by Barb Han
He glanced at the clock as he navigated down the small residential street. There was barely enough room to get through with cars parked on the street and being in his truck wasn’t helping. This part of Austin had the most narrow streets. He was used to it, having been here countless times to apprehend a criminal. But it was making Summer nervous based on her expression as he squeezed through.
As he turned on his blinker and pulled up to the light of a busy intersection, Summer gasped.
She pointed her finger at a guy who was walking behind a young woman. She seemed to be alone. Earbuds in, she didn’t seem to be paying attention to her surroundings.
“That’s him. That’s one of the guys who was chasing me the other day,” Summer said.
Chapter Fifteen
Summer’s pulse raced as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She flexed her fingers a few times, trying to release some of the pent-up nerves as she sat ramrod straight in her seat. The guy who’d almost grabbed her stared at the back of the head of the woman walking ahead of him.
Thick Guy’s arms extended, his focus laser-like, about to grab the unaware young woman. An icy chill raced through Summer and an involuntary reflex caused her to shout. No one would hear her inside the truck with the windows rolled up.
Dawson cut over to the other side of the street, and then pulled alongside the curb. He was out of the truck before Summer had a chance to take her seat belt off. The burst of adrenaline that put her body on high alert also caused her hands to shake.
She fumbled with the clasp but finally got the thing off. It pulled back with a snap against the door, but she was already shoving her shoulder into the door to open it.
Summer was out of the vehicle and gunning toward the young woman in seconds. She stumbled over the curb and nearly face planted. Taking a few steps to right herself, she glanced up in time to see a sneer on Thick Guy’s face. Another chill raced down her back.
Thick Guy’s gaze bounced to Dawson. A look of shock and then anger crossed his features before he turned and bolted in the opposite direction. For a sturdy guy, he had a superfast gait. Dawson turned up the gas and was right behind the perp.
The young woman glanced around and seemed to realize what had been about to go down. Her mouth fell open, her eyes widened and her skin paled. She tapped the white bud in her ear and started crying.
“You’re okay,” Summer soothed as she wrapped the young woman in an embrace. “Nothing happened. You’re fine.”
The young woman bawled in her arms. Summer was keenly aware that Thick Guy had had an accomplice last time. She scanned the area, searching for Scrappy. She also keenly realized she and the young woman were alone. Dawson had disappeared down the dark street.
“What’s your name?” Summer asked, trying to get the young woman to focus on something besides what had almost just happened.
“Harper.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do, Harper. We’re going to go into my friend’s truck and wait for him. Don’t be scared. He works in law enforcement,” she said as calmly and evenly as she could.
“Okay,” came out through sobs.
Harper looked to be no older than nineteen. Summer walked the young woman over to the truck and locked them both inside.
“Do you live around here, Harper?” Summer asked.
“No.” Harper shook her head. “I was walking to the UT shuttle after a study group meeting a few blocks away from here.”
There were bus stops all over the city for UT students.
Right about then, Summer caught sight of Thick Guy walking toward them. Head down, hands behind his back, he looked to be in handcuffs. He heaved for air.
Dawson shoved him across the hood of the truck and wiped blood from his busted lip. Panic washed over Summer at the thought anything could happen to him. She reminded herself that he was standing right there, on his phone, most likely calling in what he’d seen so Thick Guy would be taken in.
Face down, Summer couldn’t see Thick Guy’s face. But she knew it was him. He had the same height and build. The same black hair. He turned his head to the side and tried to look through the windshield. She caught a glimpse of those same dark eyes.
“Is that him?” Harper asked even though the answer was obvious. She was practically hyperventilating.
“Yes. He’s handcuffed and going to jail.” If not for what he was about to do to Harper, then what he’d almost done to Summer.
Was hers a random attack? There was no way. She distinctly remembered him and his friend talking about Autumn. What had they said? She just won’t die.
Summer couldn’t imagine her sister getting involved with Thick Guy or Scrappy. Were they for hire? Had Thick Guy seen a pretty young coed walking down the street and decided to take one for himself?
She shivered and her skin crawled at what could have just happened to Harper.
“I need to call my roommate and let her know that I’m going to be late.” Harper’s voice sounded small and scared.
“Okay. Where’s your phone?” Summer asked when Harper didn’t immediately make a move.
“My backpack.” Harper shrugged the floral-patterned quilt-like material backpack off her shoulder. She unzipped it as tears streamed down her face.
“Hey, he didn’t get to you. You’re going to be all right. You’re safe.” Summer looked into Harper’s eyes, willing her to be strong. She looked even younger with red, puffy eyes.
“Thank you for stopping. I didn’t even hear him over my music, and he must have been right behind me.”
“He’s done this before. He didn’t want to be heard,” Summer said.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
Summer didn’t want to think about it. Thick Guy seemed strong. Harper probably didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds wet. She was five feet two inches in heels.
