“Not going to take any time off to recoup?” she asked, sipping her coffee. “You’ve certainly earned it.”
He shook his head. “Can’t.” It was as simple as that, though her expression remained unconvinced.
“More like won’t,” she challenged, arching her delicate brow.
“Maybe,” he conceded. How could he expect her to understand the sense of responsibility he felt toward those victims? Every life lost felt like a personal failure, and until he caught the bastard who was killing these women, they would hold onto a piece of his soul. Not that he knew Dr. Rhodes well enough to try to explain it to her, but something in the way she studied him made Sawyer wonder if she wouldn’t understand after all. Did she feel the same responsibility for her patients? Did their faces haunt her? Did she lie awake at night questioning the decisions she’d made?
“So, this case I’m working on…” he began, returning the focus to the business at hand. “There are two victims with the same COD that have similar toxicology reports. It’s a drug we haven’t seen much and don’t know a lot about. I had my informant contact local dealers to see how easy it was to score. Seems they couldn’t get any of the drug, so they sold my guy LSD and said it was the closest they could get to it.”
“What drug are you looking for? Maybe I’ve seen it.”
“Ketamine.”
Her brows shot up in surprise, enhancing their arch.
“The same drug you threatened to shoot me up with the night I was shot.”
“Is that why you’re asking me about it?” Her cheeks flushed the most becoming shade of pink, and he paused a moment to admired how beautiful she was.
“You’re obviously familiar with the drug and I have some questions.”
“Fair enough. Is that how you were shot? A drug deal gone bad?” Dr. Rhodes gave off the impression of being a tit-for-tat kind of woman. Which was fine, if that’s what it took to get her to let her guard down and open up, he’d talk. “My informant took the LSD he scored and started trippin’ out. When Sam and I went to his place to question him about the Ketamine, he pulled a gun and shot me. Sam attacked him, but the guy got off another round and hit him before I could disarm the shithead.”
Sawyer wasn’t sure what kind of a reaction he was expecting, but without batting an eye she asked, “Male or female?” just as casually as if she were inquiring about the weather.
“What?”
“The victims. Are they male or female?”
“Female. Why?”
“Because Ketamine is a popular drug in the gay community. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was being used to abduct homosexual males.”
Normally, he would never discuss a case with someone outside of the department, but Emma Rhodes wasn’t just anyone. Technically, she could be considered an expert witness in her field and the information she could give him might be helpful in solving this case or turning him onto a new lead.
“Ketamine is also known as Special K. It’s a hard drug to get a hold of though,” she continued. “But it’s relatively safe to use, difficult to overdose on it. The drug doesn’t diminish respiratory drive like most sedatives do, and its amnesic effects are powerful like Rohypnol. It has a lot of the same properties as Roofies, but that’s a lot easier to get, so why use Ketamine?”
“That’s a good question, and one I’ve been working on for a while now.”
She was thoughtful a moment, and sexy as hell sitting across from him, trying to puzzle out his case.
“Alright, let’s look at this a little closer. Ketamine versus Roofies—”
He held up his hand, cutting her off. “Before you say anything else, I should clarify that I’m talking with you from one professional to another right now. You can’t repeat any of this, and our conversation will have to go into a report. I can’t promise that you wouldn’t get subpoenaed if this case goes to trial.”
“I understand. And I give you my word as a doctor I won’t repeat anything we talk about. Besides, I’m just spit-balling thoughts here. You can take them or leave them. I won’t ask you specifics about the case, but your guy is choosing Ketamine for a reason. So, the big question here is why is Ketamine better than Roofies? The most obvious answer is because it’s injectable with an onset of sixty-seconds or less. But now you have to weigh that against availability.”
Sixty-seconds or less? Sawyer wondered if it was possible to fall for someone in sixty-seconds or less, because if she kept talking, he was pretty sure that was going to happen. Emma’s intelligence attracted him just as much as the window dressing. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here with a woman who wanted to discuss pharmacology with him. If he tried to have this conversation with any of his ex’s, their eyes would have glazed over by now.
“But Ketamine is hard to get, so he’s got to have access to it somehow. Track down the drug by finding the supplier and there’s a good possibility it will lead you to your killer.”
He’d long thought that same thing. But what impressed the hell out of him was that it took Emma about thirty-seconds to draw the same conclusion.
When he didn’t say anything, uncertainty flickered in those beautiful eyes and her smile briefly faltered. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Why indeed? Only because he thought he might be in love—of course that was an exaggeration. He hardly knew the woman and didn’t believe in love at first sight. But if he did, she would have stolen his heart. Emma Rhodes was amazing. And the best part about it? She had no idea.
The irony was laughable, because he did not have the time to invest in a relationship. Every one he’d ever had was doomed to fail before it began. What made him think she would be any different?
Because she’s different.
Emma broke his stare and fidgeted with the lid of her coffee cup. Where was this self-consciousness suddenly coming from? When she brought her eyes back to his, something remained in the shadows of those verdant depths that niggled at his cop senses.
“Well—” She awkwardly cleared her throat. “If there’s anything else I can do to help you with your case, toxicology is my subspecialty so feel free to call me.”
