home.
But I didn’t move. I stayed. My hand growing sweaty on the knob.
My heart pounded in my ears.
What’s the matter, Ally? You’re not Aunt Tessa, you don’t have visions. Open the damned door.
And so I did.
The bedroom was even darker than the rest of the trailer. Pitch-black in fact. Like the bedroom of a night-shift worker who keeps foil on the windows. My fingers fumbled along the wall, searching for the switch.
Light flooded the dreary room with shocking intensity.
I blinked.
And then I screamed at what I saw.
Tim’s naked body dangling from the ceiling.
CHAPTER FIVE
H AND OVER MY MOUTH , I stumbled through the house and out to my car, struggling not to toss my cookies. The bright, beautiful day was a shocking contrast to the dark tragedy I’d witnessed.
Taking several slow deep breaths, I lowered myself into the front seat, picked up my cell phone and dialed 911.
I waited.
The sun beat down. Sweat plastered my floral print uniform top to my back. I pushed my bangs from my forehead and waited. I closed my eyes but when I did, I saw Tim’s body slowly rotating from the end of the rope and I quickly opened them again.
I’m a nurse. I’ve seen a lot of grisly things. But I’d known Tim. He’d spent time at my house.
My stomach roiled. I got out of the car and paced the lawn with my hands folded across my chest. I glanced over at Rocky’s trailer, saw his bedroom curtain move and knew he’d been staring at me. Cocking my head, I studied the window and I wondered if he’d seen anything going on at Tim’s.
I’m not sure what I was thinking. I mean it was pretty clear Tim had hung himself. It wasn’t murder, but then why would Tim kill himself? Depression over getting arrested? Surely not. It hadn’t been that big a deal. Then again, I realized how little I knew about Tim and his inner life. Whatseemed inconsequential to me might have been earth-shattering to him.
I nibbled a fingernail. Honestly, I was a little numb.
Feeling vulnerable to Rocky’s scrutiny, I got back in the car. Ten minutes later, when the patrol car rolled to a stop beside me, my knees were still quaking. I had rested my head against the steering wheel, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Therefore, I didn’t notice that the deputy walking around my car was no deputy.
Knuckles rapped against the window and I jumped like a skittish cat at Fourth of July fireworks.
Sheriff Conahegg pantomimed rolling the window down. I did better than that. I swung open the door and got out.
Damn, he looked handsome with that badge pinned to his chest, and that gun hanging on his hip. Nonsensically, he made me feel safe and I realized I was glad to see him.
I leaned against my car. He stood so close I could feel his body heat. His gray eyes held mine. Was it concern for me that widened his pupils? Was I reading more into his gaze than was there? Since when had I started trying to second-guess Conahegg’s emotions?
He touched my shoulder, a gesture of condolence. But it felt like so much more than that. His eyes—oh, those enigmatic eyes that gave away nothing—stayed fixed on my face. “I’m sorry,” he said, “that you had to find the body.”
“Hazard of the job,” I said, trying to make light of a very serious subject. If I didn’t stay detached from Tim’s suicide, I would have to fling myself into Conahegg’s arms and beg him to hold me close. “I’ve seen bodies before.”
“You’re pretty tough, Allegheny.” Admiration tinged his voice, slightly curved his lips.
I had the goofiest urge to smile. Conahegg was proud of me.
Two more cruisers glided to a stop, sirens cutting off inmidwhine. At the appearance of the other officers, Conahegg’s countenance changed. He straightened, stepped back, removed his hand from my shoulder.
And most telling of all, he dropped his gaze.
I felt robbed, cheated, relieved.
Talk about mixed messages. Talk about conflicting signals. I was sending them and receiving
But I didn’t move. I stayed. My hand growing sweaty on the knob.
My heart pounded in my ears.
What’s the matter, Ally? You’re not Aunt Tessa, you don’t have visions. Open the damned door.
And so I did.
The bedroom was even darker than the rest of the trailer. Pitch-black in fact. Like the bedroom of a night-shift worker who keeps foil on the windows. My fingers fumbled along the wall, searching for the switch.
Light flooded the dreary room with shocking intensity.
I blinked.
And then I screamed at what I saw.
Tim’s naked body dangling from the ceiling.
CHAPTER FIVE
H AND OVER MY MOUTH , I stumbled through the house and out to my car, struggling not to toss my cookies. The bright, beautiful day was a shocking contrast to the dark tragedy I’d witnessed.
Taking several slow deep breaths, I lowered myself into the front seat, picked up my cell phone and dialed 911.
I waited.
The sun beat down. Sweat plastered my floral print uniform top to my back. I pushed my bangs from my forehead and waited. I closed my eyes but when I did, I saw Tim’s body slowly rotating from the end of the rope and I quickly opened them again.
I’m a nurse. I’ve seen a lot of grisly things. But I’d known Tim. He’d spent time at my house.
My stomach roiled. I got out of the car and paced the lawn with my hands folded across my chest. I glanced over at Rocky’s trailer, saw his bedroom curtain move and knew he’d been staring at me. Cocking my head, I studied the window and I wondered if he’d seen anything going on at Tim’s.
I’m not sure what I was thinking. I mean it was pretty clear Tim had hung himself. It wasn’t murder, but then why would Tim kill himself? Depression over getting arrested? Surely not. It hadn’t been that big a deal. Then again, I realized how little I knew about Tim and his inner life. Whatseemed inconsequential to me might have been earth-shattering to him.
I nibbled a fingernail. Honestly, I was a little numb.
Feeling vulnerable to Rocky’s scrutiny, I got back in the car. Ten minutes later, when the patrol car rolled to a stop beside me, my knees were still quaking. I had rested my head against the steering wheel, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Therefore, I didn’t notice that the deputy walking around my car was no deputy.
Knuckles rapped against the window and I jumped like a skittish cat at Fourth of July fireworks.
Sheriff Conahegg pantomimed rolling the window down. I did better than that. I swung open the door and got out.
Damn, he looked handsome with that badge pinned to his chest, and that gun hanging on his hip. Nonsensically, he made me feel safe and I realized I was glad to see him.
I leaned against my car. He stood so close I could feel his body heat. His gray eyes held mine. Was it concern for me that widened his pupils? Was I reading more into his gaze than was there? Since when had I started trying to second-guess Conahegg’s emotions?
He touched my shoulder, a gesture of condolence. But it felt like so much more than that. His eyes—oh, those enigmatic eyes that gave away nothing—stayed fixed on my face. “I’m sorry,” he said, “that you had to find the body.”
“Hazard of the job,” I said, trying to make light of a very serious subject. If I didn’t stay detached from Tim’s suicide, I would have to fling myself into Conahegg’s arms and beg him to hold me close. “I’ve seen bodies before.”
“You’re pretty tough, Allegheny.” Admiration tinged his voice, slightly curved his lips.
I had the goofiest urge to smile. Conahegg was proud of me.
Two more cruisers glided to a stop, sirens cutting off inmidwhine. At the appearance of the other officers, Conahegg’s countenance changed. He straightened, stepped back, removed his hand from my shoulder.
And most telling of all, he dropped his gaze.
I felt robbed, cheated, relieved.
Talk about mixed messages. Talk about conflicting signals. I was sending them and receiving
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