Page 5

FOUR

Erin was awakened by the sound of someone knocking on the door downstairs. She sat up in bed, wondering where she was and who wanted inside her apartment. It took a few seconds for her to remember that she was in a cabin in the Smoky Mountains and that Kaely would be here today. Was she early? Erin jumped out of bed and grabbed her denim jacket. She’d taken the bedroom at the top of the stairs. It was comfortable and nicely decorated. The room had a wood ceiling with exposed beams and white shiplap walls. An antique chandelier was positioned over the queen-sized bed with an off-white tufted headboard, a sky-blue comforter, and a white ruffled bed skirt. Across from the bed was a white brick fireplace with a large mantle. A blue overstuffed chair with a matching ottoman sat in the corner. It was a lovely room, and the bed was so soft, Erin felt as if she’d melted into it.

She’d wanted to light a fire last night but had decided to wait until tonight. By the time she was ready for bed, all she’d wanted was sleep. Thankfully, the nightmares had stayed away, although she was always aware that they lurked in the dark recesses of her mind, ready to attack her at their own pleasure.

She glanced at the antique clock on the mantel. It was almost seven. Now that she was a little more awake, she realized it couldn’t be Kaely. She would have called if she was coming this early.

As Erin made her way down the stairs, she was greeted by another round of very insistent knocks. She walked slowly toward the large wooden door that led to the porch and peered out through the peephole. There was a man standing there. She’d noticed an intercom next to the door last night and pressed the button.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“Miss Delaney, my name is Adrian Nightengale. I’m the police chief in Sanctuary. I’d like to talk to you.”

“Would you show me your badge please?” If he couldn’t produce one, she intended to dial 911. She tightened her grip on the phone she’d automatically grabbed before coming down the stairs.

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather wallet. He opened it and then held it up in front of the peep hole. Sure enough, it was a badge. Erin slipped her phone into her pocket. She pressed the intercom button again.

“Is something wrong, Chief?” she asked.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “But I need your help. Could I come in, please?”

Although his badge looked genuine, Erin felt a stab of apprehension. Research for her book had required her to explore the minds of several serial killers. There were some who’d impersonated police officers to lure unsuspecting women to their deaths. Kenneth Bianchi and his cousin, Angelo Buono, came to mind. Together they’d raped and killed ten women, but the number could be higher. There were some murders that investigators felt could have been committed by one or both of them, but they were never able to get indictments due to a lack of evidence.

Erin took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather come out there and talk to you,” she said. “Will you step back?”

“Of course. No problem.”

At that moment, Erin wished she’d grabbed her gun before answering the door, but it was upstairs, still locked in the metal box she used to store it. It wasn’t loaded, she kept her clips somewhere else, making it legal for her to transport it.

She really was being paranoid, but she couldn’t help it. The onslaught of letters, emails, and people on social media who seemed abnormally interested in her since the book had released made her wary. Some of the messages were rather disturbing. She realized taking her gun out of the locked box would keep her safer from the dangers that might be out there in the world, but she wasn’t certain it would keep her safe from herself.

Erin fought a feeling of panic that made her feel nauseated. Her throat burned, and she swallowed the acrid bile that tried to push its way into her mouth. Fear had become her constant companion—one that she detested. She used to be so brave. Where was that woman?

Just then she heard a car pull into the driveway. She moved back the drape that hung next to the front door. A patrol car. Two officers got out and hurried up to the porch. She listened as they talked to the man standing there. She clearly heard them call him chief. As they turned to leave, she fi nally opened the door, her body trembling with the effort. This man was clearly who he said he was. He moved back a few feet as she took a deep breath and stepped out onto the porch.

Chief Adrian Nightengale looked too young to be a police chief. His thick dark hair was combed back from his face and curled around his neck. He sported a light mustache and beard, and his thick eyebrows sat over hazel eyes that peered deeply into hers. She felt as if he were seeing too much—more than she wanted revealed. It was almost too personal. Too intrusive. Even though she wasn’t happy about being bothered, she took a quick breath. He actually looked remarkably like a character in her book. A police detective she’d named Jake Mallory. How could Jake be standing here in front of her?

Erin suddenly felt a little insecure in her sweats, t-shirt, and jacket. Her hand slipped up to check her hair. Although she wore her light blonde hair short in what some people would call a “messy style,” there was a difference between purposely messy and just plain messy. The word bedhead came to mind.

She quickly ran her hand through her hair and then dropped her arm. She’d removed her makeup last night and knew her scar was visible. She felt the urge to cover it with her hand, but that would call even more attention to it. Why was she feeling vulnerable? This man had interrupted her sleep. He was the one who should feel uncomfortable. She straightened her shoulders, frowned, and said, “What can I do for you, Chief?”

“I heard you were staying here, Miss Delaney. I read your book.”

“You woke me up this early to tell me you liked my book, Chief? Really?” Her discomfort quickly turned to irritation. She’d come to this place to get away from people. “This is highly inappropriate.”

The chief frowned. “No, Miss Delaney. I didn’t come here because I liked your book. I don’t believe I said that. I’m here because your knowledge of crime scenes was spot on. Very impressive. Something has happened, and I’d appreciate your help. This situation is... unusual for us, and I’m afraid we might miss something important.”

Erin was so surprised she opened her mouth but couldn’t find the right words to respond to his ridiculous statement. Finally, she said, “Chief Nightengale, I’m an author, not a police officer anymore, and certainly not a criminalist. You’re asking the wrong person for help.”

“We’re a small department,” the chief said. “You were a police officer, and you’ve done a lot of research for your book. I realize that this seems like a strange request, but I need you, Miss Delaney. You see, a young woman has been murdered.”