“Of course I am,” he said, letting his exasperation show. “I’m the Sheriff, Gwyn.” His condescending tone had her temper rising.
“Are you fucking crazy? I’m not Buffy, and just because you have a badge and a gun, doesn’t mean you’re one of the Winchester brothers. If we go after this psycho alone, he will end us.” She was furious as she tried to reason with him.
“What the fuck are you talking about? As I just said, I’m the Sheriff, not some ‘brother.’ And we aren’t going after him, I am.” They stood glaring at each other, neither willing to back down.
“Ugh, you are infuriating. Fine, go. I’ll stay here like the little woman,” her eyes flashed with anger. “But you,” she poked him again, harder. “You are taking backup.” Seeing him open his mouth to protest, she hurried on. “And don’t even think about arguing with me, or so help me, Brady—you’ll get a scene so epic it’ll make Mila look like Little Miss Susie Sunshine.” She crossed her arms, showing she meant business.
Brady stared at her, torn between tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her off to the closest empty room to fuck her senseless or wanting to let out a cheer at her bravery in standing up to him. Letting out a growl, he settled for the best of both worlds. Grabbing her by the upper arms, he dragged her up to her toes, his mouth descending to claim hers in a rough kiss.
“I fucking love you so much,” he told her, setting her back down. Grinning at her dazed expression, he barked into his radio. “Rims, come in.” When Rims acknowledged, he gave Gwyn another scorching look, his eyes telling her of what was to come later. “Wrap up what you’re doing and get your ass out to the swamp. Be there in ten minutes.” This time when he exited the station, he wasn’t stopped by anyone. Climbing into his cruiser, he flipped on the lights and sped off.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Gwyn. She made a few trips to the diner to check on Joan and pick up fuel for the deputies and volunteers. Sam had been quiet all day, keeping mostly to himself.
Approaching him with a thick sliced turkey sandwich, she put a light hand on his wrist. “Sam? I brought you some lunch. Joan’s specialty. I’m under strict orders to make sure you eat the whole thing,” she told him with a smile.
Sam reached for it automatically, taking it from her and placing it on the table beside him untouched. Sighing, Gwyn decided not to push. They stood in silence for a few moments, until Sam spoke.
“She’s the love of my life you know. I fell in love with her in the first grade, she was so pretty—so fun and full of life. I never got the courage to tell her how I felt until years later. And when I finally did, you know what she said? She said, ‘Jesus Ridley, it’s about time you found your balls and asked me out.’” He laughed, the sound coming out strained. “She was always like that, so blunt and to the point.” His face fell, sadness creeping back into his eyes. “God, I miss her so damn much.”
Tears ran down Gwyn’s face, she was unable to stop them. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she offered him comfort the only way she could.
“She loves you more than anything, Sam. You were all she ever talked about. Hold onto that and don’t give up. Hailey would want you to keep fighting, to keep up hope.”
Sam nodded against her, sucking in a steadying breath. “Thanks, Gwyn. I’ll just go sit down and eat this sandwich.” He pulled out of her embrace and walked off.
Gwyn watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest.
Later that night, when they were getting ready for bed, Gwyn told Brady about her chat with Sam. “He’s slipping away, Brady. He’s losing hope. I can see it in his eyes.” Climbing into bed and pulling the covers up and around her, she dropped her head on the pillow and let out a breath.
As Brady was in the adjoining bathroom brushing his teeth, she raised her voice slightly. “I miss her, Brady. And I’m so damn scared.” Walking into the room, he slipped in beside her and gathered her into his arms.
“I know, sugar. Remember what I said though, I can and I will keep you safe. Always.” He kissed her hair and snuggled in tight behind her. His scent enveloped her, spreading over her body like a warm blanket. His lips trailed down the side of her neck. Warm. Loving.
Sliding a hand into her pajama bottoms, he found her already wet and willing, her need for him evident. He slipped a finger inside, then two, slowly exploring her most intimate area. Gwyn arched back against his hand, desperate to feel, to connect.
