Carved in Darkness by Maegan Beaumont Page B

her with. That she didn’t care. Suddenly, she realized she cared a great deal. Strickland was close to her age and still had the drive needed to solve cases. He cared—not only about the people they tried to help but about the people he worked with. She couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but she couldn’t change who she was, and telling him the truth about Michael was out of the question. She nodded and dropped her gaze. “I’m not good at relying on people.”
    “I get that, but if this partnership is going to work, you’re gonna have to try, ” he said.
    “Okay,” she said, and his face lost its pissed-off look. For fifteen years, lies had been her stock and trade. She didn’t remember telling the truth being this hard.
    The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on a deserted lobby. As soon as they reached the parking lot, he nipped her keys out of her hand. She let him open her door and check the back seat. “Wanna call the bomb squad?” she said.
    “Nah, Sanford isn’t the bomb-making type,” he said, moving aside so she could slide behind the wheel. “See, quick and painless.” He shut her door and handed her the keys.
    She started her jeep and shot him an evil grin. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
    “Such a pain in my ass … ” He propped his arms on her door and leaned his head through the open window. “Look, I’m not gonna push about this O’Shea guy—I think we’ve both had enough personal growth for one day.” He leaned his forehead against the outside of her car and looked down. “Just promise me if things get tight, you’ll let me in.” His tone was easy, but she knew he wasn’t going to let her leave until she gave her word.
    She pressed in the clutch and threw it into Reverse. Letting him in would be a mistake. She had no idea who or what O’Shea had become. All she knew was just thinking about it scared the hell out of her. She’d already made the mistake of involving Nickels, and look where that got her. “If things get tight, there might not be room for you.”
    “Then we’ll make room. Partners—remember?”
    She nodded. “Partners. And for the record, Nickels and I are friends. Just friends.”
    “That’s too bad. Nick’s a great guy.” He stepped back so she could leave. She pulled out of the station lot and turned right, toward home, then took a glance in her rearview mirror. She wasn’t at all surprised to see a truck pull away from curb and force itself into traffic.
    She was being followed.

SIXTEEN
    T ACO NIGHT WAS IN full swing at Casa Vaughn when Sabrina arrived. Val liked to match music to food, so tonight’s selection, old-school Vicente Fernandez, blasted through the open windows of the house. Grateful Val and the kids liked their music loud, Sabrina killed the headlights before she pulled into the drive and quietly shut her car door. She’d hoped to stay below the radar until she could get rid of her unwanted guest, but he had different ideas.
    “Alone at last,” Sanford yelled at her from the street. He vaulted the pretty picket fence and crossed her lawn in broad, uneven steps. He was drunk. Perfect. Just friggin’ perfect.
    “Why are you here, Sanford?” She watched him advance, closing the space between them to just a few feet.
    “ Why am I here? I don’t have a job, I’m living on a barstool, my wife took out a restraining order against me, and you’re at least partly to blame. So you tell me, where else would I fucking be?” He leaned into her space and jabbed her in the chest with his finger. What was it with this ass-clown and the poking?
    She took a deep, slow breath and a step back. “Don’t touch me.” Drunk or sober, Sanford was an asshole, but at least he had slightly better judgment when he was sober. She shifted her body into a defensive stance, ready for a fight.
    He smiled. “Whaddya gonna do,” he sneered and closed the gap between them. “Shoot me?” He drilled his pointer into the center of