CHET FELT CHLOE’S BODY finally release all the tension as she deflated beside him. Her head was buried against his chest. He held her. There were no words necessary and he understood that. That’s why he didn’t bother to talk. It didn’t make sense to do things that were unnecessary. Empty words seemed more like an insult to him than any terms of endearment, and a waste of his breath. They degraded the grief that Chloe was dealing with.

Her loss was only compounded by Ryder finding someone else to share his life with, who would essentially take the role of Chloe’s sister. Naturally, Chloe believed she didn’t harbor romantic feelings toward Ryder Kincaid, but she was either wrong or unaware of how deeply they ran. Perhaps she was in denial. Chet wasn’t sure which it was. She didn’t seem to understand that her connection to Ryder substituted for having a boyfriend.

Most of the reason why Chet never made a move on Chloe before was because of Ryder. That, and she was his employer. As well as his mother’s. That thought rattled around in his head, and a wave of anxiety popped up, but he chose to ignore it. This didn’t, in any way, jeopardize his mother’s or his job. He wanted to believe that. Chloe wouldn’t dare fire either one of them, but if she did, he’d be forced to formally oppose it.

Scooting around, he began fidgeting under her weight while thinking that today, Chloe had done just that. She allowed her personal vendetta and resentment toward a perfectly competent employee to skewer her judgment. In fact, she stood in the café, mercilessly yelling at Tara before firing her. She was lashing out in ways that were unfair. Even worse, they were unethical. But no. Chet wasn’t like Tara. He wasn’t timid and he certainly would have never let anything he did affect his mother’s job security.

Chet was clinging to the belief that he read Chloe’s personality accurately. All this volatility was the culmination of Chloe’s grief about her sister and knowing that Ryder was moving on from her, essentially replacing her and her sister with Tara. So maybe it wasn’t exactly sexual interest in Ryder, but Chloe still expected and valued being the number one woman in his and Wyatt’s lives. So in an indirect way, Tara unwittingly replaced both the Carrington sisters.

How long was Chloe straddling Chet’s lap in the driver’s seat of his car while huddling against him? He didn’t know. A pretty long while though. He glanced down and assumed she cried herself to sleep. Exhausted after the orgasm she had and her discomfort about being with him, and of course, her ceaseless companion, grief, he was glad to see her sleeping.

The sun dropped below the horizon. Chet started to get antsy and his left leg went numb. He tried to delay any movement, knowing what little peace she had received. Once she was awake, she’d most likely act weird again. But he started to grow increasingly uncomfortable and fidgeting became inevitable. He gently nudged her, jiggling his knee to bump her bottom in a tender wake-up signal. Startled, her eyelids fluttered open and Chloe pulled her head off his chest so he could see her face, which was extraordinary. Her clear, flawless, dark skin shone with the hint of a blush on the ridge of her pronounced cheek bones. Chocolate eyes, far richer than her skin color and naturally thick lashes stared up at him, but she was unable to focus. She hadn’t worn a stitch of makeup since her sister’s body was found. That was unusual for her. She normally was dressed to the nines: from her nails, to her outfits, and down to the last details of her purse and matching shoes. Now? She failed to glance down and see what she wore and she also seemed to be neglecting general hygiene.

“We should go.”

She nodded, her eyebrows lowering and rising as she glanced outside. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah.”

Looking downwards, she saw that all their clothes were still intact. She blushed furiously. “How long?”

“An hour, maybe two.”

She frowned. “How could you stand it?” She clumsily maneuvered herself back into the passenger seat.

He buzzed the seat forward several clicks, and started the car. “You don’t sleep enough. It’s okay.”

“I sleep way too much,” she mumbled, staring out.

“You sleep only when you’re jacked up on pills.”

She whipped around. “How do you know that? How do you know anything at all about me? I just don’t understand. Until today, you’ve never once spoken to me at work. And today, there you were! Ordering me in front of everyone and telling me what to do about Tara.”

He glanced her way before turning to look over his shoulder and pull out into traffic. “Only because you were wrong. I’d have spoken up and said something before, if I thought you were wrong before. It wasn’t an issue before today.”

He shifted the car into gear as she clicked on her seatbelt. “So you’re not painfully shy?”

“I’m not shy at all.”

She shook her head. “Then, what are you?”

