Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(101)

“I’m not the same young buck I was when we first met, Iris.”

“Pretty sure the last time you said it was just a little over two years ago.”

“Well, a hell of a lot has happened in those two years. Having my best friend bleed out in my arms? Losing her for two years? Getting shot by a serial killer? Priorities change, Iris. You see what’s important in life. Changing a job title and a little more money seems as important as getting a pedicure. You of all people know this. You gave up your dream job to move to North Carolina with your husband. Did you have doubts? Second thoughts?”

“I didn’t get the chance.” I shake my head. “But…if I’m being honest…God knows if it would have worked out. I could have quickly come to resent him. To hate him for forcing me to choose.”

“But you still did it. Because you had faith in him. In your marriage. It was a risk. It was a huge gamble, but you rolled the dice anyway. Because you loved him. Because it was worth that risk.”

“Oh, God, Luke, don’t use me as an example of making sound life decisions. I’m an adulteress. A murderer. A pill-popping, alcoholic, lying, cold, selfish bitch. Anything I do, do the fucking opposite. In fact, after all this bullshit, I’m starting to think locking myself in my house was the best damn thing I could have done. I hurt people, Luke. I don’t mean to, I don’t, but I still do. Hancock, my brother, my mother, my grandparents, Paul, Helen, you. And for what? What good have I done here?”



“Would it have been better to do nothing? Let your brother and all those people get slowly sucked of money and life, manipulated into committing acts they wouldn’t normally want to, until the DEA came in and ruined their lives anyway? You tried to open their eyes, and maybe you did. Maybe tomorrow Helen, Paul, hell, even Megan will wake up and realize you were right. You have done everything you humanly could.” He shook his head. “And please stop that pity-party crap. Yeah, you’re…most of those things. Or you were. You’ve done bad things. You’ve made bad decisions. But they don’t define you, not if you don’t let them. We all screw up, Iris. You’re human. And it’s not as if they occurred in a vacuum. If you had been shot in front of me, I would have executed that bastard too. I would have lost my goddamn mind too. I almost did. I screwed every woman up and down the Beltway, sometimes four different women a week, Iris. I drank too much. I had to transfer to Art Theft because I couldn’t see crime scene photos, couldn’t talk to victims without getting nauseous and seeing you, feeling your blood sticking to me from that night. I was on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds for that first year. I’d only had my head on straight for six months when the Woodsman case began. My father pulled strings with Reggie to get me on it without my knowledge. I didn’t even want the case. I wasn’t sure I was up for it. Still not sure I was. You caught him.”



“No, we caught him,” I said forcefully. “Our talks, reviewing the evidence together, you backing up most of my crazy theories…He’d still be out there if you hadn’t been by my side. No question. Not to mention you fucking saved my life, Luke, just by showing up.”

“Yeah, but if I had listened to you before—”

“I’m not talking about that night, Luke. I’m talking about the first time you saved my life. I’d still be stumbling around my house, slowly killing myself, if you hadn’t come. Hadn’t cared.”

“And your mother wouldn’t be receiving the help she needs without you. Your brother wouldn’t be a hairsbreadth from leaving that place. You’ve put your reputation, your life on the line for him. You were ready to fight the DEA for the sheriff. So no more of this cold, selfish, useless crap from you. You may wish it were true, but we both know it’s not. You’d chop off your arm for friend or family. You’d lay down your life for strangers. You are clever and funny and giving and honest, and anyone who tells you otherwise has to answer to me, okay?”

I stared at him, walking by my side, and I swear my love for him took my breath away. “And if anyone calls you anything but a sweet, strong, loyal, brave super FBI agent, I’ll kneecap them.”

“You forgot ridiculously handsome,” he said with a sideways smirk.

“And well hung,” I quipped without thinking, “if memory serves.”

Our smiles faltered a little bit, and we walked in silence. Me and my Freudian slips. We’d walked clear around the block and the house came back into view. Safety. We could go our separate ways, into our own rooms for the night. We could—

Be brave.



“I didn’t sleep with Paul. My hand to God, I didn’t.”

“Did you want to?” Luke asked after a pause.

“Yes. In the moment, yeah, I did. There hasn’t been anyone since Hayden. Not a kiss. Not a touch. People didn’t even want to shake my hand. Paul was sweet. Sexy. And he adored me, or at least convinced himself he did. He believed he did. So when he kissed me…I wanted to believe too.”

“But you stopped yourself. Why?”

“Because…I saw your face. That night on my porch. And it shocked me back to reality. I thought about how, if I continued, I’d be letting myself down. Letting you down. Hell, letting Paul down. How none of us would forgive me. So I stopped.”