* * *
Wham!
Sawyer’s gaze shifted from the report he was reading to the stack of files hitting the table beside him. Canting his head, he pinned a pointed stare at the officer hovering over him. “Thanks,” Sawyer said flatly after several seconds. If he’d been expecting a warm welcome from Grand Marais’ finest, he would have been sorely disappointed. But then, Sawyer understood the sensitivity of cops and how pissy they could get when a big city homicide detective shows up asking to see the file on a murder investigation that they failed to solve. So yeah, he wasn’t feeling any love from these guys.
“What do you think you’re going to find?”
The defensiveness in the officer’s tone was unmistakable as he edged into Sawyer’s space. If he was trying to intimidate him, it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a portly, middle-aged man whose buttons of his uniform strained to cover a gut that had seen too many donuts and not enough action over the years.
Stepping onto another officer’s turf was tricky business. If he didn’t play nice, these guys would shut him out. He needed their cooperation. Problem was, the more Sawyer read on the investigation and the deeper he dug into this case, the more infuriated he became. These people should have protected Emma. Instead, they’d accused her of a crime based on circumstantial evidence that never would have held up in court had this case gone to trial.
“How long have you worked here?” Sawyer friendlied his tone and painted on a good ‘ol boy facade.
The officer eyed him warily, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “Thirty-years.”
“Wow, that’s a long time.” He exhaled an impressed whistle. “You see many murders up here?”
“A few.”
By “a few” Sawyer was willing to bet that meant one or two. “You remember this case?”
“Like it was yesterday.”
“Do you have time to talk to me about it? I had a meeting with Chief Woods, but it seems he’s been delayed.” Sawyer needed to get this guy off the defensive and intrigue him enough to cooperate or he was going to be dead in the water. Most of these reports were half-assed, at best. They raised more questions than they answered. “I could really use your help. I’m investigating the Good Samaritan murders and I think my unsub might have killed Matthew Callahan.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. You want to know who killed the Callahan boy? I can help you out with that. Why don’t you try talking to Evangeline Larson?”
The officer’s arrogant smirk sent a flash of anger rolling through Sawyer like thunder. “I have spoken with her. Many times, in fact.”
That seemed to surprise the cop, and once he realized Sawyer didn’t share his opinion regarding her guilt, that arrogant smirk morphed into a disapproving scowl. “She always was a good liar. It’s that pretty face of hers—fools ‘em every time.”
“But not you?” Sawyer challenged, grinding his teeth to bite back the snarl itching his throat. This guy was a class-A asshole.
“Nope,” he declared proudly, dropping into the chair across from Sawyer and stretching into a lazy sprawl. “Not me. I know she did it.”
They’d given him the interrogation room to work in, which consisted of a 16X16 cement-block with a one-sided glass window, a metal table, and two hard-backed chairs. Was this the room they’d questioned Emma in? Had she sat in this very chair?
“Why are you so convinced that an eighteen-year-old girl half the size of Callahan had the strength or the guts to overtake him and slit his throat?”
The officer shrugged. “Love-struck girls do crazy things when their boyfriends are going to break up with them.”
What? “Why do you think he was going to break up with her?”
“Because he was cheating on her with his ex-girlfriend.”
This was news to Sawyer. Why wouldn’t Emma have told him that? To hear her talk, they were in love and all was good. “How do you know this?”
“She told us.”
“Evangeline or the ex-girlfriend?”
His sarcastic snort grated on Sawyer’s fraying nerves. “The ex-girlfriend, of course.”
“And you believed her? How do you know the jealous ex-girlfriend didn’t do it?”
That question earned him a scowl. “Because…she’s the chief’s daughter.”
Well, that was an interesting twist. The officer said it as if that automatically made the word of a jealous teen incorruptible.
“And because Evangeline’s prints were on the murder weapon.”
“Guess you guys don’t have gloves up here, huh? What about the harassing messages Ms. Larson was getting? The ones warning her to break up with Callahan or else?”
“What messages? We checked her phone and there were no messages. Look, Detective, here’s the facts... Callahan was screwing his ex. That’s motive. Ms. Larson found out about it and lost her shit. They were seen fighting at a party the night he was killed. That makes witnesses. The murder weapon, an Exacto knife, came from Ms. Larson’s locker and only had her prints on it. That’s evidence.”
Guilty as charged, apparently.
“That’s circumstantial,” Sawyer countered. “All that proves it that the killer had access to Larson’s cell phone and her locker—which means she probably knew the bastard. Do you have a faculty list and high school roster?”
“Nah, I don’t think there’s a list in there.”
Of course there isn’t. That would mean they’d considered the possibility that someone other than Emma might actually be guilty of committing this crime.
“You could go to the high school, I ‘spose. Course it’s Sunday so they’re closed.”
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Sawyer pulled his cell from his pocket and sent a quick message to Emma.
Hey, beautiful, you got your senior yearbook at the house?
