Touched by Darkness (33 page)

to stop shaking."

"Shock, probably." He watched her, a furrow

between his brows.

"It was just a d-d-dream," she muttered, dismayed

at her lack of control over her body.

"It was more than that. And you can have dream

shock." He stood, slid beneath the covers. "Maybe I

can get you warm."

She curled against him without hesitation, grateful

for the heat emanating from his large body, even as

she was aware of the erotic electricity that arched

around them. She realized her hands were

clenching his T-shirt, and released it.

He closed his arms around her, and she felt safe and

secure. She hadn't been held like this in a long time.

He felt so solid, and his warmth and scent wrapped

around her like a soft blanket.

"I didn't react this way to the last dream," she said.

"The connection with the Belian is stronger now

that we've linked twice with its energy."

His hand began moving up and down her back in

slow, steady strokes. Some of his heat seeped into

her chilled body. With a sigh, she relaxed a little.

He kept stroking, and she felt oddly comforted.

"Thank you," she murmured.

His hand stilled. "For?"

"For staying with me. For giving me comfort."

His hand resumed it's stroking. "Don't expect that

from me, Kara. I'm no good at emotional things. It's

best if you remember what I am— an assassin. I

serve The One, but that doesn't change what I do."

She didn't accept his declaration that he didn't care.

He had also given of himself last night, touching

her with surprising gentleness, even if it had been

sexual. Or had it? His words flashed into her mind:

"Ah, hell, Kara. This was necessary for your well

being."

She realized now he was trying to take care of her,

as best he knew how. That understanding

evaporated the anger she'd felt about last night. She

knew from personal experience that caring and

nurturing was a struggle for a loner Sentinel.

Denying that they were emotionally involved was

also a part of the persona. But they did feel—very

deeply—for the humans in their charge. The God

they served—The One—imbued them with light

and compassion and a powerful sense of justice.

She snuggled closer to him, the shivering finally

gone. "Thank you for caring."

"Maybe you should focus on getting some rest," he

said gruffly, obviously deciding to ignore the issue.

She listened to the slow, steady cadence of his

heart. "I can't stop thinking about that poor man in

the dream."

"Relax, and go to sleep." His voice took on a

hypnotic lull.

She felt her eyelids growing heavy, despite her

conviction she could never sleep tonight. Already,

she was drifting toward oblivion. She wondered if

he was using a mental push, but was too drowsy to

protest.

"You won't dream again tonight."

She knew then he was putting her under. That was

her last thought, as a soft, welcome darkness

enveloped her.

She was jarred from the void when someone called

her name.

What
—

"Kara, wake up
now."

The urgency in that voice cut through her sleep like

a hot knife through soft butter. She snapped awake,

saw Damien above her, his expression fierce.

"What is it?" She pushed herself up.

"They've found a body at Jim's Tavern."

"The tavern?" Still groggy, she shoved her hair

from her face. Voices crackling from the other side

of the bed drew her attention to the police scanner.

She looked back at Damien, realized he had pulled

on a sweater and had his boots in his hand.

"Police reports are coming in, officers and

emergency vehicles are being dispatched. Someone

saw a lone vehicle in the parking lot behind the

tavern, and went to investigate. That's when the

body was discovered. We need to get over there."

The memory of her dream rushed back to her. "Do

they know who it is?"

"No name was given. Come on."

She looked at the clock as she slid out of the bed:

6:02 a.m. Shivering again, she yanked down the

long T-shirt she slept in and went to the dresser to

get some jeans. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll be

ready to go."

"Hurry. I'd like to get there before a lot of people

arrive and energies get mixed."

Oh, gee, and she couldn't wait to see the carnage.

Damien got them there in record time without

wrecking his car or running over anyone, for which

Kara was grateful. Her nerves were tied in knots,

but a part of her was glad he included her. It would

have been far more stressful to wait at home, not

knowing anything.

The police and emergency vehicles had drawn a

small crowd, even at this ungodly hour. The

flashing red and blue lights looked garish against

the morning gloom. She saw there were two Blanco

County sheriff cars, in addition to the two City of

Zorro police cruisers, an ambulance, and several

pickup trucks. Damien parked the car as close as

they could get—about two blocks from Jim's

Tavern. He got out without a word and moved

toward the scene in a ground-eating stride, his

duster flapping around his long legs. Kara had to

jog to keep up.

A county sheriff was unrolling yellow police tape,

barricading the sidewalk in front of Jim's. She

caught glimpses of officers milling around in the

back parking lot. Two Zorro officers stood in front

of orange roadblocks that had been placed across

the gravel drive leading to the parking lot. They

were telling the bystanders to return to their homes

and businesses—not that anyone was leaving.

Kara recognized most of the bystanders. They

either lived close to the tavern or had businesses on

the square. She saw Sal, looking old and tired, his

complexion ruddy from excitement. "I can't go

anywhere," he was saying. '"Cause I found him.

Saw his truck from the road and thought I'd better

check it out."

"Who?" she asked hoarsely, cleared her throat.

"Who was it, Sal?"

Sal turned toward them. "It was Matt Brown."

"Matt. Oh, no." She staggered back, felt Damien

grasp her elbow.

"Tell us what you saw," he said.

