Sawyer glanced at the clock on the stove and began packing up his papers, putting them back in the file. “I can do that. We need to get going or I’m going to be late. I’ll leave Sam with you today and drop you both off on my way. I’ll be back later this afternoon.” He stood, hesitating long enough to drain his coffee mug and set it in the sink. “Can you be ready in thirty minutes?”
“Sure. I just need a quick shower.”
He paused on the way past her and kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got an idea for how we can save time and water.”
Emma laughed. “If you get in that shower with me, I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to be saving either one.”
* * *
Sawyer pulled up to the Sheriff’s Department exactly thirty minutes late, but he was hard-pressed to drum up any remorse about it. What he wouldn’t give to have another day with Emma all to himself. Hell, another week…a month…a year? That woman was so deep under his skin he was having a hard time focusing on anything else. But the phone call last night had been a bitch-slap of reality. It was a painful reminder that, as much as he wanted to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist, even for a few hours, the world didn’t stop along with them. The Good Samaritan was still out there, and he was hunting Emma.
Sawyer’s instincts told him he was getting closer. Tension was mounting, and when this case broke, he had a feeling it was going to get messy. Before heading inside, he gave Cade a quick call. He picked up after the first ring, sounding every bit as exhausted as Sawyer felt.
“Hey, man, I just got here and wanted to check in quick. Any news?”
“Nah, it’s all the same.”
“Weston?”
“Still unconscious. They’re keeping him in a medically induced coma until the swelling in his brain comes down. As soon as he wakes, they’re going to give me a call.”
“I want you to keep a log of everyone that goes from that room—staff and visitors.”
“Already on it.”
“Did you get to Emma’s apartment? Any sign of forced entry?”
“Nope. The place was locked up tight.”
Fuck. Something wasn’t right. “Sounds good. Thanks for checking. I’ll call you when I leave here.”
He hung up and climbed out of the car. Dammit, this bastard was too close for Sawyer’s comfort. Which posed the question: How long could he hide her up there? How long could he keep her safe? Pushing aside the chill of unease needling up his spine, he sent a quick message to Emma, checking in.
Just got here. You made me late. ;)
Ha-ha…you made yourself late.
It was totally worth it. How’s everything going there?
Fine. Enjoying the time with Mom and Dad. Come for dinner?
Sure.
Great. Going to run to the store to get fixings for manicotti.
Keep Sam with you.
I will.
Be back as soon as I can.
Good luck with your case.
Thanks.
Sawyer pocketed his cell and headed into the station, anxious to get his meeting over with so he could get back to Emma. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, but then she wasn’t exactly by herself.
“I have an eleven o’clock meeting with Sheriff O’Malley.”
Before the receptionist could respond, he heard someone calling his name down the hall.
“Detective Gerrard?”
Sawyer thanked the woman and headed toward the sheriff holding the office door open for him.
“Thanks for coming all the way up here. Quite a drive from St. Paul,” he said, clasping Sawyer’s hand and giving it a firm shake.
“Not a problem.” He took a seat across from the sheriff’s cluttered desk. “I was actually in the area following another lead when you called.”
O’Malley sat behind his desk, the leather chair protesting his weight as he leaned forward and grabbed the top manila folder and tossed it toward Sawyer. “This case has haunted me for nine years.”
“Why is that?” Sawyer asked, reaching forward and grabbing the file.
“Read it. You’ll find out.”
Sawyer opened the cover and his eyes were instantly drawn to the affixed photos. His heart tripped inside his chest as a blast of déjà vu sent his gut churning at the sight of the burned-out sedan set in the background of a park. He might as well be looking at a photo from his own case files. They had to be connected.
Sawyer turned the jacketed page containing more photos and bit back a sharp curse. Leaning forward, he studied the pictures more carefully, convinced his eyes were deceiving him. But no, he wasn’t imagining it. Kimberly Halloway looked strikingly similar to Emma.
The resemblance was startling—same long dark hair, same porcelain-fine features. Her eyes were maybe a shade darker than Emma’s, but other than a few slight differences, these two women could have been sisters.
“I spoke with your partner, Cade Peterson, yesterday. Saw on the news that you’ve got a rash of cases popping up that reminded me of this Halloway girl. It might not be anything,” Sheriff O’Malley said, leaning back in his chair and locking his hands behind his head. “But then again…”
“It’s something.” Sawyer told him, speed reading through the details of the case. “Where did you find her?”
“Congdon Park.”
“You have any leads? Suspects?” he asked, barely sparing the sheriff a glance.
A drawer opened and another file landed on the desk in front of him. “You ask me, her boyfriend did it. Could never prove it though. He had an alibi, but you and I both know those are about as reliable as a raincoat with a hole in it. He moved shortly after she died—Grand Marais, I believe.”
Sawyer froze, alarms going off in his head like the fucking bells of Notre Dame. He snatched the file off the desk and quickly began searching through the report. “You don’t happen to remember his name?”
Sawyer’s eyes connected with what he was looking for at the same time the sheriff responded, “Sure do, name’s Carl Edwards.”
