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Chapter Eight
Rowan
I’m in town, Americano in hand, at eight o’clock when the sheriff’s office opens. It’s in a small building at the far end of town, red brick with white trim. The lobby has only two chairs which look like they were lifted from a 70s movie set, orange upholstery with thick chrome bars. It smells of stale pastries and typewriter ink.
“I’m here to see the sheriff,” I tell the receptionist sitting behind the faux-wood desk.
She rings back to his office, and a moment later waves me through an open doorway to the left. As soon as I enter the hallway, I see the sheriff standing in a doorway toward the back of the building. He gestures for me to join him.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Stonecroft?”
He closes the door behind us after I sit down in a chair across from his desk. His office is small, with only one tiny window, and it feels claustrophobic in here with just the two of us.
I cross one leg over the other and meet his ice-blue eyes. “I’d like an update on my aunt’s investigation.”
“I can’t disclose any details at this time,” the sheriff says. “Though we haven’t ruled out that this is merely a suicide.”
“My aunt did not kill herself,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
“No one ever wants to think a loved one would do such a thing,” he says, not entirely without sympathy. “But my job is to look at everything objectively so I can arrive at the truth.”
“So, there’s nothing you can tell me?” He’s being beyond unhelpful, but I keep my tone level. I don’t want to go pissing off law enforcement the second I arrive in town.
“I’m sorry you drove into town for nothing,” he says. “I promise I’ll update you when I can.”
He smiles warmly, perhaps a little too warmly, and I feel a tingle of unease. “Well, I’ll be on my way then.” I stand and open the door, then exit into the hallway.
What a giant waste of time. I feel utterly deflated for a moment, but I take a deep breath and pull myself together. I’m just going to have to find another way to tackle this problem. Stonecroft women don’t give up that easily.
On the way out I step into the lady’s room. It’s at the other end of the hall from the sheriff’s office, near the lobby. When I exit a couple minutes later, raised voices echo down the hallway. I pause, standing out of sight of the receptionist.
It’s the sheriff and another man. After a moment, I realize exactly who the second voice is. Because I would never forget its deep, velvety smoothness. A sound that shivers across my skin, even though it’s elevated in anger at the moment.
Xander.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s clear it’s a disagreement of some sort. As curious as I am, I realize that if anyone else steps out into the hall, it’s going to be obvious I’m trying to eavesdrop. I turn to tiptoe out into the lobby when my ears catch a word in their argument. It’s Xander who says it: Stonecroft.
The door to the sheriff’s office whips open and Xander comes storming out. I have just enough time to step out of the hallway and into the lobby before he strides past. Heat radiates off him like lightning. I’m not even sure he sees me. He just blazes past, throwing open the exterior door and stalking across the parking lot.
I don’t think twice. I follow him. When I hit the parking lot, I break into a jog, because there’s no way I’m going to catch him otherwise. It’s probably not a wise decision to chase after a huge, ripped guy who’s clearly quite angry. But he said my name and I want to know why. He’d said he didn’t know anything about my aunt’s murder, but right now he’s looking like a big fat liar.
Xander disappears around the side of a building and I put on another burst of speed. I zip around the corner, turning my head to see where he went, when abruptly I’m grabbed by the shoulders, lifted off the ground, and pinned against the wall. Panic spins my heart, but then I look up into the familiar face of my captor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I spit it out before I can stop myself, glaring up into Xander’s golden eyes.
He lowers me back down and steps back, lifting his hands in a gesture of apology. “I didn’t know it was you. I heard someone running up on me.”
I rub my left arm. Jesus, he’s strong. He frowns, looking down at my pink skin before meeting my gaze again.
“I suppose that’s fair,” I say breathlessly. Not only from running so fast, but from that momentary feeling of Xander’s body pressed against mine. My back hard against the wall, his hips grinding against me. Just a quick shift of my skirt and…
I shake my head. Why does this guy drive me so crazy? I’m not here to fantasize. “Why were you arguing with the sheriff?” I demand.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” He crosses his well-defined arms over his chest. His dark hair is slightly mussed, like he’d been the one running.
“Actually, it is, because I heard my name.” I narrow my eyes into a fresh glare.
Xander looks down, his jaw tightening. “The sheriff and I have a long history,” he finally says. “And let’s just say we don’t always see eye to eye.”