Seconds later his cell buzzed. I think so. Why?
Gonna need to look at it.
K. How’s it going?
Great. Just hanging out with GM’s finest. I feel like I’m in fucking Mayberry.
Lol. I’ve felt your pain. Good luck.
Gonna need it.
“I don’t suppose your secretary could get a hold of the superintendent of the high school and have someone fax a list over here, do ya? It’s rather important.” It was with great effort that Sawyer kept impatience from sharpening his tone. If this was the level of effort and enthusiasm these officers put into their jobs, then it was no wonder they’d been quick to pin this crime on Emma. Take the path of least resistance.
The officer seemed to consider his request for a moment and then nodded, “I guess I could go ask.”
A couple of hours later, Sawyer had a list of Emma’s graduating class and the faculty in his hands. Chief Woods was still tied up with an emergency of some kind, but after speaking with Officer Harris and reading through the reports, Sawyer was holding out little hope of tapping into a new lead.
Exhaling a frustrated sigh, he propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. This case was one dead end after another. The only trails he could find were the ones intentionally left by the killer pointing this crime at Emma. Sawyer wasn’t a fan of games and he didn’t appreciate being played. The killer had led him here for a reason, but why? What was he missing?
“That bad, huh?”
At the sound of Emma’s voice, Sawyer’s head snapped up. She was standing nervously in the doorway of the interrogation room, her yearbook clutched tightly in her hands. “Hey.” He pushed his chair back and rose. His lower back cracked when he stretched out his stiff, sore muscles. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to bring this.” Though she was putting on a brave front, he knew it wasn’t easy for her to be there. “Come here.” He took the book from her hands and set it on the table before tugging her inside and closing the door behind them. The moment it latched, he pulled her into his arms and Emma melted against him.
“How are you doing?” he whispered against the top of her head.
“Things going okay with your parents?”
“Better than I expected. It isn’t easy, of course, but being home with Mom and Dad…you were right, I can’t run forever. I need to confront this, and a part of that means coming home. It’s facing the people here.”
Sawyer tipped her face up to his and met those brave, determined eyes. “I’m proud of you.” He brushed his lips against hers before stepping back. “Thanks for the book.”
“You’re welcome. I hope it helps. What are you looking for?”
“I’ve got a faculty list and student roster of your graduating class. I want to put faces to the names, and I’d like to read the messages written in the book to see if anything strikes a chord. It’s just a feeling, but I think our guy is in here.” He rapped his knuckles against the book.
“Why is that?”
“Because whoever did this had access to your phone and deleted those messages before Callahan was killed. I checked and the school policy states all cell phones must be kept in your locker, so I’m thinking someone who knew that most likely broke into it. That leaves students and faculty. And that knife found in Callahan’s truck, you were using it for an art project, weren’t you?”
Emma nodded.
“The report states you said it was in your locker, but when the police searched it, the knife was missing.”
She nodded again.
“You want to go through this book with me? See if anything jogs your memory?”
She hesitated a moment before answering, casting a reluctant glance at the door. “I don’t know. My dad drove me down and I have Sam in the truck.”
“Where’s Paco?”
“I left him with my mom.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to stay, Emma. I’m sure being here brings up a lot of bad memories. But this is also a chance for you to replace them with better ones. If I wasn’t still waiting for the chief, we could get out of here and head to the cabin, but I would really like to meet with him.”
“All right,” she reluctantly acquiesced. “I’ll stay.”
“That’s my girl.” Sawyer pulled her in for a quick kiss before heading toward the door. “I’ll go get Sam and let your dad know he can go. You want a coffee or anything before we get started?”
“How about an Imodium?”
He laughed at her quick-witted sarcasm, encouraged to see that despite the stress of coming home for the first time in eight-years, Emma still had her sense of humor. She was tougher than she gave herself credit for.
Chapter 33
Emma’s palms grew sweaty, her heart racing as she watched Sawyer leave. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her rioting nerves. You can do this, she told herself, channeling her inner cheerleader. The last time she was in this room, her lawyer was sitting at her side arguing with the chief of police and the district attorney to drop the charges against her.
She regretted agreeing to stay, fighting the impulse to dash into the nearest bathroom and throw up. But more than she craved escape, she wanted to help Sawyer catch Matthew’s killer. So, if that meant sucking it up and spending the afternoon in the Grand Marais Police Department, then so be it.
“Detective Gerrard, Chief Woods called and he—”
Emma flinched at the sound of the officer’s voice. Her stomach clenched with anxiety, a surge of bile burning up her throat.
“Eve? What are you doing here?” Officer Harris scowled, his bushy gray brows pulling tight as he stepped into the room. She shot to her feet, sending the metal chair crashing to the floor. Her voice was paralyzed by the breath frozen in her lungs as she stared at the man who’d come into her home and arrested her for murder. Subconsciously, she rubbed the phantom ache in her wrists caused by the biting edge of the metal cuffs.
