On the drive to her house, Coop switched off the radio. Not to talk—they’d already done plenty of that—but to think. She was a jumble of contradictions. She knew things she shouldn’t. Her reactions to people were visceral in ways he couldn’t explain. But when she’d taken his hand earlier, there’d been no flinch, no recoil, nothing at all.
He didn’t know what it meant. But it meant something.
When he pulled into her driveway, he shut off the engine and reached for his door.
“No need to get out.” She had a hand on the latch, ready to bolt.
“There’s a need,” he said, tone firm. “I don’t leave women standing alone in the dark.”
She stared at him, surprised. Her mouth opened as if to argue, then she reconsidered.
At the door, she unlocked it and turned on the entryway light.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, pulling a business card from his wallet. “Call me if you remember anything or get any more—” He searched for a word that wouldn’t sound insulting.
“Spooky visions? Psychic delusions?” she offered.
He grimaced. Because yes, those had crossed his mind.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I’ve been dealing with skeptics all my life. If they can’t see it, hear it, taste it, or feel it, then it’s not real. Funny how those same skeptics trot off to church on Sundays.”
He didn’t disagree. She wasn’t wrong.
“Good night, Lieutenant.”
“Good night, Erica.”
He waited for the locks to click before heading to his truck. He had shifted into reverse and barely started pulling out when movement on the porch caught his eye. She hurried down the steps and across the drive, breathless.
He rolled down the window. “Everything all right?”
“I almost forgot.” She held out a box wrapped in brown paper. “This was in my mailbox by mistake.”
He took it, reading the handwritten label:Thomas Wilson.
Misdirected mail happened, especially with clustered boxes. But there was no postage mark. It had been hand delivered.
His unease intensified. “This came today?”
“I picked it up today,” she clarified. “I can’t say when it actually arrived. Most of my mail goes to my business address, so I don’t check this box every day.”
“You didn’t try to deliver it, did you?”
She hesitated then admitted, “I had a funny feeling.”
More like a lucky feeling. Had she walked that package over, it would’ve placed her at the scene, and tonight might have gone much differently.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said.
She smiled faintly and stepped back. “Good night, then.”
Coop watched her climb the steps barefoot. She must have kicked off her boots first thing. He caught the glint of an anklebracelet beneath the hem of her skirt, feminine, unexpected, and somehow perfectly her.
Whatever she turned out to be—empath, intuitive, or something he didn’t have a name for yet—Erica Stevens wasn’t forgettable.
He had the uneasy feeling he hadn’t seen the last of her. And he wasn’t entirely sure that was a problem.
Chapter 4
