The Good Samaritan

by Price, Melynda

  The killer was sending him a message. He wanted Sawyer to make the connection with her past. The bastard was hiding in plain sight and Emma was in far more danger than he’d ever realized. This investigation was turning into a cluster-fuck of gigantic proportions. The more he discovered, the more questions it created. But at least now he had a starting point—Grand Marais, Minnesota.

  Chapter 26

  Sawyer spent the next several hours locked away in his temporary office, on the phone with the Grand Marais PD, getting reports and files emailed to him. He had a meeting scheduled with their chief tomorrow afternoon to discuss Matthew Callahan’s murder. So far, they were being cooperative, but Sawyer suspected that would soon change. They’d fucked that case up right from the start. And once Sawyer began asking questions that would become obvious to them pretty fast. His mind spun with new information, new evidence, and possible scenarios. Through it all, one thing was becoming glaringly evident. In order to catch this killer, he was going to have to solve an eight-year-old murder.

  As the morning wore on, so did the pervading anger that set Sawyer’s temper on a slow boil. Emma had lied to him—again and again. She didn’t trust him with the truth, and it burned him, both on a personal and professional level. To a cop who placed trust at the foundation of all relationships, the loss was a deal breaker. He didn’t know Emma Rhodes. Truth? He never had.

  Exhaustion riddled his body until numbness invaded every cell. He couldn’t think straight. The chaos in his mind was like an angry hive of bees. Admitting defeat, he stood and made his way up the stairs, pausing at Emma’s door. She was still asleep. He momentarily thought about confronting her, but considering the mood he was in, thought better of it. The truth had waited this long. A few more hours wouldn’t change a thing.

  Sawyer closed his door and began shedding his clothes as he limped to the bathroom. The only thing that didn’t hit the floor was his badge and gun—both lay on the nightstand beside his bed. His shower was brief and did little to rejuvenate him or soothe his foul mood. He’d just stepped into a pair of clean jeans and was hiking them over his hips when a soft knock sounded on his door.

  It was tentative, leaving no question as to who was on the other side. His brother would have barged right in. The clock was ticking on Hunter’s departure, four hours before he needed to be to the airport and, honestly, the timing couldn’t be worse. Anxiety for his brother churned in his gut, joining his tumultuous anger.

  The knock sounded again, a little more persistent this time. He wasn’t ready to see her and would likely say something he’d regret. When Sawyer didn’t respond, the door cautiously eased open.

  He shot a glacial glance over his shoulder and continued dressing, but not before catching her verdant eyes sweeping over him. Her bold, appreciative stare heated his blood, blood that was already near a boiling point. The stirring of arousal coiling in the base of his spine pissed him off. He hated that this woman had the power to affect him. Even after lying to him, his body still wanted her. Then again, what did his dick care about honesty and integrity?

  “What do you want, Emma?” Her heated look cooled with surprise at his curtness. He turned toward his closet to hide the effect she still had on him and grabbed a Henley off the hanger. Her stare bore into his back as he began shoving his arms into the sleeves with rushed, hasty movements.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

  “Yes you did,” he cut her off, jerking the shirt over his head and tugging the hem down past his waist. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have walked in here. What do you want?” He had no interest in listening to any more of her lies.

  Hurt flashed in her eyes and hit him in the gut like a sucker-punch, but he reminded himself of the last six hours and clung to his anger.

  “Sawyer, what’s wrong?”

  She tensed when he strode toward her, a flicker of fear pinched her worried expression. She didn’t trust him. Then again, he already knew that, didn’t he?

  “You lied to me, Emma. Or should I say, Evangeline.”

  The color drained from her face and she looked like she was going to be sick. He curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to steady her.

  “Sawyer, I can explain—”

  The fraying leash on his temper finally broke. “And say what?” he snapped. “You’re sorry you lied to me? Save your breath because ‘sorry’ isn’t good enough. Women are dying. All this time I’ve been searching for the connection in this case and it’s you. It’s been you all along!”

  She shook her head, as if somehow denying it would change the truth. Her hand gripped the doorframe, fingertips blanching white as her nails bit into the wood trim. He wouldn’t think about how it felt to have those blunt cusps biting into his flesh as she came for him. The memories were too fresh, the wound too raw.

  “How did you find out?”

  At least she wasn’t going to insult him further by denying it. “Because I’m not an idiot, Emma, though I’m starting to wonder after the shit you pulled on me.”

  She flinched as if he’d struck her, but Sawyer was too pissed to care. Hunter was right. He was too close to this case. “This killer is taking women from where you work.” Sawyer ticked up a finger. “He’s taking women who look like you.” A second shot up to join the first. “And his latest victim has your fucking name!” Strike three.

  “I told you Matthew was dead—”

  “Yeah, dead. That’s a big difference from murdered. You should have told me you had a goddamn stalker eight years ago and that your boyfriend had been murdered in your parents’ driveway! Did it not once occur to you that this could be the same guy?” How could such an intelligent woman be so stupid?

