Till Death(45)

Cole brushed past me and made his way out to the living room. He sat on the couch. “Not a lot.”

I followed him, then took a seat next to him. The couch wasn’t a large one, so that left very little room between us. “But something?”

“While I was at the station with Ethan, one of the local detectives—Tyron Conrad—was able to get in touch with Angela’s Wednesday-evening professor. She was in class. The professor said everything appeared normal with her, and he assumes that she left campus after the lecture.” Pausing, he took a drink. “Ethan said he’d checked the campus in Hagerstown and didn’t see her car. Tyron contacted the state police in Maryland, and they have her vehicle information. As far as I know, they were double checking just to make sure her vehicle isn’t there.”

I let that sink in as I sipped my tea. “If her vehicle isn’t there, that means something happened to her on her way home or when she got home.”

“Or she left after class and didn’t tell anyone. I know that sounds unlikely but at this point, anything is possible.” Leaning forward, he placed his glass on the coffee table. “What I’m about to tell you needs to stay between us,” he explained, angling his body toward mine. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

He watched me for a moment. “Ethan said they had a fight while she was driving to class. He wasn’t very open about what the fight was about, but they argued.”

“That could be a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, she could’ve just needed time to get away, clear her mind. Completely irresponsible but that’s better than any of the other options.” I pressed my lips together. “That also means Ethan is probably a suspect?”

“It’s really not anything personal against him. When anyone turns up missing, those who know the person are the first anyone is going to look at, especially if there was an argument,” he explained. “A missing person’s report was filed, and all nearby agencies have the description of her and her vehicle. Hopefully something will turn up.”

“Hopefully,” I murmured, lifting the glass to my lips. A tremble coursed down my arm. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

“Honestly?” Reaching over, he took the glass from my hands. My eyes narrowed as he placed it on the coffee table beside his. He rose as he said, “Lived here my whole life, and the only time we had more than one woman disappear, it was because we had a serial killer on our hands.”

My stomach churned at what he said and my pulse quickened because he was standing in front of me. “You think there’s another serial killer?”

“I didn’t say that. Could be two completely unrelated cases, but anything’s possible.”

“Anything—” I gasped as he knelt and wrapped his hands around my arms. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” he replied.

“This isn’t talking—” Air whooshed out of me as he lifted me up. In one smooth action, he sat back down with me in his lap, my side pressed against his chest and my legs stretched out on the couch. Stunned, I was frozen stiff like a mannequin as I stared at him. We were face-to-face until he shifted me down a few inches so I was now at eye level with his throat. “This is not talking.”

He grinned at me. “Yeah, it is. We’re just talking very closely.”

My mouth worked but no words came out for several seconds. I was surrounded by him, by his warmth and the citrusy scent of what was his aftershave or cologne. I was guessing it was his cologne, because as close as I was, I could tell he hadn’t shaved in at least two days. “It’s not—”

“It’s totally necessary,” he cut in, reading my mind. He circled one arm around my waist. “And you know what?”

I lifted my gaze to his. “What?”

“You haven’t tried to get away.”

Damn it. He was right. I was sitting all comfy in his lap. My nose scrunched. “Maybe because I realize it would be a fruitless endeavor.”

“Uh-huh.” His grin went up a notch, and it was nice when I wasn’t sitting in his lap, and stunning when I was. “Back to what we were talking about. Anything is possible. We both know that, but I keep telling myself that two serial killers hitting up this same area seems improbable to me.”

Worrying my lower lip, I lowered my gaze back down to his throat. Jason had said the same thing, and it did seem improbable but it also wasn’t impossible. No matter what, even if Angela showed up tomorrow, a woman was dead, and it was frightening.

“Hey.” The hand on my hip squeezed, and I looked up to find him watching me. “What are you thinking?”

I let go of my lip. “I was thinking . . . that this is familiar. Like it was before, sitting around and hoping that someone was going to show up and be okay.”

His hand left my hip and ran up my back. It was a comforting gesture. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It is familiar.”

As the seconds passed, my body relaxed without me having to force it. I was leaning into him instead of sitting stiffly. My hands slowly unclenched. Neither of us said anything for what felt like a long time, and the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something actually peaceful about it, and I imagined if I laid my head on his shoulder, it would be bliss.