"I was coming in early to do some extra cleaning in

the store, and stock the stuff that arrived yesterday.

Since I live on the southern end of town, by the

river, I always come past Jim's—"

"What did you see?" Damien interrupted, command

edging his voice.

"Well, I walked back there and thought the truck

looked like the one belonging to Matt. I didn't see

anything else at first, 'cause it was still dark and the

truck was parked where I could only see the

passenger side." Sal paused, looking around as if he

wanted to make sure he had everyone's undivided

attention—which he did. "When I walked around to

the driver's side, I saw Matt lying there. He was

staring straight up, and his eyes were open, and he

had a hole in the middle of his forehead. And a lot

of blood was everywhere."

Just like her dream. Kara willed herself not to fall

apart. Matt Brown had been young and vital, and

from all appearances, a decent person. She felt

Damien squeeze her arm, and didn't know if he was

warning her to be silent, or offering his strength.

"Hey! Don't you be talkin' to that reporter!" Tom

Greer came around the barricades and strode

toward them. "Don't be talkin' to anyone until we

have all the information from you."

He stopped and glared at Damien. "What are you

doing here? The bed-and-breakfast is clear on the

other side of town. No reason for you to be here."

His glare shifted to Kara. "Or you, either, doctor.

There's
nothin'
you can do. Nothin' anyone can do

for poor Matt."

His gaze returned to Damien, and his eyes

narrowed. "You know what, Morgan? The more I

think about it, the stranger it is that you showed up

here right after Matt's body was discovered. You

also showed up at Miz Burgess's house, right after

we found her. Mighty suspicious, if you ask me."

"I'm not a reporter, I am a crime writer, which

seems to be a difficult concept for you to grasp,

Chief." Damien said. "Because I document crimes,

I use a police scanner, which keeps me informed

when something happens. I came when I heard the

dispatchers and responding officers. Dr. Cantrell

came because she's a doctor and thought she might

be able to help."

"All I know, Morgan, is that you're a stranger in

Zorro, with no apparent reason for being here. Do

you have an alibi from about eleven last night until

now?"

Tom's implied accusation sent a shock through

Kara. "Now, see here, Chief—"

"Excuse me, doctor, but I'm the one talking here.

You carry a gun, Morgan?"

Damien stared back at Tom steadily. "I do. And I

have a permit to carry concealed."

"I'd like to see it."

Damien reached beneath his duster, pulled out his

gun, and handed it to Tom. He also fished out his

wallet and showed his permit.

"I'll need to have this gun tested," the chief said,

after studying the permit carefully. He gestured one

of the officers over. "Bradley, give this man a

receipt for his gun. It's a—" he examined it, "Colt .

45, semi automatic..." He slid out the magazine,

"Looks like a seven-round magazine, with seven

cartridges in it—not that that means anything."

Kara felt a rapid rise of fury. "Chief Greer," she

said, ignoring the pressure of Damien's hand on her

arm. She was not about to let the chief accuse

Damien when the real killer was out there

somewhere. "I can vouch for Mr. Morgan's

whereabouts since early last evening."

The chief raised a grizzly eyebrow. "Oh you can,

can you?"

"Kara, don't—" Damien started, but she ignored

him.

"Yes, I can. He was with me all evening—and all

night." The murmur of voices reminded her she had

an avid audience, and she looked around to see

about ten Zorro citizens, most of them patients,

staring at her as if she'd sprouted horns. Damn.

That ought to make her the center of town gossip

for awhile.

"Well, now, that's very interestin'," Tom said. "I

understand you also have a gun, Dr. Cantrell. Heard

you bought it last week. I'd like to see that

weapon."

He was acting like a class-A bastard, but she had

nothing to hide. "Of course, Chief. But the gun is at

home, because I don't have my permit yet. Wouldn't

want to break the law, now, would we? I'll bring it

by later." She forced herself to shut up then, before

she said something she'd regret.

"You do that, doctor." Tom looked around at the

gawkers, raised his voice. "None of you folks needs

to be here. We've got a dead man, and crime scene

people on the way, and all you're doin' is messing

up possible evidence. Now get on home!" He

turned back to Kara and Damien. "You two be sure

to stay in town. I might want to question you later."

"I'm not going
anywhere,"
Damien said, his eyes

glittering. "But I suggest you start your questioning

with Luz Perez. I saw her arguing with a man she

called Matt Sunday night, in the tavern parking lot.

If it's the same Matt, she might know something."

Tom's return stare was just as cold. "I'll keep that in

mind, Morgan."

"Come on Kara." Damien turned and walked away.

She followed, furious with both him and Tom

Greer.
Men and their pissing contests.

He turned to look at the scene one more time,

spoke in a low voice. "Too many people and too

much activity to read the energy now, especially

since we're both under suspicion. I'll have to come

back after dark."

She'd already figured that out, but it wasn't the

main thing on her mind at the moment. "Why did

you drag Luz into this?" she demanded when they

were fully out of earshot. "She's going to be

devastated when she finds out Matt is dead."

"Unless she's the Belian." Damien unlocked his car

door, hit the master lock.

"You don't know that!" Kara slid into her seat,

slammed the door. "Whatever happened to innocent