  “Not until last night. I didn’t want to believe it could be true. Everything is different about this time. And it’s been eight years, Sawyer. He’s been silent. I thought I’d escaped. But then I met you and we—” She let the thought trail and reconsidered her words. “I’d hoped the escalation was a coincidence and not because I started seeing you. But after the note on the rock, I knew it was him.”

  “How?” he demanded. “How did that one thing, with everything else happening, manage to convince you it was him?”

  “It was the same note he left for Matthew the night he was killed.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Sawyer palm-smacked his forehead. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  She flinched and stepped back into the hallway. “I tried to tell you, but you left so suddenly—”

  “You said ‘we need to talk.’ I thought you were going to tell me what happened between us was a mistake. Not that you’ve had a fucking serial killer hunting you down for the last eight years. If I’d known the truth, it would have altered the course of this entire investigation. Instead, I’ve been chasing my tail. Who knows, I could have caught this guy by now!”

  Her delicately arched brows narrowed. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  “I’m saying you withheld vital information from me in this investigation! Along with the small detail that you had been arrested for murder!”

  She backed up another step and he pursued, too livid to care that he might be scaring her.

  “You don’t honestly think I did it? That I killed Matthew?”

  Exhaling a foul curse, he drove his fingers into his hair. “Of course not, but I think someone wanted to make it look that way. Just like someone is trying to make it look like Blake Weston killed those women. You were lucky those charges didn’t stick. Bottom line, Emma, you lied to me. You didn’t trust me with the truth and you withheld information imperative to this investigation. Hell, I don’t even know you!”

  Before she could respond, he brushed past her and started downstairs before he said something he’d truly regret.

  Coffee. He needed coffee. Taking a hard left, Sawyer headed toward the kitchen to get a cup before he dropped from exhaustion, and found his brother sitting at the table. “What?” he snapped, his brother’s gaze track
ing him. Sawyer grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured a cup of the black brew before dropping into the seat across from him.

  “Went a little hard on her, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t realize their conversation had carried through the house. “Don’t even start with me. I’ve got four dead women, all of which have some connection to her.” He pointed to the ceiling. “She lied to me and withheld critical information in a murder investigation. She’s lucky I don’t charge her with obstruction of justice and throw her ass in jail. She’d be a hell of a lot safer there and less of a distraction than living under my roof.”

  Hunter’s gaze shot over Sawyer’s shoulder and the look on his face told him he was totally screwed. Emma was standing right behind him.

  Seconds ticked by with interminable silence, then Hunter broke the tension by scooting his chair back as he stood. “I’m, uhh, gonna go pack and give you two some privacy.”

  “Don’t bother.” The chill in Emma’s voice burrowed into his marrow. “I was just coming down to apologize and to try to explain why— You know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m going home.”

  Sawyer’s head snapped around at her declaration. The hell she was.

  “Hunter, I’d appreciate a ride, if that isn’t too much trouble.” Emma stepped back, pivoted, and left.

  Sawyer’s heart seized inside his chest. Despite how pissed he was, he didn’t want her to go, and for more reasons than he was willing to admit. So, he clung to the rational one—her safety. “Emma, wait—”

  But she wasn’t waiting. In fact, she was picking up speed as she headed for the stairs. Shit. He shot out of his chair and went after her. She glanced over her shoulder, saw him coming, and broke into a dead run. Before he could hit the top of the stairs, her bedroom door slammed shut and he heard the distinct snick of the lock.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to keep the anger from his voice, his tone controlled and rational. “Emma, open the door.”

  “I have nothing to say to you. Leave me alone, Sawyer.” Her voice broke with emotion she was fighting to hold back as the dresser drawers opened and slammed shut.

  A wave of panic gripped him. “Emma, you can’t leave. It isn’t safe.”

  A moment later, she ripped the door open. Her duffel bag was slung over her shoulder and her little dog tucked in her arm. Emma Rhodes might be small, but she was a force to be reckoned with when she was pissed.

  “Are you going to arrest me?” she demanded, notching her chin defiantly and glaring up at him.

  Her emerald eyes looked luminous through the glassy sheen of tears. Air left his lungs from the emotional sucker punch. “No.”

  “Then get out of my way.”

  She shoved past him, checking her shoulder into his chest. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her back toward him. “You’re not leaving, Emma.” As angry as he was, he still wanted her. But it was too late for that. He couldn’t take back the words he knew had wounded her, and she was too upset to even try to see this from his prospective.

  She tugged her arm, trying to break free. His grip tightened, and Paco snarled, baring his little pointy teeth. “Let me go, Sawyer, or you’re going to be adding assaulting a police officer to the list of charges you have against me.”

  “Emma, you can’t blame me for being angry.”

  “I don’t blame you for being angry. I blame you for being an asshole! Now. Let. Me. Go.”

  When she jerked her wrist back, he had no choice but to release her. She was going to leave, and short of arresting her, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop her. He could see the hurt and determination in her eyes. Hurt he’d put there. He’d sure like to know how it was possible for her to fuck his investigation, and yet he came out looking like the dick.

  “Hunter?” she said firmly.

  Hunter gave his brother an apprehensive look.

