Last Kiss Goodbye

“Is that right?” A.J. asked with an eyebrow raise.

Matt’s cold gaze met his former friend’s. “If you don’t believe me, you can look at the transcripts. And hell, test my damn blood. It won’t match that smear on the wall.”

“Don’t worry. I will.”

Matt glared at him. Was this the way he’d be treated the rest of his life?

Every time a crime took place, no matter how petty, the cops would suspect him first.

IVY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND the dynamics, but tension simmered in the air as the sheriff retrieved his camera and a crime scene kit from the car. Tension between her and Matt. And between him and the sheriff.

“I’m going to call the owner of the cabins,” Matt said. “He should know about this.”

“She’ll need another room,” A.J. said. “This is a crime scene now.”

Ivy nodded. Still shaken, she slumped into the rocking chair in the corner and watched as the sheriff photographed the wall, then took a sample of the blood, and dusted the wall, doorknobs, the bathroom windowsill, even the phone for fingerprints.

Matt remained silent, having perched on one of the bar stools as if he intended to supervise A.J.’s investigation. Miss Nellie’s warning echoed back: Don’t go to Kudzu Hollow. It’s too dangerous.

It was dangerous only if someone still had secrets. If the person who’d really killed her parents had gotten away with it and didn’t want her back.

Which meant Matt was innocent, as the judge had decreed.

Ivy massaged her temple where a headache pulsed. Finally, just as the sheriff finished the fingerprinting, Cliff appeared. He looked haggard and upset at the sight of the blood on the wall. When he saw the chicken’s head, he staggered on his feet. Matt caught him.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked.

Ivy fanned the man’s face and rushed to get him a glass of water.

“I ain’t had no trouble out here before,” Cliff said in a weak voice. “What’s going on now?”

“I don’t know,” Sheriff Boles replied. “Some prankster kids may have vandalized the room just to stir up trouble. You know how this weather affects them.”

The old man nodded. “I should have moved away from here when my Gertie died. But I couldn’t bear to leave her.”

“Cliff, I need to move to another cabin,” Ivy said.

“Good Lord, yes. I wouldn’t feel right you staying here.” He rubbed a freckled hand over his chin, but his color was improving. “I’ll get a cleaning crew to take care of this mess.” He stood, composing himself. “Let me unlock the cabin on the other side of Mr. Mahoney. I’ll leave the key inside.”

Ivy thanked him and walked him to the door, worried about the man’s health. He was too old for such a shock, but he assured her that he was fine as he toddled outside.

Sheriff Boles’s cell phone jangled, and he flipped it open. “Boles here.” He hesitated. “Yeah. Jesus. I’ll be right there.”

The sheriff stopped beside Ivy and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Call me if anything else strange happens, Ivy. That’s what I’m here for, to protect the citizens.” He removed a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “My home phone number’s on there as well as my cell.”

“Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate your concern.”

Matt followed the sheriff to the door with a frown. “What’s wrong, A.J.? What was that call about?”

A.J. hesitated. “It’s started again.”

“What’s started again?” Ivy asked.

“The trouble. A fight broke out with some teens in front of one of the gas stations. And there’s been a murder out near the junkyard.” The sheriff leveled his gaze at Matt, an insinuation in his eyes. “You weren’t out there earlier, were you?”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “I dropped by to see my mother, but that’s the only place I stopped.”

“And how did it go? Was she glad to see you, Matt?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Yeah, she welcomed me with open arms.” Sarcasm laced his voice and anguish radiated from him, stirring Ivy’s compassion.

The sheriff stared at Matt for a long minute, eyes locked. “You didn’t have a run-in with anyone else while you were out there?”

Matt’s expression turned lethal. “No. Who was murdered?”

“I’m not at liberty to divulge the victim’s identity. We have to notify the next of kin.” Sheriff Boles turned back to Ivy with a smile. “Like I said, call me if you have any more problems, Miss Stanton, day or night. And if I were you, I’d keep my doors locked.” He tugged his hat lower on his head, then opened the door, the wind hurling rain inside. “In fact, if I were the two of you, I’d get out of town. There’s nothing for either one of you here anymore. Nothing but trouble.”

Ivy barely suppressed a shudder. In the next second, she wondered if his comment had been a threat instead of a warning.

AS SOON AS A.J. LEFT, A strained silence engulfed the room. The air was charged with tension, the accusations A.J. had posed lingering, leaving the rancid smell of suspicion. Did A.J. really think Matt had committed murder the first night he was back? What had happened to make his buddy distrust him?

“I can’t believe someone knows who I am,” Ivy said in a strained voice. “But that is blood, isn’t it?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, what did you think it was?”

“I…wasn’t sure.” She paused, heat staining her cheeks. “I…don’t see red anymore. The color red. Not since that night.”

The reality of her words slammed into him. He’d heard she’d been traumatized, had blacked out her memories. But she’d blocked out colors, as well? Maybe that explained her drab clothing. A woman like her should be dressed in pretty bright colors, not denim or brown.

His earlier need to seek vengeance against her vanished, shame replacing his anger. “Let’s get you moved. Go ahead and pack your things.”

Ivy licked her lips. “You don’t have to come with me, Matt.”

He banked his own emotions. “I want to make sure you get safely situated inside.”

Her gaze locked with his, fear still lingering. But something else—a different kind of emotion—flickered in her eyes. Regret? Surprise? Gratitude?

She didn’t want to be alone. Any fool could see that. Although she was desperately trying to put up a brave front, she was terrified. Who could blame her? The bloody message on the wall and dead animal turned his stomach, and he’d seen worse shit in the pen. Things he would never discuss.

That stupid macho part of him wanted to rescue her again. Wipe the fear off her face. Hold her until she stopped shaking.

They reached for her suitcase at the same time. Her hand touched his, sending a shard of desire straight through him. She had the softest skin he’d ever felt. The most tender touch. And those hands were fine-boned, with long slender fingers. He wanted to twine her fingers in his, bring them to his lips, kiss the soft pads of each one, then feel them on his skin. Stroking. Teasing. Touching. Loving.

Yes, she had the hands of an angel.

But those hands shouldn’t be touched by a man’s dirty ones.

Not by his hands, especially. Hands that had done things he wasn’t proud of.