“Call your roommate so she doesn’t worry. We’ll give you a ride home,” Summer said. She doubted Dawson would mind that she’d made the offer.
Harper made the call and got through it with a few more sobs. Her roommate promised to be home and to wait up for her. Summer was relieved the young woman wouldn’t be alone. She would be experiencing the effects of that trauma for a long time to come if Summer had to guess.
“Is it okay if I call my mom?” Harper asked.
“Of course, it is. Where are you from?” Summer wanted to calm Harper down before she worried her parents.
“San Antonio,” Harper said, gripping her phone like it was a grenade.
“Is this your freshman year?”
Harper nodded. Her eyes were still saucers and she was probably still in a little bit of shock.
Lights with sirens filled the air. A patrol car pulled up alongside the curb. An officer got out and within a few minutes, Thick Guy was seated in the back of a squad car. The officer took statements, and then thanked them.
Dawson introduced himself to Harper once the dust had settled.
“I said we’d take her home,” Summer said.
There was no hesitation in Dawson’s voice as he agreed. Within twenty minutes, he reached the address on campus and deposited Harper at her dorm. He returned to the truck and asked, “How are you doing with all this?”
“Fine. It’s crazy to run into him.”
“I’m sure as hell glad we did. He invoked his right to remain silent,” Dawson said as he navigated them back onto the freeway that, even at this time of night, was stacked with vehicles.
“He’s obviously been in this situation before.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if he had a rap sheet longer than my arm,” Dawson admitted.
“The officer said he’d see us at the station. Does that mean we’re headed there now?” she asked.
“No. He won’t talk and there’s nothing we can do abo
ut it. You already gave your statement. We’ll swing by tomorrow morning when the detective who worked Cheryl’s case is in. I have a few questions I’d like to ask her.”
“You don’t like how she handled the investigation, do you?” It wasn’t really a question.
“Not really. I think she tried to pin the whole thing on Yarnell. He was a little too easy to try to nail. But the guy didn’t do it. An experienced detective would’ve seen it right away. I’d like to know what I’m dealing with when it comes to Detective Libby and that’s best done in a face-to-face meeting.”
Despite cars as far as she could see on either side of her, in front of her and behind her, they were still moving. The progress was slow but she’d take it.
Forty minutes later in a drive that should’ve taken fifteen, Dawson pulled in front of the hotel and then around to the side of the building to park.
“I hope Harper called her mom.” It was a strange thought to have now. Summer wondered what is was like to have that. She’d known that her mother had loved her children in her own way. She’d just been so broken that she kept herself too medicated to show it.
If Summer ever became a mother, she’d be the kind a child wanted to call in an emergency. Someone a child could lean on during tough times. She’d want to be part of her child’s life like she imagined Dawson would be. His entire family was a support system for each other. What was that even like?
If she had a child, and she’d never really given it much thought, she’d want to have one with a man like Dawson. He’d be an amazing father.
Summer gave herself a mental slap to root herself back in reality.
Where did all that come from? She’d never once thought about what it would be like to have children. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she’d never been around a man she trusted enough to try.
* * *
DAWSON WALKED SIDE by side with Summer through the hotel lobby. At this hour, there were very few folks downstairs. The only group he saw was a family of four with their luggage being wheeled to the check-in desk.
He and Summer made it to the room without anyone giving them a second look.
“Do you think it’s an odd coincidence that the guy who was after me was in Drake Yarnell’s neighborhood?” she asked.
“His name is Jesse Lynch.” Dawson couldn’t say he was surprised. “It’s one of the worst neighborhoods in Austin. We got lucky running into Lynch when we did but I can’t say I’m surprised we saw him in that general area.”
“Do you think he was behind the murders?” she asked.
“Not Lynch. I do believe he’s for hire and someone used him to get to your sister and possibly Cheryl. A violin string might be his MO.”
“Autumn and Cheryl didn’t know each other as far as we can tell.” Summer kicked off her shoes and reclaimed her seat on the sofa.
Dawson joined her, opening the laptop and entering the password to bring the screen to life.
“They were connected by the killer,” she continued. “That’s obvious. But it was someone they’d both dated.”
“There’s the coffee shop,” he added.
“I can’t help but think we need to park it there tomorrow and watch everyone who comes through those doors.” The lines in Summer’s forehead deepened as she concentrated. Her lips pursed and her unfocused gaze stared at the screen even though she wasn’t really looking at it. “If he walks in, he’s bound to have some kind of reaction to seeing me alive.”
“It will also alert him to the fact you exist. Your sister seemed to go to great lengths to keep you hidden and I’m certain it was for good reason.”
“What about the necklace, though?” she asked. “She had to know you’d go through her stuff eventually even if it was just to toss it in the trash.”
“It’s possible she wanted me to figure out the connection with you.” It was all speculation but that was all they had at the moment.
“What about Sean Menendez?” she asked.
