Chapter 2

Two

Izzy

I watched as my team removed Christian's body. It had been propped up in my dining room like he was sitting at the table for dinner. Which was ironic considering we used to fight all the time about how I did all the cooking and yet he bitched about what was made. Meanwhile he never lifted a finger to help.

"Don't step over there. We haven't processed that area yet," I ordered, pointing and giving the new cops I didn't know—and the sergeant that I did—a death glare. The jerks were always pissing all over my crime scenes with their dirty boots and chauvinistic attitudes. Fine, I'd only been in the position of Chief Deputy Coroner for a little over a year, and I was the youngest person on staff at twenty-four, but it wasn't my fault that people kept retiring. We were a small town, and I was damn good at my job.

"This is only a body dump location and not the main crime scene. You're not going to find anything," Sergeant Irving said.

"That is not for you to determine. Now, either follow protocol and put on the booties so you don't continue to destroy my crime scene or get out."

Irving puffed out his chest and glared at me, but I stared back, not giving him an inch.

"Is something wrong, Sergeant," Branson asked, and my body gave a little jolt of excitement at the sound of his voice behind me.

He looked between me and Branson and shook his head. "We'll wait outside until the geek patrol is finished."

I opened my mouth to bitch about turning the CSI unit into a generic slur, but Branson laid his hand on my shoulder. He held out a coffee for me and my brain stumbled just long enough that Irving managed to escape outside. Probably just as well. He would've pushed every button until I yelled, and then he would say I was the unstable one. I knew his type.

"Thanks," I said, taking the coffee and loving how he always knew exactly how I liked it.

"You shouldn't stay here," Branson said, and I nodded.

"I'm going to get a motel room."

"Like hell you are staying in some shady motel. If he got in your home, then a motel room would be child's play. You'll stay with me until this is all over."

I looked up at him and wanted to yell yes, but he was more than a temptation. He'd become my obsession, and he had a fiancé. Isn't It Ironic was suddenly on repeat in my mind. Staying with him was setting myself up for a world of hurt. Taking an extra second, I admired his profile, his perfect jaw, and dark honey eyes that bordered on orange, depending on the lighting. Branson was two years older than me, and yet he looked like he hadn't aged a day since he graduated high school. Other than filling out his clothing and the hard look in his eyes, he was the same guy that I crushed on all through school and yet never said a word to anyone about it. Not even my best friend Abbie knew about the fantasies I dreamed up late at night.

"No, that's fine. If he wanted to hurt me, then I'd already be dead," I argued, and Branson crossed his arms over his chest.

"This isn't a negotiation, Dr. Van Tassel. It's a direct order from the lead detective on the case. I deem it way too dangerous for you to be staying on your own until this lunatic is caught." I shivered at the way he said my name and quickly swallowed a large mouthful of coffee. Then, I almost spit it out as I burned my mouth. "Don't think that ignoring me is going to get you out of this," he said softer.

"Fine, but I don't need you babysitting me. I need to work all day, so when I'm done, I'll head to your place."

"Not a chance. I'll pick you up at six," he said, turning and walking out of my house. "Don't bother arguing with me."

My heart was racing out of control and had me feeling as high as a kite. Jesus, this was a terrible idea. I wasn't the home wrecker type. Coming from a broken home with a cheating parent, I had a front-row seat to the pain it caused. Yes, my mom found happiness again with my step-father who I loved to bits, but that wasn't the point. While others relished in the idea of being able to steal someone away, that wasn't me, and yet….

"Sorry, I'm finally here. Are you okay," Brianna asked, yanking me out of my thoughts as she pulled me into a brief hug.

I nodded. "I'm good. I'm hoping he got sloppy this time, and we can pull some DNA. The body is en route to our office, which is where I'd like to head if you're good to finish processing the scene."

"Isn't this considered a little too close to the situation? I mean, it's not only your house, but you and Christian only broke up a few months ago. This must be difficult."

"You know I can compartmentalize. Besides, Christian and I were done long before we called it quits." I left out the part where I'd been stupid not to see through his emotional manipulation, but the moment he hit me, I threw his ass out. I had no love for my ex. It was a terribly awkward moment for me to feel like he got what he deserved while wanting to hunt down his killer at the same time.

"Okay…if you're sure." Brianna squeezed my shoulder before heading to the dining room table covered with little numbered markers. You never knew what you might find that could lead you to your suspect.

Making my way upstairs, I passed an officer on his way down who had my bedroom door handles in an evidence bag. I'd spotted the single drop of blood and thought it was probably Christian's, but I wanted to be sure.

My bedroom was empty, and I stared at the stain that had seeped through to the mattress. The Headless Horseman was getting bolder, and he was smart, too smart. He'd not only managed to break into my home, but he dismantled all my cameras. I immediately checked the footage once the calvary arrived, but it was gone. Two hours had disappeared, which is incredibly hard to do when you use an outside service that monitors for hackers. I was still waiting to hear back from the company to find out what happened.

How long was he in my house? Was he here before I locked the doors? Was he hiding in a closet or under my bed? Did he watch me sleep? Was this all part of a bigger game, and if so, was this a warning or a chess move? Was I next to play? And did he ultimately plan on killing me?

There was no way to answer any of that yet, but what I did know was that I was determined to catch him. Our once perfectly safe and quiet town had been turned on its head, and Mayor Parrish was already all over me to get these murders solved as much as he was berating Branson for being incompetent. I'd like to see him do either of our jobs.

"There you are," Branson said, and I jumped at the sound of his voice so close. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine. I was just lost in thought." Giving him a small smile, I walked into my closet and grabbed a bag to pack a few clothes. He stepped into the doorway, and I managed to seem like his presence didn't set me on fire. I'd done it so much that it came naturally to me.

"Is that all you're bringing?"

I glanced at the bag I was packing and then up at Branson. It wasn't normal for detectives to wander around in jeans, but he did and pulled it off. He looked way too sexy as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"Yes, I'll only be staying a day or two."

"No, you're not leaving until this guy is either behind bars or dead. At this point, I really don't care which," Branson said.

"I don't want to wear out my welcome. Besides, I would hate to interfere or become the third wheel with you and Betsy. I'll be honest. It feels a little strange to stay. I don't want to cause any issues. Not that I think I would cause issues or that I'm a threat. I'm not a threat. Please make sure Betsy knows that…I'm rambling." I cleared my throat. "It's not exactly protocol for you to have a victim of a crime stay at your home."

He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip, and I watched it like a cat with a toy. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from the minuscule movement. Pushing away from the doorjamb, he stepped into the closet. It felt like he sucked all the air out of the room and my lungs with it. Branson bent over, his arm brushing mine as he pulled out the larger suitcase.

"Pack this instead, and trust me, your staying isn't an issue."

I opened my mouth to argue, but his phone rang. Branson groaned as he stared at the screen. "Parrish." He pointed at the suitcase. "Pack that, I mean it. I'll wait downstairs to drop you off at the office," he said, stepping back and out of the closet. "Oh, and I like it when you ramble." He smirked, and I wanted to crawl into a hole with embarrassment. "Detective Crane," he said, walking away.

What was I getting myself into? At this rate, I was going to throw every single one of my morals out the window. No. I'd always stood by my ethics. I wouldn't toss them away now, but Lord help me, he was as tempting as any sin.