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Sam had written a report about that night and mailed it to himself, as well as local police, as soon as he’d turned eighteen.
He’d kept his own copy—unopened but postmarked—and given it to a superior officer at the police academy along with his application. The cop had filed it with his records, helping preserve the evidence so it was still admissible in the case against Covington.
“Not that my notes help much to connect that incident to him.” Sam had berated himself a million times for not pulling the mask off the guy’s face instead of running after Gabriella to make sure she was safe.
“We’ll find something.” Zach pounded a fist on the table, making Sam’s map jump. “We’re going to find more victims, and one of them is going to have the piece of evidence that ties it all together to nail Covington’s ass.”
Sam had thought so at first, but months into this case with little progress, he was starting to wonder. Shoving back from the table, he headed over to the pull-up bar he’d installed in an archway between the conference room and the kitchenette.
The chin-ups at least got his blood flowing when his brain shut off. Reaching for it now, he began to haul his body upward until his chin was parallel with the bar. Then he lowered himself slowly and repeated the motion.
“Why don’t people come forward to prosecute scumbags?” He didn’t understand why anyone would remain under the thumb of someone who hurt them.
“You have to ask? We had reasons for not going to the cops as kids.” Zach reached for a bowl of peanuts on the conference table. They were left over from a retirement party they’d given one of the women in the clerk’s office.
He tossed a nut in the air and caught it in his mouth while Sam kept pounding out pull-ups.
“Yeah, child services could have separated you and Gabriella once they realized your mom wasn’t taking care of you. I was afraid the cops would find out I’d beaten the guy up and send me to juvie since Gabriella didn’t want to tell anyone what really happened.” Sam had gone over and over their options in his head and knew they’d done the best they could at the time.
“Right. And everyone else who avoids talking to cops feels like they have good reasons, too.” Zach tossed another nut and centered his head beneath it so it fell straight onto his tongue before he chomped it.
Sam raised and lowered himself. Raised and lowered.
“They don’t, though. I went to the high school this week to talk to the kids, since the bastard tends to target teen girls. But all that most of the kids cared about was that their parents would take their phones away if they found out they were texting late at night. I don’t call that a good reason for not stepping up to do your civic duty.”
It was damn lazy and self-centered, in fact. He’d had a tough time responding to those kinds of concerns from the kids who’d participated in the discussion after his talk.
At their age, he didn’t have a home, let alone a cell phone. And even as a teen he would have done anything and everything to protect the people he called friends. He had, in fact.
So he couldn’t understand kids who closed their eyes when they saw their peers in trouble.
“But scaring them off isn’t going to help our cause,” Zach said as he pulled the map of the quarry closer to examine it. “We need those kids to think of us as their friends, dude.”
“Then you should have been the one to talk to them.” Sam released the bar and dropped to his feet, grateful that the rush of blood through his veins was chasing off some of the sluggishness. “I’m a walking zombie lately. No sleep isn’t exactly enhancing my public face.”
“Which was already so warm and fuzzy.” Zach never looked up from the map.
“I didn’t become a cop to play guidance counselor to a bunch of teenagers.”
“Well, this is Heartache.” Zach finally glanced up. “It’s not the kind of town that needs a lot of policing, so as long as you’re here, you’re going to have to do some public outreach.”
“Or I can deputize the guidance counselor.” Sam scooped his keys off the desk, wanting to get away from the office and air out his brain. “But right now, I need a plan to unearth more witnesses.”
He headed for the door that led into the town hall. Normally he’d be inside for the biweekly court session. Sam liked to be there so he could clarify any of his reports for the judge or argue with defendants who wanted to dispute arrests or citations. But this week, the docket was light. Probably because he’d been too deep in the Covington case to spend much time on anything else.
Stepping out into the parking lot, he was striding toward his pickup when a familiar silver sedan slipped into a spot next to his.
Heather Finley, Zach’s fiancée. Sam lifted a hand in greeting. He had old history with the Finley family since he’d dated Heather’s younger sister, Amy, back in high school. But she’d left Heartache not long after Sam, and her otherwise close-knit family didn’t mention her much.
