was in police custody, he wasn't the focus of a killer's wrath. She was the one who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was dearly paying the price for it.
She had to admit it. Trueblood made her feel safe. Being safeguarded by him wasn't a total waste of time, she realized. Someone out there was a killer, and even though she'd blocked out the memory, she'd seen the killer's face. And he knew it! She shivered as a cool chill swept through her body at the memory of Ronnie's death. Although her memories were a bit shaky, she remembered sitting in the car and dozing off as she waited for Ronnie.
She'd heard something then…a popping sound. A gunshot? When she'd looked through the windshield, she'd seen a hazy figure wielding a gun. And that's where the memories came to a crashing halt. There was nothing but darkness, as if a black sheet had been placed over the entire scene.
Why couldn't she remember? She took a deep breath, willing herself to put aside the terrifying memory of seeing Ronnie's blood-soaked body slumping to the ground. A look of agony had been etched on his face, and his eyes had been wide open. Her heart began beating faster as she relived the terror of being chased by the shooter until she'd been rescued by Trueblood. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head back and forth, determined to rid her mind of the unsettling images.
She took a moment to admire the room she'd be staying in while she was under the protection of the sheriff. Continuing with his theme of earth tones, the walls were painted a pretty blush color, nicely complimenting the baby-blue comforter and the cream throw pillows gracing the queen-sized bed. The room looked pretty stark, and she had the strangest feeling it hadn't seen many visitors. She walked toward the bathroom door and turned the crystal doorknob.
As she pushed open the door, rays of sunshine poured into the room. The room was painted a soft buttercup-yellow and had a dainty, feminine appeal. She wondered idly who had inspired the guest quarters. A woman, no doubt, she imagined. Everything about this room seemed to contradict Trueblood's masculine vibe.
When her gaze landed on the antique claw-foot tub, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. It was a masterpiece. She trailed her fingers along the top of the tub, admiring the grace and elegance of the marble. Where on earth had he found this treasure? As a lover of antiques, she was constantly going to estate sales in the hopes of finding a tub like the one Trueblood owned.
She smiled at the thought of sitting in that tub and luxuriating while sipping a wine cooler and listening to her favorite Jon Legend CD. It could be positively decadent! She imagined herself lying in the tub surrounded by bubbles and soothing music with strong, bronze hands massaging her neck. An image of Trueblood rubbing her down with oil popped into her mind, and she blinked several times to rid herself of the image. Where the hell did that come from?
“ Get it together, Darcel. Just because he's easy on eyes is no reason to have sexy bath fantasies about the man.”
The scent of burgers sent her out of the guestroom and heading toward the kitchen. Trueblood stood by the stove with his back to her, his dark hair swinging as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder while flipping burgers in the frying pan.
“ Tell the parents to go home. He's not making bail tonight.” He paused as he listened to the other end of the conversation, managing to scoop the burgers out of the pan and flip them on to their buns.
“ Keep him overnight, Bo. Pull him of his cell every hour on the hour for interrogation. Give him water and nothing but. Don't even let a crumb of food pass through his lips. By the time morning comes, he'll be singing like a bird about Ronnie. We need to act on this fast and get him talking.”
She must've let out a small sound because he turned in her direction with a look of surprise in his eyes. She
She had to admit it. Trueblood made her feel safe. Being safeguarded by him wasn't a total waste of time, she realized. Someone out there was a killer, and even though she'd blocked out the memory, she'd seen the killer's face. And he knew it! She shivered as a cool chill swept through her body at the memory of Ronnie's death. Although her memories were a bit shaky, she remembered sitting in the car and dozing off as she waited for Ronnie.
She'd heard something then…a popping sound. A gunshot? When she'd looked through the windshield, she'd seen a hazy figure wielding a gun. And that's where the memories came to a crashing halt. There was nothing but darkness, as if a black sheet had been placed over the entire scene.
Why couldn't she remember? She took a deep breath, willing herself to put aside the terrifying memory of seeing Ronnie's blood-soaked body slumping to the ground. A look of agony had been etched on his face, and his eyes had been wide open. Her heart began beating faster as she relived the terror of being chased by the shooter until she'd been rescued by Trueblood. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head back and forth, determined to rid her mind of the unsettling images.
She took a moment to admire the room she'd be staying in while she was under the protection of the sheriff. Continuing with his theme of earth tones, the walls were painted a pretty blush color, nicely complimenting the baby-blue comforter and the cream throw pillows gracing the queen-sized bed. The room looked pretty stark, and she had the strangest feeling it hadn't seen many visitors. She walked toward the bathroom door and turned the crystal doorknob.
As she pushed open the door, rays of sunshine poured into the room. The room was painted a soft buttercup-yellow and had a dainty, feminine appeal. She wondered idly who had inspired the guest quarters. A woman, no doubt, she imagined. Everything about this room seemed to contradict Trueblood's masculine vibe.
When her gaze landed on the antique claw-foot tub, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. It was a masterpiece. She trailed her fingers along the top of the tub, admiring the grace and elegance of the marble. Where on earth had he found this treasure? As a lover of antiques, she was constantly going to estate sales in the hopes of finding a tub like the one Trueblood owned.
She smiled at the thought of sitting in that tub and luxuriating while sipping a wine cooler and listening to her favorite Jon Legend CD. It could be positively decadent! She imagined herself lying in the tub surrounded by bubbles and soothing music with strong, bronze hands massaging her neck. An image of Trueblood rubbing her down with oil popped into her mind, and she blinked several times to rid herself of the image. Where the hell did that come from?
“ Get it together, Darcel. Just because he's easy on eyes is no reason to have sexy bath fantasies about the man.”
The scent of burgers sent her out of the guestroom and heading toward the kitchen. Trueblood stood by the stove with his back to her, his dark hair swinging as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder while flipping burgers in the frying pan.
“ Tell the parents to go home. He's not making bail tonight.” He paused as he listened to the other end of the conversation, managing to scoop the burgers out of the pan and flip them on to their buns.
“ Keep him overnight, Bo. Pull him of his cell every hour on the hour for interrogation. Give him water and nothing but. Don't even let a crumb of food pass through his lips. By the time morning comes, he'll be singing like a bird about Ronnie. We need to act on this fast and get him talking.”
She must've let out a small sound because he turned in her direction with a look of surprise in his eyes. She
Similar Books
