Whatever Remains

Death walked into that night, dragging through the wood, rending the quiet with its inhuman hot breath: panting, poised and terrible.

What do you do when your murder victim is found in your ex-girlfriend’s riding arena? For homicide detective Ben Haley, the answer is automatic: take the case. He’s spent the past five years dodging her phone calls and keeping his kid at arm’s length, but when Jade finds a body on her farm, Ben ru

What do you do when your murder victim is found in your ex-girlfriend’s riding arena? For homicide detective Ben Haley, the answer is automatic: take the case. He’s spent the past five years dodging her phone calls and keeping his kid at arm’s length, but when Jade finds a body on her farm, Ben rushes to the scene.

“It was hesitant at first, gentle. His fingers held tight at the base of her skull and she could feel the restraint in him, the leashed energy vibrating in the space between their bodies. He needed to shave and the stubble on his chin was prickly against hers. He smelled like he always had – aftershave, Calvin Klein cologne he bought at the grocery store, and something wild and frightening, like smoke; something that was unmistakably Ben to her – and it assaulted her brain, turning keys in padlocks and laying bare her self-control.”

“Ben tasted like wine; felt animal beneath her hands; chased away the shadows until her room was only darkness, only them, nothing wicked.”

“They’d dueled in the lamplight of her kitchen that night, savaging each other with accusations that could never be recalled. Now, he couldn’t remember half of what they’d said, only the colors and lights and seething tide of fear all around them. He could still taste the acrid burn of unfairness.”

She turned to look at him, to trace the familiar hard lines of his face with her eyes. She'd long since stopped hoping for words of commitment; "I'm here" sounded almost as sweet as "I love you."