“Sam.” Heather flagged him down before he could pass her, waving at him as she opened the driver’s-side door. “Do you have a minute?”
Honestly, if he could have come up with an excuse to avoid social chitchat, he would have. He liked Heather just fine. She was a kind and talented woman, volunteering with the town’s rec department to teach music to local kids whenever she wasn’t building her own following as a country-music performer.
And while Sam admired Heather for understanding her civic duty and testifying in the Covington trial, small talk had never been his strong suit.
Especially with the Finley family. He’d never forgotten the way they’d alienated one of their own.
“Zach’s inside,” he said, halting his pace. “Conference room.”
“Great.” She gave him a lopsided smile, her long red curls covering the shoulders of her bright green trench coat. “I owe him lunch after he drove me to Nashville last weekend. But I wanted to check in with you first.” She hit the key fob to lock her car doors. “Are you still living on Partridge Hill Road near the town line?”
“I rent a place up there, yeah.” Having some space between him and the rest of Heartache made the longer drive to work well worth it.
“My sister is moving into our old hunting cabin off one of the dirt roads at the top of the hill—”
“I thought Erin and Remy liked being close to your family?”
“Not Erin.” Her pause seemed to stretch out for minutes. Hours. “Amy.”
“Amy?” Sam hadn’t allowed himself to think about Amy Finley in years. Well, except when she sneaked into an occasional dream.
She’d been his high school girlfriend. A relationship they’d kept quiet at her insistence because of her mother’s instability. A relationship he’d been forced to walk away from to help Zach’s sister. They’d left town in a hurry, scared that Gabby’s stalker would try to attack her again. They’d agreed Gabriella would be safest if no one knew where they were going. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Amy. Weeks later he’d sent a message to tell her he’d had to leave to help a friend, but she hadn’t responded.
And now, after ten years of silence, she was back. Holy hell.
“Yes. It took a long time, but Erin and I finally convinced her to come home to Heartache, at least temporarily. She’s going to renovate my father’s hunting cabin into a real home so we can put it on the market. I’m hoping she’ll stay for my wedding.” Heather tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I thought maybe, if you knew she was up there, you could keep an eye on her.”
No.
The reaction was strong and immediate. He wasn’t going to put himself anywhere near Amy Finley. Didn’t matter that their relationship had died a cruel death a decade ago. He didn’t need any more trouble with women than he already had.
“She’d be...what? Twenty-seven years old by now?” He rubbed the back of his neck, where his exhaustion was turning into a knot of tension. “She won’t want a watchdog.”
He tried to temper the refusal with a grin, but he had the feeling it came across more of a grimace.
“I’m sure she doesn’t.” Heather surprised him by agreeing. “But it’s a remote cabin, and the access is limited. I just thought you’d want to know someone is living up there for at least a few months. If you see anything suspicious, keep in mind she’s all alone on that hill.”
Guilt crowded away the bout of selfishness.
“Of course.” He nodded, accepting the responsibility that he suspected would only stir up trouble. “I never consider myself off duty, anyhow. I’ll know if anyone goes up or down that road.”
Zach’s fiancée beamed. She didn’t look much like Amy, who he remembered as rail thin and tall with skin so pale he could spot veins beneath its surface in bright sunlight. But there was a radiance in Heather’s eyes that was similar to her younger sister’s, a happiness so joyous a person would have to lack a pulse not to smile back.
Sam did just that.
“Thank you. I feel better knowing you’ll check on her since I’m not sure when she’ll be ready to see any of her family.” Heather bit her lip for a moment before continuing. “For now, I’m just happy she’s home for however long she’s here.” She reached to give his forearm a gentle squeeze before she brushed by him to enter town hall, her suede pumps tapping a purposeful rhythm while Sam tried to recover from her news.
Amy Finley. Back in Heartache.
