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  He snapped his eyes open and once again scanned the dim room, lit by a couple of table lamps and the small streams of moonlight filtering in through parted curtains. He doubted the lighting seemed even adequate to those around him—yet he had no problem taking in every minute detail.

  One—a man—lay on his back on the floor, arms and legs spread at odd angles. His throat was slashed…no, not slashed. His throat had been torn out, his light-colored shirt stained with blood and ripped in several places. Wil shuddered. At first glance, he couldn’t make out where the torn shirt ended and the ripped skin began.

  The body of a woman lay nearby, sprawled half on the couch and half on the floor. Her dark hair glistened with what could only be blood, her only visible injury a gash over her right temple. Nausea swept over him and he leaned against the nearest wall, covering his mouth and nose with his hand and drawing a deep breath. He’d skipped one too many meals and slept too few hours in the past couple of days to be handling a murder investigation. Especially one this bloody.

  A thousand questions raced through his mind, but he didn’t have a single answer. What had happened in this apartment? Something about it felt…off. He blew out a frustrated, disgusted breath. He had a sick suspicion that some very, very bad shit had only just begun. Something the little town PD wouldn’t be able to handle on its own.

  “Wil?”

  He heard Michelle’s voice from somewhere behind him and spun to find her standing in the open doorway, a brown grocery sack clutched in her hands. He met her questioning, nervous gaze with a slight shake of his head. “Go home,” he mouthed to her. It didn’t surprise him when she didn’t budge.

  He stalked across the open-concept living room and kitchen area to the door where she stood. “What are you doing here?”

  She looked up at him and blinked a few times, her cheeks red. “I just got home from work. I saw the police cars outside and then this…” She gestured to the house behind him. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt?”

  He centered himself in the door, blocking the crime scene from her eyes as best as he could. “Yeah. It’s…” He locked his gaze with hers, trying to figure out if he spoke to Michelle the woman he had dated on occasion, or Michelle the newspaper reporter who would give anything for a good story. Unable to make the determination, he shook his head. “This is a crime scene, so you’re going to have to leave.”

  He tried to back her out of the room, all thoughts now centered on protecting the integrity of the crime scene. Not that it really mattered—they wouldn’t to find the killer. At least not by human investigative means.

  She smoothed back a few strands of dark, wavy hair as she stared at him. Her red lips parted and her face drained of all color. “Are Nick and Lisa okay? Is someone hurt? Wil, please tell me what’s going on.”

  For a moment, he let himself feel bad for her. She shared a duplex with these people, probably saw them every day. But then he thought back to the last conversation they’d had and reality set in. He hardened his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m working here. Since you’re not, I suggest go home and put your groceries away before they spoil.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him and stood her ground. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. I live next door, Wil. I think I have a right to know.”

  He cursed under his breath. He didn’t need this. He had a job to do, and he didn’t need her getting in the way of him running things by the book—as much as he could with an unusual case like this. “Listen well, because I’m only going to say this once,” he told her, his voice low and menacing. “Two people are dead in here. I’ve got to deal with this. You march your little ass over to your side of the house, go inside, and close and lock the door behind you. If I see you out here one more time tonight, I’m going to lock you up for getting in the way of an investigation. Do I make myself clear enough or do you need me to demonstrate?”

  “Two people are dead? That’s terrible.” She tried to glance around him and look in on the scene, and Wil knew she wouldn’t forget anything. He had a feeling none of her sudden concern had to do with worrying about friends. Michelle planned to write a book. She’d confessed the whole story to him the last time they went out—including how she wasn’t above using people to get the facts she needed for a good story. She’d been looking for the right plot—full of excitement and violence. Things she said the American public ate up. With his luck, she’d probably see this crime as her perfect opportunity.

  Not if he could help it. He took a step toward her. “I mean it, Michelle. Go home or I’m going to have to arrest you.”

  She looked at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “You wouldn’t dare arrest me. I’m worried about my neighbors, who are most likely dead from what you’ve told me. Is that okay with you?”

  He snorted. “Worry? Don’t lie to me, or yourself. You’re just in it for the story, and we both know it. That’s your traditional M.O., using situations—and people—to get what you want.”

  She shot him a frosty glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I know why you were with me, and it wasn’t for who I am as a person. It had a lot more to do with my job, and the resources it would provide you.”

  She had the decency to look affronted, but even that was an act. Her eyes betrayed the coldness inside her. “I would never use you like that.”

  And rats didn’t squeak. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  She lowered her eyelids, gazing toward the ground. “I’m sorry if that’s the impression you got. I’m also sorry I disturbed you at work. I’ll go home now and let you get back to your job.” She glanced back up at him, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Maybe you can stop by later, when you’re done here? This is shocking, and I could really use the company.”

  “Not now, Michelle. In fact, not ever again. Go home, or I’m going to lock you in a squad car until all of this is done.”