He could tell her the name for it, but it would freak her out. It was an annoying damn name stigmatized by all the negative stereotypes attached to it. It wasn’t something he understood, or why it needed to have a name or be discussed. He felt it was simply his personality. Not a big deal. But when he was in middle school, one teacher and the school psychologist agreed that it was something else, and low and behold, he had a diagnosis. It meant little to him then, just as it did now and had no effect on his life. He just was who he was. He wasn’t what he was, as the label suggested. But it was also the last thing he’d mention to anyone, especially a woman he liked, which was how he felt toward Chloe.

“I speak when it makes sense.”

“So now it makes sense for you to speak to me?”

He shrugged, glancing right and left before accelerating onto the highway. “Yes.”

She leaned forward with a huff, crossing her arms under her breasts. “Well, it doesn’t make any sense to me. At all. You are the hardest person I’ve ever had to deal with.”

He laughed. “Ever? That could be a big number.”

She scowled at him and stared out the window, falling quiet as he pulled into her driveway. She faced forward. “They want me to go in and discuss my sister.”

“Who does?”

“The police. The detective investigating Ebony’s murder wants my parents and me to go in and talk about her.”

“You got that call today?”

“This morning.”

“Well, that’s why you went after Tara.”

“Maybe,” she conceded.

“No maybes about it, Chloe. That’s what you do. You don’t get mad at the person you actually should be mad at, but deflect your anger towards something or someone else less dangerous.”

“What? What would you know about that?”

“A few things.”

She fidgeted around at his accurate assessment. “I don’t know why you pick up on stuff like that about me.”

He smiled as if it were obvious. “Anyway, when do they want you?”

“Tomorrow. Just me by myself.”

“I’ll take you there.”

Her eyebrow lifted as she glanced his way. “You have to work.”

“My boss will excuse me.” He smirked before his tone grew serious as he added, “You can’t go alone. Ryder isn’t available anymore, especially tomorrow and neither are your parents.”

“What?” She blew out a long breath and it caught a wayward curl, sticking it up away from her head. “What are we…? I mean, what do we do about that?”

“About what? Me sleeping with the boss?”

She cringed. “Yeah. I didn’t plan this out. It sounds so sordid.”

“I didn’t think it would ever be a problem so I didn’t either.”

She licked her lips. “Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Sleeping together?”

“I didn’t just shake your hand.” She gasped and blushed at his crude statement. He continued, “Yeah, I guess so. At least, we seem to be.”

She burned up in a blush. Having turned thirty this year, back in June, he would think she should have long ago gotten over any embarrassment with sex. To Chet, sex was just sex. An act that felt good together and temporarily alleviated emotional pain, while also distracting her from it. So why not sleep together?

“I didn’t know you wanted to, Chet. I don’t know what to think about that.”

“Try thinking a little less. It won’t help you right now to concentrate on anything. Do you want a ride tomorrow morning or not? You don’t have a car, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Okay. But at work, when I come back, will you just please don’t tell your mom?”

He held back an outright laugh, but nodded. “I’m not in the habit of telling my mother about my sex life. And I’d appreciate the same.”

“No. I won’t tell anyone,” she claimed, so quickly that he was slightly offended. But he knew not to worry over it. She didn’t want this to happen. So it wasn’t like she was anxious to go out and tell everyone. He was younger and employed by her. His job title wasn’t impressive. He didn’t fit the image of what she wanted in a boyfriend, or a date or even a man to screw. He knew that, even without her saying it. He doubted there was ever a time when Chloe only wanted a man to have sex with. Her reservations about him might have been partly because his hair was dyed weird, and he was pierced and all tatted up. He believed she wouldn’t have pictured anyone like him for herself.

“Then I trust my mother has nothing to do with this and she won’t, no matter what,” he replied.

She nodded. “Of course not. She’s my best employee, actually.” Chloe winced. “That sounded so pretentious. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.” She threw her hands up in despair.

His mouth tilted up to the side and he turned to face her. Leaning forward, he gently took her hand in his and touched his lips on hers. She resisted at first but eventually released her shoulders and leaned into him instead of holding herself tightly away. He lifted his mouth off hers and her eyes widened. She was staring up at him with so much interest, it bordered on fear.  Their faces were right up close as he said, “Don’t involve my mother in anything between us. That means, don’t go all postal on her like you did with Tara. Whatever else you need to do about this is up to you. I don’t care. That’s my only concern with us fucking.”

She winced at the raging blush she felt climbing up her face and neck. “I don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” He jerked back in surprise, then frowned. “You mean, saying fuck?” His lips quirked up and pressed together tightly as he tried to keep from outright laughing at her prissiness. He could see her anxiety when it blossomed all over her face.

