Page 26 of Lovely Violent Things

HALEN

The storm clouds have broken against the backdrop of encroaching night. The torrent beats the earth in relentless percussion to match the flood of emotions assaulting me.

I stand under the covered porch, staring out into the haze of sheeting gray. The heavy rain washes away all color and detail, the line between black and white blurred. “Shit,” I breathe.

Devyn’s call was a curtesy, a polite warning to be prepared. The evidence I bagged at the scene was identified as a base yarn from a strand of rope. Transfer on the fibers was conclusively matched to the rope used to bind my wrists at the ritual site. Namely, the wine and blood found in the fibers.

The rope directly implicates me.

My blood, my DNA, is on that piece of evidence.

I could hear the concern in her voice when she tried to give me a way out:“Was it possible that anyone else could’ve been there with you?”

Yes—one vain philosophy professor who gets under my skin.

Yet there’s no verifiable proof that Kallum was at the ritual scene, that he’s the one who then went to the hunting grounds—that he’s the Harbinger killer.

I made it all disappear.

Any of his DNA recovered on the rope can be explained. During questioning, I admitted Kallum helped me prepare for the ritual; his blood was all over my body.

I fell right into his trap.

The question of how that strand of rope got on the victim is enough for Agent Alister to bar me from the crime scene. Whether it’s an allegation of carelessness on my part, or an accusation far worse…

I’m already suspect in my methods. I was fired from CrimeTech for those methods. Before I was assigned this case, I was issued a warning. The personal details that negatively impacted my ability to do my job will become reasons,triggers. Any hired expert could take the stand and claim, with a clear conscience, that it’s within reason I could commit this crime.

Regardless of the outcome, with an accusation that damning, my professional career would be over.

I palm my forehead as the barometric pressure drums at my temples, an ache building behind my eyes. I hear footsteps on the porch behind me.

Agent Hernandez hovers at the edge of my periphery. “We should wait out the storm,” he suggests.

His observation feels loaded with more than one meaning. “That’d be smart.” I wait for him to return inside before I step off the porch into the torrential downpour.

I’m drenched before I reach the end of the walkway. Cold rain soaks my thermal and jeans, dousing some of the anger boiling my blood. I cross my arms and squint against the thick beads pelting my face.

“Halen—”

My eyes close briefly at the sound of Kallum’s voice. That cord tethered to him snaps taut, and I have to physically will my feet to keep moving.

He’s the storm that won’t pass.

The heavy beat of his footfalls brings him closer. I don’t stop.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m not waiting for Agent Alister to send a detail after me. I’m taking myself in.”

“Make him wait.” He matches my fast pace easily. “You can’t walk all the way back into town in the storm.”

“I can do whatever I want. At least for right now, while I’m still free to do so.”

“Your fucking logic is going to get you killed,” he says, the accusation in his voice a near growl. “If you don’t get back inside the house, I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you back.”

I laugh; I can’t help it. “You don’t know me. You have no idea howillogical I can be.” I’ve proven as much during this whole case. “I swear, you’re destruction incarnate. Dr. Stoll. Dr. Torres… You can simply look at someone, and their whole world implodes.”

Beneath my fury, I know damn well my life was destroyed before Kallum Locke strode into my world. But before him, I might have had a chance to repair the damage.

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