Dina stops and looks at me. “You came alone?”
I nod in response. She gets up from her crouching position and, wiping her hands on her skirt, moves toward the front door.
“Oh, Detective Nash. Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes. Is Noelle here?”
“She’s out the back. Come on in.”
“I’m here,” I say, stepping into the main store and focusing on the imposing figure in the doorway.
Hate it when he does that.
“I need you,” he grinds out.
I look at the clock on the wall. “Well, I really have to go to the office, but if you insist, honey…”
He glances at the clock and then me, his lips twitching. As I focus on him, I notice the tightness in his shoulders and the businesslike way he’s carrying himself. Oh no. That’s never good.
My stomach twists, and I turn to Dina. “Thank you for your help.”
“Not at all.” She takes my hand and squeezes gently. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me. Here’s my card.” She pulls a small, silver-and-purple card from a holder on the counter.
I grab my purse from behind it. Then I drop the card in it as I say goodbye.
The door closes behind me, and no sooner has the key turned in the lock than it hits me. I forgot to ask about the runes. Fuck it. I’ll have to order that devil bible thing.
Drake clamps his hand on my shoulder and steers me toward his squad car. He’s dragging me so quickly that I can barely keep up with him, and I use my left hand to steady my coffee so I don’t drop it. It’s practically full, and I have the feeling I’m going to need it.
“In,” he demands.
“Are you arresting me?”
“Get in the damn car, Noelle,” he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair.
Ugh. Grumpy Drake. Pretty sure the man is all the seven dwarves rolled into one.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, taking the passenger’s seat.
He slams the door shut then gets on in his side. He yanks his door shut and leans back in his seat. He’s dressed for work, and he looks exactly how he should, but there are waves of melancholy and apprehensive tension flowing off him.
I know what he’s going to say before he says it.
“Annabelle Porter. We located her car.”
Okay, so I was half right. “And?”
“And?” He frowns at me. “And there’s blood on the driver’s seat. It was half driven into a ditch on the edge of the woods.”
My heart thuds painfully. “And…Annabelle?”
“There’s a small search in the surrounding area. No one has opened the trunk yet. I guess they’re saving that little gem for me,” he responds dryly, turning the key.
The engine starts, and he pulls away.
“Why would a twenty-one-year-old student go missing then drive her car in a ditch, with blood on the seat?” I seriously need to finish this coffee if I just said that out loud.
Drake’s jaw clenches in response to my asinine question. Yeah, I didn’t think that through. I’m not even going to ask if the blood is hers, because I doubt they’ll know. Not that they’ll even have anything to compare it to. But shit.
I hope like hell that trunk is empty. I hope she’s just unconscious somewhere, or maybe she crashed her car and tried to walk somewhere for help. She can’t be dead. We can’t have a third body in as many days.
This isn’t New York, or Washington, or Miami, or Los Angeles. This is Holly fucking Woods. Tiny. Small town. Not even a thousand people for the population. Little privately owned businesses.
Serial murders don’t happen here. Freak murders? Sure. Every town has its nutjobs.
But a serial killer?
I don’t want to believe that. Even with the added people here for the fair more than doubling the population of town. I don’t want to believe that one single soul could harbor such hatred for so many people, let alone more than one person having that evil emotion.
“When did they find the car?” I ask quietly as Drake turns onto the road that leads to the woods. It’s on the opposite side of town to the fair, and for a brief second, I wonder if the disappearances are even connected at all.
“Around an hour ago.” He rubs his hand across his forehead. “I went to your house, your office, and your parents’ until Brody called me and told me he remembered you made an appointment with Dina White.”
“Why didn’t you call—never mind,” I finish, remembering that my phone is in my purse, which I didn’t have on me.
“I didn’t know you were friends with Dina.”
I scrunch my face up.
He chuckles darkly. “All right. So you’re not friends with Dina. What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing. She’s perfectly lovely.”
“Sounds like you stole that out of some classic romance novel.”
“You read classic romance novels? I pegged you for a comic book kinda guy.”
“Seriously, cupcake? When the fuck have you ever imagined me kicking back with a goddamn comic?”
I look up at the roof of the car. An image of Drake on his sofa, socked feet resting on the coffee table and a Batman comic book in his hands, comes to mind. Obviously, he’s shirtless in this image, because hello, priorities.
“Huh,” I say.
“Noelle.”
“You’d be a pretty hot nerd boy.”
“Boy? Now, I’m pissed.”
I shoot him a grin as he pulls in behind Trent’s car. Yeah. I know who each squad car belongs to. There are teeny-tiny markings that show the differences, but this time, I know because my eldest brother is leaning on the roof of the car, and only he and Alison are allowed to do that.
“Stop imagining me half naked and reading a comic book,” Drake growls, but his heart isn’t in it. No, in fact, he sounds a bit like an angry teddy bear. If teddy bears could talk.
I hold my hand up and sip my coffee. He leans over and swipes it from me. I gasp as he tips it up and takes a mouthful.
“Vanilla. Vile shit.” He hands it back to me and gets out of his car.
I copy him, grinning with a tight hold on my cup. “That’ll teach you to keep taking my coffee, asshole.”
He raises his eyebrows. If we weren’t at a crime scene, he’d so be handing me my ass right now. Or he’d be slapping it. His lips twitch as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, so I’m gonna say definitely slapping it.
Now, however, my brother is looking at me like he wants to beat me. And not in the way Drake wants to.
“You look like shit,” I tell Trent, drawing close to him.
He does. There are grayish-purple bags under his eyes, and the stubble that always lines his chin is not as trimmed as it usually is. It’s kind of roguish and untidy.
“Thanks for noticin’. Sil apparently stashes candy under his bed and ate too much. Alison was at work until two, so I was up with him all night while he was puking up Twizzlers and fuck knows what else. Now, I’m here.” He pushes off and sweeps his arm in the direction of the trees.
I follow his weak wave and note the rear end of a car visible through some thick tree trunks.
“Finish up here and go home.” Drake straightens up.
My brother opens his mouth to argue, but Drake reaches forward and squeezes his shoulder.
“That’s an order, Bond. You’re no use to anyone if you look like you’re about to drop your balls. Let’s open this trunk and then you can fuck off. I doubt you’ll struggle to make the hours back.”
With that, Drake releases him, claps him on the back, and heads toward where a couple of young officers are standing guard in front of the car. He ducks under the tape and, proceeding toward them, discusses something. Then he nods and takes the gloves one of them hands him.
Good God, Detective Nash is hot as fuck when he’s bossy.
Unless it’s me he’s bossing around. Then I just want to punch him in the junk.
“He’s a good guy,” Trent says quietly. “And I’m not just saying it because he’s my best friend. He cares about you.”
My shoulders lift to my ears with my deep breath, and they drop on my exhale. “Not exactly the place for this, don’t you think?”
He shrugs. “It’s now or family dinner.”