Page 60 of Never Stay Gone
Fuck. Heath was right. Shelly was the latest murder, possibly, in the serial killings Dakota had specifically been sent to Rustler and Big Bend County to take the lead on. If this murder was connected, he was going to be the lead investigator on it too. And the longer they dicked around trying to clear Shane of something he definitely didn’t do, the further behind in the investigation they—he—would be.
Dakota was quiet as he helped Shane to his feet. “Let’s get this over with,” Dakota mumbled. “I know Shane didn’t do it. Whatever you need to see to prove it to yourself.”
He stripped Shane out of his button-down, working each button through its hole with military precision, then shucked the khaki shirt like he had the night before, tearing it down Shane’s arms like he couldn’t wait to get to what lay beneath.
There was Shane’s undershirt, crisp and white. Shane untucked it from his waistband and slowly pulled it over his head.
And there, in all their glory, were the marks Dakota had put on Shane. Marks made in ecstasy, Shane shouting his name, him shouting Shane’s name. Kisses he’d left a little too enthusiastically on Shane’s collarbone, a hickey he’d sucked into Shane’s pec. Fingertip bruises rising over Shane’s hips, perfect impressions, strong enough to make a forensic tech weep. More on Shane’s arms, where Dakota had held on to him like he was scared of Shane vanishing.
And running down Shane’s back, red tracks from Dakota’s fingernails. He hadn’t broken Shane’s skin, but it did look like someone had gotten hold of Shane and given him the time of his life.
Dakota held up his large hand, with his long fingers, and spread it across the pink welts. Perfect fit, finger to finger to finger. “You wanna take scrapings from my nails and compare the DNA? I know who gave Shane those marks.”
“Won’t be necessary.” Heath blew out a long breath. “Okay. Shane, you can’t be a part of this investigation. You knew the victim. And anyone who looks at this case and the facts of it is going to be taking a hard look at you the whole way through. I’m not the last person who is going to ask you for your alibi. You can’t be anywhere near this one.”
Shane’s jaw worked left and right. Dakota could see the pounding pulse at his jawline and his temple, see the twitching in his eye.
“On top of that, I don’t want to be talking about the details with you. I don’t want to put those thoughts in your head. You need to remember Shelly the way she was,” Heath added.
“You have to let me help catch this son of a bitch.”
“You should go home, Shane. At least for a day or two.”
“I don’t have a home right now,” Shane choked out. “I have nowhere to go if you send me away.”
Somewhere else, Shane would be ordered out, with two other officers and a grief counselor in his wake. Somewhere else, Shane would be given a prescription for Xanax and Valium and Ambien, taken to his porch, given a beer. Someone would be by his side for the next seven days straight. He wouldn’t look at a case file or a news report or anything else, and he’d have at least six weeks of paid leave and counseling before he came back to work.
Somewhere else, there were more than six deputies for twelve thousand people. And somewhere else, there wasn’t a serial killer rampaging across the desert, snatching women and destroying their lives and the lives of the people who loved them.
How many tendrils of evil had this killer already sent out into the world? Killing Libby and ripping out her son’s heart. Killing Amber and devastating the people who knew her. Ramón and Amber’s brother were probably lighting candles to Santa Muerte and praying for blood revenge as they nursed their broken hearts.
Killing Jessica and sending shock waves through Governor Riggs and her administration, and all the people who had known Jessica. Her fiancé, weeping on the floor as he mourned the woman he loved and their unborn child. Amanda and Drew, huddled together, heads touching, holding hands, both of them trembling as Drew said, “We knew her. She worked in Austin during the summers when she was in college.”
Killing Shelly. All those parts of Shane that he’d revealed to Dakota the night before, all the broken, ragged pieces that he’d taped together to make it through his life. Now, on top of everything else, he had to hold Shelly’s murder inside him too.
“Are you sure?” Heath asked.
Shane took a deep breath. Held it in. “I need to be here.”
A single nod, and then Heath turned to Dakota. “We need to head out to the scene. El Paso is going to be here soon. I can drive.” Heath checked his watch as he grabbed his hat off the rack on the wall.
“Give me five minutes,” Dakota said.
Heath grabbed Shane’s service weapon and slid it across his desk to Shane. “You’re cleared,” he said as Shane took his weapon back, “but you’re also on administrative duty only.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll meet you outside, Dakota.” Dakota nodded as Heath headed out, shutting his office door behind him.
Shane faced the window and grasped the frame in both hands. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the pane. His breath fogged the glass in front of him, distorting his reflection but not masking his agony.
“Shane…” He had no fucking idea what to say.Are you okay? What can I do? Should I stay? Should I go? Do you regret last night? Is this the end, again?
“Find him.” Shane’s voice had dropped. It was dark, and hard, and fractured. “Find who did this, Dakota.”
“I will. I promise. I swear I will.”
You were never supposed to make promises as a lawman. That was the quickest way to let someone down. But he’d do this for Shane. He’d die doing it, if need be.
