.”

“When did you last wear that particular outfit to bed?”

“Last night.”

Sam’s arms tightened around her, his lurid curse echoing in her ears.

The chief sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. I’ve got backup coming. There’s no way to keep this quiet. Not now.”

She nodded her acceptance, understanding there was no way around it, not with so many people involved. Everyone in town would soon be aware of her problem. Some would pity her, others would be genuinely concerned and supportive, but there was a small faction that would pointedly wonder what she’d done to attract a stalker.

Whatever their reaction, there was no avoiding she’d be the main topic of gossip in every household and business in Redemption for the foreseeable future.

“It’s not all bad,” he continued. “Folks talk, but strangers stand out.” He looked pointedly at Sam. “Don’t be surprised if people start giving you the side-eye.”

“Understood.” Sam stood and helped her to her feet.

Chief Johnson patted her shoulder. “You go on back to the house. I’ll be by to talk once I’m done.”

“I’ll take care of her.” She was too exhausted to bristle at Sam’s high-handed statement. As if guessing her thoughts, he leaned down and whispered, “You can argue with me later.”

“You can be sure I will.” He snorted but kept his arm locked around her waist as they made their way away from the crime scene. Two more vehicles were pulling in when they reached the porch. “Show them the way. I’ll be fine,” she assured him when he hesitated.

He gave a curt nod. “I’ll be right back.” Then he nodded at the officers. “This way.”

She ducked inside and headed straight down the hallway.

…

Water was running in the bathroom when Sam stepped into the house. He’d expected she’d want to brush her teeth, but she was showering. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she was going through, how it felt to realize someone had invaded her life so deeply.

A muscle worked in his jaw as he ground his teeth together to keep from swearing. His calm, cool demeanor had disappeared along with his designer suits, his credit cards, his phone, and everything else from his life.

He walked down the short hallway and paused outside the bathroom, listening intently. Without his preternatural hearing, it was impossible to tell if she was crying.

He had one hand on the knob before he snatched it away. Invading her privacy was out of the question. They weren’t lovers, weren’t friends. He was supposed to be an objective observer, involved only enough to engender a sense of compassion and empathy. But the only emotion he was experiencing was rage—totally on the opposite end of the spectrum.

Frustrated, he gripped the doorjambs and leaned his forehead against the wooden panel. With his gifts muted, he might as well be human. Maybe that was the point. Understanding did nothing to quell the fury bubbling deep in the pit of his stomach.

For the rest of his immortal life, he’d never forget the punch-to-the-gut reaction he’d had to seeing those pictures of Adrianne tacked to the tree. The surprised look of pleasure on her face while she sniffed the roses, the distraction as she’d sipped her drink, and the peacefulness of her sleeping form were etched on his brain.

The implications had been as clear as if they’d been spelled out in neon lights on the Las Vegas Strip. The stalker told her in no uncertain terms he could get to her anytime. It was a vicious game, one that fed some unnatural hunger.

As bad as it had been, it was nothing compared to the storm of emotions that had swept through him when Adrianne had seen them. Her eyes had widened before going blank with shock. Being slapped in the face with her vulnerability, with the fact a sadistic predator had targeted her, she’d still had the presence of mind to move away from the crime scene before losing it.

Watching her keep it together long enough to do that had literally brought him to his knees behind her. Courageous, hardworking, and kind, she didn’t deserve any of this. Then again, deserving had nothing to do with it. The Fates were without conscience, emotionlessly weaving and cutting the strands of mortal lives, seemingly without care.

The water was suddenly cut off. He listened intently, cursing the loss of his normal senses. The soft shush of the shower curtain being pulled back was followed by a creak of the floor. She’d stepped out of the shower, which meant she was naked, droplets of water rolling over her soft skin. His fingers dug deeper into the jamb. Every muscle in his body tensed.

He shook his head. Talk about inappropriate. She was dealing with a stalker. The last thing she needed to be concerned about was him. Sam managed to push himself away from the door but couldn’t make himself go farther than a few feet. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited, tracking her movements as she dried off and did whatever it was she normally did after a shower.

As he waited for her to emerge, he lectured himself on his responsibilities to himself and his family. Observe and learn. That was his primary goal. Involvement was to be kept at a minimum. As much as he lived in this world, he was not of or from it. He’d always be a visitor. And if he wanted to keep that privilege, he needed to act accordingly.

Humans died; the length of their lives was finite. His was not. How he handled this assignment would have repercussions for eternity. Being the Grim Reaper’s son came with extra expectations. He’d worked hard, toed the line, and had still earned his father’s disapproval. He took a deep breath and reined in the bitterness threatening his composure.

Attitude back in line to where it needed to be, body under control, he drew a cloak of calm indifference around himself. Then the door opened, and Adrianne stepped out.

Damp brown tendrils curled around her face and caressed her neck. She was wrapped in a white cotton robe emblazoned with vivid purple flowers. It went all the way to her feet, covering her more than a pair of shorts and tank top would, but she might as well be naked. The thin material stuck to her damp skin, emphasizing her slender curves.

A lump formed in his throat. His mouth went dry. He’d noticed her as a woman—impossible not to—but he was truly seeing her for the first time. Until now, she’d been a means to an end, an interesting, admirable woman, one he was physically attracted to. Sam was a man who enjoyed the female form in all its shapes and sizes. It was akin to appreciating a work of art, a joy to be savored and enjoyed.

This…this was dangerous. She was dangerous.

His eyes flowed over her, pausing to appreciate the way the material crisscrossed over her chest, bringing attention to the soft swells of her breasts. They weren’t overly large but were perfectly shaped. The belt emphasized her slender waist and the gentle flare of her hips below. Even her feet were cute, peeking out from beneath the hem.

She went rigid and took a step back before stopping. “Sam?” The slight quaver brought reality crashing down on his head. While she was trying to pull herself together after facing a horrible reality, he was busy ogling her. If he witnessed another man doing this to her, he’d kick their ass. Too bad he couldn’t reach his own to boot it.

He pushed away from the wall and tucked his hands into his pockets in an attempt to appear as nonthreatening as possible. All his earlier assurances to himself dissolved like sugar in water when faced with the reality of Adrianne. The need to do something, anything, to help her cope, became his mission.

“What can I do to help?”