Killer Bear Read online

  Allie swallowed hard. “Y-you’re not dangerous.” She clung stubbornly to her assessment, but as she took in the bulk of him, she found she was not as certain as she’d like to be.

  “I am.” His voice was suddenly gruff, his words sounding more like growls.

  “You’re not a murderer.” He was big, yes, and he could hurt her if he wanted to. He was obviously angry, maybe with her, and that was slightly terrifying. But there was a difference between being big and fierce and being a murderer. Allie had looked killers in the eye too many times not to recognize it. In Mark’s eyes she saw chaos—anger and fear and something else she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t look away.

  He broke the eye contact. “Leave.”

  She stood. “I’ve paid your bail. They’ll be coming to let you out. When that happens, you’d be wise to go home and stay there.” She pulled a card out of her purse and passed it to him. “The offer stands. Call me if you want representation.”

  Mark reached out and took the card. As he did, their fingers grazed each other send tingles through her. Allie looked up with a soft gasp. His skin was hot…

  He caught her by the wrist. His grip was strong. He was on his feet in an instant, pulling her roughly to him, backing her against the wall of the holding room. Caught between his body and the cold steel wall, her hands trapped over her head and still tightly in his grip, Allie stared up into his dark brown eyes. He was breathing faster now, his lips parted, and a sliver of fear shot through her, chased moments later by a rush of exhilaration. The holding room seemed to be disappearing—she forgot her anger at the injustice that was being committed against Mark, at the fact that everyone else in town had already tried and convicted him in their minds on completely circumstantial evidence. Even her anger at Mark himself, at his rude treatment of her, seemed to evaporate. She was trapped in his gaze, and even if he had released her arm, she knew she couldn’t have moved away.

  His kiss came fast, so fast she didn’t see it coming. One moment they were staring into each other’s eyes, and the next...how long had they been kissing? The word unprofessional drifted into her mind and wafted away like vapor before she could cling to it. She wound her free arm around his neck and felt his pulse there, beating hot against her wrist, and then he pressed against her and she felt that he was aroused…

  “Hey!”

  It was the guard who had been stationed outside the room. He tore Mark off of Allie and pinned him against the opposite wall. Mark didn’t struggle, although given his size, it was obvious that had he wanted to, he could have overpowered the guard. Allie raised her fingers to her lips, which felt swollen and bruised. What had just happened?

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” The guard asked. He was still restraining Mark who was staring at her with an almost vicious sneer, his eyes filled with fierce intensity. From the angle, it almost looked like they were glowing.

  Allie straightened her shirt, embarrassed. “I’m fine.” Her voice was a little more breathy that she would have liked. She nodded at the guard, and took up her purse from the table. “Mark, call me when you’re released.”

  Mark didn’t respond.

  Allie walked out of the police station and back to her car, more confused than ever.

  5

  Mark didn’t call.

  It had been three days. Allie wasn’t sure how long it took for bail to be processed in Cedar Rapids, but it definitely didn’t take three days. Mark had to have been home within twenty-four hours of her visit to the police station, she was sure of it. Yet he still hadn’t called.

  Maybe she should have expected this. After all, he had said he didn’t want her legal help. It was just completely incomprehensible to her why he wouldn’t want it. After all, she was a good lawyer. Okay, yes, she’d been fired, but even if he knew about that, she was still better than anyone he was likely to get here in Cedar Rapids. Certainly better than Evan Jeffries.

  But maybe he didn’t realize that. If charges hadn’t been brought against him last time, it was likely he wasn’t familiar enough with the legal system to realize the trouble he was in and how the court of public opinion could affect things. Maybe he thought that the fact of his innocence would be enough to ensure a successful trial.

