Fade to Black Page 3

  Peasant Blouse apparently read Rory’s mind. “Oh, Hallie’s a theater major too!” She spoke a little too excitedly – definitely not a drama student or she’d understand the threat Rory apparently posed to Hallie.

  Rory shoved her hands into her pockets and put on her friendliest grin. “I’ll bet you always get the leading role.”

  “Definitely!” Maxi dress answered this time.

  Rory stared back as Hallie glared at her. She’d been doing this dance for a very long time.

  Rory hadn’t just caught Hallie’s attention. The male members of the welcoming committee for the freshmen arriving at the next dorm were watching the exchange between the young women with amusement.

  “Watch it!” A black haired young man with his eyes set to brood stumbled and dropped the pile of pillows he was carrying up the flagstone steps. He’d taken one glance in Rory’s direction and the stairs disappeared.

  An annoyed huff sounded behind Rory’s back. Rory took a quick glance at the blonde brigade that was part of her special welcoming committee. Based on Hallie’s mildly annoyed expression, she had a thing for tall, dark, and broody. This could be fun.

  Rory tossed her hair over her shoulder and wiggled her fingertips in greeting.

  A second young man bounced off the first boy’s back.

  “Harrison. Carter. Get busy.” The tallest of the boys by far, the apparent leader of the group, caught sight of the reason for their distraction. Setting the box he’d been carrying on the stone retaining wall, he ambled up the sidewalk in Rory’s direction. “Need any help?” He gave a long glance at Rory’s suitcase.

  “Preston.” The shortest of the blondes spoke for the first time. She approached his side with the same look in her eyes as a cheetah guarding her young. Her message sounded loud and clear — this one’s mine. Stopping midway in the act of wrapping her arm around his waist, she pulled her arm away in disdain. “I thought you were helping the freshmen.”

  He laughed as he pulled his sweat-stained shirt off the skin of his back. “I’ve been working all morning.” He teased as he tried to wrap her in a bear hug. “It’s hot out.” Wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, pushing his hair to the side revealed a pair of unforgettably dark eyes. “Besides, she’s new here.” His voice lowered into definite flirting zone. “I would have remembered you.”

  “I’ve got it. Thanks.” Rory watched as the jealous girl relaxed a bit. “I travel pretty light.”

  “Really, I don’t mind.” Preston pushed harder. He looked over her shoulder at the car she’d exited. He’d been watching her for a while.

  “Well then.” Rory inclined her head in defeat. She knew when she needed to play along. She took a breath and used her Southern drawl in full force. “I suppose I can’t say no, then.” Feeling the burn of three sets of eyes on her back, Rory stepped from the curb and walked to her car, Preston close at her heels.

  • • •

  Rory approached the check-in table in the dorm lobby. No matter how many colleges she’d been enrolled in, the girls’ dormitory always smelled the same. Musty carpet. Old marble. Hairspray. Too much perfume. Even the newer buildings couldn’t escape the combination. She’d joked with Anita once that she wondered if they bottled the smell and the janitors sprayed it deliberately. Taking a deep breath, she detected the faintest hint of … litter box.

  “Next.” A woman not too far off from 70 glanced up at Rory from an avocado green leather seat. Definitely still stuck in the 60s, her gray hair hung long and straight, elongating her already too-thin face. Unlike those on the girls in the dorm lobby, this woman’s vintage peasant blouse had likely been purchased new. “And you are?”

  “Rory Johnston.”

  “That’s right.” Nodding and mumbling to herself, the woman paged through the stack of papers on the table in front of her. “Johnston. Johnston. The new one. Johnston. Here we are.” She eyed Rory from behind heavily-creased lids. “Room number?”

  “Um.” Rory hastily dug into her bag as she gave Preston a sheepish glance. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He shifted the box he carried on his hip.

  “What are you doing here?” The woman noticed Preston for the first time. She leaned around the end of the table to get a better look.

  Preston shook the box for emphasis. “Just part of the new student welcoming committee.”

  “Well, you make sure you’re not making her feel too welcome.” The woman glared at him and shook her finger. “I remember you from last year.”

  “Here it is.” Rory pulled the form out of the registration packet she’d received the night before. Preston shook with silent laughter behind her. Whatever the dorm mother remembered from last year, it was obviously a good memory. “Seven eighteen?” She slid the paper across the cracked laminate tabletop.

  “Right.” The older woman examined the paper and nodded in satisfaction. “I’m Nora Hoffsteadler, but everyone just calls me Mom.” With a name as much as a mouthful as that, Rory didn’t have to wonder why most of the women in the dorm preferred the nickname – even if the older woman didn’t seem particularly motherly. Mom reached into a battered shoebox and dug through a mass of keys. “Your roommate’s name is Allie Davies. She moved in on Saturday.”

  “Rooming with Allie. That should be fun.” Preston arched an eyebrow and smiled at Rory.

  “She seems nice.” Rory answered. Of course Allie was fun. She’d been the most popular kid in Peytonville Elementary School. With an investment banker for a dad and assistant police chief for a mom, their family owned the only built-in swimming pool in town. Everyone wanted to be Allie’s best friend. That honor went to Kennedy O’Donovan – at least until her family moved away.

