19. Raleigh

CHAPTER 19

Raleigh

Before Derrick has even opened his door, I do the thing I promised I wouldn’t do- I jump out of the car. We’ve parked across the street from a little white house, identical to the houses on either side of it, framed by trees and neat grass. There’s no car in the driveway, stolen Buick or otherwise.

“Raleigh-”

Derrick cuts himself off before his voice can rise to a shout, but I don’t stop or turn as I hear him climb out of the cruiser. My heart is pounding too hard and fast. I’m across the quiet street already, and before I can second guess myself, I run up the lawn of Emma Clarke’s house and duck against its side in the shade of a tree. There’s a gate leading to the side yard, and a window just past it that probably looks into the living room. Thank god I’m wearing Derrick’s pants instead of one of my cute mini-skirts. I could seriously tear up my legs scrabbling up this gate.

Am I running from my own cruel words, and the way they made Derrick’s face darken?

No, definitely not.

Derrick is halfway up the lawn himself, but he’s doing his best not to look like he’s hurrying- and he’s keeping his eyes on the house windows around us. An officer in uniform entering someone’s yard will draw attention, and he knows it.

But once he’s under the trees, he moves quickly.

His hand reaches over the gate to unlock it and he swings it open with ease. Before I can be irritated that I hadn’t thought of that, he’s on top of me. His hand clamps down on my upper arm, and he quietly presses me up against the side of the house as we crouch under a window, electric blue eyes flashing.

“Just for once , can you let me in on what the hell you think you’re doing?” he snarls.

My heart is in my throat, but it’s not fear that’s sending adrenaline down my arms and legs- it’s exhilaration. His face is centimeters from mine, and I’ve never seen him so nakedly furious. Even after he arrested me outside of Cooper’s, even when he came after me when I crashed his car. And yet, even so angry, he’s not holding me hard enough for it to hurt, and he’s not shouting. He’s still totally in control of himself.

For a guy who hides his real self behind gentlemanly smiles and diplomacy, he’s most beautiful when he’s like this .

Unfortunately for him, I’m most used to conducting myself when people are angry with me.

“I’m gathering intel,” I say simply.

“What you’re doing is trespassing,” Derrick shoots back. “Something you can be arrested for.”

“Good thing you can’t arrest me,” I grin.

He squeezes my arm, but still not enough to hurt. “You told me you would stay in the car. If you’re not going to stand by your word, then you’re not going to be allowed to be part of this.”

My heart jerks. “ Don’t -” The rest of the words stick in my throat. I can see in his eyes the memory of last night, of my pathetic tears and fears of failure.

The line of Derrick’s jaw softens, and I hate the sight of it. I’d so much rather have his anger than his pity.

A beat of silence passes, and a sound pricks my ears. The muffled, canned laughter of a game show on TV. Derrick looks above my head, where the window that looks into the living room sits.

Someone is home.

“If you’re going to look, do it carefully ,” he murmurs, releasing me and slipping to one corner of the window. The sun is low in the sky, making it easier to see through glass to a lit interior- and the blinds are still open to let in the fading light.

My thighs are screaming from my crouch, but I don’t dare stand. Craning my neck, I peek into the window from one corner as Derrick does from the other.

The living room is sparsely furnished but comfortable, with a worn leather couch and footrest set up in front of a TV and some wilting plants left under the windows on the opposite side of the room. A young woman with a pale blonde bob sits on the couch, shoveling takeout noodles into her mouth. On the screen in front of her, the game show host shouts the result of some quiz, and the crowd screams.

I look over at Derrick. “So we know she’s home.”

He points at me. “Stay. Right. There. I’m going to ask her some questions. If you move before I tell you to, I really am arresting you, and I don’t give a shit what your brother does to me.”

“Fine,” I say. I’m not interested in listening to polite, phony Derrick asking a bunch of questions anyway. It looks like Silver might not be here after all.

I’ve lost my momentum.

Derrick holds my eyes for a beat longer than necessary. Daring me to lie to him again. I blink slowly at him, and he sighs sharply and crab walks past me to the gate. He opens it with care, wary of any creak of the metal, but it stays silent.

I feel goofy that I almost broke my own neck trying to vault over the thing.

Derrick looks back at me and hisses, “Next time, just do this, instead of trying to tear holes in my favorite sweatpants.”

With that last insult given, he slips out and closes the gate behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, I peek back in through the window. The woman, Emma Clarke, is still eating her noodles. I don’t hear or see anyone else moving through the house, but there are plenty of rooms I can’t see into. I consider crawling around the house to see if there are more windows I can look through, but… I shouldn’t risk it- it could blow our cover and let Silver slip away.

Derrick’s knock is authoritative but not ominous. At least, I don’t think it’s supposed to be.

But Emma’s reaction suggests otherwise. She jumps hard and sets her food beside her on the couch. When she lifts her hands again- there’s a gun in them.

I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp. Emma gets to her feet and tucks the gun into the back of her jeans before heading to the door. Where Derrick is waiting, completely unaware.

I shoot to my feet, but before I can throw open the gate, the front door opens. My whole body and my heart inside it freezes.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” I hear Derrick say from around the front of the house. “I’m sheriff Derrick Lindman. Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Emma Clarke?”

Emma’s voice is soft and high when she answers. She looked like she could be younger than me, maybe twenty, and she sounds even younger. “T-The sheriff? Is everything all right?”