“Yes. Exactly. Not in relation to… to myself. And you’re not planning to go around talking to your friends or your peers or whoever you hang around, and say that about me, are you?” Panic glistened in her eyes. “Please don’t,” she added so softly, she sounded scared.

He touched her cheek with his hand, cupping it. Without laughing this time, he realized she was seriously stressing and couldn’t take much more. “I won’t. I promise. I wouldn’t anyway, but especially knowing how important it is to you. What do you prefer to call it then?”

“What?” She tilted her head with obvious confusion.

“Fu—sex? What do you like to call it?”

“Sex. Sleeping with someone. Doing it. Making love. Those are about all the terms I like to use.”

“You’re shy when it comes to talking about it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe just discreet. Yes. Honestly, I told you I’ve never done anything like this.”

“So, how do you usually do it?” He didn’t see what was so different about what they did to whatever she usually did. “You into kinky sex or something? I mean, I’m game…”

She finally smiled and it was not faked or only a half-smile. Not a forced smile in courteous response to someone else, but a real, honest-to-God, teeth-flashing smile. It set off the dimple on her right side and crinkled all the way up into her eyes. It nearly broke his heart when he realized how seldom he’d seen that smile. “No. Not even close. Never. You’ll have to go somewhere else for that. I meant, I’ve only slept with the men I’m in an actual relationship with.”

He squinted at her. “Do you wait until the third date or something?”

“No. Several more than that. I’m not easy. I guess I want you to know that.”

He frowned. “Where’s the fun in that?” he muttered while nodding. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you know I’m not.”

“Okay, I know you’re not. You just told me.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I want you to know this is unprecedented for me. I don’t do things like this.”

“So…” he sighed. “So you’re telling me you’re ashamed of it. Of us fu—of us having sex?”

“I’m just confused by it.”

“Okay. So you want to stop?”

“I believe I did. And then—”

“Then I—”

“You don’t have to explain everything.”

He shut his mouth. She was really touchy. “Okay, so here we are. Not explaining what we do. But we’re doing something. Will you at least acknowledge that?”

“Yes,” she answered, sighing at the word. “You are way too cut-and-dried. Lord, aren’t you confused over this? Considering our jobs and your mother—”

“I thought we just cleared that up. You agreed to leave her out of anything to do with me, right? And yeah, I’ve been told that before, that I’m too blunt.”

“For someone who never talks.”

“I always talk. You just didn’t listen before.”

“You didn’t talk to me, Chet.” Chloe turned in her seat, her voice rising. “You didn’t talk to me. And then you suddenly show up and… and start kissing me and then…”

“So, all I’m hearing is you need something more from me. What is it?”

She shook her head, dropping her gaze. Pressing the heels of her palms into each eye, she said, “I don’t know what I need. I don’t know who I am from one hour to the next. First, I’m at home sleeping and then, the next thing I know, I’m standing in a crowd where everyone hates me and I’m screaming at a woman who is cowering from me. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Do you want to be alone?”

“Never. But I don’t know how to be with anyone either. I just swallow those pills you mentioned like they’re candy.”

“You shouldn’t do that.”

She laughed bitterly. “Funny, what I should and shouldn’t do seem so far away to me now. Like it was important a few weeks ago and now it seems so trite and stupid and small.”

“Can I come in, Chloe?”

She nodded and got out of the car. She was shaky as she tried to unlock the front door to her house.

“I’ll have to get you tomorrow anyway. Using your car, obviously.”

She went inside first and he followed. The house was so gloomy. Nothing was open. It smelled musty and dusty. She shook her head. “Sorry about the mess. I haven’t done anything in it… for a few days… maybe weeks.”

He shrugged it off as if he didn’t care, but whatever. He stepped forward and took her hand as he pulled her into her bedroom. Miscellaneous clothes and other items lay on the floor. He had to step over them to reach the bed. He brought her to it and she sighed with relief as she lay down on it. He tucked himself in behind her, circling his arms around her waist and clasping her hands against the mattress. He pulled her hips back and cradled her in his crotch as his knees lined up behind hers. “No pills tonight,” he muttered softly.

Nodding with a sigh, her exhaustion was palpable. After several minutes of quiet, she fell asleep in his arms. She hadn’t eaten anything. She must have eaten something before though as there were plenty of food wrappers and cracker boxes thrown off the side of the bed. She wasn’t kidding; it was a mess. After she seemed solidly zonked out, he got up and started gathering all the discarded items off the floor. He filled a trash bag and took it out to her garbage, which was also overflowing with trash. Dragging the garbage and recycling bins out towards the curb, he glanced up and down the road, seeing no one else had their bins out, but the trash people had to show up eventually.

