The Final Goodbye

by Brittney Sahin

  * * *

  Aiden was tall, muscular, and very attractive. And on a normal day, she’d probably swoon at his Irish brogue.

  But today wasn’t a normal day.

  Today, she’d learned that someone else connected to her had died.

  Ava and Aiden, whom Riley had instantly liked, had been working for the past three hours on the case. She and Ben had been with them in their hotel room for most of that time, and her nerves were unraveling by the minute. She was thankful to have them, but it was all a bit surreal.

  Riley was used to being the problem-solver. Well, for the last five years that she’d been in practice, at least.

  She had canceled her afternoon appointments and sent Lonnie home for her own safety. But how long could she stay hidden in this small room?

  “He was in Charlotte last night at the time of death.” Ava shifted the computer around and pointed to the screen. “Jeremy checked into a hotel around eleven p.m., and I have visual confirmation of him in the lobby. He’s not our guy.”

  “So Jeremy’s crazy, but not our killer,” Ben said.

  “Not unless he’s got a body double,” Ava replied.

  Her stomach wrenched. “I don’t have an alibi. My parents were asleep, and I could have easily snuck out without notice.”

  No one said anything, and it had her wondering what everyone was thinking. Did anyone in the room actually think she was guilty?

  “Daniel was at the bar last night with Bobby, and Ben can confirm that,” Riley said while eyeing Ben as he made coffee.

  “The time of death is a ballpark number. They can’t narrow it down to the exact minute, which means it’s possible Daniel or Bobby could have done it.” Aiden’s words should have comforted her, but they didn’t. “Or it’s someone else. We just don’t know.”

  “Before we can rule out either of those guys we need to find out where they were prior to the murder,” Ben said.

  “It’s also clear the killer knew the victims. No sign of forced entry or struggle. The victims probably felt comfortable with the murderer,” Ava noted.

  Ben faced the room holding a steaming cup of coffee. He offered it to Riley, but she declined. She didn’t need anything else to make her jittery. “You still think it was Daniel?” she asked.

  “Well, did your ex know that you slept with Patrick?” Ava glanced at her fiancé for a brief moment before her attention skirted back to Riley.

  “I certainly didn’t tell him, but people talk in this town. I was drunk when I left with him, and plenty of people probably saw me stumble out of the bar and get into his car.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, regretful of her first ever one-night stand. “Not my finest moment in life.”

  Ben lowered the rim of the cup from his mouth and went over to the window. He shifted the drapes back and stole a quick glimpse outside.

  “What we know right now is that three people who had a personal connection to you are dead.” Ava began tapping at her keys again. “Someone is either setting you up, or you’re—”

  “The final target,” Riley finished, feeling like her lungs were collapsing. “I don’t understand who would want me dead.”

  “I think the best place to start is with a list of the patients who’ve threatened you before,” Ben said. “We have to exhaust all possible leads.”

  “And if the killer is actually trying to set me up . . . why choose me? It doesn’t make any damn sense.” There was a dull pain working its way behind her eyes.

  Aiden’s brows drew together. “Well, it’s always possible the killer murdered other people to cast suspicion away from himself. By having multiple deaths, it hides the true victim and confuses the motives. You could have been a convenient target for him.”

  “Convenient,” Riley hissed and clutched her stomach.

  “If that’s the case, the killer gave himself a backup plan, though,” Aiden said. “Daniel looks guilty, too, especially if he was jealous of your, uh, date with Patrick.”

  “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” Riley said in a daze.

  “But Daniel had an alibi for Lydia’s murder. He was at the hospital at the time of her death,” Ava said. “As long as he checks out for one of the deaths, the police will probably shift their focus to suspects who don’t have a solid alibi.”

  “Didn’t you say a time of death is an estimate? It’s possible Daniel snuck out of the hospital, walked to Lydia’s, and came back before anyone noticed,” Ben noted.

  Ava nodded. “True. We also still have Bobby to consider; although, we need to look into any connections he may have had with Ralph and Patrick.”

  “But right now, I’m the only one without an alibi for each murder,” Riley whispered, growing faint.

  Ben set his coffee on the nightstand and stood before Riley. He wrapped a hand around her forearm and held her eyes.

  Riley’s lips pursed in thought, but before she could say anything, Ava cursed. “Looks like the sheriff is on his way to your apartment.”

  “Shit. I forgot I gave him permission. My face is going to end up on the news. I’ll be named the doctor killer, won’t I?” Riley muttered under her breath, remembering she’d powered off her phone when they’d arrived at the hotel, per Ben’s request. He’d been concerned the sheriff would call her in for questioning again, and he didn’t want her leaving until they could talk through everything.

  From what she saw on TV earlier, her little town had made it to national news, and the media was already circling the hospital and precinct like vultures.

  And she’d be in the spotlight next.

  “I can’t do this.” She shirked her arm free of Ben’s grasp and darted for the door.

  There weren’t any suites at the hotel, and staying in such a tight space with three other people had her gulping for air.

  Once outside, she stood beneath the faded red overhang and peered down the walkway, checking for any approaching guests. Thankful she was alone, she clasped the black railing and sucked in such a deep breath she became lightheaded.

