by Barb Han
“Hold on a second. What skinny guy?” All his internal alarm bells sounded. The thought he’d left them alone and vulnerable tightened the knot in his gut. And then it dawned on him who she was talking about. The two guys who’d chased her were nicknamed Scrappy and Thick Guy. “The one from a few days ago?”
“Yes—”
“Are you hurt?” Fire raged through him at the thought.
“No. I’m okay. A couple of bumps and bruises, a bloody nose... I’m just worried about Marcy. She lost a lot of blood.”
“I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m cleared here. Did they say which hospital she was going to?” he asked.
“No. I forgot to ask. The EMTs got going with her really fast. She was so pale,” she said, and he heard the worry in her voice.
“I can find out. I’m on my way to my vehicle right now.” He pushed up to standing. “I’ll see if an officer can stay with you until I get there.”
“Okay.” There was hesitation in her voice. This wasn’t the right time to tell her how he felt about her. Not while Marcy was in a hospital fighting for her life. “Dawson...”
“Yeah?”
“I—uh...never mind. I guess I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said. He needed to ask what that was all about but everything could wait until they got a status update on Marcy.
Plus, he needed to get to her. He needed to hold her in his arms. He needed to be her comfort.
And he hoped like hell she needed the same from him.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Dawson had caught his breath and his truck was in good shape. He could jog back to his ride and get to her inside of fifteen to twenty minutes if the roads were clear.
“I’ll see you soon.” Summer ended the call.
Dawson turned to Officers Jenkins and Smith. “Can you guys handle this from here? I need to pick up my...someone and get her to the hospital to check on our friend. I’ll be there for a little while if you want to swing by for my statement. Or, I can come down to the station.”
Jenkins was already shaking his head.
“No, sir. You go take care of your friend. We got this suspect from here.”
“Thank you.” He’d never meant those pair of words more. He took off back toward his truck and started feeling the effects of the fight with Runner.
This guy refused to identify himself. He carried no ID. One look at him said he had plenty of money to smooth over any bumps in the road.
The fact the evidence against him was all circumstantial burned Dawson’s gut. A sympathetic jury pool would acquit in a heartbeat. If the runner was powerful enough to have a detective leave her job and someone killed in county lockup, he could find a way out of this.
Dawson made it to his vehicle, thankfully right where he left it. He fished keys out of his pocket and slid into the driver’s seat. He navigated back onto the road and backtracked using his GPS.
His pulse galloped the entire ride back to the apartment complex. He pulled up to the scene where a female officer stood outside her squad car, arms folded as she talked to Summer.
The second Summer locked gazes with him, she started toward him. He didn’t bother parking, he just stopped in the middle of the lot. He wasn’t concerned about turning off his truck, either.
All he wanted was to feel Summer in his arms where she belonged. Dawson had never felt home in another person before Summer.
And the world righted itself for just a moment when she buried her face in his chest. He looped his arms around her and she pressed her body flush with his.
This was what love was supposed to be. Not obligation. It was supposed to feel like this, like he didn’t want to spend another day without her in his arms.
Even though she’d ran straight to him and held on to him like there would be no tomorrow, he had no idea if she needed a friend or if she needed him. Big difference.
Dawson would take whatever she was willing to give. But first, they had to get to the hospital and check on Marcy.
Officer Williams walked over and introduced herself. Dawson thanked her for staying with Summer.
“You’re welcome, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Officer Williams had stars in her eyes when she looked at him. Other departments gave him a healthy amount of respect and he appreciated them for it. His division prided themselves on cooperating with other agencies and it had bought them a helluva lot of good will over the years.
“Take care,” he said as he walked with Summer to the truck. She climbed in on the driver’s side and scooted to the middle of the bench seat. She seemed to need physical contact as much as he did. He hoped that was a good sign.
He also had bad news to deliver but that could wait until they checked on Marcy.
* * *
THE HOSPITAL WAS a ten-minute drive that took twenty in traffic. Summer sat scooted up against Dawson, thigh to thigh. Her heart had fisted when she’d seen his face and then relief flooded her that they were both alive.
“I just realized something. We don’t even know Marcy’s last name,” she said to Dawson.
He gripped the steering wheel as he navigated through the heavy traffic. “I can get us past the lobby with my badge. I’m guessing there aren’t a whole lot of GSWs in the middle of the day at the hospital.”
“GSW?” She had no clue what that meant.
“Gunshot wound.” His reply was low and reverent.
“Oh.” Those weren’t exactly her favorite words to hear right now. Seeing the scared look on Marcy’s face would haunt Summer long after this ordeal was over. She leaned into Dawson, drawing as much strength from him as she could. Her body started shaking and she imagined it was because her adrenaline finally wore off.
Exhaustion hit like a motorcycle going a hundred miles an hour and then slamming into a wall.