Giving her a flirtatious grin, Sawyer teased, “Dr. Rhodes, is this your way of offering me your phone number?”
* * *
Is that what she was doing? If Emma was being honest, perhaps it was. Over the last few days, Detective Gerrard had come to mind more times that she wanted to admit. When she’d glanced up from the podcast on Hypothermic Trauma and found him standing there, she’d been pleased to see him again, and even more so when he’d consulted her about his case.
It’d been a long time since she’d felt a connection with—well…anyone, and she cursed the timing. Why now, after resigning herself to solitude, did this man have to come along and tempt her convictions? Cop or not, Sawyer Gerrard was dangerous. He made her mind wander into the realm of what ifs she couldn’t afford to consider. Not now. Not ever.
She needed to keep her focus on her career. After all these years, it was finally within her grasp. All she needed to do was finish this residency and she’d secure a permanent position as an emergency physician. She didn’t have time for a relationship, though if she was being honest, she was using her career as an excuse to remain alone.
After eight-years, she’d never stopped blaming herself for Matthew’s murder, and as long as it went unsolved, she probably never would. How many lives did she need to save before the guilt went away? How long before she could close her eyes at night and not wake to the horrific memory of finding him dead? Perhaps she never would find that peace. Maybe this would forever be her cross to bear for a life taken because she failed to listen to the warning of a madman. A madman who was still out there somewhere.
She might have disappeared, but the guilt never did. After Matthew’s murder, Emma had changed her name and moved away, determined to start a new life, because for all intent and purposes, Evangeline Larson died the day her boyfriend bled out in her p
arents’ driveway.
Chapter 6
Sawyer reached down to rub his aching thigh, but the subtle movement didn’t escape Emma’s notice. “You’re walking on that leg way too much.” Her tone was professionally reserved as she scolded him like any good doctor would. “You should let me take a look at that.”
“It’s fine,” he dismissed her concern, but she was probably right. The bandage was getting moist and most likely starting to bleed through, but he was not dropping his pants for her. Just the thought of Dr. Rhodes knelt in front of him with his jeans around his ankles heated the blood in his veins enough to know there was no way he’d embarrass himself or her like that. “I’ll take care of it when I get home.”
She muttered something under her breath about stubborn, macho cops. That wasn’t it at all, but if that’s what she wanted to think, he wasn’t going to set her straight, considering the real reason he didn’t want her touching him.
“Why did you leave the hospital AMA when you were going to be discharged?”
Sawyer watched her a moment, unsure how much to say. He was caught between confidentiality and concern for her safety. If they were right, and Amanda Kennedy was abducted from the parking ramp at the hospital, the killer was hitting too close for comfort where Emma was concerned. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her, but she and the rest of the women at the hospital needed to be on guard.
“I left early because my partner called me. A woman went missing last night, and her body was found in the park this morning. The crime scene fits the case I’m working on.”
“Your Ketamine killer?”
His nod was slight. “We think the woman was taken from a parking ramp at the hospital here.” Alarm flashed in Emma’s eyes and he hated being the guy that put it there, but it was better to be scared and safe, than oblivious and sorry. “We can’t confirm her identity until we get a match on the dental records, but—” He exhaled a sigh and dragged his hand through his hair. “You need to be careful. All the women here need to be careful,” he amended.
As he watched her digest the information, tension stole over her, sharpening her beautiful features. But Sawyer noticed something that she wasn’t—surprised. Why not?
Before he could ask her, she said, “I’ve been complaining to security about those damn ramps for weeks.”
“Why? What happened?”
“It’s just a feeling I get sometimes when I’m walking to my car at night. Like I’m being watched; that someone’s there. Once in a while I hear footsteps, or a whistle…but I never see anyone. I started changing ramps, parking in different ones every time I work. I usually have security escort me out unless they’re busy with something and I don’t want to wait around. Do you know which ramp the woman was taken from?”
“We suspect South. My partner’s going over security tapes right now.”
The color drained from her face and Sawyer reached across the table, taking her hand, giving her slender fingers a reassuring squeeze. And that was enough to send the color rushing back to her cheeks. Her gaze flickered up and locked on his. Yeah, whatever this was between them, she felt it too.
He cursed the horrible timing, wishing he’d met her under different circumstances. Maybe if his life wasn’t so consumed by cases, this could have turned into something more. At the mental reminder, guilt returned with a violent twist in his gut. He had no business entertaining these thoughts about her.
But all his self-recrimination came to a screeching halt when she said, “I was parked in that ramp last night.”
“Did you see anyone who shouldn’t be there? Anything suspicious?” His mind was spinning with a million different questions.
She shook her head. “No. The ramp was nearly empty. There was only one other car parked on the same level as me when I left.”
“Do you remember what kind of a car it was?”
Another shake. “It was an older green sedan. That’s all I know. I’m not good with makes and models.”
“What time did you leave last night?”
“Three-thirty. I got out a few minutes late.”
