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Cerridwen Press, ISBN 9781-4199-1019-7 Prologue “That’s a buck to you, Mac.” “Sorry. What did you say?” Colleen MacDonald picked up her cards. The shapes blurred and she blinked. Right. Detweiler’s kitchen. Poker night. “A buck. Are you in or out?” A deep voice floated in from somewhere. Colleen glanced around the table. Kovak, to her left, studied his cards, his fair skin flushing red into his blond hair. To her right, Grady’s stubby fingers rearranged his chips. Two missing chairs. Did they think she wouldn’t notice Montoya and Cooper weren’t here simply because the extra chairs were off in a closet? She looked across the kitchen table into the serious brown eyes of Randy Detweiler, her best friend on the Pine Hills Police force. “You okay, kid?” Randy asked. The compassion in his tone was more than she could take. “I’m fine. Just daydreaming while you bigshots take your sweet time.” She slapped her cards facedown on the table in front of her. “I’m out.” Definitely out. She looked at the piles of chips on the table and couldn’t remember how the stack in front of her had grown so large. Great. Her best night in as long as she could remember and she had no recollection of how she’d done it. She pushed back her chair and went to the counter for a soda, knowing three pairs of eyes followed her. The crack of the tab popping sent a shiver down her spine. Gripping the counter to hide the trembling in her hands, she took a deep breath. Three months. If she couldn’t get over a bust gone south in three months, maybe she had no business being a cop. She’d never make detective this way, that was for sure. Enough. She’d had enough. “Be right back,” she said, forcing a smile. “Too much soda.” Once she was out of view, she snatched her purse and jacket from the easy chair in the living room and slipped out the front door. They were gentlemen—they’d give her at least ten minutes before they’d wonder what was taking so long. Maybe longer if their cards had fallen right. She hurried down the street, working her way into her jacket against the autumn night air. Scarecrows, pumpkins and pretend cemeteries decorated front yards as she made her way down the block. She jerked back as a bedsheet ghost swung from an overhanging tree branch and brushed her cheek. Her hand reached for her absent weapon. She leaned against the door of her Bronco and counted to ten. Twice. When she stopped shaking, she peeled away from Randy’s house. Everyone was trying so hard to pretend nothing had changed. Well, things had changed and maybe the answer was to leave Pine Hills and go someplace she wouldn’t be reminded of that July night every time she turned around. Not wonder what people were thinking when they looked at her. Not have to pretend she didn’t notice the silence when she approached, the exchanged looks when she passed. Maybe then she could sleep through the night. A red light forced her to stop. She gripped the steering wheel and tried to slow her breathing. Beads of sweat trickled down her neck and she couldn’t gather enough spit to swallow. She flicked her blinker up instead of down and headed west toward the coast, concentrating on the drive through the mountainous terrain and forcing everything else from her mind. Two hours later, she sat in a booth nursing a Scotch in a dim bar near the waterfront. Cold air smelling of brine and fish crept through the open window next to the door and she huddled deeper into her jacket. “Want to talk about it?” came a soft female voice from the edge of the booth, a voice she recognized. Sarah Tucker, Randy’s girlfriend. Colleen stared into her glass. “No, I don’t.” She wouldn’t look up, although she sensed Sarah sliding across the vinyl bench across from her. “What are you doing here? And how did you find me?” “The guys heard you burn rubber when you left and when you didn’t’ show up at your place, Randy called me. I told him I didn’t know where you were, so he put a lookout order for your car. A trooper spotted it about half an hour out of town and—” “And the good old boys kept an eye out for poor little Mac. At least he didn’t call my mother.” She gave Sarah a piercing stare. “He didn’t. Tell me he didn’t.” “No, he didn’t.” “Thank God for small favors.” Sarah gripped Colleen’s hand. “We’re worried about you.” “We? Who else is here?” “Just Randy. Outside. In the car.” “Damn it to hell! Why can’t you mind your own business and leave me alone.” “Because I’m your friend.” Sarah leaned forward. “Tell me the truth. Do you do this often?” She dipped her head toward the glass. “Get drunk? No. Look, things got a little overwhelming. I needed to get away and I ended up in a bar. Drinking seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But no, I’m not a drunk.” She met Sarah’s blue eyes. “Asking for help is nothing to be ashamed of.” Colleen wrenched her hand free. “I’m out of here.” She gulped the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the table. She stood and the room spun. Shaking her head to clear it didn’t help at all and she reached for the table to steady herself. “How many of these did you have?” Sarah asked. “According to the bartender, this is her third.” Colleen looked up at the sound of Randy’s voice. “Why can’t you mind your own business, Detweiler?” Colleen felt Randy’s arm slide under hers. For a split second, she relaxed into the protection of his six foot six frame. Just as quickly, she jerked away. “Let go of me, Detweiler. I don’t want you here.” “Too bad, Mac. And watch that Scottish temper of yours. I’m your superior officer, remember.” “I’m on leave. Leave. That’s it. Why don’t you leave?” “Come on, Colleen. Let’s all leave,” Sarah said. Sarah’s arm wrapped around her waist before everything went dark.
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