Inside again, he gathered her clothing together. Underwear, socks, pants and shirts were tossed into the washing machine. He dumped them in together and started the washing machine. The kitchen held the same type of disaster. He started putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and ended up hand-washing many others. When he finished the kitchen, the load in the washing machine was ready to go into the dryer. He cleaned off the counters, scrubbing the dried-on spills and using disinfectant to sterilize them.

None of it was all that new for Chet. It’s what he spent most of his time at work doing anyway. At least he felt useful. She needed the help. And his caring. Under normal circumstances, Chet assumed Chloe’s mother would have been doing this for her. Now? No one seemed to be very close to Chloe, except for Ryder who was busy with his own life and his own drama. When the dishes were ready to put away, and the clothes were dry enough to fold and hang, he took care of those chores too. Guessing the proper locations for the clean laundry and the dishes, he moved about while she didn’t even stir. He eyed her room through the gloomy interior.

The sky was dark by then, and he waited for Chloe to wake. Nothing. He walked into the kitchen. His growing hunger made him desperate. She had nothing to eat but a few boxes of noodles and some pretty gnarly-looking perishables. He prepared some rice and used the last of the edible vegetables while adding some soy sauce and chicken that he thawed after finding it in the freezer. When it was ready, he ate some of it and put the rest in Tupperware, which he placed with a fork next to her bedside. Hopefully, she’d notice it before too long. He glanced at her, but she was still sound asleep. He wondered if she took another sleeping pill, but she couldn’t have since he’d been with her the entire night. There was no way she could have snuck one in around him. He leaned down, kissed her forehead and ran his hand through the puffs of black hair. Soft, yet in a wild state of disarray, her unkempt hair only emphasized her mental state of being.

Chet wondered what he should do with regard to being with her. Her place had been a total mess, so he knew he could clean it. He didn’t really know how to provide emotional comfort, and this just seemed like the best chance he had of providing some comfort.

Leaving, he locked the door behind him and went home.

****

Chloe awoke with a start. She was sitting halfway up in the bed out of fright. Where was she? She sighed. Home. In bed. Ebony was dead. Murdered. The same thing happened every morning. She’d wake up feeling fine, almost normal. And then reality would crash down and bite her, ravaging her before it spat her out. She flopped back down and glanced at the clock. Three a.m. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She blinked when the object beside the clock caught her attention. It was food. Food with a fork on the top of a sealed container for her. She blinked. It was still there. Huh. She sat up, reaching for it as she clicked the lamp on. Blinking in disbelief several more times, she was glad to find her room spotless, but for the rumpled bed. She got up with the food in one hand and took the cover off before dipping the fork in. A savory lump melted in her mouth and she sighed with gratification. Real food. Not just snacks from her pantry. It tasted better than wonderful. She shoveled a huge mouthful in as she walked forward, going past her pristine room, and into the bathroom where fresh towels hung on the racks. She glanced into the sink. It was scrubbed and disinfected. She didn’t imagine that. The last time she looked, there was plenty of dust and globs of toothpaste and hair stuck to the porcelain.

She wandered into her closet, and all the clothes were put away. She smelled her clothes, the ones she knew were on the floor and filthy. Now they smelled like flowery fabric softener.

She stepped into the living room, and it was the same. All the clutter was picked up and scrubbed. Even the floor. He cleaned the hardwood floor that ran throughout her home, and all the spills she had left during her drugged stupor.

Chet cleaned, scrubbed, and washed her entire house, along with half of her wardrobe and most of her dishes. And he made her dinner.

She swallowed and shoveled more food in. What was this? Why did he do that? Why did no one else look after her but Chet?

She lowered the fork. Why had no one else helped her? She wasn’t hiding how much she had struggled. She needed help. Desperately. For the first time in her life, she knew she was a total mess in need of help.

But she and her mom hadn’t spoken for days. Last time was by phone, and the conversation was strained. They had nothing to say to each other. What could they do, discuss how much they missed Ebony? It hurt. So much.

She scooped more food into her mouth, but needed water. She let the tap run cold and stuck a clean glass under it before swallowing several mouthfuls. Her kitchen overlooked the backyard. It was open and the streetlights out front lit the room up despite the drapes. Passing headlights created strange shadows on her ceiling. She didn’t have to turn on the lights so she didn’t. Setting the glass down, she finished the meal Chet left for her and set the empty Tupperware in the sink, rinsing it out and placing it in the dishwasher. She almost congratulated herself for her efforts. Look at her. She didn’t leave it on the counter this time.