Sawyer might have bought Cade’s random theory with the first two women, but not after Amanda Kennedy. Question was, how was he choosing his victims? If Emma had felt like someone was watching her, then it was entirely possible that Ms. Kennedy was not the killer’s intended target. Call him paranoid, but that’s what made Sawyer a good cop. He had never believed in coincidences and he wasn’t about to start now.
“Has anything else unusual happened to you? Maybe at home or at work?” Emma’s job had her brushing shoulders with the unsavory population every day, and she was a beautiful woman. It wasn’t unrealistic to assume she’d acquire an admirer or two. All it would take was for her to catch the wrong eye.
She hesitated to answer. Maybe she was thinking about it, but her delay made him question the truthfulness of her response.
“No.”
The cop in him said there was something she wasn’t telling him. So he pressed her. “Do you ever feel like you’re being followed? Any men hanging around the hospital or giving you unwanted attention?”
“Nothing I’ve noticed. There’s the occasional guy I have to push back into the friend-zone, but they would never—”
A thought hit him, and he didn’t want to consider why her answer mattered one way or the other. “Are you seeing anyone, Emma? Do you have a boyfriend?”
Something flashed across her face, pain maybe? Regret? Perhaps he was mistaken, but before he could consider it further, she shook her head. “No, Detective Gerrard. I don’t date.” As if suddenly reminded of that fact, she pulled her hand away from his.
The formal use of his name was a message received loud and clear. She was putting those walls back in place, reminding them both where her boundaries were. And he’d crossed them. Why didn’t she date? A gorgeous young woman like her had to have men falling at her feet. Hell, he might have stumbled a little bit himself.
Who chooses to be alone? And why?
Before he could respond, she glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “If that’s all, I need to get back to work.”
He gave her a polite, professional smile and nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you.” They both stood, and he extended his hand in a formal goodbye. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else…”
“I’ll call you,” she offered, but he could tell by her non-committal tone that she wouldn’t. As he watched her disappear through the door, one question resonated in his mind.
What are you hiding, Dr. Rhodes?
* * *
Sawyer spent the next several hours in this makeshift office, formerly known as the dining room. The table was covered with files, photos, a few maps, and his laptop. Sam was camped out beside him on a large blanket. The pain medication was keeping his partner drowsy, but he seemed to be holding his own well enough. Sawyer’s concentration was pretty much fucked since talking with Emma. He needed to be thinking more about this case and less about the doctor back at the hospital. But the cop in him sensed there was something she wasn’t telling him. The shadows in her eyes didn’t lie.
His cell buzzed, startling him from his muse, and he snatched it from the table. “Gerrard.”
“Got a confirmation from the coroner thirty-minutes ago,” Cade said in way of greeting. “It’s Amanda Kennedy.” Sawyer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his breath leaving his lungs in an exhausted sigh. “I’m heading over to the Kennedy’s house to tell the parents and ask them a few questions. Want to come?”
This was the part of his job he hated the most. But he wasn’t about to let his partner do it alone, medical leave or not. “Yeah, I’ll go.”
“Pick you up in fifteen.”
The line disconnected before he could tell him to make it thirty. He needed to shower and shave first, and he wasn’t moving as quick as he used to. Sawyer stopped by the living room on his way upstairs. His brother was embroile
d in a heated battle on Black Ops. “I gotta step out for a little bit. Keep an eye on Sam, huh? I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Hunter waved him off, content to save the world one video game at a time, though that was going to change in a few days. The marine would soon be heading up his own Black Ops mission in Haiti. He had no doubt his brother would find the men running that human trafficking operation and he’d shut that shit down.
“Hey, when I get back, how about we team up and kick some ass?” After what he was about to do, he’d need the distraction of a good, bloody COD battle.
“Sounds great, man.” Hunter shot him a quick glance before focusing back on the game. Gunfire erupted from the entertainment system, making it sound like he was standing in the middle of a warzone. “Where you goin’?”
“To tell Amanda Kennedy’s parents their daughter is dead.”
Chapter 7
“What did you find out at the security office?”
Sawyer’s partner cast him a sidelong glance. The grim set of Cade’s jaw and the tension bracketing his mouth told him all he needed to know.
“We searched all the parking ramps, reviewed the surveillance tapes, and interviewed the three security officers on staff last night. They all have a patrol route, and no one reported anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. Footage shows Kennedy’s vehicle leaving the south ramp at three-forty-two.”
That was twelve-minutes after Emma left.
“The image of the driver was unclear. We have no idea if it was her or not.”
“Did the boyfriend say if she was stopping anywhere on her way home? You said they lived together, right?”
“No stops. Just moved in together last month.”
Because of similarities between this murder and the other two, they were going to save a lot of time eliminating the usual suspects. Unfortunately, Sawyer was pretty damned confident he had a serial killer on his hands, and those cases posed their own set of challenges. Catching a serial was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Despite what one would think, they typically weren’t the dysfunctional loners with a criminal record. Rather, they hid in plain sight within their community, right down to the white picket fence, happily married, three kids and a dog. Because they blended in so well, they were easily overlooked. The key to catching this bastard was going to lie in the details. Emma was right, if he could find the Ketamine source, he had a chance at finding the killer.
The Good Samaritan Page 4