Into the Light (The Light, #1)(16)

Hell no. I’d fight it.

I opened the door and watched it shut behind the doctor, wishing it had a lock.

In four steps I crossed the room. This small space felt like a damn cage, but I refused to leave Sara’s side. The soles of my boots created a rhythm as I paced back and forth, a habit I’d started as a teen. I processed thoughts better when I moved. I’d rather be moving in one direction, but living in this godforsaken region of Alaska, in a walled community, didn’t offer many opportunities for running. It was better in the summer, but now, with the sunlight waning, it was freezing cold. I had to hand it to Father Gabriel, though. There was nothing like being isolated in the middle of nowhere to bring people together and help form a cohesive group.

The rush for Sara’s training didn’t make sense. Are they trying for another failure?

From the corner of my eye, I noticed the movement of her hand and my steps stilled.

Shit. She’d just wiped away a tear.

What the hell am I supposed to do?





CHAPTER 6


Stella


Standing outside the door to the Wayne County Morgue, I gave Dylan a strained smile.

“Really?” I asked, shaking my head.

“Really. I haven’t been in. If they knew for sure it was her, they wouldn’t need you. After last time I thought it might help if you weren’t alone.”

I feigned a smile. I appreciated his help; however, having him here, holding my hand, set fire to my emotions, causing them to bubble to the top instead of remaining hidden behind a mask of indifference.

“Thank you, Dylan. But I need to walk in there as a journalist, not a friend. I’m not sure I can take seeing my friend laid out on a large stainless table.”

He tilted his head. “But Stella Montgomery, sleuth investigator, can?”

“No, not really, but sleuth investigator”—I couldn’t help but smile, releasing a bit of the tension at his description—“can keep it together until she’s alone.”

“How about you don’t have to be alone?” Holding my hand and stepping back, Dylan looked deep into my eyes, and his gaze narrowed. I knew that look. His police wheels were spinning. “You know,” he said curiously, “I raced down here as soon as Barney told me you’d left. WCJB is closer than the precinct. How did I get here before you?”

I shrugged. “My mind’s a blur. I missed my exit and . . .” I let my voice fade to a whisper. “I found myself headed north.”

“Tell me you didn’t go to Highland Heights.”

I straightened my neck and set my shoulders back defensively. “Don’t. Don’t play macho policeman. If that’s Mindy in there, then they found her in that neighborhood in an abandoned house. If it’s her, I needed to see it. I need to find out who did this. That’s what I do.”

“If, Stella. If is the imperative word. You’re putting the cart before the horse.” His mussed, dark-blond hair failed to hide his furrowed brow as he repeated his question, slower this time. “Did you go to Highland Heights alone, without telling anyone?”

I knew that telling someone where you’re going—leaving a trail—was rule number one, but rules were meant to be broken. Sometimes moving on instinct didn’t allow for time to check in. Not appreciating his interrogation, I shook off his grip. “I just drove around, all right? I didn’t get out.”

“Christ, are you trying to turn up missing too?”

I’d never, in all my adult life, answered to anyone. This relationship—or whatever it was—with Dylan was still in its infancy. We were still working on our boundaries, and he’d just crossed one of mine. With heat rising to my face and my jaw clenched, I replied, “I’m not having this conversation with you in the hallway outside of the morgue. Why are you here, anyway? To lecture me on safety? Because right now I’m safe, but whoever the hell is on that table isn’t.”

Dylan’s gaze softened. “No, I didn’t come here to lecture you. I came because last time you did this alone. I didn’t want you to do that again. I know how upsetting it was for you. I hope to God this isn’t Mindy, but if it is . . .”

I sighed. “I appreciate that, I do. I just don’t need lectures right now.” I let out another long breath. “Seeing dead bodies never gets easier, at least not to me.”

“No, it doesn’t. Each one, no matter what they did or what happened to them, was a person, someone’s kid.”

Or sister, or brother, or best friend.

Dylan once again grasped my hand. “Let’s get this over with. They’re ready for us.”

I held back my tears, steeled my resolve, and nodded. Together we walked through the doors and entered the cold room, cold both in temperature and personality. The buzz of the lights combined with the offending odor threw my nerves into overdrive. Dylan’s hand became a vise as I took in the surroundings. It was the same as it’d been a week earlier, with cement walls, tile floors, and tables and countertops made of a shiny, disinfected metal.

A young, thin woman entered from the other side of the room at the same time that we came in. I barely noticed her as I concentrated on the body, lying on a table near the far end of the room, a silhouette covered with a white sheet.

“Thank you for coming. I’ll skip all the formalities and make this as quick as possible,” the young technician said.