Adrenaline kicked his heart into a rapid gallop. This was their guy. The Good Samaritan… It had to be. “Do you have a picture of him?” Sawyer asked, flipping through the pages.
“It should be in there.” O’Malley stretched his neck to peer over his desk at the file in Sawyer’s lap.
He flipped the next page and his heart stopped, the blood pumping through his veins turning to ice.
“That’s him, right there,” the sheriff said, pointing at the file.
Sawyer’s gaze shot up, locking with O’Malley’s. “I know this guy.”
Chapter 36
“That’ll be two-eighty.”
Emma handed the cashier her debit card and cast an anxious glance toward the parking lot. The sun was going down fast. She’d left Sam waiting in her dad’s truck as she ran inside to grab the green pepper and tomatoes they needed for supper.
It annoyed her that she even had to think twice about doing something as common as running to the store. A few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. A few weeks ago, she was just an ER doctor working her ass off trying to get through residency. And yeah, if she honestly believed that, then she’d finally managed to convince herself of her own lie.
Thankfully, she hadn’t seen anyone she recognized. As much as Emma wanted to pretend that she was getting past all this, there was a part of her that still wanted to hide in the shadows of her hometown. The cashier handed Emma her change and the grocery sack as her cell started to ring. She thanked the woman and shoved her change into her purse before digging for her phone. The automatic doors slid open as she approached, but she’d taken her eyes off her course to look for the elusive thing. The ringing stopped before she could find it. Shit. Where the hell was her phone? One of these days she was going to have to—wham!
Emma let out a startled yelp as she collided with someone. Arms reached out to steady her, strong hands gripping her shoulders as the heavy scent
of cologne assaulted her nostrils. “Excuse me. I’m sorry, I—” She glanced up and the blast of déjà vu was a more violent blow than the impact. The apology died on her lips as her gaze darted up, clashing with the man staring back at her as if he were seeing a ghost.
“Mr. Callahan—”
“Eve?” The disbelief in his voice did zero to help ease the discomfort tensing between them. “I didn’t realize you were back.”
“I’m not.” She fidgeted, shifting the grocery sack to her other hand, and taking a backward step toward the doors stalled open for her to commit to go through them. More than anything she wanted to turn and run. The memories of Jeffrey Callahan’s accusations assaulted her with crystal clarity. The last time she’d seen him he was standing on her parents’ doorstep in a drunken stupor, pounding on their door and demanding Eve tell him what happened to his son—as if she knew, as if she was to blame for his brutal murder.
It would turn out that seventy-two hours later she would indeed be accused of what happened to Matthew, and deep down, Emma had always wondered if Mr. Callahan hadn’t been behind the course that investigation had taken.
“I’m just visiting my parents.” She took another step back, but his hand reached out to stop her.
“Eve, wait.” His grip was firm but not quite painful. “Please,” he amended the request, alarm sent her gaze darting over his shoulder. Seeming to think better of touching her, he let go but instead took a discomforting step closer. “I…I owe you an apology.”
Surprised, Emma stood frozen, unable to move. What could she say? That it was all right? Because it wasn’t. That she understood? Because she didn’t. Grief made people do horrible things, true, but what had happened to her in the aftermath of losing her boyfriend nearly ruined her life and would have if the Callahans would’ve had their way.
“I made a promise to God that if I ever saw you again, I would tell you that…I’m sorry for the way I treated you after Matthew’s death.” His voice broke at the mention of his son. “It was unfair. It wasn’t your fault. I know that now. But back then, I was filled with so much grief I wasn’t thinking clearly. I made things hard for you. And I’m sorry.”
Emma listened to Jeffrey Callahan’s heartfelt apology. Regret was evident in his eyes, eyes that reminded her so much of Matthew’s that something inside Emma fractured. It was as if an invisible weight of guilt suddenly lifted. She hadn’t realized it before, but she was still holding on to all that pain and refusing to forgive the people who’d hurt her. Emma reached out and took the man’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Perhaps they’d both found some healing today.
“Thank you, Mr. Callahan. Your apology means a lot to me.”
He smiled, and her heart pinched at the subtle similarities between father and son. Though her heart may no longer be broken, pining for a love she feared she’d never have again, nothing would ever balm her regret over Matt’s death.
“I wish you well, Eve.”
“You too.” Her cell began ringing again and Mr. Callahan took another step back.
“Well…I’ll let you get back to your parents. Sounds like someone’s looking for you.”
He left her with a farewell nod, and she headed through the doors searching in her abyss of a purse. This time she found her phone and swept her thumb across the screen to accept Molly’s call.
“Hello?”
“Emma? Where the hell are you? I stopped by the emergency department on my way out this morning and you weren’t there.”
Emma’s step faltered, a niggling of alarm raced up her spine, the fine hairs on the back of her neck tingling with unease. “What do you mean where am I? I told you last night, I’m up north with Sawyer.”
