Truth is in the Darkness (Paynes Creek Thriller Book 2) Page 17

  “Oh, I think you know her better than you think.”

  I looked over at him. Perhaps I had misjudged him, even if it had only been for a second. “Thank you for being her friend. That can’t be easy, considering how you feel.”

  “It’s not easy. And she’s not easy to walk away from.”

  “No, she’s not.” I turned and pulled my wallet out of my pocket.

  Caine caught my eye and waved a hand. “No charge.”

  I waved back. “Thanks, man.”

  Facing Lil again, I thought to myself: I’m either about to get a black eye, or she’ll be too drunk to fight me.

  I marched over to the table. “Let’s go, Lil.”

  She looked across the booth at Jake and Bryn. “Did the two of you hear something?” She attempted to keep a straight face, but then she and Bryn both let out the biggest laugh.

  I just waited patiently.

  When her laughter died down, she looked up at me. “So now you want something from me?”

  “I always have. Stand up and I’ll show you.”

  She and Bryn traded curious glances. When she managed to find my eyes again, I wasn’t sure how many of me she saw. She was going to regret this so much in the morning.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll play.”

  With great effort, she moved to slide out of the booth. I held out a hand. She grabbed it, and when she managed to put her weight on both feet, she swayed, prompting me to steady her.

  “Whoa.” She giggled. “I’m a little off balance.”

  “No, sister, you’re drunk,” Bryn said.

  She looked at Bryn with the most serious of faces. “I’m not your sister,” she slurred.

  Bryn stretched her arm across the table and laid her head on it.

  Jake sighed. “I guess it’s time I got this one home, too.” But then something caught his eye behind me. “Uh-oh. This ought to be good.”

  I turned to see Linda walking our way, carrying a beer. “Linda,” I said, “now is not a good time.”

  “I just came over to tell my dearest daughter that I’m going to press charges against her. She has no right to assault me. I’m lucky my finger’s not broken.”

  Lil suddenly straightened and lunged toward Linda. I caught her easily in my arms. “You’re lucky I didn’t mess your face up!” Lil spat. “Then you’d actually have a reason to go to the cops!” She slurred every word.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “I think it’s time we leave.” I slid an arm around Lil and urged her to walk.

  “I don’t need your help.” She tried to push me away, but when she stumbled, she grabbed onto my arm again. “Okay, maybe a little. Ordering me a Lyft would be great.”

  I yelled over my shoulder at Jake. “Since you seemed all too happy to buy drinks for Lil and Bryn, you can pick up the check.”

  “For this much entertainment? Happy to,” he yelled back with a laugh.

  Linda muttered several profanities as we passed, but I ignored her. Her threats were empty anyway. There wasn’t a policeman in this town who would listen to her accusations of assault.

  By the time we reached the door, Lil was leaning most of her weight into my arm, and her eyes were barely open. And then she was dead weight, passing out in my arms.

  “Perfect,” I muttered, then I realized this was actually much easier. I scooped her up, carried her to my SUV, and buckled her into the passenger seat. “Please don’t throw up,” I said, though I knew she couldn’t hear me.

  Before I pulled out of Boone’s and headed for home, I looked over once more at this blond beauty who was leaning her face against the cool glass, groaning. I had only seen her drink this much one other time in our lives.

  I brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “I’m going to make you feel safe again, Lil. I promise.”

  I managed to carry Lil to my bedroom and lay her gently on my bed. Knowing she was going to feel like a semi-trailer had hit her in the morning, I tried to make her as comfortable as possible. I unbuttoned her jeans and slowly pulled them off, then covered her with the cool sheet and comforter.

  She rolled toward me, moaning as she did, sending instant desire and radiating heat straight through me. “Coop,” she muttered, reaching a manicured hand toward mine. So she wasn’t entirely passed out.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her face. She fell back onto her back, her eyes tiny slits. I traced the line of hair framing her face. “Why didn’t you just call me and tell me you were having trouble in New York?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t,” she said. “It’s been too long.”

  “You must know that no amount of time or circumstances would have kept me from helping you.”

  A tear slid from her eye, down her temple, and into her hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin your life again. Or Gram’s.” She rolled onto her side and buried her face into the pillow for several seconds. Her body shook.

  It broke my heart to see her this upset. She and I would be having a long, honest conversation once the alcohol was flushed from her system.

  When she looked at me again, she said, “Hold me tonight.”

  I thought about what holding her would mean to me—and how I would feel when, in the light of day, she realized it had been a mistake. Just having her in my bed a second night in a row, and knowing it wasn’t for the reasons I wanted, was enough to drive me crazy.

  “It will be like old times,” she said. A lazy smile lifted her lips. “We can pretend we’re teenagers again.” Her voice trailed off even as she said the words. She closed her eyes and seemed to doze.

  There was no question that Lily Thomas stirred a desire in me that I had long suppressed. But I was also angry that she’d shut me out of her life. And I didn’t want that to happen ever again.