  He walked away from her before he said or did something he’d regret later. His blood boiled and his head pounded even worse. What had he ever seen in her? He was getting too old for this. Way too old, and way too tired of the bullshit.

  He pushed the whole situation out of his mind so he could put his focus where it really belonged—the crime scene. He’d have a long road ahead of him trying to solve this case, and he didn’t think he’d be able to go it alone. He’d need to bring in some outside help just to sort through all the clues none of the other officers would pick up. Thankfully, he had an old friend who wouldn’t mind doing him a favor or two, provided he didn’t catch the guy at a bad time.

  Chapter Three

  The telephone startled Royce out of a deep sleep. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on the clock on the nightstand, the only light in the otherwise pitch-black room. Nine p.m. He’d overslept again. Groaning, he rolled over and fumbled for the phone receiver, finally managing to bring it to his ear. “What?” he whispered, rubbing his face with his free hand.

  He heard a familiar voice on the line. “Did I wake you up?”

  “Wil Brogan?” Awakening a little more, he sat up in bed. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yeah, it has.”

  Royce raised an eyebrow at the strained tone of Wil’s voice. “What’s going on?”

  Wil’s harsh breath confirmed Royce’s suspicions. “I need a little advice.”

  As Wil explained about the murders in the small town where he lived, the woman in bed next to Royce stirred. She rubbed her warm, nude body against his side. He nudged her away.

  “You think it’s something other than human?” he asked Wil.

  “I know it is. There are some things here inconsistent with human involvement. It’s a lot to get into over the phone, but I don’t think this thing is going to go away quietly. Can you get away for a few weeks?”

  Royce nearly laughed at the prospect. After spending most of the past eight months drifting from place to place, looking for anything to fight the gnawing
boredom that had long ago settled in his gut, he’d relish any change of scenery. “Yeah. I’d actually thought about coming up for a visit anyway. I just need a day or two to get things in order here.”

  The woman in bed with him whispered his name, her soft breath fluttering across his stomach as she spoke. When he didn’t answer, she put her hand on his bare thigh and squeezed, her nails digging into his skin. He hissed out a breath and shifted away from her, shutting her out of his mind to focus better on Wil’s problem. “You’re still in Vermont, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  The woman—Nancy? Nicole?—chose that moment to tug on his leg hairs and clear her throat. “Royce, would you get off the phone and pay attention to me?”

  “Hold on, Wil.” He placed his hand over the receiver and spoke to her. “Just give me another minute, okay? This is kind of important.”

  He thought she might have huffed and puffed a little, but he didn’t really notice. He turned his attention back to Wil and the situation at hand.

  “Look, I’ve got to get back to work. We’ll talk more about it all when you get here,” Wil told him.

  “See you in a few days.” He reached for her when he disconnected the call, but his hands only grabbed a fistful of blanket. She stood in the middle of his floor, pulling on her clothes with jerking motions. He ran a hand through his tangled hair. “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t even bother to look at him as she started buttoning her shirt. “I’m going somewhere where I’m noticed and appreciated. Where I don’t get ignored.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I appreciated you all morning, and again all afternoon.”

  She stopped dressing and blinked at him. “You appreciated my body. Do you even remember my name?”

  “Uh…”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought.” She zipped her skirt and tucked her shirt into it. “I skipped work for this. The least you can do is remember who I am. Do you know how difficult it was for me to get the day off?”

  Not as difficult as it had been for him to stay awake for most of the day when he should have been sleeping. But she wouldn’t understand that. “Sure I can’t convince you to come back to bed? I’m off the phone for now.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not some little tramp you can use when you want sex.” She shook her head, her bleached-blonde hair fanning around her shoulders. “I deserve to be treated better than this. All women do.”

  Hadn’t she come to him, looking for sex? If anyone should feel used, it should be him. “What did I do? I told you to wait until I was off the phone. If you’d just given me a second—”

  “I gave you more than a second. Was that call really so important that it couldn’t wait?” She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him.

  “Obviously, or I wouldn’t have made you wait.” He shook his head. “Why are we fighting over this? Just come back to bed and I’ll make it up to you.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re so out of touch with reality that you don’t even realize when you hurt people. One of these days, you’re going to meet a woman you really care about, and she’s going to pretend you don’t even exist. Maybe then you’ll learn that there’s more to this life than pleasing yourself.”

  He held back a groan. Not the one-woman-for-every-man speech. He’d heard that too many times in his life to count. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I please you several times today?”

  Her cold expression deflated and her shoulders hunched. “Yes, you did. But that isn’t the point. I overlooked you calling me by another woman’s name in the heat of passion, but if you can’t remember my name even now I don’t know why I bother to keep seeing you.”

  A cold chill ran down the back of his neck. “I called you another woman’s name?”

  “Yes. And just for the record, I’m Noelle, not Merida.” Finished dressing, she opened the door and started to leave. She turned back, looking at him with a mixture of contempt and pity in her gaze. “It’s time to grow up. You can’t go on living like a teenager forever. Goodbye, Royce. Have a nice life.”