  “Ri.”

  “This is too much.” Her voice collapsed from weakness.

  “I know, but we need to stay strong. We have to figure this out together.”

  That’s what she had wanted when Nate had died—for them to hold each other up, to get through the toughest of times together.

  “I shouldn’t have blamed you for Nate’s death,” she rushed out without thinking. But maybe she had to get this off her chest.

  Riley spun around to face him, and Ben edged back a step.

  “Let’s not do this now. We need to focus.” His blue irises deepened in color, taking on some of the darkness from the clouds that hung low in the sky, threatening a downpour.

  “We need to. I’m either going to end up behind bars or become the next victim.”

  Ben lurched toward her and cupped her face with his rough palms. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

  She tipped her chin to meet his eyes again. “No one knows when it’s their time to go. And I don’t know how long I’ll have you here, so let me speak.” She sniffled. “Please.”

  “Riley,” he whispered. “I can’t do this now.”

  She seized hold of his wrists and tugged at them, but he wouldn’t let go. He was too strong . . . and yet, a sheen coated his eyes as if, he too, might break down. “I’ll go back into that room, and I’ll try to be objective about all of this. But first I need this conversation to happen.”

  He closed his eyes. “There’s nothing you need to say to me. But I—”

  “Did you read my emails?” She needed to know. “Did you at least read my words when I asked you to forgive me?”

  He released his hold on her and pinched the bridge of his nose for a quick moment. “I only read them once they stopped coming.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He glanced over his shoulder as if checking to make sure they were alone. “I’d stare at the subject line when
your messages came in. I’d try and get myself to click them open, but I never could. A few months after the emails stopped coming—a few months after I’d taken my first bullet . . . I read them. I read them all.”

  “First bullet?” Her body tensed, and so she locked her hands at her sides, her fingertips biting into her palms as she tried to handle the conversation that she had so desperately wanted. “Why didn’t you write me back?”

  “I did. I wrote probably a hundred emails.”

  Her lips parted, and her heart shriveled in her chest.

  He shook his head lightly. “I never sent them.”

  “What?” She took shallow breaths, and her fingernails dug even deeper into her palms.

  “I was afraid that, if I reached out to you, I’d only end up hurting you more.”

  “Hurt me how?” Her mind was all blank spaces. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to say.

  “Men were dying all around me. I knew what Nate’s death had done to you, and I was worried that if we became close again—and I died—that it would . . .” He dropped his words in the air, leaving them for her to absorb.

  “That wasn’t fair for you to make a decision about my life like that.” She turned away, too distraught to look at him. “I was upset when you left, but I had thought it was, in part, my fault. I yelled at you for kissing me the night before he died, as if that had caused his death. And then I blamed you for allowing him to free climb. I . . . I should never have done that, and I hated myself for it. I hated myself for so long. But when you never answered me . . . I started hating you.”

  Ben stood alongside her and gripped the railing. She focused on his scarred hand and thought about his wounds—about what he’d gone through over the years while she’d been busy being so damn angry at him.

  “That wasn’t the only reason I didn’t respond. It wasn’t the reason why I never sought you out when I came home and started playing ball . . .” He let his voice trail off as if the words were too heavy to say.

  She’d played this moment out in her head so many times over the years, but she’d never anticipated it’d go down like this. She’d never thought that when they saw each other again they’d kiss and that she’d be so desperate to forgive him. Hell, forgive herself.

  “Nate wasn’t a better man, by the way. You were both good men. Amazing men,” she said softly, hoping to calm her rapidly beating heart. “I was lucky enough to have two phenomenal men care about me, but—”

  “Guys. We need to talk.” Aiden’s words stole her own, and a sharp throb pulsed inside her chest.

  Ben reached for her elbow. “Come on.” He guided her back into the room as if he were afraid she wouldn’t come on her own—and he’d never leave her alone outside.

  “What is it?” Ben circled the desk and stood behind Ava’s computer.

  Ava swiveled in her chair to find Ben’s eyes. “I created a code this morning that would enable me to virtually check the browsing history on Jeremy’s, Bobby’s, and Daniel’s computers. I wanted to see if there was any suspicious activity. My program would flag anything out of the norm, and I’d get an alert.”

  Riley sat on the bed and tried to focus, but her mind continued to reel from her conversation with Ben.

  Too many questions littered her mind, mostly focusing on what would have happened if Ben had sent his messages. Where would they be now?

  “And you found something?” Ben rested a hand on the back of Ava’s chair as he narrowed his eyes in the direction of the computer screen.

  “Bobby was researching different drugs that could knock someone unconscious but go unnoticed on a blood test. He deleted his browser history and the cookies on his computer, but nothing is ever truly gone from cyberspace,” Ava said.

  “You think it’s him, then?” Riley stood and looked at Ben, and she noticed a tremble of disappointment lurk in his eyes. He didn’t want it to be Bobby. “You think the police know about this?”

  “The FBI will probably be called in soon, especially since the town is turning into a media circus. So, if they don’t already have someone with the adequate computer skills needed, they will soon,” Ava said.

