Marked for Harvest

Elena Cain clutched her balled-up clothes and tiptoed across the hardwood floor. Liam, the handsome guitarist she’d met the previous night, was splayed on his stomach on the creaky bed in the corner, a threadbare gray blanket thrown across his legs. Despite the enormous quantity of tequila they’d consumed, he’d brought her to climax several times before collapsing into a drunken stupor.

So, this is my life now. An endless string of one-night stands.

She’d had a chance at love, once. Before life had gotten in the way. She remembered fixing her gaze on the road until her eyes burned from strain, bouncing her knee until her bladder ached. Passing gas station after gas station until the car sputtered to a stop three miles outside Chicago city limits.

Abandoning the only man who had ever truly cared about her.

Sebastian.

She’d never stopped dreaming of him. When times got tough, it was memories of their time together she fell back on to remind herself that life was worth living.

She found a relatively clean patch of floor and shrugged on her bra and panties, keeping one eye on the man in the bed. Although she had seen no ink on him during their lovemaking, she’d been spectacularly drunk.

Liam grunted and flipped over, revealing a neon pink pig tattooed on his stomach. She froze, gaze fixed on the spot, shoulders tensed, but the pig only stared for several long seconds before trotting down the man’s torso and vanishing beneath the blanket.

She hastily shimmied into her tight-fitting black dress, twisted her long black hair into a ponytail, and was digging through a pile of crumpled T-shirts on the floor, looking for her wallet, when the pins-and-needles sensation started in her right hand. She checked her palm, and there it was—pink body, beady black eyes, curled tail, and all.

Fine. But don’t try anything.

The pig blinked as if to protest its innocence.

“Leaving so soon?” Liam asked. He had thrown the blanket off his legs and rolled to face her.

She clenched her hand reflexively before relaxing it. It wasn’t as if he could see the pig, anyway.

“Thanks, but I have to get home,” she said. As nice as their time together had been, she didn’t want to pick up any more shades. Although mostly harmless, each was a drain on her already slim reserves.

She hurried out of the apartment, closing the door softly. When she turned, an old woman stood at the end of the hallway. Her shock white hair was tied in a severe bun, her wrinkled hands clutched an ebony cane, and her eyes were pools of black tar. She grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharpened teeth.

“Hello, dearest,” the woman said in a grating, masculine voice.

Elena shuffled backward until she hit a wall, then searched for the elevator button and slammed her index finger on it repeatedly.

“Such a clever girl,” the old woman said. “Doubling back on your trail like that. But now that we’re reacquainted,” the woman lurched forward, but the door to 205 opened, and a tall man wearing a sleek black raincoat stepped out. When he closed the door, the old woman was gone.

Elena abandoned the elevator and took the stairs to the main floor. When she entered the foyer, chest heaving, there was a young boy with blonde curls and pitch-black eyes standing in her path.

“Running away already?” the shade asked through the boy’s mouth. “So rude. At least give me a taste.”

“Leave me alone.”

The tickling in her hands returned, accompanied by pressure filling her head like an inflating balloon. She held her breath and mentally pushed back on the encroaching presence, but alcohol and lack of sleep had worn her defenses thin. With a sound like tearing paper, the shade thrust her consciousness into the dark void. She could still see the marble floors and silver elevator doors of the entryway, but it was hazy, like looking through a pane of frosted glass.

The shade possessing her body dug through her pockets, found her phone, and used her fingerprint to unlock the device. It dialed a number, then the phone rang three times before a young female voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, Wendy,” the shade said through her mouth. “You thought you’d never hear from me again, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” The voice warbled.

“I just wanted you to know I haven’t forgotten you,” the shade said. “We’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

“T-this isn’t funny,” the voice sobbed. “Don’t call me again!”

The line disconnected.

The shade’s rage washed over Elena. It made her dizzy, like wearing someone else’s glasses. She thrashed against the restraints, but the shade was too strong, and her world dissolved.

He closed his gloved hands tightly around the whore’s neck, silencing her incessant squawking. Her once-blonde hair was blackened with soot and mud, her right eye swollen shut. Blood trickled from her nose and dripped onto his wrist.

She squirmed beneath him, kicking with her bare feet and thrashing from side to side, but he held on tight, adjusting his grip until he found the perfect pressure to keep her gasping without knocking her out.

Her jerking movements weakened and then stilled.