  The door shut with a soft click as she walked out. Her high-heeled shoes clacked on the hardwood floors of his apartment, echoing through the halls. He barely noticed the sound, too caught up in what she’d revealed. He’d called her Merida? Fuck. What would he have to do to finally exorcise that woman from his head?

  He thought back to what Wil had told him about the strange occurrences in Caswell and an idea hit him. He might be able to get her out from under his skin and help a friend at the same time. He picked the phone back up and dialed his friend Ellie’s number.

  “Hey, kiddo. It’s good to hear your voice,” he said when she answered the phone.

  “Royce, where have you been? We haven’t heard from you in months.”

  L.A., New York, and Chicago before traveling back to New England and settling in Boston a short time ago—though he hadn’t told many people. He just wanted to be left alone. “I’ve been around. How have you been?”

  “You’d know the answer to that question if you’d bothered to call once in a while.”

  He laughed to himself at Ellie’s mothering attitude. Some things never changed. “Is Eric home?”

  Ellie hesitated before she answered. “Why do you ask?” Royce couldn’t fault her for her response. He and Eric had never pretended to be friends, and he knew Eric didn’t like the idea of Royce keeping in contact with Ellie.

  “I need to get in touch with his sister. She’s not still living near you, is she?”

  “No. She’s down in Florida. Key West. Last time I spoke to her, she sounded so happy there. She bought a house. I don’t think she plans to come back.”

  Good. The further away she stayed the better. He just needed her for one more job, and then they could both get back to their separate lives. “Do either you or Eric have a number where I can reach her? It’s of vital importance, hon.”

  “Business or personal?”

  A little of both. “Strictly business, Ell. I promise.”

  “Okay, fine. Just don’t tell her you got the number from me. Get a piece of paper.”

  Five minutes later, he listened to the phone ring, waiting for the voice that never failed to clench his gut into a painful knot.

  “Hello?” she answered, sounding as drained as he felt. Could it be that she didn’t have the perfect life Ellie had led him to believe?

  “Hey, kitty,” he spoke softly, trying to keep his tone light despite the tingling that ran through his nerves. The sound of her voice caused lust and annoyance to well inside him in equal parts, despite the time and distance between them.

  She stayed silent for so long he thought she’d hung up. “Are you there, Merida?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” She let out a long, loud breath. “What do you want?”

  Couldn’t she at least pretend to be happy to hear from him? “Can’t I call to check up on an old friend?”

  “Of course you can. Why don’t I hang up so you can call a friend and do that?”

  He swallowed hard, his free hand clenching into a fist and the blood pounding in his ears. How did she manage to get his temper up within thirty seconds of saying hello to him? “Very funny.”

  “It’s not meant to be. Unless you have a valid reason for calling, I have more important things to do than sit around chatting with a vampire.”

  His chest tightened at her attitude, making him glad she lived miles away. Nothing with her would ever be easy. He’d be better off breaking all contact—but he couldn’t. No matter how much he tried to forget her, he couldn’t walk away. With any luck, sometime within the next week or so, he’d be able to. “Actually, I do have a reason for calling. I have a proposition for you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He smiled as he regained the upper hand in the conversation. “A business proposition, kitty. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

  His stomach clenched
tighter as he said the words. He’d like to bunch her panties. Right before he tore them off her body. He moved the phone away from his mouth and took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes against the fresh onslaught of desire. Forget the control he’d just gained. Around her, he had none. He hated it, and relished it at the same time.

  Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “Business, huh? Start talking.”

  He explained all Wil had told him. She remained quiet until he finished, but he knew she wouldn’t keep her doubts and questions to herself for long.

  She didn’t disappoint. “What makes you think it has to do with something other than humans? Humans kill. All the time, Royce. It doesn’t sound like such a strange crime to me.”

  “Except that there are some things that don’t fit, like a burnt scent in the room with no evidence of fire.”

  She didn’t respond at first and he heard tapping on the other end of the line. He smiled as he imagined her drumming those long nails on the telephone receiver. “This isn’t some kind of twisted ploy to get me into bed, is it?” she asked, her tone exasperated.

  He steeled himself against the fierce jolt of lust thinking about her in his bed caused, as well as the anger at her presumptions. “A little full of yourself? We’ve already been that route. It didn’t work. Or do you not remember?”

  “Oh, I definitely remember.” He heard her light laugh and wondered exactly what about their encounter she remembered. “So this is just about work, huh? Okay, then. I’ll come see what’s going on. I’m not promising I won’t kill you when I find out it’s nothing.”

  Pride wouldn’t let him thank her, so he took the defensive approach instead. “It’s not nothing. Believe me, kitty, I never would have called you if I didn’t think this was something that would interest you. Don’t bother showing up if you’re just going to be a pain in the ass about it.”