Unspoken: Shadow Falls: After Dark (12 page)

Opening one of the boxes he’d brought over from his cabin, Chase set the picture of his family on an end table.

Running his finger over their faces, he stared at them for a few minutes, letting himself miss them. It didn’t hurt like it used to, but he’d bet there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about them.

Baxter moved in and poked his leg with his snout. “It’s not the Hilton, but we’ve stayed in a lot worse,” he told the dog.

Baxter looked up with all-knowing eyes. He could almost read the animal’s thoughts.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s the reason we’re here.”

Still amped up after his conversation with Steve, he moved to the kitchen table and pulled his laptop out of his backpack to plug it in. He found the list of Stones and Williamses he’d gotten from Burnett’s FRU computer in his pocket. He started pulling up maps, planning to visit each and every one.

Some of them for the second time. Because after a closer look, he’d noted that a couple of them were ones the Vampire Council database had spit out as well. He’d tracked down several of them.

Feeling his mood and his lack of sleep pull at his shoulders, he rubbed his neck. Looking back toward the bedroom door, he considered trying to rest, but he’d hoped Della would come looking for him.

Refocusing on the screen, he almost jumped when Baxter let go of a deep bark. The dog stared at a window.

Chase listened, and all he heard was a bird fluttering from tree to tree.

“Just a bird,” he told Baxter, then inhaled to make sure he was right. The air gave him nothing, but he instantly became aware of a fresh paint smell. And from the looks of the smallest bedroom, they hadn’t finished painting.

Pushing away from the table, he lifted the window to bring in some fresh air.

He went and opened the front door, staring out, hoping he’d see or hear Della coming. How long was the meeting with Burnett going to take?

He recalled her words and the pain in her voice.
He knows I’m a monster.

Hell, he didn’t have to wait for her. “Come on, guy. Let’s go find her.”

*   *   *

“Della,” Steve said again, as if he weren’t sure she’d heard him.

She pushed back the notion of just ignoring him, and turned to face him again. “Yeah?”

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

This time she decided to go for the truth. “No. But ‘okay’ is overrated.”

It was supposed to be funny, but he didn’t smile. He just continued to study her with those dark, caring eyes. Eyes that seemed to see through her charade.

“It’s just that you look…”

“Like shit? I know. Burnett just told me.”

He smiled this time. “I wasn’t going to say … that. You look beaten.”

“Beaten? Me?” she asked, offended. “I prefer shit.”

His smile widened. “Okay, not beaten, maybe just tired.”

As good as it was to see him smile, she didn’t have it in her to return the gesture. “Yeah, I need to hit the sheets for a while.” Right then she recalled how many times she and Steve had hit the sheets together. They would hold on to each other, take things to a certain point—almost to the breaking point—but they’d never crossed the line.

She’d been scared. Scared it wouldn’t last. She’d been right.

He claimed he couldn’t handle her working with Chase, but the truth was he’d planned all along to go to Paris to a school for shape-shifters.

He glanced away for a second, and she could swear he’d read her thoughts. “Well, I gotta…” She waved. “Later.”

He nodded, and his eyes met hers again. While she couldn’t read his expression, something told her he wasn’t any more comfortable with this conversation than she was. She turned and walked away. Walked. Not ran.

With every step, she felt him watch her go. It hit her that the last time he’d been at Shadow Falls, she’d watched him leave. She didn’t know if it meant anything, but for some freaky reason it felt as if it did.

*   *   *

Instead of taking the path to cabin fourteen, Della cut through a patch of woods. The day was gloomy. And secluded in the alcove of the woods, it appeared almost dark. The damp earth scented the air. Some of the rain from earlier fell from the trees above and splattered on her forearms. A drop spattered onto her face and rolled down her cheek like a tear. She ignored it and kept walking.

Soon she realized something else she was trying to ignore. The feeling as if she weren’t alone. Stopping, she turned a full circle, listening, looking, and inviting trouble to come on out if it lurked in the shadows.

Nothing.

Probably her lack of sleep.

Or the dead.

