watched him disconnect from the call and place his cell phone in his pocket. He turned toward her, his face devoid of expression. “You probably heard all that, but in case you didn't—your brother's being held overnight in jail,” he stated simply, his eyes never wavering from her gaze.
Overnight? Lenny was being held in a tight, four-by-four jail cell with no windows or a way out? Her brother was severely claustrophobic and had panic attacks whenever he was placed in small spaces. Being placed in a jail cell would make him stir-crazy, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. A feeling of rage overtook her as she imagined her brother falling apart in a tiny box meant for thugs and killers.
She clenched her fists at her side, slamming her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see the smug, self-righteous lawman standing before her. He didn't have a heart, and he was surely missing a soul. After taking a few deep breaths to steady her anger, she opened her eyes.
“ Well, Sheriff, you should be damn proud of yourself,” she spit out. She shook her head with disgust and walked toward the staircase, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach, because she knew she'd rather die than share a meal with that man.
Chapter Four
He'd barely drifted off to sleep before the piercing screams shattered the predawn silence. He threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and quickly grabbed his .45 from his bedside table. He bounded down the hall to the guest bedroom, kicking the door open with one swift thrust of his leg. Trueblood palmed his gun and walked across the threshold, prepared for anything.
Darcel was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face, her expression wide-eyed and wild. Quickly, he looked around the room, relaxing slightly as he realized they were alone. As a precaution he wrenched open the closet door and looked around inside, coming up with nothing more than a few of Darcel's outfits.
“ Did someone come in here?” he asked, his body pumping with adrenaline.
Darcel shook her head. “N-No, no one's here.”
“ You let out a scream to wake the dead. What happened?”
She raked her hand through her hair. “It's nothing. A bad dream.” Her voice sounded rattled, and he could see she was shaking uncontrollably.
Trueblood lowered his gun and let out the breath he'd been holding. “I thought someone broke in. You were screaming bloody murder in here.”
“ Sorry,” she apologized sheepishly. “It felt so real.”
“ Did you remember something about the shooter?”
Darcel furrowed her brow. “No, my dream was about a fire. There were flames all around me, and I was trying to get out of this house I was trapped in. It was terrifying.”
“ Strange,” he murmured, “I would've thought your dream was about the shooting. Your screams sounded horrific.”
Darcel shrugged. “It's not really odd for me. I've had this dream on and off ever since I was a child. I don't usually scream loud enough to wake the dead, but I do have this recurring nightmare about a fire.”
“ How often do you have this dream?” His curiosity was piqued by the unusual nature of her dream.
“ Once, sometimes twice a week,” she said matter-of-factly.
He furrowed his brows together, stumped by her blasé attitude. Did she think it was normal to dream over and over again about dark, fiery blazes? “Why do you think you're dreaming about a fire? Were you ever in a fire?”
His gaze was drawn to her ruby full lips as she bit down on the lower one. “Not that I know of,” she admitted in a soft voice. “Although I don't remember anything about my life before I was adopted.”
“ Nothing?” He struggled to process what she'd just revealed to him. “Not a single thing?”
She shook her head, her face somber. “Nothing before the age of five.”
For the first time since he'd entered the room, Trueblood's attention drifted toward Darcel's bedtime attire. She was wearing an extra small white baby doll
Overnight? Lenny was being held in a tight, four-by-four jail cell with no windows or a way out? Her brother was severely claustrophobic and had panic attacks whenever he was placed in small spaces. Being placed in a jail cell would make him stir-crazy, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. A feeling of rage overtook her as she imagined her brother falling apart in a tiny box meant for thugs and killers.
She clenched her fists at her side, slamming her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to see the smug, self-righteous lawman standing before her. He didn't have a heart, and he was surely missing a soul. After taking a few deep breaths to steady her anger, she opened her eyes.
“ Well, Sheriff, you should be damn proud of yourself,” she spit out. She shook her head with disgust and walked toward the staircase, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach, because she knew she'd rather die than share a meal with that man.
Chapter Four
He'd barely drifted off to sleep before the piercing screams shattered the predawn silence. He threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and quickly grabbed his .45 from his bedside table. He bounded down the hall to the guest bedroom, kicking the door open with one swift thrust of his leg. Trueblood palmed his gun and walked across the threshold, prepared for anything.
Darcel was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face, her expression wide-eyed and wild. Quickly, he looked around the room, relaxing slightly as he realized they were alone. As a precaution he wrenched open the closet door and looked around inside, coming up with nothing more than a few of Darcel's outfits.
“ Did someone come in here?” he asked, his body pumping with adrenaline.
Darcel shook her head. “N-No, no one's here.”
“ You let out a scream to wake the dead. What happened?”
She raked her hand through her hair. “It's nothing. A bad dream.” Her voice sounded rattled, and he could see she was shaking uncontrollably.
Trueblood lowered his gun and let out the breath he'd been holding. “I thought someone broke in. You were screaming bloody murder in here.”
“ Sorry,” she apologized sheepishly. “It felt so real.”
“ Did you remember something about the shooter?”
Darcel furrowed her brow. “No, my dream was about a fire. There were flames all around me, and I was trying to get out of this house I was trapped in. It was terrifying.”
“ Strange,” he murmured, “I would've thought your dream was about the shooting. Your screams sounded horrific.”
Darcel shrugged. “It's not really odd for me. I've had this dream on and off ever since I was a child. I don't usually scream loud enough to wake the dead, but I do have this recurring nightmare about a fire.”
“ How often do you have this dream?” His curiosity was piqued by the unusual nature of her dream.
“ Once, sometimes twice a week,” she said matter-of-factly.
He furrowed his brows together, stumped by her blasé attitude. Did she think it was normal to dream over and over again about dark, fiery blazes? “Why do you think you're dreaming about a fire? Were you ever in a fire?”
His gaze was drawn to her ruby full lips as she bit down on the lower one. “Not that I know of,” she admitted in a soft voice. “Although I don't remember anything about my life before I was adopted.”
“ Nothing?” He struggled to process what she'd just revealed to him. “Not a single thing?”
She shook her head, her face somber. “Nothing before the age of five.”
For the first time since he'd entered the room, Trueblood's attention drifted toward Darcel's bedtime attire. She was wearing an extra small white baby doll
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