Elena twisted out of the memory, unwilling to experience any more. How had the bastard found her so quickly? She’d been careful, changing her appearance, zigzagging across the state, and keeping a low profile. But it didn’t seem to matter how far or how fast she ran. The Harvester always caught up with her.

Cackling laughter echoed in her ears, then the pressure in her head deflated, and she was sucked back into her body in the now-empty foyer. Her rubbery legs buckled, and she braced herself against the wall. When her arms had stopped trembling, she checked her hand and felt a twinge of remorse that the pig was gone.

That was what made the Harvester so dangerous. It jumped between hosts, consuming shades and growing ever more powerful. Eventually, it would tire of their game, and then she would be royally screwed.

She pushed away from the wall. The important thing was to get back to her apartment before another shade took advantage of her weakened state. She exited the building and fast-walked ten blocks until she was back within the safety of her apartment. Then she leaned against the door and looked at a framed photo on the wall. In the picture, a tall woman with dark hair smiled and waved at the camera from atop an oversized picnic chair.

How did you do this for so long, mom? How did you find the strength to keep fighting?

Her mother’s soft voice trickled into her mind, humming a familiar melody. A powerful wave of homesickness washed over her.

Thump. Something heavy hit the door, rattling the security chain.

Thump. She hooked a chair from the hall with the tip of her shoe, edging it closer.

Thump. The chair clattered to the ground. She cursed and let go of the door for a split second to grab the chair and fit it against the handle. The door rattled once more, then stilled.

She resisted the urge to scream. Instead, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number with shaking fingers.

A voice thick with sleep answered. “Hello?”

Elena’s shoulders relaxed. “Hey, Aunt Martha, it’s me.”

“Hello, dear! How are you?”

“I’ve, uh, I’ve been better.”

A long squeal, like nails scraping against glass.

Thump The chair lodged under the door shifted but held.

Her aunt’s voice rose. “What was that?”

Elena’s mouth dried. She swallowed, but it didn’t help. Pressure built at the back of her eyes as she slid down the wall. “It’s found me.”

“Already?” A gusty exhale. “You can’t keep running, dear. Come home. Let us help you.”

“No,” Elena said quickly. “Anything but that.”

After leaving Stillwood, she’d spent several years living with her aunt, if such a life could even be called living. Unlike her mother, Aunt Martha held the belief that the only way for the gifted women of their bloodline to remain safe was to sequester themselves from the outside world.

Might as well join a convent.

It hadn’t been all bad, of course. She had occupied those long, boring years scouring her aunt’s impressive collection of occult tomes, learning about her gift, and searching for a way to defeat the monster that had taken her mother.

“There must be something else,” Elena said. “Can you check the archives? Maybe I missed something.”

“Well, I suppose—”

The line disconnected.

Elena looked at her phone, then dialed again, but it only rang and rang without connecting. Eventually, she gave up and shoved her phone back into her pocket.

The sound in the hallway had stopped, at least.

She buried her head in her arms and wriggled her fingers and toes to chase away the numbness settling on her like a chilly blanket. She confirmed the chair was still in place, rubbed away her tears, stripped off her dusty clothes, and dumped them in a hamper. When she was in the shower, with the water coursing down her body, the tension of the day faded away. She stood in the stream until the hot water ran out, then wrapped a towel around her body and returned to the kitchen, intent on trying her aunt’s number again. Even though she refused to accept her aunt’s protection, she needed help. Her best bet to lose the Harvester was to leave town immediately, which meant she needed money.

The line connected, and a robotic voice said, “The number you are calling is out of service.”

I don’t have time for this.

It wouldn’t take long for the Harvester to regroup, and she had to be out of town before that happened. She scrolled through her contacts, tapped a name, then waited as the phone rang.

“Smythe and Ernest,” a cheerful woman said.

“Hi, I’m a client of David Smythe,” Elena said. “I need to talk to him.” She paused, then added, “It’s important.”

“Hold please.”

“Wait,” Elena said, but it was too late. A gentle melody played on her speaker. Three soothing songs later, the line clicked, and a male voice spoke. “Hello?”

“David, hi, it’s me.” She shot a glance at the door. “I need your help again.”

A sigh from the other end. “Elena, I’m not your piggy bank. Now, if are interested in liquidating assets…”

She gritted her teeth. “That’s your angle, is it?”