  “FBI?” Riley wasn’t sure if she felt more hopeful or intimidated by the three letters.

  “Do we still have any FBI pals left? Or did we burn all our bridges?” Ben asked Aiden, his voice throatier than normal.

  Aiden gave him a quick shake of the head. “With Jake gone, I’d say we shouldn’t risk contacting anyone in the agency.”

  “Jake?” Riley sorted through the names Ben had mentioned to her, but she couldn’t remember if that name had been one.

  “Former Fed. He was in the Marines with us,” Ben answered before looking back to Aiden.

  “We can’t give them what we have, or we could end up in trouble for interfering with the investigation.” Aiden tucked his hands into his back pockets.

  “And the last thing you need is to draw any more government attention,” Ben said brusquely.

  Riley had no clue what he was talking about. She was in the dark, and she hated it.

  Aiden winked at her. “Long story. No worries, love. We’ve got your back. A friend of Ben’s is a friend of mine.”

  “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  “We clear your name and keep you safe.” Aiden glanced at Ben and said, “And then we find the arsehole who killed these people and put him in the ground.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Riley ended her call with Mandy and breathed a sigh of relief.

  She didn’t like the idea of Mandy living alone with the “doctor killer” on the loose, especially if it were Bobby. She’d finally managed to convince her to stay with someone else, and preferably with a strong male, or a guy with a sidearm tucked beneath his bed.

  Fortunately, Mandy had someone in mind, and she’d promised to room with him for the time being.

  Now that she could relax without that worry on her mind, she fell back onto Ben’s bed and closed her eyes. She was alone in Ben’s hotel room, which was a few doors down from where Aiden and Ava continued to work.

  “I think I’m in the wrong profession.”

  “What do you mean?” Ben turned on the coffee machine, clearly in need of the liquid fuel to keep him going. That, or he was still nursing his hangover from last night. She had a sneaking suspicion she had something to do with why he got drunk.

  “This whole mess has proven I’m incapable of rational thought. I’m a hypocrite to offer my patients advice and provide therapy when I can’t keep myself from falling apart.”

  “Don’t most psychiatrists actually become shrinks because they need therapy themselves?”

  She sat up and glared at him. “That’s such a stereotype.” But he was right. Well, at least about her.

  “We should probably turn your phone on soon. I’m assuming if the sheriff doesn’t hear from you, he’ll be banging on my door looking for you.” He sipped his black coffee and stood before the bed. “That, or your mom will show up.”

  “Not sure which would be worse.”

  His attention flicked to the floor, and his brows knitted. “Did you ever get your key back from Daniel last night?”

  “Uh, no. You said you were going to change the locks, and so . . .”

  No, she couldn’t believe it. There was no way Daniel could be the killer. She couldn’t possibly have been sleeping with a killer without ever noticing the signs—could she? She was trained to read people.

  Besides, Bobby was the one who had the odd browsing history, not Daniel. Of course, Daniel would never need to research which drugs would go unnoticed in the bloodstream.

  “Maybe we need to get to your place.” He stood and held his palm out to her as if worried her knees would buckle. “Daniel could’ve planted evidence.”

  “But the police are already there. It’s too late. Plus, I know Daniel has nothing to do with this.”

  “And I’m not taking any chances when it c
omes to your life.”

  She finally took his hand, and the warmth of his touch sent a soothing feeling down her spine.

  They stopped by Aiden’s room to let them know where they were headed, and then they went to the parking lot. Most of the media vans had left, and he was pretty sure where they’d gone.

  “A dozen messages,” she said after turning on her cell.

  “Don’t even bother listening to them. We’ll talk to the detective and sheriff when we get to your place.”

  “And what if they slap cuffs on me?” she asked, her heart pounding so loud it echoed in her ears.

  “I won’t let that happen,” he said through clenched teeth, and then he pulled out of the parking lot.

  She wanted to believe him; she truly did. But there was a psychopath out there, and it looked like she was somehow wrapped up in the middle of a murdering spree.

  Ben was strong, but was he powerful enough to protect her from the eye of the storm?

  * * *

  The apartment complex looked like an active crime scene. There were police vehicles and a half a dozen white media vans. How’d the press find out so quickly that her place was being searched?

  Then again . . . small town. If even one squad car had been outside the building, it would have drawn attention.

  “I’d suggest you stay in the car, but I don’t want you out of my sight.” Ben unbuckled and reached for her hand. “If the reporters already know your name or anything about you, they’re going to come at you swinging hard. It could get rough.”

  “I can handle it,” she lied, knowing she was about to break as if she were a weak dam.

  “I have your back.” He tipped up her chin, commanding her eyes to meet his.

  “Okay,” she softly said. “Thank you.”

  It took her a few minutes, but she forced herself out of the SUV. Ben looped his arm around hers in a protective manner, and they started in the direction of the pack of reporters.

  Ben was putting a target on his own head right now, just by being with her. By holding on to her arm like this, it would surely give off the vibe that she was important to him. And she wasn’t sure what that would mean to the killer, whoever the hell that might be.