  “Very nice.” He didn’t even try to hide the innuendo in his voice.

  “Here you are.” Mom dangled the key ring in front of her as she reached for a thick packet with her other hand. “You’re new here. Make sure you’re aware of the rules. No boys in your room. Present company excepted, of course.”

  “Why thank you, Mom.” Preston bowed with fake humility.

  “I meant, just until he helped you with your belongings.” She glared again in Preston’s direction. “Curfew’s midnight on week nights. Two A.M. on Friday and Saturday. If you’re not here, you’re locked out.” She pursed her lips and paused for emphasis. “You don’t want to be sleeping in your car now, do you?”

  “No. Not at all.” Rory couldn’t suppress the shock that came over her face. She’d known Moreland University had a reputation for being conservative, but she hadn’t been at a college with a curfew since … well, she hadn’t been to one with a curfew at all.

  “You’ll get used to it.” Preston urged her on toward the hallway leading to the elevator. “Mom’s really cool.”

  “I’m sure she is.” Rory was only half-paying attention. With rules as strict as MU’s, how did so many students end up dead over the past two years?

  • • •

  “How old do you think she is?” Zach grabbed hold of his bottle of Texas Red Lager and twisted his way through the crowded bar to their usual table tucked into the far corner of the bar. Rusty’s Bar and Grill was heavy on the bar – very little on the grill. Too run-down to be popular with the tourists, the majority of the patrons were other police officers and a crowd of firefighters still smudged from a grass fire they’d battled earlier in the evening. The need for beer pre-empted the need for a shower at the end of a week like this. Zach knew the feeling. He took a long draw from the bottle and waited for his partner’s reply.

  “We know Cadie was twenty.” Christian stuffed a wedge of grilled chicken quesadilla into his mouth and caught the drip of guacamole leaking from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Not her, you idiot.” Zach good-naturedly tossed
his partner a stack of napkins. After spending nine hours looking into Cadie’s background, he was confident he knew more about her than her fiancé did. A life-long resident of Peytonville, she was packed and ready to move into the dormitory next Monday. She planned to share a room with Allie Davies, her roommate since freshman year. She worked part time at Footlights Performing Arts Conservatory where she was the most popular teacher for their preschool pirates and princesses camp. Just that morning, she’d been working with a stylist planning outfits, makeup, and hairstyles for an upcoming photo shoot to prepare for the new theater season. Not exactly your typical druggie.

  But nothing about this case had been typical.

  In his years spent with the El Paso department, Zach had wrapped each case up smoothly and efficiently. Well, all except for the last case … that was why he’d taken the job in the small college town in the first place. The reason he didn’t work with undercover officers – at least until now. He laced his fingers behind his head and forced himself to focus on something other than the way his new partner’s sweater gapped open at the neck when she leaned over to write on his notepad. “How old do you think Rory is?”

  Christian’s eyebrows arced up in surprise. “She’s not exactly your type.”

  Zach choked back a laugh. Saying she wasn’t his type implied that he’d dated often enough since his arrival in Peytonville three years ago to have a type. The women here were looking for three things — money, a ticket out of town, and someone who didn’t come with excess baggage. He struck out on all three counts. “Definitely not what I meant.” He dipped a tortilla chip into the thin, yellow queso and munched down on it, hoping the bite of the peppers would distract him from his current stream of thoughts about his new partner. Pixie-faced and innocent, when her full, pink lips closed around the tip of a pencil during their initial meeting, his thoughts had wandered to consider exactly what else her lips could take in.

  Taking a sip from his mug, Christian groaned. “She’s our partner, bro.” He raised two fingers and tipped his cowboy hat back in a Texas greeting as two men entered the bar.

  “How badly are we losing?” Colby Jenkins gave an easy smile as he approached the table where Zach and Christian were sitting. He glanced up at the television and winced. The bases were loaded, and his former team had no outs. This would be a long inning.

  Zach already knew what was coming. He really wasn’t in the mood for another lecture from the former baseball player attributing his team’s current losing streak to the fact they forced him into retirement a year early, especially when everyone knew the team carried Colby at least two seasons beyond what they should have. His worn-out arm wouldn’t save the team this season. Zach turned his attention back to Christian, refusing to take Colby’s bait. “And you know she can’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two.”

  “I know she’s our partner.” Zach finished his drink in two gulps and raised the bottle in bartender’s direction to signal a request for another. “That’s not what I was getting at.”

  “You were thinking about getting something.” Christian’s frown couldn’t hide his disdain. “You had the same look on your face as when we were helping the Quinlan vice squad do the bust at the topless bar last month.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Zach’s experience trying to find out exactly what kind of extras the ladies at the bar provided was as close as he’d been to a woman in far too long, but right now, his main concern was keeping his new coworker alive. “I still don’t understand why we’re the ones working with her. Lieutenant Evans knows I don’t work with undercover officers anymore.”

  “This won’t be like El Paso.” Christian slid the last of the quesadilla into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You really want to trust her with Hart and Jake?”

  “And exactly who are we trusting with Hart?” Colby leaned against the dark railing behind the booth where Zach and Christian sat. He drummed his hands on the hollow wood and smirked.