  That was in keeping with the Mark Allie remembered from childhood. He had always believed the best of everyone, even when he shouldn’t have. She recalled his campaign for sixth grade class president, when he’d refused to curry favor with their classmates by baking cupcakes and insisted that everyone would vote for the most qualified candidate. He’d been stunned when that hadn’t worked out. And, she recalled suddenly, there was that time he’d brought home the violent stray dog against everyone’s advice, confident that he could train it. That actually had worked out, but Allie doubted anyone but Mark could have managed it.

  Then again, maybe the reason he wasn’t calling had nothing to do with confidence about the outcome of the trial, and everything to do with that kiss.

  What had happened there?

  He’d been angry. She was sure of it. He had been glaring at her just moments earlier, ordering her out of the holding room, saying he didn’t want to see her...and the next moment, she’d been up against the wall. And yes, she’d been frightened, and the kiss had been aggressive, but it hadn’t been violent, and it had been mutual. She had definitely kissed him back. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself if she’d tried. Something had ignited between the two of them, a kind of passion she’d never felt before.

  Could it have been the simple fact of their shared history that had drawn them together? Allie didn’t think so. She’d had feelings for Mark when they were young, yes, and it was possible he’d had feelings for her, but nothing had ever been acted upon. That was hardly a foundation for such an immediate connection.

  She touched her fingers to her lips again. They were still a bit sore.

  Erratic behavior is a warning sign, a voice whispered at the back of her mind. He’s clearly got some issues…

  But she shook the thought off as quickly as it had come. That was the kind of thinking that had led the rest of the town to bring judgment against Mark without evidence or trial. Mark’s not a good person, Liam had said in the car as he’d dropped her off, but he hadn’t been able to provide any concrete evidence to back that up. He was a unique person, but a bad person? Allie didn’t think so.

  And suddenly, sitting around her house waiting for him to call and ask for her help seemed like a misguided waste of time. Mark had made it clear that he wasn’t going to reach out for Allie’s help. And, it was just as clear to her that he needed her. The trial ahead was going to be brutal, given that any set of jurors the court found in Cedar Rapids was likely to have long-cemented opinions about Mark’s guilt or innocence. Mark would need someone at his side who knew him and was convinced that he hadn’t committed the murders of which he was accused.

  He needed her.

  Just as he’d taken control of the situation in the holding room, grabbing her and pushing her into that kiss (she felt a shiver run down her spine at the memory of it), Allie would now have to take control of Mark’s legal situation. She owed it to him. How many times had he swooped in to protect her, she thought as she pulled on her boots and jacket. It was only fair.

  It had rained overnight, and the air was wet and muggy. Allie crossed the street and walked down to Mark’s unkempt lawn. The chain-link fence that had been there when they were children still stood, but it was rusted and the gate swung loosely in its hinges. Allie slipped through and made her way up the overgrown stone path toward the front door.

  Here she paused. It was strange to be at this house again. It was strange to be standing at the front door getting ready to ring the bell, when she’d spend her whole childhood darting in and out of this door as easily as her own. Mark’s house had been her second home. Now she was a stranger here.

  She reached out and pressed the doorbell.

  The ring echoed deep within the large h
ouse, and Allie jumped a little. Had Mark’s doorbell always sounded so ominous? She tried to think back, but couldn’t remember.

  A shuffling came from inside. He was moving around. She waited, but he didn’t answer the door. Why wasn’t he responding? She could tell he was in there.

  So stubborn. This was exactly like him—refusing to accept help, thinking he could do everything on his own. They were going to have words about it when she finally got him to sit down with her. She would let him know that he couldn’t avoid her like this, not if he wanted to clear his name. She would make it clear that she believed in his innocence—he was probably used to people who didn’t, even if their jobs involved helping him.

  Maybe that was it, she thought, rocking back on her heels, pondering. Maybe he hadn’t wanted her around because he had assumed she would think he was guilty, like everyone else apparently did. Maybe it was hard for him to see her—someone from his childhood, a happy time—while he was in this position.

  But hadn’t she told him she believed he was innocent? Allie felt like stamping her foot in frustration. Why couldn’t he just listen to her?