“I—”
“You have no business being in here. You might have fooled everyone else,” he growled, advancing on her like a tiger cornering its prey. Emma’s feet stumbled back until she collided with the wall. “But you don’t fool me. I know what you did. I know you killed that boy and—”
“Officer Harris, stand down!”
Goose bumps erupted on her arms, but it wasn’t the cop lording over her that put the chill in her blood. The menacing authority in Sawyer’s voice sent him stepping back. At the same time, Sam charged into the room, putting himself between Emma and Harris. Baring his teeth, a low warning growl emitted from the German Shepherd as he moved forward, backing the cop up another step. When Harris’ hand instinctively went to his gun, panic surged through her veins.
Sam let loose with a succession of snarling barks, each more vicious than the last.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sawyer warned the fumbling officer. “You’re about to draw down on a canine officer with the St. Paul Police Department. And if you shoot my partner, things are going to get ugly between us really fast.”
“Call him off!”
The cop’s voice wavered with fear. A fissure of guilt needled Emma for the satisfaction that gave her. This man had made her life hell for months after Matthew died, and the way he’d come after her just now confirmed that nothing had changed. After all these years, he was still stubbornly clinging to this lie about her.
“Officer Samson is protecting Ms. Larson. He perceives you as a threat and from where I’m standing, I’d have to agree. Take your hand off your weapon and back away slowly.”
Harris did as advised, his jowls tensing with anger as he backed toward the door. Sawyer grabbed his arm as he passed, his voice a menacing growl she could barely hear over her pounding heart.
“You were out of line, Officer Harris. I’m going to prove that this woman is innocent. And when I do, you will issue a formal apology to her and her family or I will personally see to it that she files a harassment suit against you and this entire department.”
Emma had never seen this side of Sawyer before. It wasn’t what he said to the cop, it was how he said it that sent a shiver racing through her. The menacing glint in his sapphire glare carried a warning louder than words. There was a dark side to him, but instead of frightening her, it made Emma feel safe and protected, because in that moment, she had no doubt Sawyer would stop at nothing to protect her.
Harris jerked his arm back with effort, wrenching from Sawyer’s biting grasp. His face flushed with anger. Emma had thought she was ready to face her past, but she was wrong. Nothing had changed. They still thought she was guilty. The police refused to see the truth because that would mean they hadn’t done their job. They’d let a killer go free, and now four more women were dead.
“Are you alright?” Sawyer asked. He was across the room and pulling her into his arms before she could answer.
What could she say? She wasn’t all right, and she wouldn’t be until Matthew’s killer was brought to justice. But Emma put on a brave front and, forcing a smile, she nodded. “Can we just go?”
“Sure.” He gathered his files and the yearbook into one arm and slipped the other around her waist. “I’ll reschedule my meeting with the chief for tomorrow. While I’m at it, I think I’ll have a little conversation with him about Officer Harris.”
“Don’t bother. You’ll just be wasting your breath. As much as I want to pretend that things have changed and we’ve all moved on, we haven’t. There are some people that will never believe I’m innocent.”
He hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Oh, they’ll believe it, sweetheart. They’ll believe it when I solve the case they were too short-sighted and incompetent to solve themselves.”
Chapter 34
After a brief stop at the Trail Center for supplies and a quick bite to eat at the restaurant, they made the forty-five minute trip to the cabin.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked, pulling to a stop in the overgrown driveway. After cutting the engine, he turned to look at her.
“Sure.”
“How about for the next…” He lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch.
“Twelve-hours, we take a break from all of this, and it’s just you and me.”
Right on cue, Sam stuck his head between the two seats and nosed Sawyer’s arm. The dog just wanted him to open the door and let him out, but the timing made Emma laugh.
“And Sam,” he amended with a throaty chuckle. “You and me and Sam. Agreed?”
“That sounds wonderful,” she sighed, desperately needing a reprieve from the day.
“All right then, it’s settled. For the next twelve-hours your happiness, your pleasure, is my only priority. The rest of this shit can wait.”
He sealed the deal by slipping his hand behind her neck and pulling her in for a deep, hungry kiss. “As of ten-seconds ago, I’m officially off duty.”
A soon as they exited the car, Sawyer grabbed her hand and pulled her into the cabin. Emma laughed at his impatience as she stumbled along behind. “This is the kitchen, dining room, and living room,” he’d said, dropping his files on the table and their sack of groceries on the counter as they breezed by. “Bedroom, bedroom, bathroom,” he added, tugging her down the hall.
She let out a playful yelp when he yanked her into the last room on the left. Kicking the door closed, he backed her against it and his mouth was on hers so fast he inhaled her startled gasp. His kiss was a frantic melee of lips, tongue and teeth. It was dizzying and disorienting and perfect. This was exactly what she needed—to be consumed by him and at the same time fed by his energy and strength. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled, her nipples tightening, a conduit to the place between her legs as his hands cupped her breasts.
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