  “No one.” Zach frowned, realizing he’d been speaking louder than he’d thought. “Thanks.” He took the beer from the waitress’ hand and slid his thumb over the drip of condensation already forming on neck of the bottle. The August heat was unrelenting, even at this late hour, forcing more patrons than usual into the bar.

  Colby poked at the lip of his ball cap. He frowned at the oversized television mounted to the wall above the bar. A runner for the visiting team was rounding third and well on his way to home. Already down by five in the bottom of the eighth, his former team had little chance of redeeming themselves in this game. “I can’t watch this. Y’all up for poker tonight?”

  “No.” The fatigue from being awake for 36 hours finally catching up with him, Zach fished in his pocket for his wallet. Pulling out fifteen dollars, he folded it and tucked it under his plate. “I think I’m calling it a night.”

  “You sure?” Colby backed away to let Zach slide out of the booth.

  “I’m sure.” Easing past his friends, Zach tucked his wallet back into his black denim jeans. “I think I’ll finish the game at home.”

  • • •

  “God! Who in hell does she think she is?” He’d been relatively calm when he was with Christian at the bar, but he’d had plenty of time to think as he drove home to his cabin. Normally, the quiet solitude of the time spent behind the wheel was soothing – definitely not today. Zach slammed the refrigerator door shut so hard the glass jars clanked in protest. He banged his third beer bottle of the night down on the black granite countertop and hastily dug through his utensil drawer in search of a bottle opener. “I mean, it’s bad enough that I’m stuck working with her at all, but who says she gets to set all the ground rules?” His search for the elusive can opener at an end, he popped open the bottle of Summertime Wheat. The fine spray coated the back of his hand and covered the countertop. He tugged down a paper towel and wiped counter dry.

  Zach picked up his beer and stormed into the living room. His boots echoed across the hardwood planks. Careful not to spill, he sank into the charcoal leather couch. “What was Evans thinking?” He took a long draw off the bottle and glared at Otis in disgust.

  Otis sat in his favorite chair with his head cocked slightly to the side. The basset hound pricked his ears as he looked back at Zach expectantly.

  Zack picked up the remote control and turned on the plasma television centered above the fireplace. Wielding the controller like a weapon, he stabbed at the air while the channels flicked by, finally settling on a baseball game between two teams he didn’t care about. He wouldn’t have been able to concentrate anyway.

  Why did he and Christian get saddled with Rory? Of course, that was a rhetorical question. Among the officers in Peytonvile’s small narcotics division, they were the only two remotely qualified. Jake could screw up even the simplest case. Kevin spent half his time at the station correcting his partner’s paperwork errors. Hart was only on the narcotics squad because his father was the mayor and signed the chief’s paychecks. No, none of the other teams had the necessary experience to work with an undercover officer.

  But that didn’t mean he wanted the responsibility – not since Chad’s death. One of the things that drew him to Peytonville in the first place was its utter quiet and lack of a drug trade. That changed in the six months following his arrival. More than once, he’d thought about moving on, but he liked it here.

  He glanced out his oversized windows on the far side of his living room. The wind was blowing just enough to make the lake ripple, and the light from the full moon glistened on the caps of the waves. No, he couldn’t really think about moving away from this.

  Zach gulped down two more swallows of his beer and rubbed the face with his hand. He found himself back at the start of his list of questions. How old was she really? She’d spoken to them with the confident air of someone who’d been doing her job for a long time, but how could she have? When
he’d stared at her from across the table at the coffee shop today, he’d been stunned by how young she appeared. She was just a baby.

  And now he and Christian were babysitters.

  Chapter Three

  “A sandwich shop?” Zach slid his chair beneath the table in the most distant corner of the packed restaurant.

  “Too early in the day for a bar. Way too hot for coffee.” Rory picked up the top slice of bread from her sandwich and pulled off the tomato slices. Last week’s coffee shop was deliberately chosen for its emptiness. This week, after spending more time in town, she’d chosen to hide in plain sight. The restaurant was located twenty minutes out of town. Between the excited crowd still celebrating the football team’s victory the night before and the Top 20 pop music blaring from the speakers overhead, no one would be able to follow their conversation.

  Christian unwrapped the waxed paper from around his meatball sandwich. “Next time, can we meet for ice cream?”

  “No.” Being a theater student might be a convenient cover, but as long as she would have to be on the stage at some point in the season, she had to be careful about watching her weight. Rory crunched a salt and vinegar potato chip in her mouth. Relishing the acidic bite from the vinegar, she used the moment to study the two men in front of her. Even though Christian was older than his partner, Zachary Rowlins gave off the definite impression of being in charge – along with something else. She wasn’t sure if it was the haunted look within his deep-set brown eyes or the faint hint of black stubble along his chin, but he was definitely a hard man to forget.

  She should know.

  Ever since their discussion in the police station conference room last week, he’d been playing a starring role in her dreams. Whether she was testing to see exactly how the stubble would feel against her lips or discovering if the muscles beneath the tight gray t-shirt were as sculpted as they appeared, her dreams were making it decidedly difficult to concentrate at the moment.