Page 35 of Run for Her Life
The man straightened slowly, squinting. “Every day.”
“We’re with the FBI.” Zoe flashed her badge, clipped to the waistband of her jeans. “Do you know if anyone’s visited the grave plot belonging to Michael Fink?”
His mouth pressed in a hard line. “Yeah. One woman used to. Came regular, flowers every time. Talked to her once. Said she was his sister.”
Jackie.She and Aiden exchanged a look.
Aiden narrowed his eyes. “No one else?”
“No. Just her.” A pause. “Haven’t seen her in a couple weeks, though.”
Zoe glanced at the headstone behind him, its edges slick with dew. “And no one has tampered with the grave?”
He raised his eyebrows, alarmed. “Of course, not! I’ve been coming here twice a day for the last ten years. Rain or shine. Nothing’s been touched.”
“And have you ever seen anyone acting suspiciously?” Aiden prodded. “Lurking around too often or anything odd?”
He shook his head. “It’s a safe place for the dead. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He pointed a finger at the sky, which was churning with clouds. With that he walked away, heading toward a shed.
“Well, no one has dug up a grave.” Zoe sighed. “Then how the hell did the killer get his hands on the hair? Did he know Michael from before?”
“Or he got it right after Michael died,” Aiden suggested. “Like someone who worked on the case and had access to the body.”
Just as the caretaker had warned, the sky cracked open with a low rumble, and thunder rolled in behind a sudden, sharp gust of wind.
Zoe ducked beneath the sweeping branches of the weeping willow as the rain came down in sheets. Aiden followed her. The long, slender but soaked branches formed a curtain that swayed and shimmered with the wind. Raindrops pattered on the canopy—a muffled drumming noise.
“I don’t like rain,” she complained, even though they were well hidden in the cocoon, where only a few drops hit them.
“I’ve noticed,” he said wryly. “I like storms.”
So did her mother.
“I don’t like morose things, Aiden.” She didn’t know why she said it and she didn’t know where she was going with it. “I don’t like feeling sad.”
“No one likes feeling sad, Zoe.” He called her Zoe. It oddly felt even more intimate than the fact that their shoulders were brushing against each other. “But why do you run away from it so compulsively?”
She didn’t really run away from it. There was a place where she indulged all the pain she had felt, a place where she could be free. “Ever heard of ‘fake it till you make it’?” She tried cracking a joke.
He threw his head back and laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s one way to look at it.”
It was a pleasant sound to the ears. “You should laugh more. It sounds better than you psychoanalyzing me.”
He scoffed, looking down at her. Suddenly, she almost felt shy about the height difference. “Should we just hang out here until the rain stops?” He shifted uncomfortably.
“I guess.” She took a deep whiff, the scent of wet earth and bark hitting her nose. Maybe rain wasn’t entirely bad. After a few minutes, the noise inside her muted, swallowed by the hum of the rain. She was acutely aware of Aiden’s gaze on her. But she was pretending not to notice.
Why was he staring? And why was she letting him?
When she turned to look at him, he tore his gaze away and frowned, catching himself. “We should go. Just brave the rain.”
“Are you okay?” she asked. He looked pale and itchy. “Do you not like cemeteries?”
The lingering tenderness on his face evaporated, as did the moment. An aloof and hard expression captured his face. “It’s nothing. Let’s head out.”
Zoe watched in disbelief as he ducked out from the canopy and into the rain. Irritation fluttered through her. How hypocritical of him trying to find out everything about her but clamming up when it came to himself. Once again, Aiden had reminded her never to let her guard down.
Once again, she regretted liking him a little.