  She would have to be gentle with him. She would have to persuade him, slowly, that her faith in him hadn’t been shaken. All right, she had had her doubts for a moment when she’d first heard the horrible story of what had happened to Mark’s parents, but Allie had put those doubts to rest. Seeing Mark, in particular, had convinced her that he couldn’t have done the things of which he was being accused. Allie felt it like a warm glow deep in her gut: He was innocent.

  Now, she just had to convince him to let her help him prove it.

  She had been standing on this porch for five minutes, though, and Mark still hadn’t answered the door. She could movement inside. She knew he was here.

  And as she stood there, frustrated, it came to her. There was one more thing she could try.

  She crossed the porch and jogged down the stairs, rounded the corner of the house, and made her way into Mark’s backyard. It was even more overgrown than the front. Allie could just make out a depression in the thicket of grass and weeds where, his childhood sandbox must still be. Mark’s bedroom window was just above, the superhero stickers they’d placed as kids still adhered to the pane, and below the window, an apple tree.

  Allie had climbed this tree so many times as a child that it was second nature to reach out for the lowest branch. She found, much to her surprise and pleasure, that she was still able to swing a leg over it and haul herself up to sit. From there it was easy work to ascend two more branches, until she stood in the upper reaches of the tree and was level with Mark’s bedroom window.

  She’d sneaked in this way to visit him on countless occasions, bringing him bags of Oreos when he’d been grounded or borrowing his cell phone when her parents had taken hers away. It was almost second nature to lean over from the branch on which she stood, ignoring the long drop to the ground below, grab the window ledge, and lean over to peer in.

  The lights were off in the room, so it took Allie a few minutes to process what she was seeing. It looked as though this room still belonged to Mark—he hadn’t moved into the master suite when his parents had died. Well, that spoke in his favor, didn’t it? A sociopathic murderer would have had no problem taking the bedroom of his victims. Unless he had a guilty conscience…

  She squinted, trying to see more. There was a half empty glass of a dark brown liquid—scotch?—on the nightstand. The bedsheets were a mess. Someone had slept here and hadn’t bothered to make the bed afterwards. And there was a massive shape on the floor...Allie angled her head to let more of the light in and tried to see…

  It was the dresser. It had been knocked over, and the decorative ornament had cracked and fallen off the top. As her eyes adjusted a bit more to the darkness, Allie realized the room was full of signs of destruction. The bedsheets weren’t just rumpled, they were torn. The ceiling fan was askew, as if it had been pulled down from its hangings. A wooden chair lay broken and splintered in the corner. Allie’s eyes widened. It looked as though it had been thrown there.

  Could Mark have destroyed this room?

  Once more, her mind turned to the kiss they’d shared in the holding room at the police station, but now her focus was on the force in his push and the strength of his arms as he’d held her against the wall. He’d moved on her so suddenly, had gone from sitting at the table to practically ripping her clothes off in a matter of seconds. He was definitely someone who could get lost in emotion, get carried away...and he had the physical strength to destroy things like this. Allie’s breath seemed to catch in her throat. Of course he could have done it.

  But why?

  Because he’s violent, said a voice in her head, but Allie shook it off like an annoying fly. That didn’t add up at all. Mark could have hurt her easily in that holding cell, but he hadn’t. And the sweet, thoughtful boy she’d known as a child...no, he wasn’t violent. She refused to believe that. Whatever had caused him to smash up this room, it must have been an extraordinary circumstance.

  And she was going to find out what it was. She dropped from the tree and made her way back around to the front of the house, determined this time not to leave until Mark had talked to her.

  6

  Allie rang the doorbell again, and when no answer came, knocked. Still nothing.

  “Mark! I know you’re in there.”

  Still there was no response. The shuffling she had heard earlier had settled down, and Allie felt momentarily uncertain. Had she imagined it?