Rolling her to face him, the question was in his eyes—she gave a slight nod and brought her lips to his in a sweet kiss. Freeing himself, he slipped inside her in a tender movement, setting a slow pace. This was about making love. Finding that connection. Reminding themselves that they were alive.
He stared down into her eyes as his hips worked to drive her towards the peak. It wasn’t long before her small moans turned to cries of pleasure that he captured with his mouth, his release not far behind hers. She had him, mind, body and soul. There wasn’t a piece of each other that hadn’t been exposed, their tender intimacy had left them emotionally raw, but it was a feeling Brady wouldn’t trade for the world.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Gwyn returned his declaration with a melting kiss. Closing her eyes, she let the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her help her drift to sleep, shutting out the darkness threatening to creep into her mind.
Staring at his murder board the next morning, Brady struggled to puzzle out what was bothering him. There was something he was missing, he could feel it in his bones. If he could just figure it out, they might have a real shot at catching this madman—of bringing Hailey home.
Scratching his chin, he studied the photos. Faces unharmed, kept captive for weeks, dumped in locations that were known to be frequented by teenagers, no physical evidence. It was as though the killer was laughing at them at every turn. As though he somehow knew—Brady’s train of thought was interrupted by his office door banging open.
Annoyed, he looked up. Deputy Rims stood in the doorway, his face ashen. His eyes met Brady’s in a blank stare. With a sinking heart, Brady knew what he was going to say.
“Boss—” Brady held up a hand, asking for quiet.
Brady closed his eyes and prepared to ask the hardest question he’d ever had to ask in his life. His heart felt like coal in his chest, his blood beginning to boil at the injustice, in rage. Opening his eyes, he forced out the words.
“Where is she?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nothing could have prepared them for the devastation they experienced when the news of Hailey’s death broke. The heartbreak ripped through the town, shattering souls, breaking spirits. A town that had banded together to aid in the search, now had to lean on each other to carry the burden of the grief. The loss of someone so alive, so vibrant was gut-wrenching.
They laid Hailey to rest on a sunny Tuesday morning. The church was filled to the gulls with mourners, the mood somber and tomb-like. Classic rose arrangements lined the front of the chapel, a large bouquet on top of her casket. Those that came to pay their last respects spoke in hushed tones, speculating on whether or not Sam would be able to attend the service.
Opening the door to the chapel, Brady entered with Sam and Gwyn behind him. Gwyn’s arm was looped through Sam’s as they leaned on each other for support. Moving at a slow pace down the aisle, they came to a stop at the first pew. Hailey’s parents were sitting already, Sam’s father with them. Hailey’s mother Jill was crying softly into her tissues, her husband’s arm around her shoulders.
Sam stared at them, not speaking. He stepped away, walking towards the enlarged photo of a radiant looking Hailey. She had been captured mid laugh, her smile a mile wide. Sam was behind her in the photo, his arms around her, his head close to hers. Their happiness in that moment leaped from the canvas, their love evident for all to see.
Sam raised his hand slowly, his finger tracing down her cheek in the photo. Sinking to his knees, he let out a loud wail. “Noo, why did you leave me, Hai
ley? Why?” The sound of heartbreak was a lead weight, resonating around the small room. Hailey’s mother’s sobs grew louder at the sight of her son-in-law breaking down.
Sam’s father and Brady rushed forward, each lowering down to Sam’s level to comfort him. Gwyn stood by, tears streaming down her own cheeks. She was irrationally angry at Hailey for abandoning her when she had just found her. She was utterly devastated not only for herself, but for Sam and Hailey’s family.
Brady helped Sam to his feet and the two headed for the door. It was obvious that sitting through a service was just too much for Sam. He was completely broken. A shell of a man. Destroyed.
Gwyn went to Jill and leaned down to embrace her. “I’m so sorry. I just—I’m so sorry,” she stuttered, not having words to say anything more. Squeezing her hand, she stood to follow Brady and Sam, not sure how they were all going to get through this tragedy. Not sure how any of them were going to survive this at all.
