drugs.”
A brow lifted. “I don’t remember that.”
“Well, it didn’t make the eleven o’clock news, but it stirred things up around here pretty good.” Her lips twisted in derision as she loaded the dishwasher.
She placed the last dish in the rack, reached under the sink for the detergent, and filled the cup. Shoving the door shut, she turned the machine on and a low hum filled the air.
“So, what’s Dominic doing now?” he asked.
Alexia shrugged. She grabbed a rag to wipe out the sink. “I don’t know. I tried to find him about three years ago, but I didn’t have any luck. A private investigator was too expensive and—” another halfhearted shrug—“I took that to mean he didn’t want to be found, for some reason.”
“So you quit looking.”
“Yep.”
She tossed the rag onto the counter and looked around the house, eyes studying every detail. He could only imagine the memories flooding through her.
Taking another deep breath, she said, “But maybe it’s time to start searching again. Maybe in order to find a measure of peace, it’s time to try and lay all the ghosts in my past to rest.” Alexia flushed and cut her eyes to the floor. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m sharing all this with you.” She looked back at him. “When did you get so easy to talk to?”
It was his turn to feel the heat climbing up his neck. “If you’d been interested, you could have found out back in high school.”
Her jaw dropped as she paused midstep toward the door, and he let out a laugh.
“What? You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know that?”
He felt a silly grin spread across his face. “You were a freshman, I was a senior. I was too cool to date a freshman.” He ducked his chin and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I wish I hadn’t been so cool.”
The flush that graced her cheeks made him grin wider. Then he frowned and sighed. “And my dad would have killed me.”
Alexia grimaced and tightened her jaw. “Yeah, couldn’t go against Dad, could you?”
He ignored her bitter words. “Then the night you and Chad and Christine all graduated . . . I realized I wanted to get to know you more—regardless of what my father would say. Then you disappeared on me.”
His confession seemed to knock her for a loop. She cleared her throat and said, “I had no idea, Hunter.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “I had just gotten home from college. It was the first time I’d seen you in three years, and you didn’t seem interested in me—or any other guy for that matter.”
“Well, that’s true. I’d pretty much sworn off men and dating by the end of my senior year. And,” she twisted the ring on her pinky, a nervous habit she’d broken but seemed to have picked up again recently, “I’ve been running for the past ten years.” She frowned and walked toward the basement door. Pulling it open, she looked down the steps, her shoulders hunched. “Now, I want to stop running. It’s time to start fighting my own battles.”
She headed down the basement stairs.
16
Wednesday, 8:46 a.m.
As she put one foot in front of the other, long-buried fears deluged her. The light tread of the footsteps behind her offered her more comfort than she wanted to admit. Part of her was relieved she didn’t have to do this alone, but another part believed she didn’t deserve to have company—or comfort.
Swallowing hard, she reached the bottom of the steps and flipped the switch. Just as before, the light illuminated the cluttered space.
Alexia walked straight to the area where Devin had died. His blood still stained the carpet. A dark brown spot with spatters on the wall. “The crime scene cleanup crew hasn’t been here yet,” she noted.
Then rolled her eyes at her statement. Duh.
But she felt better hearing her voice, trying to stay detached from it all, like she was working one of her fires. Noting details, doing what had to be done, but keeping
A brow lifted. “I don’t remember that.”
“Well, it didn’t make the eleven o’clock news, but it stirred things up around here pretty good.” Her lips twisted in derision as she loaded the dishwasher.
She placed the last dish in the rack, reached under the sink for the detergent, and filled the cup. Shoving the door shut, she turned the machine on and a low hum filled the air.
“So, what’s Dominic doing now?” he asked.
Alexia shrugged. She grabbed a rag to wipe out the sink. “I don’t know. I tried to find him about three years ago, but I didn’t have any luck. A private investigator was too expensive and—” another halfhearted shrug—“I took that to mean he didn’t want to be found, for some reason.”
“So you quit looking.”
“Yep.”
She tossed the rag onto the counter and looked around the house, eyes studying every detail. He could only imagine the memories flooding through her.
Taking another deep breath, she said, “But maybe it’s time to start searching again. Maybe in order to find a measure of peace, it’s time to try and lay all the ghosts in my past to rest.” Alexia flushed and cut her eyes to the floor. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m sharing all this with you.” She looked back at him. “When did you get so easy to talk to?”
It was his turn to feel the heat climbing up his neck. “If you’d been interested, you could have found out back in high school.”
Her jaw dropped as she paused midstep toward the door, and he let out a laugh.
“What? You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know that?”
He felt a silly grin spread across his face. “You were a freshman, I was a senior. I was too cool to date a freshman.” He ducked his chin and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I wish I hadn’t been so cool.”
The flush that graced her cheeks made him grin wider. Then he frowned and sighed. “And my dad would have killed me.”
Alexia grimaced and tightened her jaw. “Yeah, couldn’t go against Dad, could you?”
He ignored her bitter words. “Then the night you and Chad and Christine all graduated . . . I realized I wanted to get to know you more—regardless of what my father would say. Then you disappeared on me.”
His confession seemed to knock her for a loop. She cleared her throat and said, “I had no idea, Hunter.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “I had just gotten home from college. It was the first time I’d seen you in three years, and you didn’t seem interested in me—or any other guy for that matter.”
“Well, that’s true. I’d pretty much sworn off men and dating by the end of my senior year. And,” she twisted the ring on her pinky, a nervous habit she’d broken but seemed to have picked up again recently, “I’ve been running for the past ten years.” She frowned and walked toward the basement door. Pulling it open, she looked down the steps, her shoulders hunched. “Now, I want to stop running. It’s time to start fighting my own battles.”
She headed down the basement stairs.
16
Wednesday, 8:46 a.m.
As she put one foot in front of the other, long-buried fears deluged her. The light tread of the footsteps behind her offered her more comfort than she wanted to admit. Part of her was relieved she didn’t have to do this alone, but another part believed she didn’t deserve to have company—or comfort.
Swallowing hard, she reached the bottom of the steps and flipped the switch. Just as before, the light illuminated the cluttered space.
Alexia walked straight to the area where Devin had died. His blood still stained the carpet. A dark brown spot with spatters on the wall. “The crime scene cleanup crew hasn’t been here yet,” she noted.
Then rolled her eyes at her statement. Duh.
But she felt better hearing her voice, trying to stay detached from it all, like she was working one of her fires. Noting details, doing what had to be done, but keeping
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