“We can stop by the apartment complex on our way in town,” he said. He also made a mental note to check with Detective Libby about the name Matt Shank, the fake lawyer name that Autumn had put on the divorce papers.
Summer glanced at the clock on the wall and bit back a yawn. “What time do you want to head downtown tomorrow?”
“We could get a jump on traffic. Say, six o’clock in the morning. If the apartment complex doesn’t net any leads we could stop for breakfast before heading to the station.” He wanted to stay up and peruse the files to get a better handle on all the statements and evidence.
Summer excused herself to the bathroom, returning twenty minutes later wearing a hotel bathrobe. She had the waist cinched up tightly. She stopped at the doorway to the bedroom. She bit her bottom lip and shifted her weight from side to side. Was she nervous?
“Will you lie down with me until I fall asleep?” she asked. “Every time I close my eyes, I see those pictures in my head.” She motioned toward the laptop and he immediately knew she was talking about Cheryl.
“Yeah, sure.” He said the words casually like lying down next to Summer in bed would be no big deal. His pulse kicked up thinking about being in such close proximity to her. Since he no longer ran on hormones and caffeine like in his younger days, he told himself he could handle it. And he could. There was no way he’d cross a boundary with Summer that she didn’t want.
The problem was that when he stood up, he saw desire in her eyes. Desire for comfort. Desire to get lost in someone. Desire to shut out the world for just a few hours.
Dawson took her by the hand and linked their fingers, ignoring all the electrical impulses firing through him as best he could. It wasn’t easy. Being this close to Summer wasn’t easy. But the easy road was underrated.
He lifted the covers for her, and she climbed into bed. He knew better than to follow, so he toed off his boots and propped up a couple of pillows. He sat on top of the comforter and even then his heart detonated when she curled her body around his.
Dawson watched as she fell into a deep sleep beside him. He closed his eyes, telling himself a catnap would do him some good.
The next sound he heard was the snick of a lock.
Chapter Sixteen
“Housekeeping.” The small voice along with a knock on the door caused Dawson to shoot straight up to standing.
The sun was already up and he realized he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened when he’d intended to stay awake. He missed the feel of Summer’s warm body the minute he stood up.
A cursory look said he hadn’t peeled his shirt off in the middle of the night and his jeans were still snapped. He was decent enough to face the person coming into their room. He cursed himself for not putting the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle.
He moved to the doorway, trying not to wake Summer as he glanced at the clock. Seven a.m.
“Sorry,” he said to the short, middle-aged woman standing at the door. She couldn’t be much taller than five feet. “My wife is still asleep. Do you mind coming back in about an hour?”
“No problem, sir.” The round woman with the graying hair and kind eyes waved as she took a backward step in the opened door. “I’ll come back.”
“Thank you.” Dawson followed her to the door and put the sign out. When he returned, Summer was sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Seeing that honey-wheat hair spill down the pillow he’d been sleeping on moments ago didn’t do good things to his heart this early. He made a beeline for the coffee machine and raked his hand through his hair.
As the coffee brewed in his cup, he made a quick pit stop to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Splashing cold water on his face helped shake him out of the fog that had him going down a path of real feelings for Summer.
She was in trouble and he was helping her out. That was all. S
he needed answers to what happened to her sister. That was all. He was going to nail the bastard who killed Autumn and then walk away from the Grayson family. That was all.
Too bad his mantra wasn’t working. There were so many cracks in the casing around his heart there was no threat he’d use it instead of his Kevlar vest for protection.
As he exited the bathroom, Summer stood on the other side of the door. She squeezed past him as soon as he opened it.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” The door closed and he heard the water running as he moved into the next room. He didn’t need to stick around the door and think about the fact she was naked underneath that robe any more than he needed the image of her waking up next to him etched in his brain.
Because it felt more right than anything had in longer than he cared to remember.
A couple of sips of fresh brew should shake his brain out of the fog and keep it on track. He brought both cups over to the coffee table and retrieved his cell phone. He called the station and identified himself. He was immediately transferred to a supervisor, which he’d expected.
“This is Sergeant Wexler. How may I be of assistance?” Wexler had one of those voices that made him sound like he’d been on the job longer than he cared to and had seen just about everything. He was the two Cs: curt and courteous.
“My name is Marshal O’Connor and I’m calling to check on a suspect by the name of Jesse Lynch.”
“Right.” There was an ominous quality to Wexler’s tone. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but Lynch hung himself last night.”
This news was the first indication this case was bigger than Dawson realized. He’d been thinking the perp was someone small-time who’d dated Cheryl and then Autumn. He got a taste of what it was like to kill with Cheryl. It had possibly even been an accident or an argument that had gone too far. By the time he got to Autumn, he’d developed a taste for it. The guy was someone who had access to a violin string, an unlikely murder weapon. A musician or music teacher? It also made a statement because strangulation was a very personal method for murder.