Sighing, she was unsure what to do. Being wide awake now, she couldn’t imagine going back to sleep. But what could she do at only 3:17 in the morning? It was worse than being awake during the daylight. Everything ached, from her limbs, to her head, to her heart. She leaned her head against the refrigerator door and turned it back and forth. Maybe she was losing her mind. Boredom, sadness, and total apathy plagued her as she lifted her forehead and set it down three times, smacking it loudly on the door. Not hard enough to hurt her, but she finally turned when a sound caught her attention.

Her head still against the door, she lifted it slowly before everything froze inside. All those achy parts were suddenly numbed. A shadow crossed her front living room picture window. She didn’t imagine that. It wasn’t any cat or dog either. No way. It was much too big. It was human-sized. Bigger than she was too. Like the shape of an average man. The noise? It was a jiggling metal sound. Like someone pressing on her front door handle.

She looked up at the thought. Remembering the last several nights when she hadn’t locked anything, she rushed forward and a wave of relief flashed through her. Chet locked it. But had she heard someone? She wasn’t imagining it. The shadow was now at her back sliding door, just a few feet from where she was. Her heartbeat accelerated like a piston in her chest and she backed into the fiberglass of her front door, tightly pressing into it. Her breathing increased as she stared across the semi-darkened space. The sliding door was being pulled on! Holy shit! The door was being gently, but firmly pulled on. It was as if whoever walked up fully expected it to be open. Why? Because it had been open for the past several nights and off and on, haphazardly, throughout the last few weeks. Ever since her sister’s murdered body was found and identified.

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth to stifle the urge to scream. Fright immobilized her. She heard a soft thump. Someone kicked the flower pot to the side of the door. She was sure of it. She knew that sound because she’d done it herself before. Her blinds were all tightly shut, thank God! Only a thin wall served as her protection, but at least whoever was lurking around, trying to break inside, didn’t know she was standing right there. The only possible point of entry was the garage. She dropped down on all fours and crawled towards the small laundry room. Beside her washer and dryer was the door to the garage. It was locked. Chet. Oh, dear God, thank God for Chet. She stood up, and quietly unlocked the door while tugging it a crack open and peeking out into darkness. The garage door was firmly down. There were no other doors. She leaned her head against the wall, wilting with fear but grateful to know she was securely locked in.

She had no car. The empty garage reminded her of that. She was stuck there. A sitting duck. Her breathing escalated and her heart hammered loudly in her ear. Anyone close would have been able to hear it, she was sure. Where was the shadow? The lurking monster? The person trying to get into her home? Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. No! Fucking no! All she did anymore was cry. And be useless. No more! Someone was trying to break into her house, right now. She refused to be a stupid woman just waiting there for it to happen. She quickly crawled back across her kitchen, grabbing the sharpest butcher knife she had. Careful to keep it pointed away from her, she slipped into her bedroom where she closed the door, locking it. There was a high window near the ceiling. It let in lots of light, but was not low enough to see through. She grabbed her cell phone from her nightstand, and again thanked Chet. He must have put it there, because she didn’t even know where she left it.

She quickly entered her bathroom and shut the door, locking it and trying to barricade herself. With shaking hands, she set the knife down and quickly dialed the first person she thought of. Someone that she knew would come for her.

“It’s me. Someone’s trying to break into the house.”

Ryder’s voice was confused at first. Obviously, he’d been woken from a dead sleep. “Chloe?”

“Yes. Yes. Come quickly. Someone’s outside, and trying all my doors.”

She heard shuffling and muttering as he said, “Lock yourself in the bathroom.”

“I am, with a butcher knife in my hand.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t—don’t hang up. I—I’m terrified.”

“I can’t drive and talk safely. Call the police.”

“You are the only police I want.”

“Okay. I’ve got your garage door opener. I’ll use that. There’s only… Tara here if you want to stay on the line.”

Chloe’s heart froze. She banged her head against the rim of her tub. She knew she caused this. “Okay.”

He didn’t gloat or point out the obvious. “I’ll take her cell with me. Here she is.”

He covered the phone and must have explained the crazy-assed call to Tara. She came on immediately. “Are you okay, Chloe?”

Tara’s tone was strong and frightened and concerned for her. Chloe kept her forehead on the tub rim as she shook her head back and forth in shame. “Yes.”