  She knocked once more, and then, in frustration, actually reached out and jiggled the handle. To her surprise, it turned in her grip, and the door swung open. It had been unlocked the whole time.

  Allie hesitated. It would be an invasion of Mark’s privacy to go in when she hadn’t been invited. But on the other hand, she’d already climbed the tree in his backyard and looked through his bedroom window, so this was a strange time to start worrying about privacy.

  But no, it was illegal, it was breaking and entering…

  Crash! Something within the house—it sounded like something heavy and wooden—had just been broken. Allie scrambled through the door and pushed it closed behind her. She had to find Mark and stop him before he smashed up all his possessions. If the police came to search his house and found signs of violence and instability, it would hurt Mark’s case. Allie understood that he was probably just upset, just reacting, but she couldn’t trust that anyone else would arrive at the same conclusion about him as she did.

  Moving slowly and quietly so as not to startle him, she crept through the foyer and into the kitchen. He wasn’t here, but the refrigerator was on its side. That was alarming. It would take a lot of strength to do something like that impulsively.

  The dining room was a similar disaster area. The long table at which Allie had often eaten dinner with Mark’s family was split in two, and here, for the first time, she saw blood. It was a dark puddle at the edge of the table. Allie swallowed hard. If Mark was hitting things hard enough to spill his own blood, then there could be no doubt his temper was out of control.

  But he wasn’t a murderer. She still felt sure of that. Allie and Mark had grown up together, and just as some part of her would always be the little girl she’d been back then, she knew some part of him was still the tender hearted boy who had teared up with her when animals died in animated films. He couldn’t have grown up to be a killer. It wasn’t possible.

  And Allie was determined to prove it.

  She heard another crash, this one much closer. What was he doing in there? Could this be how he was hurting his arms? If he was smashing up his house every time he lost his temper...it would add up, she thought, remembering the appearance of the scars along is forearms. They had looked messy, as if they had occurred during an act of violence.

  She would make arrangements for him to see a therapist. He needed help. And that would look good to a judge and jury…

  He was in the famil
y room. She was sure of it now. Those crashes were definitely coming from the room at the rear of the house, and it was the only place she hadn’t searched. But if he was in a rage now, how would he react to finding her trespassing in his house? She had to do this carefully. She rounded the corner, moving cautiously, keeping her back to the wall, and crept into the room and froze.

  At first she didn’t understand what she was seeing. It was simply too bizarre for her brain to process. But as the huge, shaggy head began to turn, as a paw lifted into the air and exposed enormous white claws, Allie sucked in a shocked, terrified breath.

  She was looking at a bear.

  She dropped to her stomach and wiggled behind the couch just before the bear’s head turned to look her way. Gasping, she looked over her shoulder at the door through which she’d entered the room. Not a good idea. If the bear was still looking in this direction, it would see her the moment she moved. She lay still, unable to think of anything but those massive claws.

  Crash! The bear had broken something. Had this animal been causing all the damage she’d seen in Mark’s house, even up in his bedroom? Her mind was working again, furiously, trying to get this to add up. How long would it take a bear to trash a house? How long had this thing been in here? Was it...was it a pet of Mark’s? He had always had a fondness for animals, but surely this was going too far? But how else would a bear get into a suburban home? Allie didn’t believe it could have just walked through the front door of its own accord.

  For that matter, where was Mark? She’d advised him to go home and stay there. He wasn’t supposed to be out of the house, it was part of the terms of his bail.

  Could this bear have done something to him?

  Still frightened, but emboldened by the idea that Mark needed her help, Allie got to her knees and peered over the back of the couch. The bear had turned its back to her again and was lying down near the unlit fireplace. There was a curious awareness in the way it turned its shaggy head to look morosely at the grate, almost as if it were longing for the warm crackle of flames. Allie shook her head to clear it. Bears didn’t know what fireplaces were for, and they didn’t wish for fire. And yet, as the animal rested its head on its paws and heaved a long sigh, it did seem to be lamenting something.