He had no business feeling one way or the other about that, given how they’d parted. But that didn’t prevent an old memory from drifting through his mind—Amy riding shotgun in his pickup truck on a hot summer day, promising she knew the perfect spot for skinny-dipping. He’d been seventeen and crazy about her, and even though he was supposed to be driving them both to work, he’d ended up following her directions to a private spot in the woods, where a bend in the creek made a shady pool.
She’d slid off her shorts too fast for him to see much—and he didn’t want her to catch him drooling over her—but he’d never forgotten the way she’d darted through the green trees, laughing and teasing him the whole time.
No doubt a woman like that had moved on. Family. Kids. He hadn’t looked her up online and hadn’t asked about her, even though his best friend was now engaged to her sister.
She’d never gotten along with her family. She’d even told him once that he was the only reason she could stand to stay in Heartache...
Damn.
Shutting down the old regrets, he moved toward his truck again. He didn’t need this kind of distraction now. His personal life had gotten about a thousand times more complicated this year, for one thing. And for another? He wanted all his professional focus on solidifying the case against Jeremy Covington. He’d given up Amy ten years ago to put this guy behind bars.
He would make damn sure the sacrifice had been worth it.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_870968a8-6de1-5f77-8df0-5a8cc7893b63)
RETURNING FROM THE grocery store, Amy took the Partridge Hill Road slowly, climbing the sharp incline at a respectful speed. The tarmac looked like the town had been ignoring it for decades, and she was wary of the potholes and cavernous cracks.
Her car was on its last leg—to be expected since she’d snagged it on eBay for next to nothing after her previous vehicle had died. A gray sedan built for efficiency and not comfort, the car was held together with duct tape, furnace cement, a few well-placed zip ties and a whole lot of YouTube video knowledge on DIY mechanics. She was proud she’d kept the thing running this long, but she wasn’t about to risk her luck on one of those black holes.
Even if that meant she couldn’t zip past the house where Sam Reyes lived.
She kept her eyes on the road so as not to risk any accidental sightings. Not that she wasn’t curious, of course. Her long-ago boyfriend had been hot when other teenage boys were still gangly and awkward. Her imagination could quite nicely envision him as a man full grown. She didn’t need that visual confirmed, though. Especially not after they’d had the world’s most awkward non-breakup.
He just up and disappeared. Vanished into thin air with Gabriella Chance, a particularly adorable majorette who probably would have been homecoming queen. If she hadn’t left school to run away with Sam. His mysterious email—weeks later—claiming that he’d left to “help a friend” hadn’t exactly eased her anger.
Thump!
The car dipped down into a rut she hadn’t seen. The passenger-side tire scraped something sharp, a grating noise against the wheel. She hit the gas on instinct since her vehicle was prone to stalling.
And yet, of course, her sedan died right there.
“Unacceptable.” She closed her eyes. Willed the vehicle to life. “If not for me, you would be in a scrap heap.”
Sadly, it wasn’t her first dialogue with the vehicle. But for the first time the cursed thing seemed to listen because it fired up again with a cough and a splutter.
“Yes!” She hit the gas hard, desperate to get out of sight from the last house on Partridge Hill Road.
She wasn’t a woman who enjoyed being rescued, and, thankfully, her closest neighbor wouldn’t be obliged to fill that role today. Racing up the rest of the hill, she dodged the remaining pits and crevices, flush with victory and the knowledge she had enough supplies to last her for the next two weeks. She wouldn’t need to worry about seeing anyone until she felt well settled in, and—
Oh. Crap.
A large man stood on the porch of the hunting cabin.
Dressed in black and wearing dark sunglasses, the figure stood with his back to her, his large shoulders bent over something he seemed to be examining on the front-porch swing. A hit man deciding which weapon to use? Her brain churned out a whole series of crazy possibilities when he did not turn toward her as she slowed the car.
Fear crawled up her throat since no one should be here. Her sisters had promised her—promised—that they would let her decide when she wanted to see the family. No one else knew she was here. And the guy on the porch sure didn’t look like he was selling something. Or trying to convert her.
