Page 115 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“Nah,” he paused. “Ya know the assault they picked up over on Route 50? We found his truck.”

Carla was quiet for a long moment.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ll be out back waitin’ on ya.”

“Thanks, Carla. I just know he’s done a lot of good for this town, and I don’t think Tommy deserves to have his reputation destroyed.”

My hand flew to my mouth, and my eyes suddenly opened wide and unblinking. I couldn’t draw a breath, no matter how hard I tried.

My chest heaved with each breath I couldn’t seem to take, my heart slamming against my sternum so hard that it felt like it mightimplode. Tears raced down my face, slipping into my hairline as I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes fixed on a crack in the plaster as I tried to process what I had just heard.

I forced myself to sit up, the weight of realization pressing down on me so hard that I felt like I was being crushed beneath it.

“Tommy?” I whispered, staring down at the radio.

That couldn’t be true.

Tommy was a hero. He saved me.

No.

I shook my head, hard, fighting with myself as I stumbled to my feet.

No, Tommy was my stalker.

28

To keep the goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice

Moth

By the time I parked my convertible outside the jail, the sky was starting to lighten. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them into the purse, among the evidence I had gathered.

I didn’t want to give him a chance to lie to me. I didn’t want a fight. I didn’t want to second guess everything I knew when I was finally looking into his eyes. I wanted the truth, plain and simple. So I swung by his house on the way here and let myself in. Thankfully, the door had been unlocked, and it was a simple matter of moving around the house and collecting what I found.

Easy enough, considering he left it sitting out in the open.

He was brave, I’d give him that.

My hands came together at the top of the steering wheel, my knuckles white and my fingers shaking as I gripped the leather. I stared at the low, beige brick building, its windows watchingme like wide-open, judgmental eyes, boring down on me with the weight of the entire world.

I grabbed my purse and headed inside, careful to keep my head down, but did it matter, really? My car was recognizable. Anyone who drove by would know it was me, and they’d know I was here.

Who cares? I didn’t care anymore what anyone thought of me.

Pulling the door open, I walked inside to a blast of cold air, and I shivered. Apparently, the cops liked to keep it cold in here. Maybe they hadn’t gotten the memo that summer was over. Glaring fluorescent lights burned down from the ceiling, washing everything in a too-white, sterile glow. Four low desks sat in the first room, one in each quadrant. All of them were empty and abandoned, with papers, folders, and computer screens scattered across, except for one.

Sheriff Banner sat behind the desk nearest the back of the room, leaning to his right to look up at me the moment I walked in the door. He looked ghostly. Even his dark complexion was washed out in these lights. They should have been a crime.

An awkward silence stretched between us, and finally, I forced my legs to move, stepping between the desks and making my way over to him. I kept my purse clutched close to my body as he approached. The last thing I needed was for him to ask what was in it.

“Everything okay, Vanessa?” he asked, looking up at me.

For the first time in a long time, I looked at him, and I really saw him. I saw the deep brown of his eyes and the lines that had taken up residence in the corners. He was too young for this type of stress.

How old could he have been? My age?

“Yeah, everything’s great,” I said.

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