There was one thing her mother had left her that could help. As much as she had been avoiding returning to Stillwood, it wasn’t as if she had any other choice.

I’m sorry, mom.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll sell the damn house.”

“I’ll leave the keys in the mailbox,” David said. “The place is in decent shape. A local real estate agent checks on it once a week.”

She said goodbye, hung up, then threw open the hallway closet and grabbed the bag inside. Then with a final, longing glance at her cozy apartment, she slid the window open to the back lane and stepped onto the grated metal fire escape.

She was halfway down when glass shattered above her, followed by the tinkling sound of shards falling onto metal. She looked up and through the grating spotted a hulking, human-like shape crawling out her window.

She grasped the edge of the railing and vaulted over. She landed waist deep in a pile of garbage, kicked herself free, and shot out of the alley as fast as her legs could carry her.

****

Elena slammed the door of her car and shielded her eyes with her fingers. The old, craftsman-style house perched at the top of a small ridge, draped with green vines as if born from the earth.

Her childhood home and the only thing of value she had left.

Gravel crushed underfoot as she approached the steps curving up the hill, carved into the earth, set with wooden logs at even intervals like keys of a great piano. She walked with care, her feet sliding on the weather-worn ground. After Chloe broke her arm one winter, her mother had declared the steps off-limits.

It hadn’t stopped the girls.

She treasured the memories of taking steps two at a time, laughing as she or Chloe fell and tumbled to rest, breathless, at the base of the hill.

And then there was Sebastian.

The thought of seeing him again sent little waves of pleasure rippling up from her stomach.

Get over it. He probably moved away years ago.

She arrived at the top of the hill and winced at the state of the building. Decent shape, David had said. The man was an eternal optimist. Gaps in stucco showed plastic sheeting beaded with moisture. Vines blanketed the house. Someone had boarded up two smashed-in windows on the main floor with plywood.

It was worse than she’d expected but better than she’d feared.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time or money to invest in repairs. At least the house was worth far less than the land.

It’ll be enough. It has to be enough.

Selling the house would be hard, like giving up a piece of her past, but she had no choice. She had to get back on the road before the Harvester found her.

Tension squeezed around her like a vice, forcing her to take shallow breaths. She stared at the steps leading to the front entrance, then crouched. The undersides were rotten. She walked around the porch and vaulted over the railing in a single smooth motion.

She smiled. “Still got it.”

A crow fluttered across her path and landed on the railing. It squawked at her.

“What do you want?” She stuck out her tongue.

The bird nodded its head and fluffed its feathers.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve had your run of the place, but that ends now.”

She stepped over another rotted board and dug the keys from her pocket, fanning them in her hand. Front door, back door, shed. Two copies of each. David had labeled them, but the labels had peeled off in her pocket, leaving her with a half-dozen options.

She selected a key at random and placed her palm on the door.

It swung open.

“Hello?” she called.

She walked inside, hesitated, then locked the door behind her. Less for security and more to avoid unannounced visitors. She’d left her car as close to the trees as she could so it wouldn’t be seen from the street, but there was always the risk a neighbor would spot it and stop by to say hello.

A soft thud came from inside the house. Scenarios flitted through her mind, none of them good. She palmed the keys between her fingers like claws and tucked her fist behind her back.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

When there was no response, she took a cautious step forward.

Another sound, like a moan. She raised her foot, then stepped down on the same spot. The wood groaned as it flexed. She laughed at her own skittishness. Next, she’d be jumping at shadows.

She avoided the hallway and the closet that still gave her nightmares and tossed her keys on the island countertop. She remembered her mother dressed in overalls, patching a hole she had made in the wall after attempting to play baseball indoors. A stubborn woman with a bright smile before the shades had corrupted her beyond recognition.

While her heart wallowed in the past, her traitorous mind was already three steps ahead. Furniture could go to O’Connor’s Auction House, two towns over. For a hefty commission, he’d be willing to send a truck to pick everything up. Artwork would go into storage as its value was sentimental. She’d need boxes and garbage bags to gather clothing and personal possessions to donate to local charities.

As soon as she found a real estate agent to handle the sale and signed whatever forms they required, she’d be back on the road. It would mean living lean for a while, but she was used to that.

Then a flash of movement drew her gaze to the back of the house, where a sliding glass door exited out to the deck.