Dawson pulled into the ER bay and parked. He threw his shoulder into the door to open it and grunted. She realized he must’ve taken a few blows. His face was perfect unlike hers. Officer Williams had given Summer a few wipes while they waited for Dawson.
Summer was able to wipe off the blood, but her busted lip couldn’t be cleaned so easily. That was sticking around.
He opened the door before helping her step out of the truck. As soon as her shoes hit concrete, he blew out a breath and then kissed her. His lips were gentle on hers but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a sizzle below the surface.
He locked gazes, holding for just a few seconds before linking their fingers together and heading inside the ER.
With his free hand, he pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge. “You had a GSW come in during the last hour via ambulance.”
The nurse at the intake station was already nodding her head. “There’s a waiting room through those doors, all the way down the hall and to the left. I’ll update the file to let the doctor know you’re waiting.”
“Thank you,” was all Dawson said before heading down the hall.
The waiting room was small. There were only about a dozen chairs. Everything was blue. The chairs, the carpet, the curtains. The wallpaper had hints of blue. None of which mattered because all she cared about was Marcy being well cared for.
There was coffee. She and Dawson seemed to notice it at the same time because they both made a move in that direction.
He poured two cups and handed one over. She took a few sips, welcoming the burn on her throat.
“Do you want to sit or stand?” he asked.
“I’m not sure my legs can hold me up much longer.” She wasn’t kidding. The past few days had caught up to her and she could barely stand. She also glanced down at her shirt and realized she must be a sight.
A nurse stepped inside the room and identified herself as Ramona. She was late thirties, with kind eyes and a round face.
“I brought you something to change into if you’d like,” she
said to Summer, holding out a shirt that looked like scrubs.
“Thank you.” Summer took the offering and hit the bathroom. She washed off more of the blood and splashed cold water on her face.
“She’s in surgery but the outlook is good,” Dawson said as soon as Summer returned. Ramona had already left.
“That’s great news.” Summer reclaimed her seat and took another sip of coffee, anything to wake her up.
He nodded. Then said, “There’s not so good news about the case.”
Dawson’s serious expression sent a wave of panic rippling through her.
“What is it?” Bad news only got worse with age.
He explained the situation with the guy he called Runner, and her heart literally sank.
“Marcy can ID him. He came to the apartment complex to go through my sister’s personal belongings,” she said.
“Won’t make a difference. It’s all circumstantial evidence. We don’t have anything directly linking this guy to the murders. Our Runner did try to kill a US marshal and that should be enough to jail him for a long time. And Scrappy tried to kill Marcy and Summer. The police officers in the shed are witnesses, as well.” There was so much frustration in his voice. “With a good lawyer, he could get out of jail in a few hours.”
“Even though he shot at a US marshal?”
“Trust me, an expensive lawyer could create doubt.” Dawson issued a sharp sigh. “That’s how the legal system works.”
“Well, that’s messed up.”
“At times, it is. Most of the time, though, it works. That’s why I still do this job,” he explained.
“We need proof that he’s tied to my sister or Cheryl.” She sat up straighter and took another sip of coffee. It was strong and black.
“I’d hoped we would find something in your sister’s personal effects.”
“But he got there first.” Of course, he had. The bastard.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Summer felt around in her handbag, needing to feel the necklace in her fingers and some connection to Autumn. A thought came to her. “My sister would’ve known him well enough to realize he’d go through her stuff at the apartment complex.”
She pulled out the necklace and stared at it for a long moment.
Dawson’s cell buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket and stood up. “This is Dawson O’Connor.”
He paused for a long moment before saying a few uh-huhs into the phone. He thanked the caller and then ended the call. “The runner’s name is Mateus Hank.”
“Sounds a lot like Matt Shank.” The wheels started spinning in Summer’s head. “She left clues, Dawson. She wanted us to figure this out.”
The cold metal warmed in her hand and she traced the letters with her index finger. Holding the necklace in her hand gave her an idea.
“What if she wasn’t protecting me? What if my sister tucked this inside the box as a clue?” There was no need for coffee now with the way her mind clicked through theories.
“It’s possible.” He nodded. “But where does the clue lead?”
“I don’t know yet. My first thought is the place where we bought these. The fairgrounds.” She flattened out her palm and looked at the dull piece of metal. “I can’t let that bastard walk away scot-free.”
“Agreed.”
The door to the waiting room opened and a man in scrubs walked inside. He was average height with a runner’s build and a full head of gray hair. “Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Warner.”
Dawson stood and Summer followed suit. Each shook the doctor’s hand.
“Your witness is doing well. She’s out of surgery now and did great.” He went through the procedure using medical jargon that Summer couldn’t understand if she’d tried. But she got the gist of what he was saying.
“We gave her a transfusion because she lost a lot of blood. All in all, we’re expecting a full recovery. She’ll be resting for a little while. We’re keeping a close eye on her. No visitors for the next few hours until she gets out of ICU.” He put a hand up to reassure them. “Out of an abundance of caution.”