She evaluated the temperature. It was cold, but was that Mother Nature or a ghost?

“Mrs. Chi? Is that you?”

She got nothing again.

“Bao Yu?” she whispered her name.

Only a light breeze and a distant bird answered back. A few more drops of leftover rain hit her face.

Feeling silly, she took off again. The closer she got to cabin fourteen, the quieter she walked—watching her every step, being extra careful her black boots didn’t snap a twig.

Oh, he would hear her and smell her before she arrived, but the thought of giving him less time to try to come up with a story seemed like a good idea.

She spotted his cabin, and took a deep breath to catch his scent. It lingered in the air, but weak. Stronger were spots where Baxter had lifted his leg and left the world a message that he was there.

She was glad she didn’t have to squat and pee to be noticed.

She took a few more steps toward the wooden structure. Was Chase here? The closer she got, the more certain she was that he wasn’t in. As she stepped up onto the porch, she inhaled again, checking to see if her canine friend Baxter waited inside.

When she’d been in the office, she’d heard Chase call the dog as if he’d wanted to see her. And the truth was, she’d like to see Baxter, too. She got a few feet closer.

No Baxter, either.

She almost left, then stopped.

It was wrong. But so was lying, and he’d done plenty of that.

She went to the door and turned the knob. He hadn’t locked it. Practically an invitation.

Pushing the door open, she could swear she heard something. She stopped on the doorstep and listened. The only thing she could hear were nature noises: birds and critters scurrying around. Then she noted an opened window.

She looked around. The cabin’s layout was the same as the one she shared with Miranda and Kylie. A joined living room and kitchen, two small baths, and three bedrooms. The furniture was different and newer. This must be one of the cabins built a few months back when the camp turned boarding school. Della inhaled, and the scent of paint hung heavy.

She continued to survey the home, and stopped when she saw the framed photograph of a family of four. A mom, dad, brother, and sister. Stepping closer, she recognized it as the one he’d kept at his other cabin, his much nicer cabin.

She picked up the picture. Chase had been young, fourteen or so. The photograph had probably been taken right before the plane accident that killed his family. As she brought the picture up, Chase’s scent grew stronger. She let the scent fill her airway—even inhaled a little deeper.

On the glass, she saw a fingerprint smear as if someone had touched the image. She knew it had been him. Could see him doing it in her mind.

Did he still miss his family?

Of course he did.

Her heart ached for him, then she turned to her own family issues. Would the pictures of her family be all she had of them someday?

Putting the frame down, fighting the pain, she saw an opened laptop and some papers on the kitchen table.

Nudging the achiness away, she recalled the reason she was here. To see if Chase Tallman was hiding something about her uncle—to ultimately get her father off of a murder charge.

“What are you up to, Chase?”

She picked up the papers and read the name “Douglas Stone.”

Immediately she remembered Burnett’s words
: He’s saying a man named Douglas Stone killed your aunt.

She read on. Chase had several addresses and information on several different Douglas Stones in the Houston area. He also had the name “Don Williams.” She didn’t know who the Williams character was, but she’d bet a quart of O negative blood that he had something to do with her father’s case.

And damned if she wouldn’t find out.

She pulled her phone out and snapped close-up shots of the papers.

*   *   *

Della went back to the office to collect her things, then headed back to her cabin. She should try to rest, but the thought that Chase was somewhere hiding from her made napping impossible.

She’d drop her stuff off then find him. Then nap. She hadn’t seen her cabin when her nose caught the scent of one particular dog’s message. Then she was hit by the scent of his owner.

She took off, expecting to find him on the porch, but nope. Then she noted the door was ajar. The little twerp had just invited himself into her cabin. Who did he think—

Okay, maybe she couldn’t bitch too much about that.

Not that she didn’t have plenty of other things to bitch about. She flew up the steps, dropped her items on the porch with a loud thud, and went to confront the lying piece of poop.

Chapter Fourteen

When she flung open the door, he stood between the sofa and the coffee table. No doubt he’d heard her coming in time to make it to his feet. But the sofa hadn’t had enough time to lose the six-foot imprint of his frame. His eyes, she noted, still carried the lazy look of sleep.

