When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1)

by Simpson, Amy Leigh

  What else? “Pictures.” She needed access to a box of pictures he’d kept in his basement to put out on display.

  Battling a nervous flutter, she drew a deep calming breath and dialed Agent Hayes’s number. Without ringing it rolled over to voicemail. Feeling unprepared to leave a message, she fumbled the phone like a hot potato but was able to hang up before meeting dead air. Whew.

  The scuffling sound permeating the wall reminded her that there was a team next door collecting more evidence. Probably wouldn’t hurt to drop by and ask them. Or she could always try Agent Hayes again later.

  “Okay, back to the memorial.” There was one last thing she knew she needed to do for Charlie. Aside from helping to discover the truth, that is. A coil of dread wound in her stomach as she talked herself in and out of what she’d promised she would do.

  She trudged down the hallway, the ungraceful strike of her bare feet on the wood floors more akin to the stomping hooves of a roundup than one-hundred-and-thirtyish pounds of girl. When she halted in front of the keyboard in the spare room, her anxiety mounted. Odd that her stage fright wasn’t prejudice to the complete lack of an audience.

  The mismatched and weathered piano bench groaned upon impact. Sadie couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat to play this thing. It sure wasn’t like being at Charlie’s tickling the keys of his beautiful baby grand.

  Closing her eyes and inhaling a fresh summons of strength, she let her fingers rest on the smooth faux ivory. As Charlie’s favorite song began to pour forth, the timbre of her voice quaked and her throat clogged with emotion of the last time she’d sung it for him.

  “You had the angels singing with you on that one. Sounds exactly what I ’magine heaven’ll be like. Would you sing it for me once more? I could sure use another dose of heaven today.”

  The last note rang out smooth and steady, and Sadie’s heart warmed, feeling as if she could almost see Charlie’s joyful face smiling down on her. She’d do it. For Charlie.

  The rest of the afternoon piddled by in a cell-phone-induced haze of wake arrangements. Sadie wrapped it up by coordinating a potluck dinner for after the service before finalizing the following week’s schedule with Andy and Elsie.

  Noting that it was fast approaching six o’clock, she fixed herself up a bit, throwing on a kelly green sundress and gold sandals for the weekly Carson family dinner.

  Her preference for comfy sweats was overruled in an attempt to appease her mother. Otherwise, she’d have to endure a lengthy etiquette lesson about what it means to be a lady and how a lady should “accentuate her beauty” instead of hiding it under rock ’n’ roll T-shirts and workout clothes.

  Before it got too late to call, Sadie swiped her phone off the counter and dialed her last call of the day. This time it actually rang—each steady drone amping her nervous anticipation of hearing his husky baritone. But again it ended in voicemail. Sadie left a quick, and hopefully coherent, request for a return call before stuffing the phone in her purse.

  Something loud clanked against the floor. The screen wall again. What were they doing over there? It sounded more like they were ransacking the place than collecting evidence. She decided to stop by, inquire about the pictures, and find out firsthand if they were doing their jobs.

  Probably more effective than calling Agent Hayes anyways. And maybe they’d be more lax about her looking around.

  Sure Agent Hayes had been friendly, but it was easy to see he didn’t trust her. It was also easy to see how his be-still-my-heart grin could manipulate an innocent woman into confessing to murder for the promise of one more smile. She gave a resolute nod of her head, telling herself she was relieved that Agent Hayes hadn’t answered his phone.

  Locking up, Sadie strolled over to Charlie’s, the ebbing of the setting sun’s warmth still hot enough to flush her skin. The breeze kept it bearable, shimmying through her hair, whipping the long strands about her face. Her phone sang from the depths of her enormous purse as she approached Charlie’s door. After clawing the hair from her eyes, and engaging in a frantic bout of digging, she caught the caller ID just before answering.

  Agent Hayes. Unsettled by the strange little flop of her stomach, she shook her head, symbolically chasing away the jitters. “Hello?”

