Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(19)



“I-I’m sorry. Have I freaked you out?” Paul asked with a nervous chuckle.

“No,” I lied.

“I have. I’m so sorry. I’ve just…never felt so immediately connected to anyone like this. I’ve never wanted to be with someone, just be around them, so fast, so deeply before. I’ve come on too strong, too fast.” He stepped back to give me breathing room. I needed it. “We have plenty of time to get to know each other, right? We’ll see each other at seminars and here and…right? You’re coming back here, right? I haven’t scared you off, have I? I couldn’t stand it if I did. That I’ll never…get to see you again. You’re coming back, right?”



When I glanced up at him again he seemed truly pained at the prospect. He either should have been on Broadway or he actually felt worried. “I-I have every intention of coming back. I promise.”

“Good. Awesome. Thank the universe. I’m just going to…leave before I ruin this somehow.” He pointed at the door and took a step toward it before stopping. He turned around. “Hey. What’s your favorite song?”

“Uh, ‘No Angel’ by Gregg Allman.”

“Beauty and great taste in music. The universe is kind. I’m gonna learn it and play it for you next time I see you.”

“Okay. I’d like that.”

“Awesome. Awesome.”

With that he finally walked out the door. I knew people in the backyard were observing me through the window, so I kept my expression neutral and didn’t sigh like I was dying to. At least the Morningstars were equal-opportunity chauvinists, providing a whore for the ladies as well. But I wasn’t sure what had just happened was all an act. I thought part of him believed what he was selling. Or I was just truly desperate for male attention? Both options were just too sad to dwell on for too long. My head literally hurt and I was beyond exhausted. Hell, I was exhausted before I even arrived in Grey Mills. The moment Paul left I hit a wall. It was time to leave before I started making mistakes. I felt it. So I just stuffed the remaining cups, Paul’s included, into my purse and made a beeline toward my handler.

Megan remained by the fire pit roasting a marshmallow but perked up when she saw me. “Hi. Did Paul find you?”



“Uh, yeah, he did.”

She grabbed my wrist and pulled me down to her level. “The moment you left he came over and asked me a million questions about you. I think he’s like totally into you. You are so lucky. He’s gorgeous, right?”

“He is…that. Yes. Look, I’m sorry. My stomach’s really messed up. I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Are you okay? I can make you some ginger tea.”

“I don’t think it will be much help. I had dodgy Chinese for dinner. I don’t want my first impression with everyone to be so…colorful.”

“Is it really your stomach or did Paul do something—”

“No! He was lovely. I was in the bathroom for an hour before I got here and took Pepto. I just…didn’t want to let you down. Is it all right if I pop by tomorrow so we can talk more?”

“Of course. Are you—”

I clutched my stomach and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I-I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I half-smiled before rising and turning toward the door. I glanced at Paul, who was of course staring at me with that smirk of his. I smiled nervously back before hustling out of the party. Yeah, I had to find that fucking farm. Fast. I didn’t know how much more positive reinforcement and love-bombing I could take. I’d never worked undercover before, but I’d heard it was easy to lose yourself in the pantomime. That even when embedded with white supremacists you’d find something to like about them and even find some logic in their rhetoric.



Thank God I never did undercover work before, because I’d spent less than an hour with them and could feel their pull. My poor brother didn’t stand a chance. Beautiful women telling him he’s better than George Clooney, that he’s special, that he can find true happiness in three easy steps? I was certain he’d gone through the looking glass like Alice. And I was barely a month sober. My whole life had changed. Again. I was a doctor of psychology; I knew better than most how precarious this time of my sobriety was. I was so fragile my psyche may as well have been glass. But Billy needed me. Mom needed me. I needed to do this to start righting my many wrongs against my family. I just prayed I wouldn’t lose my common sense or my morals in the process.

Once in a lifetime was more than enough.





Chapter 5


Memory Fucking Lane. As I jogged through the streets of Grey Mills, the déjà vu hit me down every street and around every corner. Mrs. Cramer’s lawn that Billy and I mowed and pruned for a year for pocket money when we were eight. Cheney Street, where my boyfriend Paul and I had our first make-out session in his BMW. The small park where everyone in the neighborhood gathered once a year for the block party. The swings Billy and I played on when we were kids. The house where my friend Sadie lived with her parents and sister.

I stopped for a second to stare at that now abandoned, rotting shell that had been decaying for almost twenty-five years. The roof had caved in, the paint chipped to nothing, all the windows smashed. Why they didn’t tear it down I hadn’t a clue. Even when it was pristine, nobody wanted to move into a house where a man murdered his wife and two daughters before running off with his stripper girlfriend to Las Vegas. It took the FBI two weeks to catch him. It took one meeting with them to irrevocably change the course of my life.

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