by Laura Scott
“Here!” she called out hoarsely. “I’m here!”
“Ms. O’Ryan?” The flashlight swung in her direction and she lifted her arm to shield her eyes from the bright light. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
She nodded as she came closer. She was never so happy to see anyone in her entire life. She stood, wrapping her arms around her waist to keep steady. “The man in the green car rammed into me, sending me into the ditch. I ran for shelter, because I heard him coming after me.”
The deputy was a younger man she didn’t recognize, but he was kind as he looked at her with sympathy. “It’s okay, ma’am. You’re safe now. I’ll get a tow truck for your car.” He opened the trunk of his car, pulled out a blanket and then helped her inside the back of the squad car. “Here, wrap up in this.”
She clutched the blanket around her shoulders and sank into the cushioned car seat gratefully. Her feet were covered in mud and hurt from the scratches she’d sustained, but overall, she was deeply humbled at how she’d managed to escape serious harm.
God had watched over her and Luke sent help.
At the sheriff’s department headquarters, Luke met them outside the moment Deputy Scott drove up. Without a word Luke helped her from the car, noticed her bare feet and then swept her into his arms to carry her inside.
She rested her head on his shoulder gratefully. Inside the building, he hesitated and tightened his arms as if he didn’t want to let her go.
“I’m fine,” she murmured reassuringly. As much as she would have preferred to stay in his arms, she knew that wasn’t exactly a viable option. The dispatcher, a woman whose name escaped her at the moment, watched them curiously.
He finally strode into his office and set her down in the chair tucked into the corner. “Wait here,” he said before he disappeared into the main room.
Within moments, Luke returned carrying a mug of hot coffee. She wrapped her hands around the mug for warmth and sipped the brew gratefully. He disappeared again, this time returning with a bucket of warm, sudsy water and a towel.
He knelt beside her and gently lifted one foot and then the other, placing them in the warm soapy water.
She sucked in a quick breath at the stinging pain from the various cuts. But she didn’t cry out or move her feet. The deep scratches needed to be cleaned out.
She was lucky, very lucky she wasn’t hurt worse.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Luke murmured, still on his knees in front of her. “I almost lost my mind when our phone connection was cut off.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached out and gently stroked his cheek. For a moment they simply stared at each other. Then Luke slowly drew away, rising to his feet.
The concerned man was quickly replaced by the hard-edged cop. “Tell me again exactly what happened,” Luke commanded.
She did as he asked. “He followed me off the exit ramp and then rammed his car into mine. I slid sideways into the ditch, but managed to climb out of the car. I heard him come after me as I was crawling out of the ditch.” The memories were far too vivid, and her voice dropped lower. “If you hadn’t already sent a deputy, he might have caught me.”
Luke’s expression turned grim. “Megan, I think we have to assume this guy killed Liza and has now decided to come after you. He’s not just leaving clues anymore, taunting you. He could have killed you tonight.”
She nodded helplessly. Hadn’t she thought the same thing? “It doesn’t make sense, though. Why bother to copy Sherman’s M.O. for just one murder? Unless…” Her voice trailed off, hardly able to voice the horrible thought.
“Unless what?” Luke asked.
Dear God, no. Oh, no. She hoped, prayed she was wrong. But if she wasn’t? “Unless—he’s already killed another girl and we haven’t found the body yet.”
Luke didn’t even want to consider the possibility of another victim. Up until this point, he’d been distracted by the killer’s games, his way of leaving clues around Megan.
What if that was the killer’s intent? To keep him focused on the wrong thing?
He’d spent hours on the case, comparing notes from Liza’s death to the St. Patrick’s Strangler, but so far he hadn’t come up with much. Until today, when some of his earlier theories had been proven correct.
“You could be right,” he finally agreed. “But so far we’ve done our best to send out warning messages to all young women, asking them to be careful. They’ve been instructed to always go out in pairs. I have to believe if a girl went missing, we’d have heard about it.”
Although look how long Sam and Doug had been missing, and he certainly hadn’t filed a missing person’s report. Was it possible someone else was gone and the alarm simply hadn’t been sounded yet?
“I hope you’re right,” Megan murmured. With her auburn hair plastered to her head, she looked all of fifteen, even though he knew very well from running the DMV check on her that very first day that she was almost thirty. Too old to match the killer’s M.O.
Which didn’t seem to matter, since there was no doubt in his mind that the killer had gone after her this evening.
A low rumble reached his ears, and when Megan’s cheeks turned pink he realized the sound had come from her. Her stomach was growling with hunger.
“How about if I take you to my house for a bit?” he asked, changing the subject. Megan deserved a break after everything she’d been through. “You can shower and change into dry clothes while I cook us dinner.”
The way her eyes brightened at the offer, he could tell she was tempted by the idea. “You cook?” she asked skeptically.
He chuckled. “How could I not? After I managed to pull myself together after my wife died, I took a crash course in making meals. Nothing fancy, mind you, but I can hold my own. It just so happens I have a few steaks in the fridge and fresh fixings for a salad.” The meal he’d hoped to make for Sam. He frowned and quirked a brow. “Please tell me you’re not a vegetarian?”
