Erica Spindler - In Silence

He was right about that. She knew enough about police work to understand the process, from arrest to prosecution.

She started through the door, then stopped and turned back once more. "I didn't see an autopsy report."

His face puckered with confusion. "It should be there."

"It wasn't."

He shuffled through the folder, then returned his gaze to hers. "It's misfiled. I'll look around, give you a call when I locate it."

"Thanks, Buddy." She forced a smile. "Enjoy the rest of your day off."

Avery left the CSPD and minutes later found herself at Hunter's door. Without pausing to question her own motivation, she rapped on the frame.

Sarah began to bark, the puppies to yip. Hunter appeared at the door. He looked tired. Disheveled. Irritated at having been disturbed.

"You were working," she said. "I'm sorry."

"What do you want, Avery?"

She hesitated, put off by his surliness. "May I come in?"

He pushed opened the screen, moved aside. She stepped into the kitchen-and was immediately surrounded by squirming puppies. Sarah stood by her master's side, eyes pinned on Avery.

"They're getting big," Avery murmured. She squatted and the puppies charged her, licking her hands, butting each other out of the way. "They're so cute."

"If there's a point to your visit I'd appreciate your getting to it."

Her cheeks heated. She straightened. Met his eyes. "Did you hear what happened?"

"You mean Trudy Pruitt's murder?"

"Yes. And that I was there."

"I heard." His mouth thinned. "Even those of us who reside outside the chosen circle are part of the gossip chain."

"Never mind. You're such an asshole." She swung around to go. "I'm sorry I came here."

He caught her arm. "Why did you, Avery? Why do you keep coming around?"

"Let go of me."

He tightened his grip. "You came for something. What do you want from me?"

She didn't know, dammit. She tilted up her chin, furious. At herself. At him. "I don't want anything from you, Hunter. Maybe I'm here because unlike everyone else, I'm not willing to give up on you. Maybe I still see something in you that everyone else has forgotten."

"Bullshit."

"Believe what you want." She yanked her arm free, took a step toward the door.

He blocked her path. "I'd pegged you for being more honest than this, Avery. You want something from me. Spit it out."

"Stop it, Hunter. Let me go."

He moved closer, crowding her. "Why not run to Matt? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

He put a nasty emphasis on the last. She wanted to slap him. "Shut up."

He took another step forward; she back. She met the wall. "What would you give to have your father back, Avery?"

His question took her by surprise. Disarmed, she met his eyes. "Anything. I'd give anything."

"What do you want, Avery?" he asked again. He cupped her face in his palms. "Do you want me to tell you he loved you? Do you want me to tell you it's not your fault? Absolve you of guilt? Is that why you're-"

"Yes!" she cried. "I want to wake up to discover this has all been a nightmare. I want to have taken my father's call that last day…I want to stop hating…myself for…I want-"

The words stuck in her throat; she brought her hands to his chest. Curled her trembling fingers into his soft T-shirt. "I want what I can't have. I want my father back."

For long seconds, he gazed at her, expression dark with some strong emotion. Finally, he swore and dragged in a shaky breath. "He loved you, Avery. More than anything. Every time we were together, he talked about you. How proud he was of you. Proud that you'd had the guts to follow your dreams. That you'd done so well. He took pride in your courage. Your strength of will."

A cry slipped past her lips. One of relief. Of an immeasurably sweet release from pain. Tears flooded her eyes.

"His suicide, it wasn't about you, Avery," he went on. "He was at peace with where you were in your life."

He dropped his hands, stepped back. "Go on. Get out of here. You got what you wanted. I can't give you anything else."

She hesitated, reached a hand out. Laid it on his forearm. "Hunter?" He met her eyes. "Thank you."

He didn't reply. She dragged her hand down to his, laced their fingers. Slowly, deliberately, she brought his hand to her mouth, opened it and pressed a kiss to his palm.

He trembled. Ever so slightly. Revealing himself. What he wanted.

He wanted her.

And in that moment, she realized she wanted him as well. Without thoughts of consequences or tomorrows, she drew him closer, against her. She tilted her face up to his.

She saw the desire in his dark gaze. And the vulnerability. The combination took her breath.

She brought his hand to her chest, just above the swell of her left breast.

"Avery, I don't-"

"Yes, you do." She leaned closer. "And I do, too."

She kissed him then. Deeply. Without hesitation. She wanted him, he wanted her. Simple.

He kissed her back. In a way that left no question who would lead. Not breaking their kiss, he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. He carried her to his bed, laid her on it. For a moment, he stood above her. Holding her gaze.

Her lips tipped into a small, contented smile. She reached up, caught his hands and drew him down to her.

That moment proved the calm before the storm. Passion exploded between them. They tugged at one another's clothes, zippers and buttons, clinging panties. Greedy. Impatient to feel the other's naked body against their own.

They made love, she on top of him. She orgasmed with a cry she worried might be heard at the Piggly Wiggly next door.

She collapsed against his chest. Beneath her cheek his heart thundered. She had always wondered, all those years ago, what kissing Hunter would be like. What being with him would be like.

Now she knew. And she wondered why she had waited so long to find out.

"I hated that."

She lifted her head and met his eyes. "Me, too."

His eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. "I could tell."

She rubbed her forehead against his bristly chin. "You have anything to eat in this place?"

"A loaded question."

"Funny. Got any homemade chocolate cake?"

"Sure. Baked it this morning."

She grinned, feeling young, randy and totally irresponsible. "How about a PBJ?"

"Got something even better."

He rolled them both out of bed. He gave her one of his T-shirts to wear. The soft white fabric swallowed her. She glanced at its front. "Party hard on Bourbon Street?"

"From the old days."

She followed him to the kitchen, Sarah at their heels, the puppies on hers. Avery leaned against the counter while he made them both PBM-peanut butter and marshmallow cream-sandwiches, then poured two big glasses of cold milk.

Whole milk, she saw. Talk about irresponsible.

They sat at the tiny dinette and dug in. "My God, this is good," she said, mouth full. She washed it down with a long swallow of the creamy milk.

"Awesome, isn't it? Worth shouting about."

He wasn't talking about the milk. Or the sandwiches. She flushed and shifted her gaze. He laughed softly, stood and went to make himself another sandwich.

"Want another?" he asked.

"Not if I want to be able to snap my pants tomorrow. But thanks."

He fixed his and sat back down. "Earlier, you said something about wishing you had taken a call from your dad. What did you mean?"

She laid the last of her sandwich carefully on the plate. "That last day, before Dad…died, he called. I was on my way out. Meeting a source, one who'd finally agreed to talk to me."

Her voice thickened; she cleared it. "I heard Dad's voice on the recorder and I…I thought, I'd call him later. My source couldn't wait, but my father…he'd always be there."