Silence, then a firm. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” she finally conceded as she started to cry again.

“Oh, Chloe, this is the last thing you need on top of finding out about Ebony’s murder.”

She lifted her head surprised Tara dug right into it. She sucked down the rise of her tears. “Tara, I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

Tara let out a short laugh. “You were such a bitch.”

For some reason Tara’s response made her let out a laugh too. It was odd to be laughing at a time like this. She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore.”

“I do. Your sister died. You’re hurting.”

“It doesn’t make it okay.”

“It makes it understandable.”

“It wasn’t. It really wasn’t okay. I just hurt so much and you’re an easy target—”

“I am. I was for Ryder too.”

Chloe jerked upright. That was news to her. “I hope you reamed his ass out. Because you haven’t mine and I deserve it.”

She snorted and laughed, but both were soft and unassuming, kind of like Tara’s entire demeanor. Chloe realized with a wince that was part of what first made her like and hire Tara. She liked how Tara’s demeanor fit her. “In my way I did. I’m not a loud or vocal person. But I don’t need to be to get my point across and I’m comfortable Ryder and you were acting out of grief and confusion towards me, not specifically because of who I am, but because I took over the role in Ryder’s life that Ebony once had. It’s been confusing for you both. I can understand that and forgive misguided anger and emotions.”

Chloe’s eyes filled with yet again, fresh tears. She squeezed the phone to her ear. “Thank you, Tara. It wasn’t you. You were just so easy to take it all out on. Which of course, isn’t right. I clearly used to know the difference. But I can’t… I just can’t seem to get a grip.”

“I don’t know that I could if I were you either. If this was about Tristan, my sibling that I love, I would be as lost and hurting as you are. What’s happening now?”

Sucking in a breath, Chloe lifted her head and listened. She was whispering and had been for the entire call. “I hear nothing.”

“You must be terrified. Ryder already left. He’s on his way.”

“Thank you for not hanging up on me.”

“I wouldn’t. Not now. Hold tough, Chloe. He’ll be there.”

She closed her eyes, gripping the knife tightly. “Talk to me about something else.”

“Umm… okay. What about Wyatt? Did you hear what he told Ryder about where babies come from? Thank God it was all wrong and he didn’t seem too interested in finding out if he were right or wrong.”

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly as she listened to Tara talking about Wyatt. Taking in huge lungfuls of air to staunch the panic in her racing heart that was commanding her, no, begging her to flee, she fought the urge to fling open the front door and run. Sitting there and waiting like a freaking decoy was miserable, but the thought of opening the door to someone who was right outside, as they already were, made her shudder with horror. Oh, no. No way. She could not do that.

She glanced up when she heard the rumbling of her garage door. Ryder. Her entire body collapsed with relief. “He’s here.”

“Stay on the phone with me until you confirm it’s him.”

She did. His voice called her name several times before he started knocking on the bathroom door. “It’s Ryder, Chloe.”

“Go now. I’ll talk to you later,” Tara said. A newfound bubble of appreciation arose in Chloe for the woman she tried to fire less than twenty-four hours ago.

She unlocked the door and opened it before flinging herself at Ryder. Her heart was still racing and her body trembling now that she felt safe. He patted her shoulders. “Hey, hey I’m here now.” He looked at her carefully. “So start at the beginning. Tell me what you saw.”

She let him go and walked to the kitchen to retrace the entire event. She flipped on all the lights and let the place blaze in illumination, fighting off the eeriness of the last hour. She shuddered, picturing her helplessness and vulnerability of being alone with someone nefarious outside. Trying to break into her locked house. It could not have been anyone with good or decent intentions.

Ryder thoroughly inspected the front and back doors. Wearing gloves, he was careful not to touch anything. He walked all around her yard, using his flashlight to scan back and forth. She huddled inside, worried for him, amazed at the guts it took to go outside and do that, just looking around for someone up to no good. She could never manage to do his job. She was already shaking and quivering while Ryder searched the darkness for her boogie man.

He came back in, and was careful to lock the door from the inside. “I don’t see signs of anything, Chloe. No scratch marks on the locks. I don’t think anyone messed with them. There’re no signs of anyone peering into your windows or any oddball footprints. I’ll come back tomorrow and re-inspect the grounds in the daylight, but I don’t see anything now. Do you want me to call it in? Make it official?”

“Someone was there. I heard them. Twice. At both doors. I saw their shadow crossing the front window and then popping up right there.”