Finding them at the car, she pulled Sam into a tight hug. “I couldn’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t say goodbye in there.” The pain in Sam’s voice broke Gwyn’s heart all over again.
“Then we won’t. We’ll come back later and go to the cemetery just the three of us. Hailey would like that, I’m sure of it.” Gwyn forced her voice to sound convincing. Her eyes met Brady’s behind Sam’s back, and he nodded; assuring her that he would help her keep her word.
It wasn’t until several hours later that Sam announced that he was ready to attempt going to the cemetery. The guilt was heavier on his shoulders than ever, feeling lower than dirt for missing the service.
Gwyn disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a large bouquet of soft pink roses. “I know these were her favorite. I thought you might want to bring them to her,” she said in a quiet voice. Sam nodded, not able to speak past the lump in his throat as he took the flowers from her.
Brady came down the stairs and seeing the flowers in Sam’s arms, grabbed his keys from the stand. The drive was silent, no one knowing what to say. Gwyn cried silent tears, weeping for all that they had lost, for the beautiful woman they were about to say their final goodbye to.
Crossing the grassy path that led to where her plot was, Brady and Gwyn linked their fingers together. They offered each other silent comfort, invisible strength to get through what was coming.
Hailey’s casket had been lowered into the ground, a large pile of earth beside her now occupied plot. Her tombstone was a simple slate gray, with a scrawled inscription:
Hailey Anne Ridley
1989-2015
Beloved Daughter. Cherished Wife.
Just Whisper My Name In Your Heart And I Will Be There
Gone But Never Forgotten
Seeing the words, brought them all to tears. There was no shame in their grief. They all shared a love for Hailey, she was a unique woman who lived her life to her fullest. She was brave and kind, fierce and dynamic. There wouldn’t be a day that went by that they wouldn’t think of her.
Sam laid the flowers at the foot of the tombstone, reaching out to trace the words with his fingers. He spoke in a quiet voice, “I’m going to get a puppy, Hailey. You were driving me mental badgering me for one and I wish I had given in sooner. I want you to know that I always planned to say yes, I just thought we should wait a little longer. I’ll name him Prancer like you wanted, even though I think that name is ridiculous. Poor damn dog, I pity him already.” A strangled chuckle escaped him.
“I love you with everything that I am. With every minuscule part of my soul, you are my match. My soulmate, my one true love. I’m going to think of you every day. I will make sure your name lives on, Hailey love.”
He stood and walked over to large pile of earth, taking a small handful. Sprinkling it over her coffin, he made her one last promise.
“I will avenge you.”
Leaving Gwyn sleeping in their bed later that night, Brady drove down to the station. The place had an eerie feel to it in the middle of the night, almost spooky.
Calling a hello to Deputy Sparks who was on call, he headed into his office and shut the door. Flicking on the lamp, he sat down heavily at his desk. The file that was haunting him stared up at him from the desk. Tormenting him.
Pulling it open, he read the words again for the millionth time since receiving it.
Pregnant.
Hailey had been pregnant. Only about 4 weeks along according to the M.E.’s report. It was unlikely that she was even aware, and Brady could only pray that was the case.
“Fuck.” he swore, slamming the file closed. He was going to outwit this fucker, he was going to fucking find him and make him suffer within an inch of his miserable life.
For Hailey.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The days that followed were the hardest days that Brady had lived since his parents had been murdered. They had made a little headway in the case, determining that the killer had veered away from his usual MO by not keeping Hailey as a captive as long as he had his other victims. Brady’s only guess from the state of her remains was that she had been much more of a challenge for her abductor than he was used to.
She did not have as many cut and stab wounds as the other victims. Most of her bruising appeared to be offensive, as opposed to defensive. Brady couldn’t help but feel a sharp stab of pride, she had stayed true to her nature right down to the end. She was a fighter. Brady had no doubt that she gave as good as she got.