  “Sadie, this is Agent Hayes. I just saw I missed a call from you.”

  Noticing that the front door was cracked, she knocked and let herself in. “Yeah, I was calling because I’m helping Charlie’s family put together a memorial service this weekend, and I wanted to see if I could have access to some of his old photos to put on display.”

  “Yeah, I don’t see why that would be a problem. I’m close to Charlie’s place. I could drop by and get those for you.”

  “I’m actually at Charlie’s right now. I’ve been hearing the FBI team rummaging around here all day, and when I couldn’t get a hold of you, I thought I’d ask someone here.”

  Sadie scanned Charlie’s house. Greeted with a suspicious absence of activity for the noises she’d just heard, she wandered in a few more steps. It was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  What were the slackers up to?

  “Huh. I just heard someone here from my place, but now I don’t see anyone. And the door was left open?” Just then a crescendo of footsteps rose from the basement door. “Oh, I think someone’s coming up from downstairs.”

  “Sadie, the team was at the office when I left ten minutes ago. They’re not at Charlie’s anymore.” Alarm. It was all over his voice.

  Instant dread balled up and twisted in her stomach. A collision of crippling emotions hit her in one paralyzing blow. Panic. Terror. Numbness. A sinking sensation like she was getting dragged to the bottom of an icy lake froze the breath in her lungs.

  She was alone in Charlie’s home with an intruder, or worse, Charlie’s killer. The basement door swung open just as she ducked behind several clustered stacks of newspapers.

  “Sadie? Sadie, are you ok? What’s going on?”

  Sadie winced as she squeezed the receiver to mute out the sound booming through the thin silence. Fear strangled the words she forced out in a barely audible whisper. “Someone’s here.”

  “Sadie, I need to call it in. I’m still ten minutes away. Stay put.” Archer ended the call.

  Muttered curses and savage searching sounds came from what sounded like twenty feet away. Footsteps approached her poor excuse for a hiding spot. Uncontrollable tremors gripped every flimsy muscle fiber in her arsenal, shaking her so hard she almost dropped the phone.

  The hissing creak of the wood floors played like a haunted symphony. She dared not close her eyes for fear of what she might encounter when she opened them.

  Unable to move she stared ahead, a stream of muted prayers trapped within each strained, stuttering breath.

  Where was Agent Hayes? It seemed like an eternity since he’d hung up the phone. Her mind screamed for a solution, an escape, an equation, and came up empty. Why do you not have your gun?

  The steps drew closer.

  Her constricting throat squeezed so tight she thought she might faint. Struggling to cling to consciousness, her heart seemed to explode as her phone suddenly blared to life. With quaking hands she silenced the call from her mom, listening for the death march to continue.

  Nothing.

  An impossibly long moment passed until she heard the faintest strain of the tired timbers underfoot.

  Her scream crumbled to dust in her throat. A pair of piercing dark eyes cloaked by a ski mask spotted her from a breath away and widened with surprise, or rage, she couldn’t tell. The darkness funneled down through his eyes—windows to the soul of a murderer. She knew, she just knew she would die today if she didn’t act.

  Her fear turned liquid, bursting through her veins. Before she could think it through, the adren
aline took over. With a panicked war cry, she lunged forward from her squatted position and drove her shoulder linebacker-style into the man’s stomach, knocking him down. She scrambled to pull herself off of him, kicking and clawing in a panic. Strong biting fingers clamped on her arm before his gloved hand lost contact and grabbed a fistful of the front of her dress, pinning her against him.

  His other hand gripped her backside. A sick, feral glint sharpened in his chilling eyes just before he ground his hips against her, a rasp of a grunt muffled under the mask. His twisted moment of pleasure had softened his grip just enough for her to buck away and shove to her knees. She felt a seam in her sundress give as she jerked it from his grasp and stumbled to her feet.

