Page 25 of D for Dead

Annoyed he had doubted her, Amy crossed her arms and looked out of the passenger window.

She could feel his stare on her for a moment, maybe still questioning if she was telling the truth, perhaps frustrated that she was now sulking like a child, which she was, and yes, it was a little pathetic given the circumstances, but she couldn’t help herself. Sullivan had a knack of rubbing her up the wrong way.

Eventually she heard him give an exasperated sigh. He turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb. They drove back to her apartment in silence. He was probably pissed at her for waking him up in the middle of the night; for making him leave his bed, probably his girlfriend, wife…

As subtly as possible she shifted her head, snuck a glance at his hand. No band on his ring finger. Regardless of whom he had left at home and whether he believed her, he had still turned out for her in the middle of the night. Amy felt a little guilty. As he pulled the car to a halt outside her apartment block, she gave him a quick smile.

‘Well, thanks for the lift and sorry for dragging you out for nothing.’

To her surprise, he killed the ignition.

‘I’ll come up with you. If you were being followed, the guy might know where you live.’

Amy hadn’t thought of it that way. What if she had been followed home before, but hadn’t realised? What if the creep was waiting for her? The apartment block had a security buzzer, but the tenants were forever letting people in. She couldn’t remember the last time a visitor had buzzed her to open the main door.

‘Uh, okay,’ she agreed, a little too freaked out to point out he had again questioned whether she had been followed.

He’s making the effort to come upstairs. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t believe you.

Sullivan followed her into the building and over to the elevators. While they waited, Amy was aware of his eyes sweeping the lobby. It was an old building that had been renovated; for the first time she realised there were plenty of places someone could hide. How often had she returned from her bar shift and stood here waiting alone? She had written six serial killer thrillers, yet never before noticed how many vulnerable situations she placed herself in.

You should know the rules better than anyone.

The elevator arrived and Amy stepped inside, Sullivan following. As she pressed the button for the fifth floor, she was acutely aware of his presence close behind her and the subtle spicy scent of his cologne. It was large enough to hold six people, but the space felt much smaller; almost suffocating. Being around Sullivan made her a little uncomfortable. She drew in a deep breath.

Stop freaking out, Amy. You’re being paranoid because of what happened tonight.

She stole a glance at his profile. Straight nose, stubbled jaw, dark hair a shade too long and mussed, probably from where he’d been sleeping before she had woken him. Her attention focused on his mouth. And it hit her.

You’re attracted to him.

The sudden realisation horrified her. This was Detective Jake Sullivan who had accused her of being involved in two murders. Though who, to be fair, had turned out tonight because she was being followed.

Stop making excuses. You are not attracted to him. It’s one of those hero crush things. He helped you out of a bad situation and now you’re being an idiot. It’s nothing. He was doing his job.

She must have been looking at him a little goofily because he was watching her, narrowing his eyes. ‘What?’

‘What?’ Amy questioned back, defensively.

‘You were staring at me.’

Heat coloured her cheeks. ‘I was not.’

To her relief the elevator pinged and the door opened, allowing her to escape from the uncomfortable situation and Sullivan’s probing questions. The sound of muffled barking came from Amy’s apartment.

Christ, Huckleberry. You’re gonna get me evicted if you keep this up.

Sullivan followed her down the hallway as she fished for her keys in her purse.

‘Are you planning on taking him out?’

Until this point, Amy had forgotten all about Huckleberry. She still hadn’t gotten used to having a dog living with her. Sullivan wasn’t going to be happy about her going out alone and, truth be told, Amy didn’t much fancy it after the evening’s events, but Huckleberry needed to pee.

‘Umm…’

Sullivan shook his head, looking irritated that she wasn’t heeding any of his advice about safety. ‘Get me his leash. I’ll do a quick check of your apartment, then take him round the block for you.’

‘It’s okay. You don’t have to. You’ve already done…’ Amy tapered off mid-sentence, as he fixed her with a pointed look.