Chapter Seven

"You love me, but you don't know who I am."

If he didn't wrap these cases up soon...He didn't want to think about it. He and Goodfellow bounced ideas off each other on the ride back to the station. Nothing made sense anymore. He trodded into his office and caught sight of the basket Emma dropped off earlier.

He was starving, but couldn't bring himself to eat. He knew he needed to though. If he didn't take care of himself he would be no use to anyone. He sat twiddling his thumbs and snacking on crackers until he finally made up his mind about what to do.

He picked up the phone. It rang three times.

"Hello Father."

It was late, as usual when Tom made his return home for the night. He could see Emma's bedroom light on down the hall. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, but he managed to resist. Instead, he quietly climbed the stairs. The pieces were coming together, albeit slowly, on the case. They had no idea as to motive, or suspect. What they did know was manner of death. Two men had now been found shot dead by the same person.

Tom had suspicions about the type of person they were looking for, but decided to keep them to himself for now. As he unlocked his door he had an uneasy feeling. He chalked it up to his emotions about what happend, or almost happened between he and Emma earlier.

He tossed his keys on the desk and threw himself down in the chair. He poured himself a whiskey and stared out the window into the darkness.

Meanwhile the Father's words played in his mind.

"Two murders right under our noses." Father Brown muttered.

"Yes,"

"My guess is there's something we're missing,"

"Yes! I have deduced that much already, Father! Have you got anything new to add?"

Somewhere out there was a killer. A cold-blooded murderer who had been in the B&B at some point. It seemed he was always one step ahead.

"It could be what we're missing is something right under our noses, or rather someone. When you think of a multiple murderer who is the last person you'd suspect?" Father Brown questioned.

"A priest?" he remarked sarcastically.

"Even less than a priest," Father Brown raised his eyebrows.

His mind instantly went to Emma. Then he understood.

Sullivan swallowed down the last of the alcohol, and sat the glass on the floor. He leaned his head back and sighed heavily. He was waging a war on himself and he finally decided it wasn't worth the fight. He stood and slipped his jacket off, and tossed it on the bed.

Emma was in the kitchen preparing for breakfast in the morning. She tried to sleep, but it was no use. She still was having a hard time resting. It seemed like so much in her world had been thrown off balance recently. There was a strange energy hanging over the B&B. Emma couldn't tell if it was from the murder, her newest guest, or Inspector Sullivan's increasing familiarity with her.

She bent to put a tray of scones in the oven. Her mind strayed back to that night before everything went awry. Maybe somehow that unexpected and out of character act from Sullivan had triggered the events that had befallen them soon after and ever since. She wiped the flour off of the counter.

"Still awake?"

Tom's voice pierced through her thoughts like the sharpest of arrows. She turned around and dropped the towel she was holding.

He chuckled, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you,"

She relaxed, "It's all right. I'm jumpy tonight for some reason."

He walked towards her, step by step getting closer. His eyes analyzing her face. The curve of her lips, the golden flakes in her deep green eyes.

"There was something I wanted to tell you earlier in my office," he sounded out of breath. His hands were curled into fists at his side.

He was standing in front of her now. Her back was against the counter. If she wanted to run she had no where to go. But she didn't. She had no intentions of running. She had no intentions of letting this moment escape.

"I had a feeling you did. What was it?" she whispered.

It happened in slow motion, he slid his hand behind her neck and brought her lips to his. It wasn't slow or altogether passionate. It was needy, and fierce. His lips crushed against hers. His arm reached behind her and braced against the counter, leaning her back onto it.

Emma raked her fingers through Tom's jet black hair, messing up his carefully put together image. She could feel the blood rushing to her face. His lips slid across hers so dangerously. He didn't care. He finally reached his breaking point, and there was no going back. He carefully bit her bottom lip causing her to emit a quiet moan.

It pushed him over the edge. He moved his hand from the counter to her back and pressed their bodies together. It had come to this. His brain was trying to rationalize, trying to talk him down from the heights he was climbing. He kissed her harder, in an attempt to drown out rationality. He needed to control something in his life, and yet he couldn't even control himself.

He broke their kiss and took a deep breath, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I'm not sorry for that," he whispered softly.

Emma wiped her mouth with her fingertips, "Nor I,"

She reached up to touch his face. She pushed his hair back into place and giggled when it fell back down into his eyes. He caught her hand in his.

"Was I out of line?" he pondered out loud.

She wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't let me interrupt," a feminine voice announced.

Tom and Emma broke apart.

"I figured there was something going on here," Augustina wiggled her finger toward them.

Emma's pale cheeks turned crimson.

"I can assure you that nothing inappropriate is happening." Tom stepped in front of Emma ready to defend her honor.

Her guest chuckled, "Well, from what I saw I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Emma blanched and Tom looked annoyed.

"Oh, don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." the woman turned away and disappeared around the corner.

Emma put her hands on her cheeks, "Oh my word. Something about that lady makes my skin crawl."

"Lady might be exaggerating a tad,"

"Tom! Don't be uncharitable." Emma scolded him lightly and with a smile.

He sighed and tossed her a glance. He didn't know what to say so he tried to let his eyes convey the message.

"I should get to bed," she said.

"As should I,"

"Goodnight, Tom." she told him.

He watched her walk away thinking that he liked the sound of his name on her lips.

Lyrics- 3 Doors Down