  I leaned down and brushed my lips across hers. She didn’t react, and I knew she had fallen asleep. “I don’t want to pretend anymore, Lil.” I smoothed her hair back and studied the lines of her face—her high cheekbones, the curve of her nose, her perfect lips. I knew she wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but I couldn’t let another day go by without telling her. “I’m not letting you go back to New York. I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to show you that we’re meant to be together. Here in Paynes Creek. In this house.”

  I looked around the room, and I realized for the first time that I had decorated this room in Lil’s favorite shade of blue. I might have pretended otherwise, but I had made a lot of decisions about the interior of this house with Lil in the back of my mind. She was always inside my head when I made any decision that affected my life or my future.

  A knock on the front door jerked me from my thoughts and had me pulling my gun from its holster. I closed the bedroom door and moved quickly down the stairs, being careful to stay in the shadows and out of sight of anyone peeking in through the windows. At the front room, I pulled at the blinds just enough to see out onto my front porch. That’s when my body relaxed and my head fell forward.

  I flipped on the porch light and opened the door. “You’re out awfully late, Sheriff,” I said. “Come on in.”

  He entered and looked around. “You alone?”

  “Lil’s passed out upstairs.”

  Stoker lifted a brow.

  “Don’t ask.” I shook my head. “I think the stress got to her.”

  “Understandable.”

  I motioned for him to follow me to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I’m not staying. I just came to tell you I got a call from NYPD this evening.”

  I paused mid-stride before continuing to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. “Sure I can’t get you something?”

  He gave his head a shake. “My wife was expecting me home two hours ago as it is.”

  I removed the plastic cap, and took a drink. “So tell me what NYPD had to say.” I leaned against the kitchen island, bracing for whatever had brought the sheriff all the way out to my house.


  “They haven’t been ignoring Lil’s stalker.”

  I set the water down and shifted my stance.

  “I was curious after speaking with Lil the other day, so I made a couple of calls. They went as far as to put a detective on her case, and that detective took Lil very seriously.”

  “And?” I urged. Did NYPD want a medal for doing their fucking jobs?

  “Most of the weird gifts her stalker sent her didn’t originate from New York, or from any one place—they came from all over the country. But one of them, a candle, originated from right here in Paynes Creek. The detective lifted fingerprints from the candle and traced them to a woman with a record for shoplifting and prostitution. Tricia Hood.”

  My jaw dropped. “Tricia?” So she was directly connected to Lil. Far more than I had imagined.

  “It gets worse. The detective contacted the Lexington PD, since that’s where Tricia was living, and the Lexington PD questioned Tricia… on the very day before she died.”

  I understood the implication immediately. “Someone was upset that Tricia left a trail.”

  “It certainly looks that way.”

  I grabbed my water. “Follow me.”

  It was time to come clean. I’d always known I’d have to blow my cover to the sheriff eventually. And now, we both needed all the cards on the table.

  I took Sheriff Daniels to my home office and turned on the lights, revealing my own evidence board on the wall. “Sheriff, I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you and Chief Robinson about what I’m really doing here in Paynes Creek.”

  “What is this?” he asked, examining the evidence board.

  “This is everything I’ve accumulated on Rudy Richardson.”

  “The man who took Lil?”

  “Yes, and not only that, we believe he’s a top player in one of the most prolific human trafficking rings in the country. This is the case that I was working when I led everyone to believe that I had left the Bureau.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Led everyone to believe? You’re saying you never left the FBI?”

  I shook my head. “Well, I did take a short leave, got some therapy—none of that was made up. But I couldn’t let this case go. I had worked too hard on it. And then new information came to light. Information that suggested we might find Richardson in Paynes Creek. Even though that West Virginia sting went wrong, it still achieved one thing—it fractured his organization. We figured after that he would crawl into a hole somewhere to lick his wounds. And our information suggested that hole may be somewhere around here.”

  Sheriff Daniels straightened. “That son of a bitch may be in my county and you didn’t say anything?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. The higher-ups at the Bureau thought it best that we put someone on the ground to sniff around, but we wanted to keep it as close to the vest as we could, so as not to take a chance of spooking Richardson and sending him elsewhere.”

  “And that’s why you became a patrol cop. It’s all a cover while you keep an eye out for Richardson.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You still could have told me.”

  “Again, I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “So why tell me now?”

  “Because I’ve connected Rudy Richardson to Tricia Hood. I found two other contacts in Tricia’s phone that I didn’t tell you about earlier. There were only initials, RR and BW, but I feel confident now that we know who those initials belong to.”

  “Rudy Richardson,” the sheriff said.

  “Yes.”

  “And BW?” he asked.

  I pointed to a photo on the board. “Bree White.”

  “The gas station clerk.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Wow. I’d assumed after all this time that she was dead. Did you call the numbers?”

  “I had a female analyst at the Bureau do it. She spoofed Tricia’s number so it would appear Tricia was the one calling. Richardson didn’t answer, but Bree did. The analyst didn’t directly identify herself, in case aliases were involved, she just said, ‘It’s me, and I’m in trouble.’ Bree asked her where she was, and the analyst gave her an address. Bree said she could come tomorrow at ten a.m.”