  The hands that grappled for her failed to connect. With only one second’s advantage, she toppled a column of newspapers over him and threw open the front door. Her legs took flight for the run of her life. Sandals slapping the pavement with a sting, she sprinted as hard as she could back toward her home and never looked back.

  Several minutes later, the police knocked on Sadie’s door. With the profound effects of her terror still manifesting in her wobbly knees and trembling hands, she forced herself outside the safety of her home to give her statement. Twice in one week, what were the odds?

  Her breathing began to even out and the shaking finally started to subside when Agent Hayes’s Suburban whipped into the lot.

  She stepped away from the police officer without a word—without a single rational thought in her head—and went toward him. Tumbling out of his car, he crossed the lot to Sadie in two strides before sweeping her up in his arms.

  Responding in kind, her arms doubled around his neck, her face tucking into his shoulder as he stood there, holding her a foot off the ground.

  She heard his breathless voice utter “Thank you, God” and the emotions of the last few minutes slammed back into her, spilling down her cheeks, bleeding into the starchy cotton of his shirt.

  His grip was firm, but tightened more as her face unconsciously sought out the warmth of his neck. She breathed deep, drawing strength from the disillusioning combination of soap and spice. A shockwave rippled through her, neurons firing an array of pyrotechnics to her dangling toes.

  He was warm and solid, and she was drunk on the power of his arms holding her together. She wasn’t aware how much time had passed. Every inch of her softness was fitted against his hard body, and any semblance of thought headed south, to the tingling that spread from her belly. Which is probably why she didn’t think about what she did next. On impulse, she brushed her mouth over the heated pulsation on the side of his neck, a whispered touch but enough to leave the taste of his skin on her lips. He stilled, and his sharp intake of breath in her ear warned she’d crossed the line.

  Self-conscious of her boldness, she untucked her head from the strong crook of his neck, breathing in his heady scent one last time before coming back down to earth. Figuratively and literally.

  She avoided his eyes when she slid down his body, her pulse humming against the sensitized skin he’d just branded with his touch. With his arms still around her back and hers now resting on his powerful chest, she braved a glance, searching his eyes for what? Confirmation? Regret?

  Concern.

  Another tear crested her cheek. With a sweetness that made her want to cry some more his thumb brushed it away, tracing wet circles on her skin. “Are you all right?”

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

  Someone cleared their throat and the bubble burst, making her suddenly aware of their intimate embrace and the spectacle they were providing for the other authorities on the scene.

  His arms retracted, the heat fizzling from where his hands had pressed against her back.

  She turned away and wiped at her face as the officer who had been questioning her cleared his throat again. “Sorry to interrupt—I just need to ask you a few more questions.”

  Trapped in thought, Sadie questioned how, in the span of ten minutes, she could have her sense of security shaken unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and then right after, in the arms of a man she barely knew, feel safer than she’d ever felt.

  “Sure.” She blinked her eyes hard, hoping to clear the fog of foolish emotions.

  She recounted her experience to Officer Bryant again.

  “What did you say you hit him with?”

  Though she’d already said it twice, this part was really throwing the cop for a loop. “I didn’t hit him. I guess I sort of tackled him.”

  Agent Hayes’s eyebrows rose, wry amusement tugging at his mouth.

  “Did you get a good look at him?” The uniform jotted down information as he spoke.

  “Not really. I was hiding, and I only saw him for a split-second. He had a ski mask on. But he looked to be Caucasian, maybe six feet tall, dark eyes … that’s all I got.” She purposefully left out the part about the sexual aggression shown from the attacker. It made her feel sick to even think about it.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Captain FBI slipped back behind the wheel of Archer Hayes body, irritation tensing his features and a flash of anger darkening his eyes. “They still haven’t been able to track this guy down? He probably fled on foot, are you searching the surrounding areas, canvassing the neighborhoods looking for suspicious activity or vehicles, traffic cameras, anything?”

