She didn’t deserve any gratitude. She wouldn’t have come if she’d had a better choice. “Sure. It’s okay.”
“Would you like cream? Sugar?”
She went through the process of adding cream and one packet of sugar to her coffee even though she couldn’t drink it.
“So...you live in Silver Springs?” he asked when she finished.
She met his eyes, tried to determine if they were lifeless. She’d heard that serial killers had emotionless, flat eyes, like those of a shark. But she wasn’t sure a man who killed his parents for the sake of financial gain counted as a serial killer. Probably not. And there didn’t seem to be anything unappealing about Dawson’s eyes. The reverse was actually true. They were such an odd, arresting color and fringed with the longest, thickest gold-tipped lashes. “I do,” she said.
“How long have you been in the area?”
“Since I was ten. My folks moved here, wanted to get out of the rat race of LA.”
“Your parents are in town, then?”
The wind came up, but other than trying to hold her hair back with one hand while gripping her coffee, she resisted the temptation to react to the cold. After making him bring everything outside, she didn’t want him to suggest they go in. “No, not anymore.” She set her cup on the stand with the cream and sugar. “My mother had a rare kidney disease. That was part of the reason for the move, although I didn’t know it at the time. We lost her when I was fourteen. My father finished raising me, but he died of a heart attack—while jogging—the year after I was married.”
“I’m sorry you lost your parents so early.”
“I guess we all have our problems.” She felt silly after she’d made that statement. No question his problems had been worse. At least she hadn’t been accused of killing her parents.
He took a drink of his coffee. “Any siblings?”
“No. I was an only child.”
When his free hand came up, she flinched before realizing that he was merely swatting a bug, and her cheeks began to burn with embarrassment when he scooted his chair even farther away. Obviously, he’d noticed that she wasn’t quite comfortable with him. She hoped he hadn’t also noticed that she had yet to take a sip of her coffee.
“So you’re married.”
She picked up her cup and cradled it with both hands, trying to leach the warmth from it. “Not anymore. Well, the divorce isn’t quite final, but that’s a technicality. We’ve been separated for over a year.” Conjuring what she hoped was a pleasant smile, she marveled that she was able to condense the hell Sly had put her through—was still putting her through—into such a mild statement. “Trying to work out the details, you know.”
He watched her closely, seemed intent on figuring out what she was thinking and feeling. Did killers do that? “Those things can take time.”
“Are you speaking from experience? Or...” She didn’t remember reading anything about him having a wife.
“No.”
“No children, either?”
“Not for me. You?”
“One. A boy named Jayden. He’s five.” She couldn’t help smiling, vaguely, when she thought of her son.
“Does he live with you or—”
She felt her smile wilt. “Yeah, he’s with me. His father has visitation every other weekend, but... Sly’s a police officer, so he works long hours.” Or he was at the gym. “I have Jayden most of the time.” Which was why it didn’t make a lot of sense that Sly would ever sue her for custody. He didn’t really want custody. He was using Jayden, along with anything else he could, as a weapon against her.
Dawson pursed his lips. “So that’s the connection.”
She peered at him. “What’re you talking about?”
“I thought maybe you were Officer Harris’s sister or something. But no—you’re married to him.”
She stiffened at the mention of her ex-husband’s name. “Was married. Why? You know him?”
“Not personally.” Leaning forward, he poured a bit of cream in his coffee, added one sugar as he’d seen her do and slid the cup over to her. “You saw me drink out of this, so other than a few germs you wouldn’t otherwise encounter, you should be able to trust it.”
Surprised he’d be so direct, she floundered for something to say in return. “That’s not it. I’m just...jittery enough without the caffeine.”
He said nothing, but she could tell he wasn’t fooled by the lie.
“So...how have you heard of my ex-husband?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “He didn’t have anything to do with...with the investigation...”
“No. I was arrested by a homicide detective. Officer Harris wasn’t involved in the case. But he dropped by last night.”
Her surprise overtook her anxiety, even made her forget about the cold air that seemed to be passing through her blouse like a mesh screen. “He came here? Why?”
Rain began to plink on the roof. “To let me know he’ll be keeping an eye on me,” he replied.
“For...”
“Anything I might do he doesn’t approve of, I suppose. Sounded like he was looking forward to the challenge of keeping me in line.”
Sadie figured she shouldn’t be surprised that Sly would try to bully Dawson. He was the big, tough cop—thought he could bully anyone. Of course he’d pile on when it came to the town pariah. “Was he in uniform?”
A wry smile tugged at Dawson’s lips. “His appearance wouldn’t have had the same impact without it.”
Her nails curved into her palms as the anger and bitterness she’d had to live with for so long once again rose inside her, burning her throat like bile. “Please tell me he didn’t mention me...”
“Not by name. Said there was a woman coming to interview with me in the morning. And that she wasn’t the person I was looking for.”
She felt her jaw drop. “He threatened you?”
“If you consider ‘You’ve had enough trouble, it wouldn’t be smart to ask for any more’ a threat.”
This was the first time anyone had been brave enough to admit that Sly had attempted to ruin her chances of gaining employment.
Too upset to sit any longer, Sadie came to her feet. “That...that...” She wasn’t sure if she meant to say “That isn’t fair” or “That really pisses me off,” because both sentences ran through her mind at once. But when she got angry, she often broke into tears, especially when it came to her ex-husband. He made her feel so helpless, so easily overpowered—and he was relentless in his determination to get her back or make her pay, supremely confident he’d win in the end.
Would she never be free of him?
Falling silent for fear her voice would crack, she turned so that Dawson Reed couldn’t see her face and stared out at the rain.
Thankfully, he didn’t press her to finish her statement. He sat behind her in silence, giving her time to compose herself.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she could speak without evidence of tears in her voice. “I know you’ve been through...quite an ordeal. I...I’ll get out of your way.”
She’d already started down the stairs when he spoke. “Mrs.