She laughed, a low husky sound that curled around his heart. “No, I’m not a vegetarian. Steak and salad actually sounds wonderful.”
When she lifted her feet out of the soapy water, he saw the extent of the cuts and grimaced. “Do you happen to have a spare set of shoes?” he asked doubtfully. Not that he minded carrying her.
In fact, he rather preferred it.
“Yes, I have a pair of running shoes and socks under the cot next to my suitcase.”
He stifled the flash of disappointment and went to fetch them for her. She kept the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she tentatively walked down the hall to gather some clean clothes.
The rain had subsided to nothing more than an annoying drizzle. As he drove to his house, the first thing he looked for was Sam’s familiar truck.
The knot in his gut twisted when there was no sign of his son. He checked his cell phone again, but there was no response to his numerous text messages. Or anything from Lynette, Doug’s mother, indicating she’d heard from the boys.
Where could Sam be?
“Help yourself to the bathroom facilities,” he said, heading for the kitchen to pull food from the refrigerator. “I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re finished.”
“Thanks, Luke.” She flashed him a grateful smile before heading down the hall toward the bathroom.
He took his time making the salad and then carried the steaks outside to the grill. Luckily his gas grill was protected from the rain by the overhang of the house, so he put the steaks on and then stood with his back propped against the wall, gazing out at the lake.
The rain had put a severe dent in the boating fun. The lake was pretty much deserted except for a lone fisherman, sitting on a boat in the middle of the lake, who didn’t seem to mind getting wet.
He flipped the steaks, trying to take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere. But he was all too aware that a killer who’d tried to hurt Megan tonight was still out there, somewhere.
The APB had gone out for the green car almost instantly. But so far,
they hadn’t found it. One of the downfalls of living way out in the country was that there were too many winding highways and roads to keep a close eye on all of them. With only four deputies on in the evenings, and three on overnight, it could take hours to find the vehicle.
Megan’s car had been towed to a local garage and the guy in charge had agreed to look at it first thing in the morning.
He carried the steaks back into the house, surprised to find Megan wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, seated at his kitchen table talking on her cell phone. He blatantly eavesdropped on her side of the conversation, setting the plate on the counter and turning to face her.
“Thanks for checking into this for me, Michael,” she said. “And please let me know if you find anything.”
After she snapped her cell phone shut, she glanced up at him, answering the unspoken question in his eyes. “That was my former CSI partner, Michael Bennett. We worked together for over four years. I asked him to check on Jake, see if he did actually go back to Chicago the way he claimed.”
He didn’t bother to hide his shock. “You think he was the driver of the green car? Did you get a good look at him?”
She blew out a breath. “No, I didn’t get a good look at him. And I don’t really know what to believe. I guess I just wanted to make sure that Jake was back in Chicago.”
Odd that she hadn’t said anything to him about her concerns. “Is there a reason you don’t trust me to check on Feeney?” he asked slowly.
“No, of course not. Please don’t think that.” She paused and then added, “I knew you’d probably check up on Jake yourself, and I wasn’t sure if you’d get cooperation from the Chicago P.D. So I asked Michael for a favor. He’ll have connections within the police department that you won’t have. You should know Michael never thought very highly of Jake.”
A sentiment he could certainly agree with. Obviously, he and this Michael guy would get along great. Except he didn’t know what to make of her relationship with her former partner. Were they friends? Obviously. More than friends? He wanted to ask but knew he would only sound jealous.
Megan was here with him now. Not with Michael Bennett. And that was all that mattered. Besides, they were smack in the middle of a murder investigation. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of his personal life.
Or lack thereof.
He brought over the steaks and salads and after a quick murmured prayer, there was a companionable silence as they ate their meal.
“Everything is delicious, Luke. Thanks for inviting me,” she said, taking a sip of her water.
“You’re more than welcome.” He smiled at her, thinking she looked right at home seated at his kitchen table. “I should thank you, because otherwise I’d be eating all alone.”
“Where is Sam?” she asked.
His appetite vanished as he let out a heavy sigh. “I wish I knew. I haven’t seen him since late yesterday afternoon. I looked all over for him, but so far haven’t found him. His friend Doug seems to be missing as well, so it’s logical to assume they’re out doing something together.”
Hopefully nothing illegal. He’d brought Sam to Crystal Lake to avoid his getting involved in criminal activity. But now Sam was drinking. And who knew what else.
Megan reached over to put her hand on his arm, a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry, Luke. I can only imagine what you’ve been going through.”
The fact that she felt bad for him, when she was the one who was rammed into a ditch and forced to run for her life, humbled him. Had he ever met anyone like her? Megan O’Ryan was a truly amazing woman. “Thanks, but you’ve been through much worse tonight. Sam is seventeen and more than capable of taking care of himself.”
She frowned. “Maybe, although I used to think I was, too.”
She was right. The karate lessons Sam had taken as a youngster wouldn’t help against a knife or a bullet.
“Sorry,” she said again, reading the expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to worry you again. I’m sure he’s fine.”