“Sleeping on my couch, huh?” she accused, and felt Baxter bumping her leg with his nose begging for a petting. Bending slightly, she petted the dog, hoping that bit of kindness didn’t make her appear less than pissed.

Chase passed a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the evidence. “I was waiting on you.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket as if to see how long he’d slept. “What all did Burnett want?”

“Where’s my uncle, Chase?”

He frowned. “I could swear we already covered that.”

She opened her mouth to blast him with all the reasons she would never believe a word he said, when he spoke up.

“But I’ll be happy to answer it again.” He looked right in her eyes. “I don’t know where he is. He didn’t kill your aunt. And I’m here to help find the person who’s guilty.”

“By napping on my sofa? Uninvited,” she blurted out, pushing aside her own guilt of snooping in his cabin. Baxter raised his paw and gently placed it on her knee. She offered him another soft scratch behind his ear.

“The door wasn’t locked.”

Yeah, she’d used that excuse, too. “It’s still wrong.” She lifted her hand from the dog and slipped it on her hip.

He stepped closer and smiled. “And it seems I’m not the only one … in the wrong. Did you go through my clothes? What? Were you curious if I was a boxers or briefs guy?”

How the hell did he know I was there?
She tightened her eyes at him. “Your undies don’t concern me.”

“Not even a little bit?” His smiled widened. “Not that I blame you, I mean, I got to go through yours the first day we met.”

“Still a Panty Perv, huh?” she asked through tight lips, remembering how he’d found her backpack and later commented about her underwear.

“Just a Della perv.” He laughed.

When she shot him her best go-to-hell look, he stopped laughing. “Okay, so maybe you weren’t going through my … undies, as you call them, but you were at my cabin. I smell the fresh paint.” He reached for her.

“Stop!” She pointed a finger at him. “The only reason I’m tolerating your presence right now is that I need to get my dad off a murder charge. So either tell me something about that, or leave.”

She stomped her foot and waited to see if he was going to tell her more about Douglas Stone and this Williams character. Not that any of it meant her uncle was innocent. But perhaps Chase thought he was. Perhaps her uncle had him fooled.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m here to help, Della.” The tease in his eyes faded as he stared at her. “Did Burnett tell you that I resigned from the council and I’m working for the FRU?”

“Yeah, he gave me the bad news.”

He cut his eyes up as if her answer annoyed him. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Wanted. Past tense. You lied to me.”

“I’m telling the truth now. I’m not hiding anything. Ask me anything, I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t belong to the truth-will-set-you-free liar’s club.” She growled. “Are you dense enough to think you can come back here now and things will be the same?”

He closed his eyes as if frustrated.

Good. He deserved to be frustrated.

He opened his green eyes and looked back at her. “Della, don’t fight me. Work with me. We can do this. We’ll make it right.”

She shook her head. “There is no ‘we,’ Chase. There’s you and there’s me. I’ll work with you on the case, not even because I believe you don’t know where my uncle is. The only thing to make right is getting my father off. I don’t trust you. But right now you are the only lead I’ve got.”

He exhaled. “Then I guess I’ll have to win back your trust.”

“The likelihood of that happening is slim to none.” She tilted up her chin. Never let him say she didn’t give him fair warning.

He stood there, just staring. “Why are you still fighting what you feel?”

“Because I get to choose my destiny, not anyone else.” The moment Della said it, she realized how true it was.

“Who else would be choosing your destiny?”

“You. This bond. You did it knowing what would happen.”

“So you would have really preferred to die than to care about me?” He looked hurt, and while he deserved to feel that, too, she couldn’t deny that hurting him … hurt her.

“I would have liked the choice!” she seethed.

“Life isn’t always about choices, Della! Did you choose to be vampire?”

“No, and I hate that, too!” She swallowed the tears that threatened.

“So you hate caring about me?”

The question hung out there and she didn’t know how to answer, so she simply didn’t.