Till Death(91)

Snow was starting to fall again, dusting the parking lot and freshening up the snow already on the grass.

Cole’s steps slowed as his truck came into view. Tyron was waiting beside it, a black skullcap pulled low. “Would’ve called but heard you two were at the hospital,” he said. “How’s your mother?”

“They were able to stop the heart attack.” I took a deep breath as Cole tucked me into his side and ran his hand down the center of my back. Even with a jacket on, the gesture was comforting. “The doctor said it was minor compared to how bad it could’ve been. They’re going to keep her for a few days, but she should be okay.”

“That’s great news. Glad to hear it.” Tyron glanced between us. “And I think I have even more good news for you.”

At this point, I figured almost anything was good news.

Cole dropped his arm and reached down, finding my hand. “What’s going on?”

“Just heard from a unit who’s over at Mayor Hughes’ house.” Tyron stepped forward, voice low. “This isn’t the good-news part, but looks like he committed suicide earlier this afternoon. Left a note. That’s the good-news part. He admitted to everything.”



Cole curled an arm around my shoulders and hauled me forward, against his chest. We stood at the front doors of the inn a few hours after we left the hospital. The crime scene unit had just been leaving when we arrived. I imagined they’d combed the entire house. The room upstairs was still closed off, probably would be for several days.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said, folding his other arm around my waist. “Your mom’s going to be fine.”

Wrapping my arms around him, I rested my cheek against his chest. I tried to smile and failed. Too worried about my mom and unable to shake a wealth of nervous energy, I felt absolutely horrible for the mayor’s family. No matter what evil that man had done, I couldn’t imagine what his family was going through.

But there was something else nagging at me. I . . . I couldn’t help feeling like we were missing something—that I was missing something.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said, opening my eyes. “Why would he do that to hide his secret? All it did was draw attention to what happened. I don’t get it.”

Cole didn’t immediately respond as he threaded his fingers through my hair. He knew what I did. That the mayor’s wife had found him in the office of his home with a single gunshot wound to the head and a suicide letter on the desk. According to Tyron, he admitted to not just the vandalism of our vehicles, but the murders of the three women and to mailing Angela’s finger to me. DNA hadn’t confirmed that the finger had belonged to her, but from what I gathered, due to the state of her body, it most likely was hers. He’d given no reason other than he could no longer live his life with, as Tyron said, “the shame of his family.”

It didn’t make sense.

And Cole had been stiff and tense ever since. He wasn’t saying it, but I knew he was thinking the same thing as me. The mayor had repeatedly showed his worry over me dragging up the past, and with the knowledge Striker had given me, that was understandable since very few people knew he was related to the Groom. His actions today didn’t match his actions of the past.

“That’s why I’m heading over to his house with Tyron. It’s not my case or jurisdiction, but he’s going to get me in,” Cole finally said. “I want to see this for myself.”

I drew back, lifting my head. The crime scene was as it had been found, secured by the FBI and local law enforcement. “And you’re not going to get into trouble?”

“Myers will be pissed to see me, but he can’t do shit.” He cupped my cheeks. “Miranda and Jason are going to stay here until I get back. Or at least one of them,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I won’t be gone long. Okay?”

“’Kay,” I whispered.

His eyes searched mine and then he lowered his mouth. Cole kissed me, and there was nothing soft or slow about it. It was deep and rough, and all too brief. When he pulled back, those beautiful pale blue eyes were full of fire.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” I promised.

“Better be.” His hands lingered, almost like he didn’t want to let go, and honestly, I didn’t want him to. He brushed his lips over mine once more and then he did step back.

As he walked away, the urge to say “I love you” flared so brightly on the tip of my tongue, but the words didn’t come out. All I did was smile and give him a corny-ass finger wave that caused him to give me a crooked grin. And those words were burning a hole through my tongue as I walked back to the kitchen.

Miranda was sitting at the table, a bottle of water instead of wine in front of her. Jason was standing, leaning against the kitchen island.

“I almost told Cole I loved him,” I blurted out.

Jason blinked slowly. “Wow. That was random.”

“Why didn’t you?” Miranda asked, twisting in her seat.

“I don’t know. It just seems too . . . it’s too soon,” I said, walking around the island to the fridge, in bad need of the full sugary power of a Coke. “And really bad timing to drop those three words.”

“Is there really any perfect time?” Miranda folded her arms across her chest.