Her steps quickened, her pace brisk, as she crossed the parking lot. A rush of relief stole through her when she saw Sam sitting in the front passenger seat of the truck. She could hear him barking halfway across the lot, obviously not happy about getting left behind. Their gazes connected. He was looking for her. But instead of calming down as she approached, his barking intensified the closer she got to the truck. Rounding the side, Emma’s hand stalled on the door handle when Molly said, “Em, I’ve been working all night. I haven’t talked to you in two days.”
Realization hit her at the same time something slammed into Emma from behind. Her scream was cut off by a gloved hand clamping tightly over her mouth. Emma’s cell tumbled from her hand as she crashed into the door. Something sharp pricked her neck and a rush of heat flooded her veins. The rapid pounding of her heart spread the numbing rush all the way to her fingers and toes. The moment the drug hit her central nervous system, she would be as good as dead. She had seconds before unconsciousness would claim her—seconds to live.
Sam charged the door, barking and snarling, clawing at the glass as she struggled to reach the door handle to let him out. Her fingertips were losing feeling as they brushed over the handle, fumbling to lift it. She pulled against the door, wrenching back against her captor, trying to let Sam out, but the body pressed up against her crushed the air from her lungs. A wave of dizziness blasted her, Emma’s vision of Sam blurring, his eyes a feral rage and his jaws snapping as he continued to claw at the glass now streaked with foaming saliva. Her knees buckled and her body went limp. She felt herself falling, her hand slipping off the handle as she slid down the door. Her hearing was the last to go. Just before darkness claimed her, a faceless voice whispered in her ear, “I told him you belonged to me, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Chapter 37
“Fuck!” Sawyer growled when Emma’s cell rolled over to voicemail for the third time. He floored the accelerator, the whir of the siren ordering traffic to get the hell out of his way. Vehicles swerved over to the shoulder as he raced up behind them, lights flashing.
How could he have missed it? How many times had he looked that son of a bitch in the eye? All the while that bastard was baiting him, drawing him in and playing him for a fool.
Panic gripped his throat, squeezing until he could barely breathe. Where the hell was Emma? Why wasn’t she answering her phone? He tried to console himself with reasons she might not be answering, reasons that didn’t involve her falling into the hands of a ruthless killer, but that sixth sense he’d honed over the years as a St. Paul homicide detective told him Emma was in danger.
Sawyer scrolled through his contacts and sent a call to his partner. It was a wing and a prayer, but he’d take just about anything right now.
“Ah, sweetheart, you miss me already?”
“I know who he is! The Good Samaritan!”
The answering curse told him he had his partner’s attention. “You’re fucking kidding me. Who is it?”
“Mark Smith.”
“The security guard at the hospital? No way. I spent two days going through surveillance footage with that guy. Are you sure?”
“Positive. It’s a long story, but this shit goes back almost a decade and Emma is right in the fucking middle of it. I need you to put out a warrant for his arrest and send it statewide. Check the hospital, check his house. Pick up that son of a bitch ASAP.” Though a sick feeling in Sawyer’s gut told him that Smith was no longer in St. Paul. “If you can’t find him, get in touch with Molly Sinclair, she’s his girlfriend and Emma’s best friend. Maybe she knows where he is.”
“On it!”
“She works in the OB/GYN department at the hospital. Find out when she last saw him and when she last talked to Emma—personally. I think he’s been keeping in contact with Emma through text messages on Molly’s phone. He’s been using her to get close to Emma, and I didn’t fucking see it.”
“I’m heading over there right now. Are you still in Duluth? You got the doctor with you?”
The dread settling in his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it. “No, she’s with her parents. I’ve been trying to reach her but she’s not answering. I’m going to call the Grand Marais PD as soon as I get off the phone with you and send an officer over to their house
.”
Please, God, don’t let me be too late.
* * *
He finally had her. After all this time, all this planning, waiting, practicing. Evangeline Larson was finally, truly his. What if Eve is the one? He’d thought that about Kimberly once, but then she’d proven herself unworthy—a whore just like the rest of them.
He glanced at the clock on the dash and pushed his foot into the accelerator, desperate to put as much distance between them and Grand Marais as possible. He had roughly thirty minutes before the Ketamine wore off, and they were quickly broaching the twenty-minute mark. He still couldn’t believe his luck at how easily everything had fallen into place. He’d thought the detective was going to make him work for it. He’d barely put a plan into place when he’d observed the detective dropping Eve off at her parents’ this morning. And when she’d left for the store a few hours later? It was as if fate had stepped in and rewarded him with his prize.
Movement in the rearview mirror caught his attention. She was starting to stir. His pulse quickened, anticipation thrumming through his veins as his gaze caressed her unconscious form. The petite figure he remembered of her youth now bore the supple curves of a woman. How she’d changed over the years. It was like watching a rare flower bloom. She wore the extra flesh well, filling out in all the right places—places he couldn’t wait to touch, to taste, to explore.
Her head lolled to the side, revealing a bright red blemish on the side of her neck. The cop’s mark mocked him that he wasn’t the first to claim her. He hadn’t gotten to her soon enough. But Detective Gerrard would pay for that. I’ll gut him like the pig he is.
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