  “Except by now she’s bound to know that Tricia’s dead. The news has already reported it.”

  “True. But I have a feeling that even if Bree doesn’t show up, someone will be close by spying on the address to see who does show up. And of course it’s possible Bree isn’t monitoring Paynes Creek news.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I say we put undercover cops in there and watch. Circulate photographs of White and Richardson, see if either of them is seen.”

  Sheriff Daniels rubbed a cupped hand along his jaw.

  “Sheriff,” I said, “this is still your case. We just want to catch this guy. He’s put dozens of men, women, girls, and boys into sexual slavery. He’s literal scum, and needs to be put away for good.”

  “I understand. And I have to admit, I’m glad to have a little help on this one. I’ll see what I can arrange.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff.”

  Twenty-Six

  Lil

  My head throbbed something fierce, and my mouth had a sour, nasty taste. I was terrified to open my eyes for fear of the light, but then I realized I had no idea where I was.

  Daring a peek, I sat up. Too quickly, apparently, because I nearly threw up at the sudden motion.

  I was in Coop’s room. Again.

  Looking down, I realized that I was still in the shirt I had been wearing yesterday, and my jeans were missing. I buried my face in my hands. It wasn’t that Coop had never seen my bare legs before—and a lot more—but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was embarrassed that I didn’t even remember how I’d gotten here.

  My jeans were folded neatly at the end of the bed, with my phone sitting on top. I eased out of bed—fighting through an explosion of head pain—and with careful movements, I grabbed my jeans and my phone and headed to the bathroom.

  I discovered a bottle of ibuprofen waiting for me on the vanity, along with an unopened bottle of water. Attached was a handwritten note.

  Take three of these. There’s a cure for what ails you in the kitchen. You and I WILL talk later.

  —Coop

  “Will” was in all caps, and I had no idea what that meant. Was he angry with me? What had I said last night? I didn’t remember.

  I mentally played back as much of the night as I could still recall. Finding Winn. My mother verbally attacking me. Winn taking me to dinner in hopes we would find Jake. Bryn showing up. Jake buying us drinks. Then more drinks, and more drinks, and…

  I vaguely recalled Coop showing up, but that part was fuzzy.

  “How embarrassing,” I said aloud.

  I swallowed a few ibuprofen, then heard a knock at the bedroom door. I stood in the doorway of the bathroom in just a T-shirt and panties as the bedroom door slowly opened. It was Bryn, bearing a bright, cheerful smile. “Good morning,” she sang.

  I let out a breath and relaxed.

  She was wearing a pair of royal blue chinos and a fitted sweater set. Her hair was perfectly styled, and her face was bright with makeup.

  “How the hell do you look like that?” I asked.

  “It took some work, I can promise you that.” She lifted a quilted duffel bag in her right hand. “I brought you some of your stuff. Coop’s orders.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He said to bring your things so you could shower.”

  “That was nice, I suppose.” I took the bag from her. “And where is Coop?”

  “He had to go to work.”

  I let my eyes close for a second. “Good. I’ve disrupted his life enough.” When I reopened my eyes, Bryn was giving me a look I couldn’t translate. “What?”

  “What was last night about?” She leaned against the doorjamb.

  I gave my head a little shake. “I tried to leave town yeste
rday. I was just going to take my things and the baggage I brought with me—figuratively and literally—and get the hell out. Instead, I got drunk with my cousin.” I put a lot of effort into a smile for Bryn, but saw by the frown on her face that it didn’t work.

  “Why would you do that? You think whoever is doing these things is going to just go away? We’re talking murder, Lil.”

  “We don’t know that the murder had anything to do with me.”

  “Actually, we do. Coop said he received additional information last night, and that you aren’t to leave this house until he gets back.”

  “What information?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “He can’t lock me up.”

  “He’s trying to save your life. God, Lil.” Bryn stared up at the ceiling. “He loves you. Don’t you get that? We all love you. Enough is enough. You’re not even happy in New York. And now you’re back in a town full of people that want to help you. And you’re just going to turn your back on that?”

  I drilled two fingers into the center of my forehead, attempting to massage and pray the pain away. “Coop said something about a hangover cure in the kitchen. Any idea what that is?” At this point, I would try anything if I thought it would help with the pain and nausea.

  Bryn’s smile returned. “As a matter of fact, I know exactly what it is. Grammy’s here. So shower and come on down. She’s prepared everything you’ll need to get rid of what I imagine is an exploding head.”

  “Behind door number one we have a Bloody Mary.”

  I almost threw up at the mention of alcohol and tomato juice.

  Grammy shrugged. “What? It’s my favorite cure. A little hair of the dog that bit you. But, if you’d prefer door number two…” She went to the fridge and pulled out a mason jar filled with a clear yellow-green liquid.

  “That’s not green enough to be lime Kool-Aid,” I said.

  “It’s pickle juice. With enough salty electrolytes to get your equilibrium back on track.”

  I wrinkled my nose, and beside me, Bryn did the same.

  “How about door number three?” I said. “I really hope it’s whatever you’ve got cooking on the stove.”