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Cora tilted her face to the ceiling and sighed. “So, we’re back to square one.”
“Not yet,” Slice said quickly. “I’m going to my mom’s storage unit to go through the last few boxes, so it could still be there, but I just wanted you guys to know what’s up. Just so you don’t think I’m over here trying to hinder your investigation, or whatever.”
“It’s fine. Call us the moment you find anything.” Cora said goodbye and hung up the phone. “That was our best lead.”
“We’ll find another.” Liam took the chair on the opposite side to her. The flimsy wooden table was nothing. He could so easily reach across it. Drag her into his lap. Pick up where they left off. He stared at her with smoldering intensity, his mind flipping through all the wicked things he wanted to do with her. If only things were different. If only he was a different man. With a heavy sigh, he stuffed those thoughts down deep and prepared to do the right thing.
“Cora,” he began.
“Liam.” A soft smile played at the corners of her mouth as she nibbled her bottom lip. There was an adorable pink blush creeping up the sides of her neck. It was all he could do not to pounce on her like a feral animal.
“About all that,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen counter.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said simply. “I got the answer I needed.” Then she gave him a mysterious smile and walked away.
13
CORA YAWNED INTO her coffee on Monday morning, waiting for that initial kick of caffeine to jump-start her day. For the past two nights, she’d had vivid dreams that jolted her awake and remained with her for long hours afterward. This time, the dreams had nothing to do with Magnus Blackwell and her near-drowning experience, which was a godsend. The newest dreams she’d been having were far more pleasurable because they featured her with Liam. Ever since meeting him, she’d had hazy visions of them together, the wisp of a fragmented dream or the odd déjà vu, but they’d never been as vivid as they were now.
On Saturday night after they’d kissed, Cora had a dream so real she woke up with the distinct scents of fresh air and distant wood smoke and newly tilled earth enveloping her senses. She could practically feel the grit of soil on her hands, and the rough linen of Liam’s shirt brushing her arm as they sat, side by side, against a low stone wall sharing an apple. It had been dusk, or dawn—it was hard to tell. She’d been wearing an old-fashioned gown and a blue wool cloak, and she could still see the tiny flowers embroidered on her impractical soft slippers. It struck her how different their attire had been—hers made from fine silk and lace, and his from worn, coarse cloth faded by the sun. Though she couldn’t remember their conversation, she remembered how they’d laughed together, and how he’d leaned close until their foreheads touched, whispering her name like a prayer. She’d been just as attracted to him in that dream as she was now.
Cora stole a glance at him now, sitting across the room at his desk in the Providence Falls Police Station. Even in clean, modern clothes, he still had a roguish, wild quality that no amount of grooming could change, and she loved that about him.
As if he could hear her thoughts, Liam glanced up and gave her a secret smile that was just for her. The bustle and noise of the station suddenly faded away until all she saw was the rougher, old-fashioned version of Liam from her dreams superimposed against the more modern version of the man looking at her now. Two different timelines, but the same person. Even the same devilish smile. She blinked, and the vision vanished as the busy police station came whooshing back into focus. Cora rubbed her forehead. This type of thing had happened before, but just like the recent dreams she’d been having, it was much more vivid.
“McLeod, O’Connor.” Captain Thompson strode through the pen looking surly and unapproachable, as usual. “My office.” It was his first day back from his impromptu time off, but he seemed no more rested than before.
They followed him inside, and Cora noticed his desk was exactly as he’d left it—littered with stacks of papers, an empty fast-food bag, stained coffee mugs, a bottle of Tums, and—to Cora’s surprise—a pack of cigarettes. She remembered him commenting a couple of years ago how his wife was nagging him to quit, so he’d gone through nicotine patches and eventually kicked the habit. If he was starting up again, then he really must be having a tough time.
“We were all surprised when you took the week off, Captain,” she said, taking the seat next to Liam on the other side of the desk. “Is everything okay?”
Boyd looked annoyed. “Are you asking to feed the latest gossip at the watercooler, or just because you’re curious?”
His comment stung, but she did her best not to show it. “Just concerned. I’ve never known you to take time off, that’s all.”
He popped a couple of antacids and washed them down with a gulp of soda. “Alice’s mom is unwell, so we went to visit for a few days. I had to get back, but Alice will be staying there to help care for her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cora said. “How long will she be—”
“Not sure,” Boyd interrupted. “Could be weeks, maybe months. Now, if you two don’t mind, I have a meeting with the mayor in an hour, and I’d really like to bring him some good news.” He sat back and steepled his fingers, staring expectantly at her and Liam. “Fill me in on your progress with the Booze Dogs.”
“We have a lead, but it’s iffy,” Cora said, glad she had at least something hopeful to report. “Do you remember when Lindsey Albright came in with that picture she took outside John Brady’s house on the night of his murder?”
Captain Thompson nodded. “I saw it, and it was useless. I spoke to her myself.”
“Yes, but she took several pictures that night. Apparently, there were others.”
That got his attention. He sat up straighter. “She said there was only that one.”
“Not according to her boyfriend.”
“Why would she lie about that?” He swiveled his chair to face the wall for a moment, deep in thought. The scowl on his face grew more pronounced, and Cora noticed his neck was turning an alarming shade of red. Added to the rest of his overall demeanor these past few weeks, he was beginning to look like the poster child for Heart Attacks R Us. This wasn’t good. He needed to take better care of himself, but that was up to him. The best she could do to help was to solve the cases and help ease some of the pressure.
“Lindsey probably meant it was the only useful photo,” Cora said quickly, hoping to appease his growing agitation. “It’s possible she sent him a few others and forgot. At any rate, we’ll know soon enough because the good news is, Slice has the rest of those pictures on his laptop.”
“The bad news,” Liam added dryly, “is he’s misplaced the laptop. He put it in a box and thinks it might’ve accidentally been tossed at the dump. Says he’ll get back to us soon if he finds it.”
The captain pressed his mouth into a grim line, then thumped the desk with his fist. “Damn that kid.”