Sam was on the verge of slipping into a depression. His dad had suggested that the two of them go to his beach house in the south of Florida for a few months. He thought the change of scenery might be good for Sam, if only just for a few weeks. To date, Sam was refusing to budge. The thought of leaving the town where he had built a life with Hailey was not one that he would consider. He spent his days locked away in his house or down at the station pouring over the case files, even though he was not on active duty.
The FBI had officially taken the reins on the case, a fact that burned Brady, fueled his feelings of incompetence and failure. Two additional agents had descended on Durham Heights, their presence making the citizens agitated. Their residence reminded them that the nightmare wasn’t over, that there was still a monster lurking in the darkness.
Gwyn had returned to her job at the diner, trying to regain some sort of normalcy. It was a struggle for Brady to let her out of his sight, but he reluctantly agreed as long as she accepted an escort and didn’t walk anywhere.
Gwyn was dressing in her work uniform one morning when the doorbell rang. As Brady was still in the shower, she quickly straightened her clothing and headed down the stairs. Looking through the peephole, she was surprised at who was waiting on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door.
Mila stood on the porch, a large flat parcel propped up beside her. The two women stared at each other.
“What are you doing here?” they asked in unison. Mila looked annoyed at the idiocy of the situation.
“I’m here to see Brady,” Mila announced, as though it should be obvious. Running a scathing look down Gwyn, she took in her plain waitress uniform and neat ponytail.
“And you? Is Earl’s Diner making special home deliveries now?” Disdain was clear in Mila’s tone as she spoke, sparking Gwyn’s temper.
Having no patience for Mila’s shit, she replied, “I live here, Mila. Brady gets all kinds of special deliveries from only me.” Shock registered on the catty woman’s face for a split second before she was able to mask it.
“Well. I obviously am a little behind on my current events. I hadn’t heard about this—arrangement.” Mila answered, struggling for composure. “I do need a moment of Brady’s time, so if you would kindly go and fetch him, that would be appreciated, Gertrude.” Mila smirked at the deliberate mispronunciation of her name.
“Gwyn.” She corrected through gritted teeth. “My name is Gwyn and you damn well know it.”
“Really, dear? Are you
sure it isn’t Gertrude? I could have sworn that’s what it was.” Mila smiled pleasantly, knowing she was getting under Gwyn’s skin.
“Listen you unimaginable bitch—”
Brady came down the stairs and interrupted them before things got out of hand. “Ladies, ladies. What is going on here?”
Mila batted her eyelashes, feigning innocence. “Brady, precious. You look wonderful, so good to see you. Gwyn here was just having a little trouble remembering her name, isn’t that right, dear? I was trying to offer my assistance but it has seemed to anger her,” Mila sent her a patronizing look. “Dear, are you on any medication we should know about?”
Gwyn bristled, stepping forward. Brady snagged her around the shoulders, holding her in place as she shuddered in anger.
“Whoa there, darlin'.” He kissed her hair in an attempt to calm her. “Mila, knock it off. What is it that you need?”
Instantly contrite, Mila hung her head and folded her hands together. Gwyn had to hand it to her, she was one hell of an actress.
“I just wanted to come by and see you. See how you are and offer to help in any way I can. And,” she continued, pulling the parcel closer. “I got this for you, to replace the one we broke,” she said this with a smoldering look, implying there was more to the story.
“Mila, we didn’t break that. If it’s what I think it is, you broke that—“
“Yes, yes you’re right, Brady. I broke it during one of our…” she threw Gwyn a nasty look. “One of our more intimate moments. You know, like the one we had in your office just the other day.”
Gwyn’s head snapped up to meet Brady’s eyes. Seeing the confusion there, she knew Mila was lying trying to force a wedge between them. That was the last straw.
“Listen here you spoiled cow, that’s enough. Brady isn’t yours anymore, he’s mine. So you can have your four hundred dollar shoes march your over-priced ass right off this porch,” Mila had the grace to look embarrassed. “And if you try to pull this crap again, you’re going to see just what kind of street tricks a waitress is capable of.”
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