Why hadn’t the man noticed her yet? She debated backing down the road again. She could just slide it into Neutral and she’d be at the bottom of Partridge Hill in moments. Then suddenly, even with her heart beating hard and the car’s heater blowing on high, she realized she could hear the wail of an infant.
Even as she told herself that made no sense, the man on the porch straightened. He held a baby in his arms.
But that wasn’t nearly the most shocking thing about her uninvited guest.
Because the man in front of her was Samuel Reyes.
Seeing her, he raised his hand. A greeting? A warning?
She mimicked the movement as she sat in the driver’s seat, staring at him as if she’d seen a ghost.
So much for getting past his house unnoticed.
Shutting off the engine as he walked toward the car, she wondered about the etiquette for this situation. How did a woman act when confronting a man who’d broken her heart and run off with another girl? Did she go with a breezy, blasé manner like none of it mattered? Pretend she didn’t recognize him?
He was more handsome than she’d imagined he would be, and her imaginings had been plenty favorable to start with. He looked like a man who took his job seriously, and trained hard enough he’d be able to capture Olympian sprinters while on foot. Even in his dark pants and jacket, the muscles in his limbs were evident.
His features were more sculpted, too, his jaw and cheekbones more angular somehow, his gray eyes more hooded. Or was it that his expression was less open, his gaze more calculating? Sliding across the seat to the working passenger-side door, she reminded herself to breathe.
He was at the car door sooner than she was, opening it and holding out a hand to help her out.
Her heart beat faster for no good reason.
“Looking for someone?” she asked, ignoring his hand to step out onto the patch of gravel that counted as a driveway.
Her gaze skittered over the wriggling baby wrapped in a blue blanket in his arms. The infant couldn’t be more than eight weeks old. Round-cheeked and red-faced, the baby lay tucked into one of Sam’s arms and stared at Amy with wide blue eyes. The child had quit crying for the moment, making the sound of the silence all the more awkward.
“I came up here to see you. Hello, Amy.” Sam reached past her to retrieve her shopping bags from the car, following her example. “Let me give you a hand.”
He smelled good. Like spicy aftershave and wood smoke, as if he’d spent the afternoon near a campfire.
“I can manage,” she assured him. “And you appear to have your hands full.” She wondered why her sisters hadn’t mentioned Sam had a kid. It struck her as highly relevant. “Congratulations.”
She brushed past him to enter the cabin, needing to escape from a confrontation she wasn’t ready to have. In theory, she’d understood he lived close to the cabin. Her sister Heather, ever the family peacemaker, had warned Amy of his proximity in a letter. But she hadn’t counted on him seeking her out and trying to talk to her.
Then again, he couldn’t know she’d lost the skill of idle chitchat. Since she’d left Heartache, she no longer bothered making small talk with strangers or pretending a level of social comfort she’d never developed. While waitressing, she’d taken orders, delivered food and kept coffee cups filled. Occasionally, a chatty trucker would remind her of her father and slide past her guard, roping her into conversation about something besides the weather and how he’d like his eggs cooked. But for the most part, she kept to herself.
Besides, Sam was holding a baby.
A healthy, beautiful swaddled bundle that only reminded her of the pregnancy she’d lost a year ago. She’d faced the miscarriage alone since she’d scared off the father within weeks of discovering they were going to be parents. Amy hadn’t mourned the loss of the stockbroker boyfriend. But the baby?
The hurt of it yawned like a hole that would never close.
She was opening the front door of the cabin with the key when Sam caught up with her. She sensed his movement behind her, heard the rustle of plastic shopping bags.
“You’re in luck,” he said as she shoved open the thin pine front door. “Turns out I can carry a baby and a few bags, too.”
He followed her inside, not waiting for an invitation—or maybe guessing she wouldn’t give one. As he dropped the bags on the floor beside the ones she’d deposited there, she was reminded of the first time he’d spoken to her.
“Do you remember when we got paired to set up the archery stands in gym?” She shared the thought, protecting herself from having to ask him about the infant or himself just yet.