  The officer sent him an apologetic look. His gracious reaction aimed more for a concerned loved one than an arrogant FBI agent prowling on his turf. “We’re doing everything we can. We’ll let you know if anything turns up.”

  Directing his words at Sadie, Officer Bryant warned, “As of now, this is officially a crime scene. You won’t be allowed to enter without a proper law enforcement escort.”

  “Yes sir, it’s safe to say I’m good and traumatized now. You won’t need to worry about this happening again.”

  The officer left, and Sadie noticed the slightest ease of tension in Agent Hayes’s broad shoulders. And then he looked at her with such tenderness her heart skidded to a stop.

  Honestly, had she a heart-rate monitor handy it would have confirmed a momentary flatline.

  It was short-lived.

  Sinus rhythm resumed within seconds when, with one blink, that heart-melting tenderness morphed into anger. Fury.

  This giant mountain of testosterone towered over her, crossed his arms over his taut chest. Bronze eyes blazing. Molars grinding. What the heck? Any moment now he’d throw out a “fee, fi, fo, fum.”

  “What were you thinking going over there? There’s a killer on the loose, Sadie. You can’t just do whatever you want, whenever you want. Understand? How could you be so, so careless. So stupid!” His voice, while only raised slightly, landed with the force of a bulldozer. The man was a bully. How had she not seen that before?

  Blindsided by his unexpected rant, Sadie went from almost swooning to almost strangling as the tenuous leash on her emotions snapped. “I already told you what I was thinking. Was it the best idea I’ve ever had? No! But after the scare I just had I really don’t need you lecturing me like a child!”

  Spinning around, she stormed off to her porch and yanked her purse from the stoop. Was she making the scene worse? Probably, but she was too steamed to care. Chin up, she took on a fitful strut to her car before she left burned rubber as a souvenir for Mr. High-and-Mighty.

  That man had some nerve! Scolding her in front of everyone like that? Sadie blew out a frustrated breath, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity until her joints cramped.

  She was mostly calm by the time she arrived at her parents’ house, the traditional brick two-story she’d lived in all her life, but even though she was quite late she stalled in the driveway, buying herself a few more minutes.

  Leaning forward, she rested her head against the steer
ing wheel, staring blankly at the grooved, black rubber mat beneath her feet. Her attention snagged on a small sliver of paper peeking out from under the seat. She pulled it out and flipped it over.

  Oh. Her heart stuttered. It was a Polaroid of her and Ryan from sixth-grade camp, both grinning from ear to ear, Sadie’s arm slung over his shoulder in a loose hug.

  Ryan, as usual, wore his dirty old Cardinals hat—one that stayed with him from grade school until high school. He’d had this crazy superstition about the amount of dirt the hat could hold correlating with the increased odds of the Cards making it to the playoffs—so naturally, in tenth grade, Sadie “borrowed” it without permission to wash it and test the theory.

  She’d ended up losing the hat, the Cardinals lost the wild card, and she’d never heard the end of it.

  The photo tugged her back, and in a mere instant it seemed like only yesterday. They had just finished exploring the cave with the camp counselor and emerged from the darkest crawl space into the brilliant morning sunlight. Ryan fell to the ground in an exaggerated heap, kissing the dirt as Sadie’s laughter echoed back from the cave and bounded off of every ounce of untouched nature.

  They were so young, but she remembered him saying something so profound. “It’s always darkest before the dawn. But then the sun rises and gives us a fresh start every day. New mercies. Amazing.” Sadie remembered teasing him, calling him Socrates.

  A smile warmed her chest, the picture temporarily filling the broken parts of her lonely heart. She’d taken it with the camera she’d brought to camp, but Ryan seemed to like it so much that she’d given it to him and hadn’t seen it since.

  A sudden knock on the window jolted her rear from the seat, her head delivering a hard blow to the low roof of the old Camaro. Wincing, she rubbed against the impending lump and caught sight of her mom beside the car, looking annoyed. She pulled open the driver door.