He nodded with hands on his hips. “Did you take the pills on your nightstand?”

Her shoulders dropped. The sleeping pills. “No. Not tonight, Ryder.”

“You’ve been under unbearable stress. I shouldn’t have announced what I did with Tara to you.”

“Getting engaged? I didn’t call your house to drag you over here in middle of the night because I was trying to get back at you for Tara. This wasn’t about Tara. It wasn’t about anything, actually. Not even Ebony. It was sheer panic. Fear. There was someone here, Ryder. Someone that seemed to expect to walk right in…” Her voice trailed off. He nodded as if he believed her, but she distinctly sensed he did not. He thought she was going crazy or being emotional again and trying to pull him away from Tara.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did today to Tara. Believe me, I realize it now. I overreacted and many people have told me about it.” She shook her head. Only from the most unlikely and unexpected of sources did that get through to her: Chet. “But there was someone out there.”

He stepped forward and hugged her but she nearly tore away from him, she was so offended that he didn’t believe her. She could feel his pity oozing off him. She stiffened in disdain. This wasn’t a call for emotional help. It was a call for physical help. But Ryder didn’t believe her. “I’m glad you called me. You always can. No matter what. Even now with Tara living there.”

“She won’t be fired and I won’t give her anymore shit. I was out of my mind and might have continued to be, but I’m rechanneling it now. And working on it. I don’t need your attention, Ryder. I only called you because you’re a cop.”

He nodded. “Why don’t you grab some things for overnight? You can’t stay here alone. Especially without any transportation. Your car at the café?”

“Yes. Chet gave me a ride after my colossal meltdown.”

He took the news in stride, without a visible reaction on his face, which she thought was good. He didn’t seem to care that she was with Chet. She let out a breath of relief. Good. One less worry. “It should be light in another hour. I’ll be okay.”

“No. You won’t. I’ll stay here.”

“And do what? Babysit me?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed as she flopped down on the sofa. “A detective called and wants me to come in tomorrow to discuss Ebony.”

“I’ll take you there.”

It was on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to decline the offer but pettiness wouldn’t do her any favors. Ryder knew the people and the system best. He’d become her best asset and help her calm her unruly nerves. She’d done nothing wrong, so there was no reason at all for her nerves to bother her.

“Fine.”

“Chloe, it will be hard. They’ll just want to talk about Ebony’s routine, her habits, anything she might have said or done differently at the time when she disappeared. Even if you didn’t think it odd at the time, knowing what we do now, they’ll want to get a better picture of her life, including her mental and emotional states. Anything to help give them some idea as to what might have happened to her.”

“Might have?”

Wincing, he sat down, facing her. His voice was low and soothing. “You know this won’t be easy. No matter what. I’ll take you and your parents.”

“You have a life to get on with.”

“Chloe Carrington, for God’s sake. I’m part of this too. They want me in there tomorrow morning. I haven’t checked out on you all. I just added Tara to the equation. Stop with the theatrics. Okay? I’m here. As always.”

She stared at her fingers, folding them together. “Someone pointed out to me that I might not have wanted you sexually but I treated you as if you were my significant other in many ways.”

“I think we both did that.”

“I never wanted you in any sexual way.”

“Nor I you.”

“I took that out on Tara.”

“So did I a little too.”

She let out a laugh. “I just learned that from her.”

“Yeah. I got a little irrational with her when we started to date and grow closer. It was hard to get used to being with someone new. It was hard for me to experience someone other than Ebony. It’s been hard for me to move on from her, too, Chloe. That isn’t something you cornered the market on. I loved her. I never wanted to lose her. But Tara took me by surprise. I had some bad moments of adjustment. She’s been pretty patient about it. Knowing that Ebony was murdered has totally fucked with my head. I’m just lucky Tara could forgive me.”

“It’s fucked with mine too. I don’t know why Tara forgave me so easily. I don’t think I deserve it.”

He nodded. “I think Tara gets that, and she sympathizes and can accept it. Not to say she’d tolerate being a punching bag after this.”

“I won’t do it anymore.”

Ryder shared a small smile with her. “If it’s any consolation I had to make the exact same apology and vow. I didn’t mean to do it to her. I was so mean to her and she was so forgiving towards me.”

“And me.”

“It’s a life-changing loss. You’ll have to forgive yourself for the uncontrollable pain you have as well.”

Her stomach cramped at the thought of ever moving past this. She could not imagine. But she knew she had to find a better way than blaming others for moving on with their lives without her sister. Including Ryder and Wyatt. Of course they would move on. Life always does.

