Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,93

to hurt anyone else.” Not any longer. It was hard for the dead to hurt others. Unless you let them.

The door opened. Dace stood there. The lines on his face were deeper than she’d seen before. “Found your phone, Wade.” He had an evidence bag in his hand. “It was at Troy North’s house.”

Victoria’s breath expelled in a rush. Another nail in Troy’s coffin.

“And I talked more with Matthew Walker. He said that North knew about Walker’s affair with Melissa Hastings, and that he thought Troy was jealous. No, ‘obsessed’ with the woman.”

An obsession that led to death.

“It looks pretty open and shut,” Dace said as he strode to his desk. But he didn’t sit. He ran a hand through his hair and peered out the small window on the right. “The killer’s dead. My boss . . . hell, the captain doesn’t want any charges pressed against Walker. Says we’ll come across as bullies if we do, and he thinks the press will have a field day, especially seeing as how we thought that guy was the killer.”

Wade regarded him with a guarded stare. “What about my shooting?”

“You’re clear. Self-­defense is hard to argue with in this case, not when you’ve got two witnesses who corroborate your story.” Dace’s hand sawed over his jaw and the heavy shadow that was growing there. “Jim Porter woke up. Couldn’t talk, but he wrote down some answers to my questions. He didn’t remember who’d attacked him. Never saw the guy’s face but . . . but he did say that Melissa had been worried about Troy North. She’d mentioned a few times that he made her nervous.”

He’d made Victoria feel nervous that first day, too. “He was so interested in secrets.”

Dace’s hand fell as he glanced over at Wade. “Yeah, well, considering how many dark secrets that guy was dragging around, makes sense, doesn’t it?”

The case was over. Closed. “Are there more dead?” Victoria asked. That question had been haunting her. Were there more victims out there?

“Don’t know yet. My crime team is tearing apart North’s home and his office. If I find anything . . .” Dace exhaled and his shoulders dropped. “. . . you can bet I’ll call you.”

Wade offered his hand to the detective.

Dace took it and gave a hard shake.

“You didn’t know,” Wade said. “When you interviewed him . . . you don’t always know when you’re staring at a monster.”

Dace backed up a step. “You should know, though. Someone that evil, you should be able to see it in them. I interviewed him three times after Kennedy Lane went missing. Never knew the truth . . . three times,” he muttered, a faint furrow between his brows.

Victoria stepped forward. “Sometimes, evil is too good at hiding.”

He glanced at her.

“And no matter how hard you look, you just can’t see it.” The cops sure hadn’t seen the truth about her father. Victoria offered him her hand. His fingers—­slightly callused—­closed around hers. “Thank you for giving those women justice.”

He held her hand. Stared into her eyes. “Thank you for that,” he murmured.

She pulled her hand free. It was time to go home.

Wade opened the door, held it for her. She turned away from Dace.

“Dr. Palmer . . .”

Victoria looked back at the detective. His head was cocked as he studied her.

“You know . . . I think I would have believed you. If you’d come to me and told me about your father, I would have helped you.”

Her heart was suddenly beating far too fast.

“Bet it was incredibly hard,” he murmured. “Living with a monster like that.”

Harder than you can imagine.

“You would have to do whatever was necessary,” Dace continued, voice quiet, almost sad, “in order to survive.”

He knows.

“Good-­bye, Dr. Palmer,” Dace said. “I wish you well.”

She tried not to run from that little office. Her pounding heartbeat echoed in her ears. She didn’t speak to Wade, not until they were out of the police station and back inside their rented SUV. As soon as the doors closed, sealing them inside, she turned to him. “Wade—­”

He leaned across the seat and kissed her. The kiss stole her breath. Her hands lifted and locked around his shoulders. She meant to push him back. Instead, she pulled him closer. She kissed him—­her mouth open and almost desperate in an instant. Fear still rode her—­fear for what the detective knew, fear for what she could have lost because of Troy North and blasting gunfire.

So much fear.

She was ready for that fear