She walked closer and made out a shape bobbing in the rippling water of the in-ground pool.

She grasped at the door frame.

A woman in an apricot-colored sundress floated face-down in the water, hair fanned about her like a shroud.

Elena forced the air out of her lungs. It couldn’t be a body. There had to be some other explanation. She slid the door open, and the cool fall air whipped her hair, bringing with it the distinctive smell of decay.

Her knees wobbled.

Who was she? What was she doing here?

A writhing shape faded into view on the woman’s bare shoulders, large and yellow, a snake. She’d seen another like it in the flesh years ago, visiting a zoo with her mother. A friendly keeper had asked if she’d wanted to take a picture with a boa constrictor, and she’d agreed, hanging onto her mother’s skirts. The man had loaded the snake onto her shoulders, where it had hung like a dead weight, its chubby body smooth despite the scales.

Her neck tingled, and then, with a sound like rushing water, the snake faded from the woman’s shoulders. A sharp pinch told her the shade had materialized on her chest. She peeked beneath her shirt to see a slitted snout staring up at her. The snake’s mottled yellow and white body was curled into a heap with only the tip of its triangular-shaped head peeking out from the folds.

The snake flicked its tongue at her. Its memories itched at the back of her mind, but as she mentally reached for them, they squirmed away. She tried again, stretching herself thin, hoping to feel some flicker of intelligence, and found a wisp, the last remnants of the soul’s consciousness. She grasped onto it and was catapulted into a memory.

“Please! No!”

Hands clasped like iron bands around her neck and pushed her face-first into the pool. The murky water flooded her mouth and burned in her lungs. She fought, kicking against her assailant, but the cold sapped her strength and burned her eyes.

Through the rippling water, her attacker grinned.

The memory dissolved like sand blowing in the wind, and Elena gasped with recognition. She touched the snake’s head with her fingers and sniffed.

“I’m so sorry, Chloe.”

She rubbed away the tears on her cheeks and was about to cross the deck when she heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock.

She closed the sliding door with a soft click and crouched under the kitchen window, back pressed to the stucco exterior of the house.

Be quiet. Don’t let them know you’re here.

“Hello?” A man’s voice, low and rumbling.

Footsteps approached, then stilled.

She inched up and peeked through the window. The man’s back was to her. He was tall, with tawny brown hair and deeply tanned skin. He crossed his arms, his shirt tight enough to show off wide shoulders and a narrow waist.

She focused on a splash of emerald on the man’s neck. It was another shade, a green tree python. She caught only glimpses of it coiled around the man’s shoulders beneath his shirt like the branch of a large tree.

Her fingers were numb because they were clenched so hard.

I have to get out of here.

She looked around the backyard. The cultivated landscaping of her childhood was a chaos of overgrown plants and weeds. She could sprint for the fence, but the windows in the kitchen gave a clear view of that path.

Maybe if she waited, he would leave?

The man turned, and Elena’s heart fluttered. He was stunning, with long, dark eyelashes and high cheekbones dusted with stubble. His wide lips thinned as he searched the room, heavy eyebrows drawn close together. It had been years since she’d seen him last, but she recognized him at once, and his name left her lips before she could claw it back.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian Castillo couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing on the deck was the woman who had shattered his heart into a thousand pieces.

Her face was pinched, her cheeks flushed with color, her lips drawn thin. Her once unmanageable, frizzy brown hair fell down her back in a smooth waterfall of inky black.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, although what he really wanted was to shove his hands into her lush hair, draw her close, and kiss her senseless. Years spent rooting all traces of affection from his heart, and with a single glance, she brought it all rushing back.

Focus. You’re here for a reason.

His sister had left a cryptic note on his windshield asking to meet at the house, and he had to find her and stop her before she did something she would regret.

Elena glanced to the side, and he followed her gaze to the pool.

To the body floating in the pool.

“Chloe!”

He burst into movement, sprinting across the deck and descending the stairs three steps at a time. His vision narrowed to the task at hand. He missed the first paving stone and slipped on the gravel that made up the walkway from the deck to the pool. He hit the ground hard, then scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pebbles embedded in his palms.

“I’m coming, Chloe. Hang on!” His voice broke on a sob.

So close now. Only a few more steps.

He stopped at the edge of the pool and dove into the icy water. The resulting wave pushed Chloe out of his grasp. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to the surface.

