Page 22 of Raven's Curse
She pushed down the resulting hurt as Chase jumped in the other side, then joined the evening traffic, heading for the west side. Chase sat in the passenger seat, gaze focused out the side window, that scent of citrus and pine surrounding her like a damn promise. His mere presence made the interior seem small — her arm brushing his whenever she shifted gears.
Chase waited until she’d turned onto the long winding driveway — the lodge rising out of the ground like an omen — before giving her a quick glance. “Do you really think this is about us? That it’s not over?”
She bit back the punch of disappointment. She’d hoped he might want to talk about something else. Anything else. Like the obvious rift separating their seats. “Foster has a point. You’ve all been viable targets for months. And the timing definitely points toward Rhett being the prime target. I’m just keeping my options open.”
He grunted, turning to face her. “I’m not the mayor or the press. I don’t need you to dance around the subject.”
She clenched her jaw as she parked in front of the main entrance. “I’m not dancing. I’m sticking with the facts.”
“You’re walking the line.”
“Is that what you think?” She twisted to face him. “That I’m playing it safe?”
“I think you’ve got some pretty strong opinions you’re not sharing, that empty space on your board proof enough.”
“Whoever did this lured us there, launched a military-worthy attack, then led us on a damn gauntlet run through the facility so we’d eventually find Rhett. Posed, with a damn number carved into his skin.”
She unbuckled, stepped out and slammed the door, staring at him over the hood of her Bronco. “So yeah, Chase, that voice inside my head’s screaming there’s more to this than someone hiding a hired hit amidst a bunch of ritualistic trappings. But until I can prove any of that, I’m treating this like any other murder case, because that’s what it is. And crying wolf isn’t going to garner me any favors.”
Chase snagged her arm as she headed for the entrance, spinning her to face him.” Greer…”
“I get it. You’re hurt. Angry. You want all of this to mean something. I want that, too. For it to be something I couldn’t possibly have seen coming because when it’s all said and done, Rhett was killed on my watch.” She pulled free of his hold. “That’s something I’ll have to live with.”
She struck off, her footsteps echoing in the night air, each step harder than the last. Like running through sand — moving without gaining any traction. Chase shadowed her, head on a swivel, every step orchestrated. Calculated down to the second it would take to tackle her to the ground — block a shot. That hyper-vigilance he’d been displaying all day.
She reached the door, paused long enough to take a breath — push down everything soft — then walked inside, Chase still guarding her six. She shouldn’t have gotten terse. She was supposed to be lifting him up, not allowing her own frustrations to color her words. But standing there, nothing but pain between them, had rattled her, and she’d reacted without thinking.
Shaun Faraday met her before she’d gotten more than a few feet inside, his hands fisted at his sides, his thinning hair combed over the left side of his head. He huffed when she stopped, staring at her as if she’d launched a personal attack on his facility. “Sheriff Hudson.”
“Mr. Faraday. I understand you’re eager to repurpose Mr. Oliver’s room.”
Faraday snorted. “The man’s gone, we have…”
His voice trailed off as Chase moved in beside her, head high, that death vibe his entire team embodied in full force.
Faraday cleared his throat as he adjusted his tie. “Obviously, we’re immensely saddened by last night’s events, but I’m sure you understand we have a long list of clients in need of our brand of care.”
Greer shifted on her feet, staring the man down. “Which brand is that? The nurses and meds or the complete lack of security that allowed one of your clients to be kidnapped and murdered with nothing more than one grainy image to show for it?”
Faraday bristled, slashes of red creeping across his cheeks. “Our facility is designed to keep our clients from wandering off, not to prevent people from visiting.”
“Except it was after hours, and no one seemed to notice for…” She withdrew a notepad from her inside pocket and flipped through some pages. “Ninety minutes. Is that typical of the length of time between check-ins?”
“The patients in that wing are comatose?—”
“It’s my understanding that Mr. Oliver had returned to the land of the living.”
Faraday tugged on his suit jacket. “He’d had a few moments of clarity, hardly enough to confirm he’d fully regained consciousness.”
Chase took a heavy step forward. “He woke on the race to the hospital before he died, you son of a?—”
“Chase.” Greer waited until Chase inched back. “I need to do one final sweep of the room and the facility before I can clear the scene.”
Faraday glared at Chase, then motioned to the hallway off to his right. “This way.”
Greer glanced at Chase, waiting until he’d pushed out a calming breath before following Faraday down the hall, through a couple of other wings, then into Rhett’s room. Remnants of fingerprint dust clung to every surface, a slight chemical scent still lingering in the air. The blankets on the bed had been carefully pulled back on one side, the sheets wrinkled where Rhett had been sleeping the previous night.
She stopped a few feet back from the bed as she peered at Chase. Arms crossed, back rigid, he looked like a man on the edge.
