Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(20)

The next time she wanted to communicate with North Callaghan, she would not rely on notes. She would not beat on walls. She would not knock on his door just to have it go unanswered.

She would be heard. She’d pick up the phone and call him directly.

So if her resources happened to involve calling Doris, her brother’s dispatcher, on her way to work, no one needed to know. She would be happy to help Faith. Doris had been sneaking her candy from her desk drawer ever since Faith was three years old and Doris worked dispatch for her father.

When her cell phone rang midmorning as she was coming out of a meeting, she identified Doris’s name as the caller. She reached for the pen on her desk, ready to copy down North’s phone number. “Hey, Doris,” she greeted. “Were you able to get me that—”

Doris cut right to the chase. “Why do you want this guy’s number?”

“Uhh . . .” She hadn’t bothered to explain why to Doris. They’d both been in a hurry this morning and it just hadn’t seemed necessary. Asking Doris to keep it under wraps and not mention the request to her brother hadn’t seemed a big deal either. Doris understood Hale’s tendency to interfere and she was totally in Faith’s corner.

“Tell me you’re not dating this guy, Faith.”

“No!”

“Whew. That’s a relief. Your brother wouldn’t like that.”

“Why, Doris? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s got a record, Faith. His rap sheet is ugly. This isn’t the kind of person you need to be around. Who is he to you, Faith?”

North Callaghan was a criminal? Hadn’t she thought that beautiful body a weapon? The type honed not in a gym but rather on a battlefield?

“Um.” Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her they were neighbors. “No one, Doris. I just wanted his number.”

Doris sighed, accepting that Faith wasn’t going to give her the full story. “Okay. Just be careful, Faith.”

Faith nodded, jotting down the numbers Doris recited and vowing not to ask Doris the particulars of North’s record. It conveyed a level of interest she did not want to project. From here on out, she would do her own digging.

And it was time she learned everything she could about North Callaghan.



All day Faith stared at those digits scrawled on the slip of paper on her desk, not getting nearly enough work done. She finally caved and typed them into her phone for safekeeping. Under contacts, she hesitated and then typed in Asshole Neighbor.

She giggled, pleased with herself. That kept things in perspective.

Okay. So she lived next door to a felon, but he’d served his time. She had no reason to be scared of him. He’d roused several emotions in her since she moved in, but fear wasn’t one of them.

He’d been out for two years and he had lived a clean, crime-free life since his release. It wasn’t as though he was a pedophile or rapist.

No, just a convicted murderer.

She winced. She wasn’t a fool. Even though she had discovered all she could about North Callaghan and his crime, she knew living next door to him wasn’t an ideal situation. Her brother or father could not find out. They’d have a U-Haul in front of her house before she could blink.

She didn’t want to move. She wasn’t going to.

North Callaghan had been convicted of killing his cousin’s alleged rapist. Alleged was a kind characterization. All the media she uncovered did not paint a favorable picture of Mason Leary. He and his family had waged a strong campaign to prove his innocence, hiring fancy lawyers out of Lubbock, but she’d read Katie Callaghan’s testimony and the testimony of the doctor who attended her when she was admitted into the hospital. No female would want to be hurt in that manner.

Everything she’d unearthed pointed to the fact that North and his older brother inadvertently killed the young man, beating him in an attempt to get his admission of guilt. North had been eighteen years old at the time. His brother not much older. Their actions weren’t right. She wasn’t condoning them, but she could see how something like that could happen.

The fact remained: she did not believe herself at risk from her neighbor. Her ears might throb from the sounds drifting from the other side of her bedroom wall, and she might feel stabs of annoyance when his motorcycle crept onto her side of the driveway, but that wasn’t reason enough for her to sell her new house and move. He’d served his time and was entitled to a place to live. Wasn’t that how the system worked?

She moved through the rest of her day in a fog, making calls and filling out paperwork as her mind churned over this new development.

She took a late lunch outside on one of the benches in front of her building, not even tasting the ham-and-cheese croissant sandwich she had packed. The birds found her. They always did. She broke up bits of the bread from her sandwich and tossed them out for them.

She snorted at the image she must make, a single woman tossing food for the pigeons. The only thing missing was a shawl and an old-lady hat. She needed to get out more. Maybe if she was socializing more, making new friends and dating, she wouldn’t care so much about one neighbor, felon or not.

She straightened her spine and reminded herself that she had a date coming up. Maybe things would start looking up and changing then.

“Hey, Faith,” Wendy called on her way inside the building. “Drinks tonight at Willie’s! Flor and I are going. They’ve got a hot new bartender. Something nice to look at as we drink our margaritas. You in?”