down from Canada. Speaking of which, where did you wander from?” “Prunus Cerebus.” “Prunus Cerebus? Which planet is that?” “It’s not a planet, you dope. That’s Latin for Sour Cherry.” “Oh, I get it. You live on Sour Cherry Lane. What’s your name?” She told him. “What are you doing out here this time of night, Molly?” “Exploring.” “Well, you’d better get on home.” Which she had, though she thought he was full of it. There were no fishers in the woods anywhere near Dorset. If there were, her dad would have told her. Besides, if that man really were a biologist with the Department of Environmental Protection he’d know that Prunus Cerebus wasn’t a planet. No question about it, Molly’s life was turning strange. And then it went from strange to just totally sucky. Somehow, Bella got wind that Molly’s dad was staying out there. She called in that mean trooper lady, who sent him away to the hospital. Then the trooper lady tracked Molly down when Molly was trying to shoot hoops over at Jen’s. He was going to be okay, she promised Molly before she started asking her a whole bunch of questions about Clay and her mom. Acting like she wanted to be Molly’s friend. Her dad really did start to feel better. He even found a place to stay that was right nearby. His first night back, as Molly lay there in her tree house reading a library book by flashlight, she allowed herself to hope that maybe everything would be okay again. Clay and Hector would go away soon. Her dad would move back in and her mom would smile and be herself again. Everyone would be happy. It was a warm night. Somewhere down below her a skunk was marking its turf, the stink wafting its way up to Molly’s nostrils. Scarcely a breeze stirred the leaves around her. All was quiet. Until she heard rapid footsteps somewhere down the lane. And a fierce struggle of some kind. Someone groaning. Then a horrifying shriek that pierced the still of the night. It was a sound unlike anything Molly Procter had ever heard before. And it was not any fisher. Molly knew exactly what it was. It was a man dying.
TWO DAYS EARLIER
CHAPTER 1
It was a crisp, beautiful fall afternoon. They’d thrown their mountain bikes into the back of Mitch’s plum- colored Studebaker pickup and driven out to Bluff Point with its miles of bike trails that meandered their way alongside the cliffs overlooking Long Island Sound. Mitch pedaled along next to her, his pudgy cheeks flushed. There was no one else out there. Just the cormorants and them. And lord, was that man pedaling hard. He was even pulling away from her.
“Come on, stretch!” he called to her over his shoulder. “I’m putting you to shame.”
“Doughboy, you have a vivid imagination!”
They arrived at a scenic outcropping with an unobstructed view of the whole coastline and climbed down off of their bikes, chests heaving.
She had sandwiches and water in her day pack. “Want something to eat?”
“No, I want to kiss you.”
And so he did, the two of them standing out there on that rocky ledge with the water lapping beneath them. And there was no one else, nothing else. Just them and their love and desire. His hands found their way up under her T-shirt to her breasts. She let out a soft gasp. And now he was whispering something in her ear. Not words exactly. More like a buzzing. Or a ringing, ringing…
And with a start Des was awake. She dove for the phone, the sleeping lump beside her in bed not so much as stirring. The illuminated dial on the alarm clock told her it was just past one A.M.
“Resident Trooper Mitry,” she said softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she listened to the Troop F dispatcher. Her forehead felt damp. The night had turned warm and humid. The bedroom curtains hung limp. “Fine. I’ll be right there.”
Naked, Des got out of bed. Fumbled in her closet for a summer-weight uniform, in her dresser for a sports bra and thong. She padded silently into the bathroom and showered quickly. She was just starting to towel dry her lean six-foot one-inch frame when she felt another dizzy spell coming on. The bathroom was spinning. Her heart racing faster and faster. She slumped to the edge of the tub with her head between her knees, praying she wouldn’t black out like she had the other evening, when she’d hit the kitchen floor with a thud and been out for something like five minutes. Thank God he hadn’t gotten home yet. Breathing slowly in and out, Des steadied herself. Felt okay enough to finish drying off and get dressed. She ran a comb through her short, nubby hair. Put on her heavy horn- rimmed glasses. Des wore no makeup. She needed none.
His nightstand lamp was on now. He was sitting up in bed, bare-chested, his impossibly broad shoulders tapering down to an even more impossibly narrow waist. Pecs and abs rippled. Dark skin glowed in the lamplight. Truly, he was the most beautiful black man she had ever seen. All she wanted to do right now was tear her uniform off and stretch her naked self out against all seventy-eight inches of him.
“Desi, where are you going at this time of night?” he yawned, running a hand over his stubbly jaw.
“Drug overdose at a party. Teenagers, apparently.”
He let out a laugh. “In Dorset? Get out.”
“It happens here, Brandon.” She perched on the edge of the bed and slipped on her socks. Stepped into her shiny black brogans, tied the laces. “It all happens here.”
“Okay, but why do they always have to call you?”
“Because it’s always my job, silly man.”
“Then it’s time to get you a new one. You ought to put in for a transfer. Get back on Major Crimes. Lord knows you’ve paid your penance.”
“And you ought to go back to sleep,” responded Des, who didn’t like him or anyone else trying to run her career.
“Will you at least answer me this…?” His rich burgundy voice was a purr now. “How does a woman in uniform look so beautiful at one o’clock in the morning?”
“You, sir, are still asleep and dreaming.”
“No, ma’am, I’m wide awake and looking.” He smiled at her. The smile that instantly turned her back into a bashful, knock-kneed giraffe of a high school girl with insides of melted caramel. “And that’s not all I’m doing.”
“Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”
“Try me.” He reached for her playfully.
She darted for the door. “Baby, I am gone. Get back to sleep. That’s an order.”
“Whatever you say, master sergeant.”
Des got the coffee going in the kitchen, which opened out into the dining room and living room to form one airy space. When she’d redone her little house overlooking Uncas Lake she’d wanted to take maximum advantage of the view and the light. Back when she shared the place with her friend Bella Tillis, the living room had served as Des’s studio. Here, she’d created her passionate, horrifying depictions of the murder victims she’d encountered on the job. Capturing their hollowed eye sockets and congealed brain matter on paper had been her way of dealing. But now that Brandon was back in her life, the living room was a proper living room with sleek black leather sofa, matching armchairs and glass coffee table. Her easel and 18? 24 Strathmore 400 drawing pad now resided down in the garage, formerly known as Cats Landing. But their gang of rescued strays had moved out when Bella had. Brandon hated cats. It was mutual.
Brandon’s very first night back Kid Rock peed in his $1,200 Il Bisonte briefcase.
The damp, windowless garage wasn’t nearly as desirable a studio space. But that wasn’t a big problem because Des had felt zero desire to draw lately.
Her Sig-Sauer was in the hall closet along with her shield and big Smokey hat. She snapped her holster onto her wide black belt, taking note of the fact that her uniform trousers, which had been snug a few weeks back, were now almost falling off of her hips. She wasn’t eating. It was that knot in her stomach. The one she always used to have before she’d met Mitch. The only time in her whole life it had ever gone away was when the two of them had been together.
Odd that she’d been dreaming about him just now when the phone rang. It had been three whole months since she’d given him back his grandmother Sadie’s engagement ring. Had to after Brandon had shown up on her doorstep and begged her to forgive him. He’d split up with Anita. Got himself transferred from D.C. back to Connecticut. And he wanted her back.
