Chapter 2

Tori Townsend

People walk around me, snapping pictures and chatting softly. The lights of the emergency vehicles flash against the wet pavement, and the rain continues to pound against my back.

They took her off the road some time ago, the whispering EMTs, but I can't bring myself to get off my knees. My mind keeps replaying the scene, reliving what I'd done. I've long since stopped crying, and my emotions have taken on this numb quality that I have never experienced before. I can feel that my life has shifted now that I've ended a life. It's almost as if I don't recognize myself. Like I'm wrapped in someone else's skin because this can't really be my life, can it?

I'm soaked and vaguely aware that I'm shivering so hard my entire body quakes and aches. Only when a blanket is laid over my shoulders do I look up from the outline of the lily field.

Dark eyebrows are pulled together as a familiar face peers down at me. Pierce Hilton opens his mouth to say something, but he must think better of it because he closes it, and his lips thin into a fine line. His brown eyes soften as they take in my expression, whatever that may be, and he bends his tall frame at the knees until he's squatting next to me. He may not be in his uniform, probably because it's the middle of the night, but he's still the new sheriff. His badge, pinned at the waist, flashes the ambulance lights back at me.

He's a handsome man. I've thought that since the day he moved here from New York with his grandfather. Even though his hair is dripping wet, it's tousled in a messy way, and his sweater clings to his slight build as it soaks from the rain.

Tucking the blanket tighter around my shoulders, he asks, "How are you holding up?"

I blink at him and then stare back at the pavement. I don't know how to answer that. I don't even know what this lack of feeling is.

"That bad, huh?" he murmurs over the noise surrounding us.

He reaches to push wet hair from my dripping face, but I veer my head away from his fingers. The almost-touch was too much, and I know damn well that he knows that too. We may have slept together once, but that doesn't make me his girl. Sometimes, he forgets that, and even though I'm vulnerable, my mind hasn't changed about exploring what he deems could be ‘something good.'

"Don't," I murmur the warning gently.

He doesn't verbally give it away, but I can tell he's disappointed by the way he drops his hand onto his bent knee. "Sorry." The abrupt clearing of his throat makes me jump a bit. He glances around us and says, "We should get you somewhere warm though. At the very least, somewhere dry."

"I'm fine," I lie. My knees hurt from digging into the road, my neck aches from shivering, and the tip of my nose feels like it's an icicle. But I deserve this. I deserve more than this.

Giving a small shake of his head, he adds, "You can't stay here, Tori."

I turn a glare in his direction. I know he's just trying to help, but I don't want it.

He sighs. "Is there someone I can call for you?" He glances down at his shoes. "A boyfriend or something?"

I know he's fishing. Ever since we slept together, he's been trying to date me. I haven't directly told him no, but I thought my avoiding him was answer enough. At some point, I'll have to be straight with him. Right now isn't a good time, though, so I just shake my head.

"What about Tegan?" he mutters softly. "Do you want her?"

Taking a deep breath, I nod. My best friend is exactly who I need. Even though she's never murdered someone, she'll know precisely what to say and what to do. She's the only person I have.

He flags down an officer and tells him to call Tegan Garner, formerly Adams, to pick me up, and once that officer heads to his car to do just that, he turns back to me. Slowly, he stands and holds out his hand. I stare at the lines on his palm for a moment, and he waits patiently while I make a decision. I know he'll eventually pick me up if I don't move, so I choose the lesser of two evils and take his hand.

After he hauls me up, he readjusts my blanket and leads me to an empty ambulance. He angles his body just right so that I don't stare at the dead woman in the ambulance next to it. She may be in a black bag, but he's still trying to shelter me from the evidence anyway.

His grandfather is inside that ambulance, and I can hear him praying over the woman, asking God to take her soul and forgive her sins. Pierce's grandfather is the new pastor of one of Fairview's churches. I met him shortly after he moved here, and to say we don't get along is an understatement.

Pierce guides me to sit on the end of the ambulance and out of the rain. Hopping up, he rummages around inside the ambulance's drawers, pulls out a fresh blanket, and takes off my soaked one. As soon as the new one is adjusted on my shoulders, he sits down next to me. His weight jostles the entire ambulance as he does so.

He blows out a breath, and then he looks at the side of my face. "I'm sorry, Tori, but I have to ask what happened."

I swallow thickly as the emotions threaten to rise, looking down at my pruney fingers. "She came out of nowhere."

"Where did she come from?" he presses gently.

My shrug is small as I begin pulling at my knuckles. "From a black van, I guess. It was on the side of the road. Had its lights flashing."

From the side of my vision, I can see him frown. "Did she just step out onto the road at the wrong time?"

I'm sure my scowl matches his own as I recount the event. "No, she was running. And she looked . . ." I swallow and curl my fingers into fists. "Afraid."

It doesn't take a genius to know that he's fidgeting because he wants to take my hand into his. Thankfully, he doesn't. Instead, he says, "There's no van here now, and the rain long since washed away the tracks. What happened to it? "

I slowly turn my head to look at him, wondering if he thinks that I'm making it up. However, I don't see that etched in the concerned lines on his face, so I explain. "The man in the orange raincoat took off with it when he'd seen what I'd done."

He nods a little and pulls out his phone. In a few taps, he brings up the notes app and asks, "What did this man look like?"