“No one’s in trouble or in danger,” Derrick assures- lies. “I just have a few questions for you. If you are Emma Clarke, of course.”

“Of course,” Emma says. “I mean, yes, I’m Emma Clarke.”

“Wonderful. I’m sorry for interrupting your day, but are you the owner of a gray 1995 Buick LeSabre?”

Every muscle in my body is so tense, waiting for the answer to this question- or a gunshot. I tell myself this young woman has a handgun for self defense only, and that it’s not strange for her to bring it with her if she’s answering the door for strangers. When she stood up, I could tell she was even shorter than me, and petite. And if she’s younger than me too- who am I to blame her for trying to keep herself safe?

Still, the hairs on my neck are standing on end. No matter how I try to reassure myself, my instincts aren’t listening. Derrick is mere feet away from a weapon he’s not aware of, that can be used against him at any second.

And all I can do is stand here and listen in fear.

Emma sighs, half in relief and half in frustration. “Oh, yes. That’s my car, but it was…”

Derrick waits a polite beat, then prompts, “Was it recently stolen?”

Emma’s second sigh is pure defeat. “It- my boyfriend borrowed it. We had a fight, and he left.”

“Borrowed,” Derrick confirms, politely masking his doubt. “Did he have your permission to borrow the car?”

There’s a long, awkward pause before Emma admits, “No.”

“I understand, Miss Clarke. How long ago did he leave?”

“Please officer- sheriff- I don’t want to press any charges,” Emma hurries on. “It was just a fight. He’ll come back soon, he’s just clearing his head.”

“I understand, Miss Clarke,” Derrick repeats. “But unfortunately I’m here because your license plate has been tagged in connection with several burglaries in the area.”

“I-I see.”

My body is so stiff I can’t even breathe. Every moment of silence could be the moment before a gunshot.

“I’m not saying that your boyfriend is a suspect at this time, Miss Clarke,” Derrick assures- lies- again. “We’re just trying to figure out where your car is and who might be using it. For now, can I ask for your boyfriend’s name and a physical description?”

Seconds unroll far too slowly, but at last, Emma stammers, “Of-Of course. He’s… 5’9”, has blue eyes and long blonde hair. He’s got a large frame. Broad shoulders.”

Derrick is quiet for a moment, recording notes maybe. “And his name?”

“Michael. M-Michael Carey.”

“All right. Thank you so much for your time, Miss Clarke. Again, no one’s in trouble right now. We’re just trying to gather more information.”

“I understand,” Emma Clarke says faintly. “Th-Thank you, officer.”

“Have a wonderful rest of your day, ma’am,” Derrick says. I hear his footsteps scrape on the front steps. He’s turning his back to Emma, ready to head back down the front lawn.

“Wait!”

My heart stops again, just when I was ready to start breathing again.

“Yes, Miss Clarke?” Derrick asks.

“If you do see Mikey, can you tell him I miss him? And that he should come home?”

“I will, if I see him,” Derrick agrees. “Have a good day.”

He comes into view on the other side of the gate as he walks down the yard to the sidewalk. I wait until I hear the door close, so I can stop seeing him collapse with blood gushing out of the back of his head on repeat in my mind. Derrick doesn’t look back at me, doesn’t hesitate as if there’s a second person lingering near the house that he should be waiting for. Instead, he crosses the street to his cruiser and gets inside, turning on the engine. In the dying daylight, I can just barely see him begin speaking to someone through a walkie-talkie.

This is my chance to creep back to the car myself, but I wait, listening hard for movement inside the house. If I had just been visited by the police, I’d be watching like a hawk through the front window to see when the cruiser leaves. But when I peek through the window again, Emma Clarke is pacing her living room, running her fingers through her short hair. Every time she turns her back on me, I can see the unused gun tucked into her jeans.

Every time she turns back to me, I see her intense pale eyes.

That’s it. Time to go.

Moving on tiptoes, I quietly unlock the side gate and slip out- not down the driveway, but to the left and across the neighbor’s yard. I dart through three more overgrown front yards, Staying low until I make it to the sidewalk. But as I’m about to cross the street, my heart sinks.

Derrick’s cruiser starts to pull away, driving slowly down the street without me.

I clench my teeth and pick up the pace, crossing the street and trailing the car from a distance.

I’m just a random woman in men’s clothes on a casual walk through a neighborhood I don’t live in- and with a heart beating five times faster than it should for my walking speed.

I walk quickly toward the corner, and as I round it, I see the police cruiser parked. He’s waiting for me.

When I finally get back to the cruiser, I jump into the passenger seat with too much relief.

Fuck. What if something happened to me… to the baby? This whole situation was way more dangerous than I realized. How could I be so foolish? I promised myself I’d be a good mother and I’m already fucking that up. It's not just my life at stake anymore. God, I’ve never had to be responsible for anyone but myself, and now someone else is depending on me. This is going to take some serious adjusting. I need to be more careful about... well, everything. Not just for me, but for my baby too.

Derrick isn’t on the walkie anymore, but he doesn’t look up from a little white notepad, which he must’ve been using when he was talking with Emma.

“Well, the physical description is completely wrong,” he says, maybe to me, maybe to himself. “Too tall, too heavy set, and of course, no gray eyes-”

I put my hand to his sculpted cheek, turn his face toward me, and kiss him hard.