Dawson thanked the doctor. He reassured them, once again, that Marcy was expected to make a full recovery.
“I wish she had family here waiting for her,” Summer said after he left.
“Her parents are being notified. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.” He walked over to where they’d been seated and drained his coffee cup. “We have a couple of hours. Are you ready to hit the fairgrounds?”
“I’m ready to find evidence that will nail that bastard to the wall.”
“That’s my girl.” Dawson seemed to catch himself on those last words. Her heart performed a little flip at the term of endearment.
She walked over to him and pressed up on her tiptoes. He met her halfway and their lips touched so gently it robbed her breath.
This time, she linked their fingers.
* * *
WALKING ONTO THE empty fairgrounds brought on a rush of memories. The smell of funnel cake. Livestock. The bright lights and all those carnival rides.
Autumn’s favorite had been the Tilt-A-Whirl. Nothing said the fair like strapping themselves into a ride that spun so fast and hard they almost tossed up their candy apples.
Cotton candy. Autumn couldn’t get enough of it. She was terrible at games but never passed one she didn’t think she could win anyway. Her seven-year losing streak was always on the verge of being over, according to Autumn.
The fair was the one place they’d gone every year without fail. They laughed and played. They would feed llamas and pet baby pigs. For that one day, they weren’t poor or hungry.
Tears welled at the memories.
Walking hand in hand, she led him to where she remembered the necklace booth to have been. There wasn’t much there now but a patch of grass. She looked around for a hiding place.
There was a light pole with a metal plate screwed onto the base. “Maybe in there, Dawson.”
He’d brought a pair of gloves and a paper bag that he’d explained was used for collecting evidence. He’d grabbed a few other items that he explained were useful. Things like tongs.
Dawson moved over to the light pole and took a knee. He examined the plate. “There’s a screw missing.”
Her heart leaped in her throat at the possibility of this hunch panning out.
“It’s loose.” He jiggled the plate.
Chill bumps ran the length of her arms. Experience had taught her not to get too excited before she had something concrete but this was promising.
Somewhere deep in her gut, she knew that if her twin hid something anywhere that it would be here. She prayed someone else hadn’t gotten to the evidence first.
Dawson snapped a few pictures of the plate from different angles. He pulled a screwdriver from his pack and went to work loosening the screws. He set the plate down carefully and shone a light inside the six-by-four-inch opening.
A small smile crept across his lips. Summer knew. There was something inside.
Using the tongs, he pulled out a freezer bag through the opening. He set it down and then checked for more. A second freezer bag came and then a third.
One of the bags contained what looked like a journal. It was labeled My Story.
The second bag was labeled Cheryl. It contained some type of bloody clothing along with pictures that had been taken of her after she’d been strangled.
In the final bag, there were pictures with labels on the backs.
Dawson flipped over the bag with the journal in it. There was a folded-up sheet of paper tucked in the back with Summer’s name on it. He opened the bag carefully and, using the tongs, pulled out the note.
He set it down on the grass and smoothed it out for her to read.
Summer,
this is bad. I’ve gotten myself inv
olved with a bad person and I don’t know how to get out without him hurting the people I love. He’s powerful and rich. And I just found evidence that he killed his last girlfriend, Cheryl. I put it in the bag with her name on it. I think he knows I’ve figured him out. He’s been threatening to dig into my past and find all the dirt if the cops show. He’s been to parties at the governor’s house. He took me as his date. He can cover up anything he wants. His name is Mateus Hank and he’s the CEO of some bank. Anyway, I think he has politicians in his pocket.
I can’t risk him finding you. So, I have to figure something else out. I wish I could tell you about all this. But, knowing you, you’d just come here and get yourself in the same hot water I’m in.
I tried to get out with Dawson O’Connor. I thought he could keep me safe and I cared about him. No one can hide from Mateus for long. He knows too many people and I saw one of his friends at the O’Connor ranch. I knew then I had to get away from there or risk him getting hurt.
I have a lot of regrets, sis. I thought I could come back to Austin and handle Mateus. He says he loves me but it’s not the good kind. Anyway, I have to go. Love you more than words.
Tears streamed down Summer’s face as she read the note from her sister.
“Now we know. She said it herself. She collected evidence against him and probably threatened him. He knew she had something but he didn’t know where,” Summer surmised.
“He kills her and then you show up. He knows you are trouble for him so he hires thugs to take care of you,” Dawson said. He glanced at the plastic bags. “These are proof. This is all we need to link him to the murders.”
Summer took the necklace out of her purse and held on to it. Her sister had been protecting her all along.
* * *
AN HOUR HAD passed by the time the last officer had left the fairground. Summer looked up at Dawson as he walked over to her and pulled her into an embrace.
“Where do we go from here?” She realized this was the end of the road for them. There would be justice for Autumn and Cheryl. Her sister was gone. There was no reason to stick around Texas, except that she’d never felt more at home than since she’d been back.