  “Go ahead and drive her,” Sawyer told him, resigning to her determination to leave. He had no doubt that if she wasn’t given a ride, she’d walk. He looked at Emma. “If you’re going to leave then at least take Sam.”

  At first he thought she was going to refuse, but she didn’t. She might be hurt and upset, but she wasn’t stupid. She needed Sam. She needed him, but he’d let his temper get the better of him. He was losing her and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He was the first guy Emma had let get close to her in eight-years, and now that he knew the truth, he understood why.

  She finally nodded and headed down the stairs.

  “Sam, go with Emma,” he commanded. The sharp pain in his chest made it hard to breathe as the door closed with a finality that resonated in his soul.

  Chapter 27

  I will not cry. I will not cry…

  Emma fought back the tears as she rode silently beside Hunter. She’d feared telling Sawyer the truth for this exact reason. He would see her for the person she really was and not the women he thought he knew. He would blame her for Matthew’s death, just like the others. Only it was worse than she’d imagined. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain.

  Despite her efforts, a tear spilled down her cheek and she hastily brushed it away. Perhaps what hurt most was his pathetic attempt at convincing her to stay when she knew he didn’t really want her there. There was no I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. No please stay, I care too much about you to let you go. Nothing of sentiment passed his lips. Just it’s not safe. As if that were his only reason for wanting her there.

  The thought hit her with gut-churning clarity. Maybe it had been her only reason for being here. What if she’d misread his intentions all along? She’d practically thrown herself at him. In her defense, she’d thought there was something special between them. The way he’d touched her, kissed her…

  She was an idiot. Guys like Sawyer probably did this sort of thing all the time. And if she’d had any question about his experience, his deft skill was all the confirmation she needed.

  By the time Hunter pulled up to Emma’s apartment, she’d lost the battle with her tears. Her cheeks were wet, her breaths hitching as she struggled to hold it together. Deep down she knew Sawyer was right. This was her fault. She’d seen the blame in his eyes.

  “He didn’t mean what he said, Emma.”

  Of course, Hunter would defend his brother. She’d expect nothing less. “Yes, he did,” she sniffled, wiping her tears. “And maybe he’s right. Good-bye, Hunter. Stay safe in Haiti.” Emma grabbed her bag and climbed out of the car. Sam followed her up to her apartment.

  It was a mistake to think she could outrun the devil. She should have known he’d eventually find her. How many women had lost their lives because of her? How many more would be killed before this madman was caught? Guilt and helplessness crashed over her like a wave, pulling her under. Emma leaned against the door after closing it. Her hand flew up to cover the sob that broke from her throat.

  Sawyer was right, she couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe. But where would she go? Think—think—think. Home? It’d been years since she’d returned to the scene of the crime—to her parents. The thought brought both apprehension and comfort. She’d go into hiding until he was caught. Assuming Sawyer could do what the Grand Marais Police Department had failed to do.

  She would talk with Blake about granting her a temporary leave of absence. Of course, it wasn’t a long-term solution, but under the circumstances this was the best she could come up with on the spot. Getting away was her first priority, she’d figure out the rest later. With a plan in place, the panic clawing at her insides eased a touch, but it did nothing to soothe the ache in her chest that, she knew from experience, only time would heal. She could do this, get over a man she’d fallen in love with. She’d done it once, she could do it again.

  Emma called for a taxi to take her to the impound lot so she could get her SUV back and headed for her bedroom to start packing. Pulling her largest suitcase from the closet, she plopped it on the bed and began unloading her dresser drawers. She’d
just finished and was zipping the bag closed when she heard a knock on the door. Paco went nuts, his sharp, high-pitched bark drowned out by Sam’s enter at your own risk low warning growl. “Quiet, boys,” she told them, grabbing her suitcase and wheeling it behind her. “It’s just the taxi.”

  The knock sounded again. She was headed for the door when the lock snicked and it slowly opened. Emma’s breath caught in a surprised gasp when she locked startled gazes with Mark standing in the doorway. Sam lunged and Emma dove for the dog, catching his collar and pulling him back inches before his snapping jaws locked on Molly’s boyfriend.

  Mark stumbled back, tripped, and hit the ground, doing a hasty crab-crawl back into the hall. “What the fuck?” he yelled, scrambling to his feet.

  “I’m sorry,” she started to apologize and then arrowed him with a glare. “What are you doing here?”

  He must have considered how bad it looked, because he dropped the attitude. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Molly asked me to stop by and pick some stuff up for her.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and held up the list. “I knocked first. When you didn’t answer, I got worried something was wrong and let myself in. Molly gave me her key. I wasn’t expecting to have my balls bitten off.”

  His joking grin might have coaxed a smile from her under any other circumstance.

  “So, are you going to let me in?”

  Emma hesitated, remembering Molly’s experience with Sam. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea with Sam. If you give me the list, I’ll get Molly’s things for you.” He shrugged as if it made no difference either way and stepped forward to hand her the paper. Sam’s top lip curled up to expose a ferocious set of teeth. She stepped past the dog and met him halfway. “I’ll be right back.”