Beyond the Shadows by LaVerne Clark

she suggested lightly. His skin had taken on a gray hue under the natural tan, another sign he’d been overdoing it. She could do without him collapsing and having to drag him back to hospital.
    “Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed, his easy acceptance telling, and shuffled off into the next room leaving her to prepare their meal.
    Now that he’d gone, the air suddenly seemed lighter, the room bigger. Perhaps I’ll get through this week unscathed after all. The sound of leather creaking and a groan of pleasure sent shivers along her nerves making her skin prickle. Then again, perhaps not. With her mouth set in a grim line, Kelly took out her frustrations on the garlic and pounded it into paste.
    ****
    Nate dropped into his favorite armchair with a groan and flicked on the television to a news channel. Maybe, if he viewed enough images of all the awful things happening in the world, it could banish the one he held in his head of Kelly in that dress. That bloody infuriating dress.
    The whole car ride home, he’d been in hell. Every shift in gear twitched the material higher up her thighs, teasing him with glimpses of delectable flesh until he’d broken out into a sweat. He’d known the serviceable pants of her uniform hid a knockout pair, but the reality of seeing those slender, golden legs in all their glory blew his imagination out of the water.
    Within minutes, his eyelids grew heavy and he could no longer make sense of the flickering images on the screen. Switching off the television, he placed his coffee on the table in front of him and settled into the chair. The worn leather welcomed him into its embrace like an old friend. The sounds of industry in the kitchen faded as he gave himself over to oblivion.
    A strange sense of awareness slowly funneled through his tired brain and he groaned in exasperation. “Just let me sleep,” he mumbled, his cheek burrowing further into the leather.
    Why should you sleep when I can’t? You promised me justice.
    In the odd way dreams allow, Nate turned his head, not questioning why one of Scott Williams’ victims stood before him—exactly as she’d been when he’d viewed her at the murder scene. She’d been beautiful once, as all Williams’ victims had been. He didn’t need her presence to remind him of what had been done to her. Her broken appearance was seared into his brain for all eternity.
    Viewing Sarah’s body at the scene had lit a fire in Nate’s gut. Her resemblance to his sister, Thea was uncanny, from the clear pale skin to the tight red curls of her hair. The pain and helplessness rushed back to him in a flash. It had become personal.
    That day, Nate stared down into Sarah’s lidless blank gaze and promised her he’d do everything in his power to find her murderer. And he had.
    “Sarah,” he sighed. “I got the bastard. And he’s dead. You can be at peace now.”
    No! Her voice echoed through his skull, loud and adamant. He was not my killer, just some weirdo. He tried telling you, but your arrogance blinded you to the truth. Open your eyes, Constable O’Leary. Her ruined face hovered inches before his. There are more like me to find and more will join me unless you find the man responsible and stop him.
    Nate shook his head in denial.
    Yes, she continued relentlessly, her voice taking on a cruel edge . You’re responsible for the case being closed. It’s your fault girls are still being murdered. Deep down you know it. We won’t rest until you find him.
    “No,” he groaned, as her glowering face faded before him. He reached out to snag her arm to keep her in place, but his fingers closed on nothing. “No! It’s not true.”
    His head thrashed from side to side as his mind replayed the case in fast forward like a recurring nightmare. The case was routine. The photos they received anonymously confirmed that. Not only was there a photo of Scott Williams actively spying on the victim while she undressed, but another clearly showed his face. The