"I don't know. I couldn't see his face. The hood was pulled up, and with the darkness and the rain . . . He was tall. That's all I know."

His fingers fly across the screen of his phone as he jots down what little I could give him. "And the van? Did you see the plates? Any unique details about it?"

I shake my head. "No. I-It-It was dark."

He glances over at me, and I can tell he's a bit frustrated by the slow drooping of his shoulders. "Was it a minivan?"

I shake my head again. "A big one." Fingers fly across the screen as he jots that down too. I turn my attention back to my cold hands. "I'm sorry. I don't have anything else. That really is all I know."

He's quiet for a moment before he pockets his phone. "Tegan should be here soon, and I want you to go home and take a warm bath."

I look at his chest. "Do you – The woman . . ."

"No, we don't know who she is. She had no identification, but we'll figure it out. I'll make sure I tell you as soon as I do, okay?"

"Okay," I whisper. I don't know what I'll do with that information, but at least, I'll know the name of the woman I hit. Killed. Maybe even learn her baby's name – or what it was supposed to be anyway.

I glance over to thank him for his kindness but suck in a breath as soon as an orange raincoat heads our direction.

"What?" Pierce asks, looking with me.

"That's the orange coat," I breathe. "The one the guy was wearing."

He scowls. "It's just my grandfather, Tori. And besides, everyone has that coat. Derek Wordon got a shipment of them for his store, and because of how much rain we've been getting, several people have bought them. They're all over town."

Oh. I guess I hadn't noticed.

The pastor, Kent Hilton, pulls down the hood of the raincoat and stares right at me. Glares is more like it. I glare right back because, well . . . I hate him. His belly extends and presses into the zipper, but otherwise, he's a thin man. White hair peppers his face, and a full head of it covers his scalp. For a man in his seventies, I'm surprised he isn't bald. His god must have blessed him, though I can't think why anyone would bless this man. He's an asshole.

"I should have known it was you," he grinds out.

I can't hide my flinch, but it's Pierce who comes to my aid. Normally, I'd have no problem sticking up for myself when it comes to this guy, but in my vulnerable state, it whips me speechless. "Don't start, Pap. Now isn't the time."

My nose wants to wrinkle in disgust. I never liked what he calls his grandfather. Even though he raised Pierce, he doesn't deserve endearments. Surely, Pierce can see his grandfather for what he truly is.

Kent points at me with a bony finger. "She's pagan."

"So, because she doesn't believe in God, she deserves this?" Pierce raises his eyebrows at the old man.

Dropping his hand back to his side, Kent only huffs.

"People who believe in God have this sort of thing happen to them all the time," Pierce presses on. "It's just shit luck. Nothing more."

"She's no good for a town like this," Kent growls. He sweeps out his arms to display the entire scene. "Look at the mess she created."

I pinch my eyebrows together and spit, "I lived here way before you came along, and everything was just fine."

Pierce hops off the ambulance, stands between us, and holds out his hands. He acts as if, at any moment, the argument will come to blows. "Look, I know you guys don't like each other, but now isn't the time."

The asshole glares at me from over his grandson's shoulder, and I glare right back. We do that a lot. He may be the old-school new pastor, but that's not his only occupation. Before he moved here, I was the only realtor in the area. As a side-gig, and as someone who saw an opportunity, he opened his own realtor business to compete against mine. And wouldn't you know it? His realtor office is right beside my Wiccan shop in Mount Pleasant.

He makes no bones about telling me or, shit, even showing me how me and my store don't belong here. He's making it hard to keep my shop open, spreading his hatred as he is.

Every time I see his face, I want to punch it.

"Tori?" I hear Tegan call. From wherever she is, I hear panic in her tone. "Where is she? Do you see her?" A second later, she's rounding the ambulances, dressed in only cat-patterned pajamas. As soon as she sees me, her shoulders relax, and she rushes in my direction.

Pierce steers his grandfather away, and I brace myself as Tegan comes barreling at me, arms wide open. She nearly knocks me down as she wraps her arms tightly around me.

Over her shoulder, I see Cole examining the damage to my car with a pinched expression. For a second, he glances at the body bag in the ambulance and then turns his gaze at me. His eyes soften for a moment, watching as his wife embraces me, and as he heads my direction, I squeeze my eyes shut to force the tears to stay tucked deep, deep inside me. To have two caring friends like them is more than anyone deserves.

"The officer told me what happened," Tegan says into my ear. I can hear the emotion in her tone, and I give her a squeeze before letting her go.

"Yeah," I whisper.

"Are you alright?" Cole asks as soon as he reaches us. He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, and I note, like Tegan, he's also wearing pajamas.

I nod because I can't trust my voice. Emotionally, that's a lie. I'm not alright. But physically, I'm unharmed, which I think is what he's asking for.

"Your car is totaled," Cole grunts. "We'll get you a loaner car."

"I don't know where to get one of those," I confess.

"Derek has a few," he answers. He'd know as he pretty much manages all of Derek's things. Mostly his rentals, but sometimes Derek throws more his way.

"Thank you," I mutter to him.

Tegan takes my wet face into her palms and forces me to look at her. I don't know what she sees in my eyes, but they cause hers to water. It takes everything I have not to cry with her. "Let's get you home."

Not trusting my voice, I nod.