Night Is Darkest

you don’t want me, then what the hell are you doing stalking my house? Am I in some kind of danger? What’s going on with Rob’s case?”
He rubbed his hand over the major five o’clock shadow surrounding his luscious mouth. Her thoughts drifted to the way his lips had felt against hers and she nearly moaned.
All business once more, he answered, “I honestly don’t know, Lacey. I don’t mean to frighten you. I don’t have any proof but something’s off. I can’t put my finger on it yet but I’m working the case. Both of us are. Ty’s out canvassing the neighborhood around the crime scene.”
She noticed he couldn’t say “where Rob died”. They suffered, too. Of its own volition, her hand reached out to cup his face, her thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. He turned his head to press his lips against her palm before enfolding it in a light hold. Decades of friendship outshone their current impasse.
“You haven’t noticed anything unusual, have you?”
She shook her head. “No, there’s nothing going on inside except the freaking phone calls.”
“What phone calls?” His eyes narrowed.
“People ringing to say how sorry they are plus tons of reporters trying for a sound bite or an extra little scoop with a couple of hang-ups mixed in for added aggravation.” She rolled her eyes.
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “No heavy breathers? Creepy messages?”
“Nah. Nothing that exciting.”
The artificial distance he’d kept began to erode. They leaned toward each other, reveling in their familiar closeness, but Mrs. Potter’s dog chose then to bark and Mason swiveled around so fast she feared he’d given himself whiplash. He dropped her hand then cursed under his breath.
“I have to go, Lace.”
“Because of this?” She gestured back and forth in the air between them.
“Because it’s almost time for me to go on duty. I need to take over for Ty.”
Probably true, but she still detected his relief. “You’re not on duty now?”
“The chief didn’t feel there was any reason to warrant a dedicated resource shadowing you. But I can’t shake this feeling so I thought I’d take a drive by.”
“And you ended up staying all day? When are you going to sleep, Mason?”
He shrugged, “I’m fine. Look, just be careful okay?”
“I trust your instincts. I promise.”
“Good.” His sad smile devastated her. “Now go ahead back in the house. I’ll stay until you’re inside. Keep to where I can see you.”
She shivered. “You think someone’s out here?”
“I’m not taking any chances with you. Go now and I’ll send Ty over with a call recorder. It can’t hurt to screen your incomings for a while.”
She studied the stained floor mat under her sneakers.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Lacey. Here’s a secret. He’s miserable without you. He’s been irritable as a bear with a fucking thorn in its paw since he left. I think you two belong together.” He took a ragged breath. “And I’m going to tell him so.”
Mason’s declaration reverberated in her mind as she crossed the street. At the top of the stairs, she turned to wave before heading inside. He gave a curt nod in response. She shut and locked the door but couldn’t block out the vision of his tense expression.
She needed something to pass the time until Ty arrived or her head would explode with the possibilities. What would he say to Mason’s advice? Would he pursue her? Why would Mason encourage them to be together if he didn’t want her for himself?
He clearly knew the source of Tyler’s reservation, his pained expression had told her that much. She got the feeling he had just sacrificed something major for her. Was it a woman they both were interested in? Could she accept Tyler knowing that whatever secret the guys had shared would rip apart two men closer than most brothers?
In the office, she flopped down at her desk. Lacey wiggled her mouse until her monitor hummed to life, displaying the hundreds of emails she’d procrastinated sifting through.
The subjects didn’t vary much. “So Sorry”, “Just Heard” and “Our Condolences” were sprinkled around her favorite, “Are You Okay?”
Of course I’m not okay! When would people quit asking her that? They meant well but, come on, already. The disproportionate flare of her temper made her realize just how on edge she really was.
She pinched the bridge of her nose between two shaking fingers while concentrating on her breathing. When she’d nearly gotten herself under control, she spotted it.
“We Need To Talk,” from Anon Y. Mous.
What the hell?
Furious, she double-clicked the message to open it in a new window. She skimmed the first obvious line, “Your brother’s murder was no accident…” before she realized the action had initiated a chain reaction. The obnoxious red icon flashing in her system tray alerted her to the detection of a virus.
“No!” Struggling to react despite the way her stomach had dropped from the jolt of shock the message had inflicted, she pressed the delete key, banishing the message to the recycle bin. But the damage had already been done. A dialog box popped up over her email program. The status bar zoomed from 0% to 100% almost faster than she could see. Then the blue screen of death obscured everything else.
“Son of a bitch!” Lacey powered down her machine then paused before restarting. She prayed it wasn’t as bad as it had looked. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done a backup of her data. After a horrible grinding noise, a single line of text flashed on her screen.
Hard drive corrupt. Press F1 for help.
“Help! I’ll give you help!” She hauled off and kicked the tower beneath her desk before stomping upstairs.
At this point, she did the only thing she could. She fell into bed and gave in to tears for the umpteenth time this week. Her hand snaked beneath her pillow, as she hugged the downy puff to her, where it encountered the cool metal of Rob’s service revolver. Probably not an approved storage place but it