That’s when the smell hit him. A powerful stench that burned the last ounce of hope from his heart.

He turned her over and his mouth filled with a sick-sour tang at how wrong she looked. Her eyes were cloudy, her skin had a blue cast, and her makeup was smeared like she’d been crying. She stared up at him in unblinking accusation as if to say, why didn’t you help me? Where were you when I needed you?

His throat tightened. He pushed a lock of hair from his sister’s face and cupped her frozen cheek in his hand.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Her dead body provided no answers.

He hugged her, then took a staggering breath and tugged her to the edge of the pool, where Elena waited. When she saw Chloe’s face, she moaned and pressed her fists to her face.

“Help me get her out of here,” he said.

They grasped Chloe’s arms and legs and lifted her onto the pavement.

Seeing her on the ground was almost worse. She was covered in leaves and flecks of algae, and her dress was hiked up past her knees. He tugged the garment back into place, covering a jagged scar on her thigh.

He remembered the day she got it with startling clarity. He’d left the house after an argument with his parents to go to his usual smoking spot at the base of an old deer stand, deep in the woods. Stewing with anger at whatever petty grievance he had with his mother, he failed to notice Chloe following him. She scrambled up the rickety ladder, then laughed at his attempts to get her to come down. She didn’t see the crack forming in the log beneath her legs. He begged her to listen, but she only laughed harder. Then the wood had cleaved apart, sending her tumbling to the ground.

He could still hear her scream.

You couldn’t save her then, either.

“Oh, God,” Elena whispered. She fell to her knees on the concrete beside Chloe’s head and lifted the wet hair from her neck to reveal four lines of reddish-brown marks.

Until that moment, his mind had been fixed into the pattern of a tragic accident. Chloe had never been good with water. He’d tried to convince her to learn to swim so many times, but she’d always pushed it off. But when he saw the bruises, the truth of what had really happened bore down on him like a freight train. He slammed his closed fist down on the concrete, grunting as his skin split at the contact.

It wasn’t an accident. Someone did this to her.

“What do we do?” Elena clasped her hands together. “We call someone. Right? We call the cops?”

Instead of answering, Sebastian retrieved his phone from his damp pants, grateful for the waterproof case, and dialed 911.

“Stillwood police station,” a female voice answered. “How may I direct your call?”

He stared down at his little sister through a haze of unshed tears. He’d never see her walk down the aisle or hold a niece or nephew in his arms. His whole life had revolved around family. First as a young adult, taking care of his grief-stricken parents until they sickened and died. Then a seamless transition to watching out for his sister, gently guiding her through her college years. Even as an adult, she’d needed him. Only a few weeks earlier he’d had to undo the damage of a professional swindler who had wrapped her up in so many layers of fantasy she hadn’t even realized how much of her savings she’d given away. He still had nightmares about that.

What am I going to do now?

Through the phone, there was a creak of a chair reclining. “Hello?”

“It’s me, Sandra,” he said, finally. “I need you to send someone up to the Cain house. It’s Chloe. S-he,” he cleared his throat. “There’s been an incident.”

He answered Sandra’s litany of questions, then said goodbye and hit disconnect.

Elena touched his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

He placed his hand over hers and squeezed. As strange as it was to be seeing her again after so long, her presence was soothing, like a balm on his scarred heart.

But what is she doing here? A suspicious part of his mind whispered.

He released her fingers and schooled his face into a stony mask before facing her. “Tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

Her expression twisted in a look of abject horror. “How can you even ask that? She was like family to me.”

He didn’t stop to think if it was a good idea. He just said the first words that popped into his mind. “That didn’t stop your mother.”

She turned her back, and the sniffing that followed made him want to kick himself.

She’s back for ten minutes, and already you’re pushing her away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was out of line.”

“It’s fine,” she replied. Then she crouched next to Chloe’s body. “What do you think she was doing here?”

He sighed. “She loved this house. She said she could still feel Edward here.”

His chest ached as he recalled his last conversation with his sister. Someone at the station had given her access to Edward’s file. He’d begged her to let go of the past, and instead, she’d shoved autopsy photographs in his face. Things had been tense between them ever since.

You’ll never get to apologize. She’s dead, and it’s all your fault.

Elena touched his arm, sympathy shining from her eyes. “Are you okay?”

He slammed the door on his emotions. “I’m fine.”