Except… except perhaps… with her. Her life felt over. Done. Finished. She kept these grim thoughts to herself, however.

Eventually, the daylight illuminated the drapes. Chloe exhaled a huge breath as if the daylight meant no one could lurk outside. As if that somehow made her safe. She knew it didn’t really. After all, her own sister was a murder victim.

But she wanted to embrace the sunlight if only to pretend she was safe.

“Let me make you some coffee and breakfast.”

“Thank you, Ryder.”

“You cleaned up your house? Or did your mom come by?” She heard the hope in his voice.

Waving a hand around, Chloe replied, “No. Not mom. A friend did.”

His gaze traveled over her. “I’m glad. I worry about you, Chloe. I was afraid after today—”

“That I’d freak out and fire both of you?”

He smiled. “That thought crossed my mind. I had this moment that was so odd. After I asked Tara to marry me and she said yes, I suddenly saw Ebony’s face in the window. I thought, I swear to God, I actually thought she’d come back to give me her blessing and that it was okay with her if I moved on. A weird sensation of peace fell over me. It’s so stupid now, I realize, but for a moment, a real moment, I believed—”

“I was her.”  

“Yeah.” He shook his head and shuddered. His lips tweaked upwards. “Can you imagine? How prone I am to such examples of the impossible? I think I just wanted that to be the case. I really wanted it so much. The comfort and knowledge that Ebony was okay with it, and at peace. I want her to forgive me for moving on.”

“Because I wasn’t forgiving you.”

He licked his lips. “Perhaps it was more that than anything else.”

“I’m working on it, Ryder.”

He leaned forward and took her hand and squeezed it. “No hurry on that.”

She nodded.

“How about you coming with me to the police station? I’m sure they’ll change your interview time. We can pick up your car after that.”

“Okay. Yes. Thank you.” She ducked into her bathroom to shower and comb her hair. Baby steps. She called Chet and left a message that she didn’t need a ride because Ryder was taking her.

She and Ryder suffered through the long interviews. She spoke for hours, longer than she had in years about her sister. From her habits, to her likes and dislikes, to her typical days from childhood until the day she disappeared. They discussed her daily schedule and laid out a general outline of what she did. They also discussed Wyatt’s birth and her postpartum depression. Every detail from the last day of Ebony’s life to the week before, the month before and the entire year before she was permanently stricken from their lives. Chloe wracked her brain to find someone, somewhere who didn’t fit into the overall fabric of their lives. Someone who was bothering Ebony or the family or just seemed overly interested in her. Nothing came to mind.

After the exhausting discussion of her sister, Chloe was quiet with Ryder. He dropped her off to retrieve her car and she left him without saying much. What was there to say? He suffered through the same treatment and had to relive as many painful memories as she did.

But he now had Tara to go home to and share it with, to comfort him, and to make it just a smidgeon less terrible for him.

Which she was now trying to be grateful to Tara for, instead of the automatic bitterness that tried to singe her thoughts. No. She was better than that. She could be relieved Ryder and especially Wyatt were not alone with the burden of Ebony’s loss. They had Tara.

After the fright of the previous night, Chloe wasn’t sure what she would do next. The idea of returning to her dark house didn’t exactly appeal to her. Should she go to her parents’ house? Yeah, and resume the silent, vacant staring before avoiding eye contact altogether as they realized they had nothing left to say each other? Or should she go to the café and irrationally raise hell once more? None of it sounded very appealing. Neither did sitting there and waiting for someone to come poking around again either. So where should she go? What should she do?

Sighing, she got out of the car she was sitting in without moving. She entered the back of the restaurant and slid through, trying to stay silent. No Chet. Good? Bad? She wasn’t sure. She slipped into her office with just a small wave at Petra. She had nothing to say to any of them. She didn’t want to engage. She shut the door and quickly turned towards the file cabinet. She opened the bottom drawer and flipped through each file until she came to Chet Willapana. Her heart instantly accelerated at seeing his name. She recalled his presence. Suddenly, he had become something more than an employee file to her. She glanced over his paperwork, noting his age was indeed twenty-four. She took a Post-It note and quickly wrote down his address, hoping it was still current.

Tucking the file back, she sprang to her feet, feeling energized for the first time in weeks. She exited her establishment, jumped into her car and headed south, going downriver. She finally had something to do and somewhere to go. And for the first time in a long time, something had really piqued her interest and it wasn’t sad.