He wasn’t sure how to tell her he was worried about what Sam might be doing, as well as worried about any physical danger he might run into. “I’m sure he is fine. I can’t help being angry with him, though. It’s extremely irresponsible of him to take off without telling anyone where he went. Doug’s mother is divorced and working night shifts at the Hope County Hospital. She’s worried, too. I’m afraid my son is a bad influence on his friends.”
She tightened her hand on his arm. “Luke, I highly doubt Doug was dragged along with Sam, kicking and screaming in protest,” she said drily. “At this point, they’re both being irresponsible.”
That much was true. But he knew the real reason Sam had disappeared. “I asked Frank to interview Sam, because he was the last one to see Liza the night she died. And he didn’t have an alibi for the time frame of the murder, or for the time frame of the break-in at the motel,” he confessed. “I think Sam took off after that, because he was angry with me. But I had to do it. I can’t protect him too much. This is a murder investigation. I already covered for him as long as I could.”
“I know,” she murmured, her wide green eyes full of sympathy. “He’s too young to really understand the impact of his actions.”
Not that young. But Sam often jumped to conclusions rather than giving his father the benefit of the doubt.
He stared at her hand, noting the angry red scratches that marred her skin. Just another reminder of how close he’d come to losing her. He was lucky to have her here, as support. He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Megan,” he began, and then cut himself off.
What was he thinking, turning this moment personal? She needed a friend right now.
Nothing more.
Resolutely, he removed his hand and pulled out from her grasp. He rose to his feet, carrying his plate and salad bowl over to the sink.
Distance. He gripped the edge of the sink, taking a deep breath. He needed distance to stop himself from doing something he’d regret.
“Luke?” Megan came over to stand beside him, placing her empty dishes on the counter. She was so close, he could almost feel her brushing against him. “Did I say something wrong?”
Her scent, fresh from the shower, filled his head. “No, Megan.” His voice was too low and husky so he tried again, concentrating on the task of rinsing the dishes. “It’s getting late, I need to drive you back to headquarters. Sit down and relax, this will only take a minute.”
“I should wash up, since you cooked,” she protested, moving in closer, trying to take the scrub brush out of his hand.
He wasn’t sure what happened, but one moment they were playing tug-of-war with the scrub brush and the next she was in his arms.
For a long moment he simply held her close. But she lifted her head to stare up at him. He pulled away enough to look down at her.
“Megan,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face and tipping her chin up with his finger, so he could look into her eyes. “I care about you. A lot. Please tell me if you want me to stop.”
She held his gaze and slowly shook her head. “I don’t want you to stop.”
He lowered his head and kissed her. Her mouth was sweet. Soft. Enticing. The kiss opened up a heart he thought was long dead, swelling with an emotion he dared not name.
“Dad?”
Luke jerked his head up and broke away from Megan, slamming his hip sharply against the edge of the counter. He ignored the sharp pain, hardly able to believe his eyes as he gaped at Sam, who stared at them incredulously.
ELEVEN
Luke tried to pull his scattered thoughts together. His first instinct was to yell at Sam and demand to know where he’d been. But he wrestled his annoyance under control, knowing that yelling at his son would only push Sam further away.
The irony of the role reversal didn’t escape his notice. Shouldn’t he be the one walking in on his son kissing a girl? He glanced at Megan, whose pink cheeks betrayed her acute embarras
sment.
“Excuse me,” she said, glancing between them both. “I’ll, ah, leave you alone.” She quickly escaped down the hall to the bathroom, giving him and Sam some much-needed privacy.
Luke cleared his throat. “Sam, I’m glad you’re home.”
“Yeah. I can tell you really missed me.” Sam’s sarcasm made him wince.
“Actually, I spent most of the day looking for you, had a long conversation with Doug’s mother as well,” he corrected evenly. “Which reminds me, did Doug go home too? Because his mother was worried.”
“Yeah, he’s driving my truck since he blew out a tire on his car. He dropped me off and went home.”
Which explained why he hadn’t heard Sam’s truck pull into the driveway. “You know you’re grounded. I wasn’t happy to see you’d left without saying a word. Where did you and Doug go?” he asked.
Sam lifted a shoulder. “Nowhere special,” he said evasively.
Luke could feel his temper rising. “Sam, I asked you a direct question and I expect an honest answer.”
“What difference does it make?” Sam challenged. “You won’t believe me no matter what I say.”
Beneath the rude and challenging tone he could hear the pain of betrayal. So this was about being questioned by Frank. “That’s not true, Sam. I want to trust you, but you’re not making it easy, especially when you keep breaking the rules.” He kept his tone calm with an effort. He longed to shake some sense into his stubborn son. “If want to know the truth, I asked Frank to interview you because I trust Frank to be fair and honest. I didn’t want it to look as if I was protecting you by conducting the interview myself.”
Sam stared at him for several long moments. “Why interview me at all? Is everybody in town a suspect?”
“Everyone who doesn’t have an alibi for the time frame of the murder,” he responded evenly. “And let’s face it, son, not only were you the last person to see her alive, but we’re still considered outsiders here. When it comes right down to it, the locals are going to point the finger away from anyone who was born and raised in Crystal Lake.”