The wail of a siren cut through the biting wind, making them both jump.

“That was fast,” she said, and he mumbled his agreement. The station was miles away.

They walked around the side of the house as a patrol car barreled down the driveway, lights flashing, throwing up a cloud of dust. It screeched to a stop, and a uniformed officer stepped out. He spotted them and raised a hand in salute.

Sebastian copied the gesture, but Elena did not. She swayed back and forth, inches from the edge of the hill. That’s when it hit him. It was too late to save his sister, but there was still someone he had to protect. He wrapped a hand around her elbow and ushered her back to the house. Once they were inside, she darted down a hallway, then returned with a heaping pile of towels, which she dropped in front of him.

He toweled himself mostly dry, then sat across from her at the small table. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

She turned her head toward the window. “I’m not staying. I’m just here to sell the house.”

And sever the only thing left connecting her to Stillwood.

“Why?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. “People have moved on. It’s been a long time since—” Memories flashed back. Chloe screaming, sirens blaring, his parents sobbing on the couch.

She scowled. “You can say it. Since my mother killed your brother.”

Silence fell between them until it was broken by the sound of splintering wood at the front of the house. He jogged to the front door and opened it.

Standing with his foot clean through a rotten board was the one person he had hoped not to see.

Why did it have to be Roth?

Watery gray eyes passed over Sebastian and focused over his shoulder. The man tugged free, stepped around Sebastian, and stuck out a hand.

“Ma’am. I’m Detective Roth. Stillwood Police Department.”

Elena hesitated, then accepted the handshake. “Elena Cain.”

Sebastian ground his molars together at the blatant dismissal. “Why did they send you?”

Roth shot him a dark look. “I was in the area. Dispatch said there’s a body?”

Sebastian gestured to the door. “Near the pool. Come on.”

Roth straightened his uniform, then followed them through the house and out the deck to the pool.

So, it began. What were they doing before finding the body? Had they seen anyone else? The questions were achingly familiar, drawing Sebastian back to the night the cops had questioned him at the station about his brother.

When he finished, Roth crouched down and peered at Chloe’s neck.

“She was strangled, wasn’t she?” Elena gulped. “Those bruises, they’re finger marks.”

“Might be,” Roth said as he jotted down notes. “Wouldn’t be the first.” He flipped his notebook closed and stood. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Castillo. Truly, I am. But I need you both to come with me to the station so we can record your statements.”

“No!” Elena burst out. Then her cheeks reddened. “I mean, why? Can’t you take our statements here?”

Roth shook his head. “Until the coroner determines the cause of death, I have to consider this a homicide.”

Sebastian watched the rise and fall of Elena’s chest. Was it something about cops? She looked like a rabbit staring down the end of a rifle.

“We can meet you at the station, Roth,” Sebastian said. “I’m sure you have things to do here.”

Roth scowled. “And have you leave town the minute I look away? I wasn’t born yesterday, Castillo.”

Elena clutched his arm and whispered in his ear, “Please, Bast. There’s something about that man. I don’t want to get in a car with him.” Her eyes were so wide he could see the whites all the way around her pupils.

Is that what Chloe looked like at the end?

He imagined his sister looking into the face of the man who had killed her. Had she begged for her life? Had she called out his name in the end?

Did you blame me for not being there for you, sister?

His heart ached at the thought, and he curled his arms protectively around Elena, pulled her into his chest, tucked her head into his shoulder. “I won’t make you go with him,” he murmured into his hair. He squeezed her tight and glared at the detective. “We wouldn’t get five minutes out of town before someone reported us, Roth, and you know it. Don’t make me call the sheriff.”

Roth’s glower darkened, but he nodded. “Fine. If you insist. I need to wait for the coroner, anyway. Go right to the station. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Then Roth took out his radio and walked away.

“Thank you,” Elena said, winding her arms around his back. She squeezed once before putting her palms on his chest and pressing lightly. He dropped his arms to his side, even as he longed to pull her close so he could breathe in the scent of her hair, feel her body snug against his.

“Ms. Cain!” Roth shouted.

Sebastian jerked his neck to the side. “What now?”

“She has to leave her car until it’s been processed.”

Elena looked crestfallen. “I see.” She removed her keys from her pocket, but they slipped out of her shaking fingers and landed with a splat on the wet ground. Sebastian picked them up, shook off the mud, then handed them back.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll drive.”