Jill Monroe - Share the Darkness

But today was Saturday. Her special time alone in the office. No one asking for their password, no one complaining about the server being too slow. No one . In an hour, it would be just her, blank disks and a computer to back up.

She leaned against the counter and took in her tiny kitchen. She loved it. It was the first one she’d had with a dishwasher. Why she’d stupidly avoided having one until this point she didn’t know. Her foster mother’s hands had always been rough and red from soapy water. A woman’s hands were meant for something other than cleaning. Her mind always knew it, but she’d only recently put it into practice when she spotted the box of dishwasher detergent the landlord’s wife had left.

She tugged the lapels of her green terry cloth robe tighter. The blistering heat wave passing through Gallem hadn’t reached full strength yet, so she could relax fully covered. Saturday morning always seemed to start out right with a cup of coffee and the newspaper in her kitchen.

The apartment had practically rented itself after she saw it. The previous tenants had been a couple of college kids. They’d sponge painted the walls black, and the elderly landlord had knocked off twenty bucks a month so he wouldn’t have to repaint. She kind of liked it. The front room reminded her of a dark, moonless night. She’d placed a few stick-on stars on the ceiling for effect.

Furniture remained a luxury. She didn’t have much left, leaving almost everything she’d accumulated behind in the last town she’d been relocated to. It was bad to get attached to stuff anyway. She’d found a few good pieces for this new place—a sturdy couch; she’d fashioned a slipcover for it with a navy flat sheet covered with yellow moons and suns. It kept with the space theme. Maybe she should have stuck with plain navy, but then a voice in her head said it was time to delve into the light.

She hadn’t yet found a reasonable kitchen table, but she had unearthed two bar stools, badly needing attention. She’d spent an entire weekend sanding and staining, then proudly placed them before the nice, neutral Formica dining bar.

Hannah slid onto the bar stool and tucked her legs beneath her. She reached for her coffee, inhaled the warm, toasty aroma and took a sip. Ahhh . With lazy fingers she folded the newspaper flat on the countertop.

The date lurched. Bold and warning.

Her breath left her body with a whoosh.

June twenty-first. The longest day of the year. How could she have forgotten?

She gulped down some more coffee, coughing as it slid down into her lungs instead of her throat.

How she hated this date. When light seemed to take over the night. The calendar explained it all. The impending sense of doom, the anxiety, her paranoia of Ward.

It wasn’t Ward Coleman and the exciting yet dangerous promise she’d glimpsed in his eyes at all. It was the date that had her jangly with nerves.

The longest day of the year had been the last day of her normal life.

Hannah drew in a calming breath the way the counselors had taught her to four years ago. She would beat this. She was beating this. Nothing special lay in the date. It was no different from the twentieth. Or the first. Or the thirteenth.

No. The date held no meaning for her. Not anymore.

She slammed the paper to the table and marched into her bedroom. She nearly tripped on the inflatable mattress. Not that it would have been too great a loss if she’d popped it. But she would be kind of sad. The convenient mattress was one of her few possessions to last through two moves.

The accordion door of her closet slapped against the wall. She’d yanked it harder than she’d intended. With a jerk, she grabbed a long skirt and blouse. No way would she crumble under the weight of the date. Hannah Garrett was made of stronger stuff, and she would go to the office as usual. Maybe the next time Ward Coleman got in her way, she’d smile at him.

“YOU GOTTA SEE THIS, WARD. Some reporter is actually out there trying to see if the sidewalk is hot enough to fry an egg.”

Ward looked up from his review of the three suspect files and at his best friend, Brett Haynes, gaping out the fourteenth-story window. “Don’t they have any real news?”

“This is the only news,” Brett pointed out. “Sixtyeight days of no rain coupled with this unbearable heat—it’s a disaster waiting to happen. A local news channel’s dream.”

“Speaking of unbearable, isn’t it about time for you to call home again?” Ward asked.

Brett glanced at his watch. “No, I’m not supposed to call until—” His friend wore the expression that indicated he just realized he was the butt of a joke. “Hey, we’re not that bad.”

Ward laughed. “No, what was bad was when she put the baby on the phone.”

“Just wait. Your time will come.”

“Ahh, but you forget. I’m the man women love to leave. Besides, I can’t think of a worse thing than being trapped behind a desk at the Bureau with you.”

“They leave because you make them want to leave. By the way, the guys asked me to give you these.” Brett dumped a package of condoms on Ward’s desk.

With the tip of his pen, Ward flicked them at his friend. “What are you crazy? Put those away, someone’s going to see you.”

“There’s no one here. Put ’em in your wallet. It’s time you joined the land of the living.” Brett puffed up his shirt. “At least I’m not stuck in this oven. Why didn’t you tell me the place was so hot?”

“I did mention James had relegated me to hell. Besides they’re about to close the whole place down—” he glanced down at his watch “—in about another hour.” Where was Hannah?

“Is that why the area is deserted? As I drove in, I felt like I’d stepped into one of those sci-fi movies where all the inhabitants of a city had disappeared.”

Ward nodded. “Since it’s the weekend and so hot, the city officials are going to divert as much of the electricity as they can out of the city and to the suburbs.”

“And since only an idiot would waste a Saturday in the office, the powers-that-be thought ‘who’d care?’”

“They think that might prevent an overall power outage,” Ward said.

“How?”

“Something about power grids and diversions. I don’t know, I’m an agent, not an engineer.”

“I think that line works better when you’re a doctor. If the place is going to shut down, what are we still doing here? This weekend was all about beer and baseball.”

The outer office door opened and closed.

Hannah .

Ward stood and went around the desk to his door. “Right on time.”

“On time for what?”

“My number-one suspect. Hannah?” he called out in his most surprised voice.

Hannah turned and faced him, not bothering to hide her disappointment. With a quick glance, he sized her up. Even though she knew no one would be in the office, she still wore that long skirt.

But glorious red hair lay in waves down her back. He stifled a groan. He’d have an image of Hannah’s hair strewn on his pillow burned in his brain for the rest of the day. Week. Forever.

Wait a minute, something was missing. Something in her eyes. She didn’t leave him much time to ponder the absence because she strolled right toward him. Another thing she’d never done.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Okay, some of the same old suspicious Hannah remained. This was a reaction he could appreciate. A prickle of relief eased his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized he tensed them.

“Oh, I have an old buddy visiting me. Hannah, this is Brett.”

She cut Brett a glance. “Nice to meet you. Too bad you got here just in time for all the heat.”