The Devil's Daughter (Hidden Sins #1)(79)

He was right. She knew that.

Zach continued. “I’m assuming you want to be there when I bring Martha and her men in.”

“I do.” She rocked back on her heels, not sure how to handle the change in his demeanor. “I thought we were fighting about this.”

Zach sat on the bed long enough to pull on a pair of jeans. “Fighting isn’t going to accomplish anything. I care about you, Eden. But you’re right—I’m not your mother, your brother, or your boyfriend. If you don’t want to take my concerns into account, you don’t have to.”

That’s what she wanted . . . so why did it make her chest hurt to hear him say it? She was an emotional mess right now, and going toe to toe over the fact that Zach wasn’t fighting with her would just waste their time. She finally nodded. “Okay.” Really, there was nothing else to say.

And they didn’t.

Silence reigned during the entire drive back to the B&B. Zach parked out front, and she opened the door and hesitated. “I care about you, too.”

“I know.”

The surety in his voice made her want to smack him. “I just can’t let that get in the way of bringing this unsub down. There’s a girl’s life at stake.”

“Eden, there’s more than that, and you know it.”

She shut the door without answering. She did know it. There was her life, sure, but there was also the fate of every person living in Elysia. She’d fought very hard not to think about the implications of there being a killer loose in Martha’s inner circle. Her mother would try to spin it, and she’d try to spin it hard, but there was only so much she could do once the courts became involved.

And if Martha is behind these deaths . . .

Eden headed inside, ducking into the stairwell before Dolores could look up from the magazine she was poring over and start questioning where she’d been all night. It really was too easy. Anyone could come and go from this building if they had the slightest bit of stealth. She didn’t breathe easy again until she had the door closed and locked between her and the rest of Clear Springs, and even then she couldn’t relax until she’d searched every inch of her room. Nothing seemed disturbed, but there was once again the faintest prickling at the nape of her neck suggesting that someone had been here, going through her things.

She closed the curtains and stripped, needing a shower to clear her head so she could face the challenges the day was no doubt going to bring. With the water beating a rhythm against her bare skin, her fears once again reared up and kicked her in the face.

If her mother was responsible, she’d lose any property to her name. It would most likely pass to Eden.

I don’t want it. What the hell would I do with a hundred acres in Montana? With all the people who live off the land there? The thought of letting them continue to worship Demeter and do their yearly burial of Persephone filled her with revulsion, but to the individual, they had given Martha every single thing of worth they owned. If they were forced back into the real world, they would be starting from nothing—from less than nothing. And that wasn’t even considering people like Beth and Jon who’d grown up in the cult.

Or how brutal deconditioning cult beliefs could be.

Eden closed her eyes and ducked her head under the spray, wishing she could wash away her fears as easily as she washed off the scent of Zach and sex.

There were no easy answers.

It was almost enough to have her hoping Martha had no connection to the killer, but she couldn’t even afford to wish for that, because it could color her investigation. I shouldn’t be here. I never should have come back.

A creak sounded from somewhere close, and she jerked out of the spray, blinking the water from her eyes. Seconds ticked by, the water cooling to a temperature slightly less than scalding, and she started shivering, the belief she wasn’t alone only growing with each careful breath she exhaled. Where is my gun? She almost cursed aloud when she realized she’d left it in the nightstand. How did Eden Collins die? Oh, that idiot? She was shot with her own service weapon.

She held the metal rings of the shower curtain to keep them from clinking and then carefully stepped out of the shower. The cadence of the water changed without her there, but it wasn’t something a person would notice unless they were listening for it. She padded across the bathroom floor and angled to peer out the doorway and into the rest of the room. One second, two, three, and nothing moved. Her gun lay where she’d left it, damn near taunting her with its nearness. She could dive forward, roll across the bed, and come up with gun raised before anyone in the room could react.

If they haven’t already tampered with the gun by removing the bullets.

She was just a little ray of sunshine today.

When the seconds ticked into minutes, she couldn’t wait any longer. She leaped out of the bathroom, clearing the space to the bed with a single move, rolling across the mattress and scooping up her gun when she did, and ending up crouched behind the bed with her back to the wall. Her hands shook where they held the raised gun, but she clicked off the safety all the same. It took her a few moments to process what she was seeing.

Nothing. No one. Her room was empty.

Eden rose and walked to the closest, poking through the handful of clothes hanging there and finding nothing. She turned to double-check that the door was locked and froze. Not only was the lock not engaged but there was a gift basket sitting on the desk that had most definitely not been there when she’d gotten in the shower. Fear rose, cloying and thick. She’d been naked and as helpless as a person could be, and there had been someone in her room, maybe even in the bathroom, a few feet away, and she hadn’t known.