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The doe didn’t hold his interest nearly as long as the woman did. He found it interesting that her thoughts had lingered on his son and the threat to the boy.
“Lorelei. My foster mother.” He studied Amy’s face while she watched the deer. Her pale skin and delicate features were the same as he remembered. She still looked as if a stiff wind might blow her down, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case if she was toughing out a winter in that hunting cabin with no stove and no heat. “She and her husband still take in kids. The house is right in town and always full of activity. No one will get close to Aiden there.”
“Good.” She nodded, a smudge of dirt on her cheek calling to his fingers. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She hugged thin arms around her waist and turned to glance up at him. “You may find it hard to believe, but I’ve actually become a worse conversationalist as an adult than I was at seventeen.”
“You weren’t prying.” He leaned down to the rushing stream to grab a handful of cold water and splashed it on his face, appreciating the stinging chill on his perpetually tired eyes. “I’m just a bit shell-shocked trying to get used to single fatherhood.”
He wasn’t the kind of guy who ever felt the need to explain himself. Except right now, with Amy Finley, he found himself wanting to. And he would have. But she chose right then to clutch his arm in a tight grip.
“What is that?” she asked quietly, her eyes wide, her whole body rigid.
Straightening, he followed her gaze.
A full-grown wild boar steamed hot breath into the cool fall air, staring directly at them.
He tensed. Took her hand. Kept his eye on the animal.
“Let’s call it a pig,” he said softly, trying not to startle the beast. “As long as we’re not between it and any piglets, we’re going to be just fine.”
Gently, he tugged Amy behind him, grateful as hell for her quiet footfall. No chance of her startling the thing; that much was certain. Her hand trembled in his, though.
Behind the boar and on the other side of the stream, the doe fled. The steaming hulk of pig did not spare a glance in its direction. Chances were good the animal would take off soon, too, but every now and then, the things turned vicious. Sam had a weapon on him, but he had no inclination to be stuck eating gamy pork all winter.
“We’re going to back up a step, okay?” he told her, reaching an arm behind him to find her. His hand collided with a gently curved hip.
She was close. Very close.
He gave her hip a squeeze, and Sam told himself the gesture was a normal human instinct to offer comfort and reassurance. Somehow his brain didn’t account for the fact that what he actually clutched was the curve of her ass. The top of her thigh.
The sudden lightning strike of sexual response was as inappropriate as it probably was inevitable.
He let her go fast, cursing himself for being ten kinds of idiot.
“If that thing charges,” he continued quietly, “you run in whatever direction I don’t. Understand?”
She made an inarticulate sound he took for agreement as he backed up and she followed suit.
The boar surged forward, scaring the living hell out of him for about two seconds until it peeled off to the west at a dead run, disappearing into the brush. Soon the thundering hooves and crackle of branches and underbrush grew fainter.
Sam stared after it, certain it had taken off for good, but wanting an extra second for the realization to soothe his hammering pulse. Behind him, Amy’s forehead brushed the back of his shoulder for a fleeting moment, her reaction so fast he might have imagined it.
“Are you okay?” He turned to her in the unnatural quiet left behind in the wake of the two-hundred-pound beast.
“Fine.” She gave a clipped nod, her posture brittle, spine ramrod straight. But her head was dipped ever so slightly, confirming that brief bit of contact that still scorched his shoulder. “Although I’ve probably had my fill of fresh air for today.” Then her head straightened; her lips quirked. “I’m ready to head back if you are.”
So cool. Composed.
Had she felt that moment of heated attraction? Or was he the only one to dream up the shared lust?
Sleep deprivation. Surely he had to be suffering from lack of a solid eight uninterrupted hours of rest. Well, and too many months of no sex.
Best not to think about sex.
Nodding, he couldn’t restrain the impulse to place a hand on the small of her back and urge her forward down the hill. He told himself it was only because he felt responsible for her. As sheriff, he had a duty to keep people safe. Besides, he’d promised Heather Finley he’d keep an eye on Amy.
And neither of those reasons explained why it was so tough to pull his hand away again. He forced himself to focus on why he’d come here. Why he needed to talk to her.
“Amy, I wanted you to know what happened with Gabriella. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the whole story at the time.” He kept an eye on the woods on either side of the path, unwilling to be caught off guard again. “It wasn’t my secret to tell. But Gabby’s ready to testify now, so I can finally explain everything to you.”
“I understand.” She kept her attention straight ahead as they made their way back to the cabin. “And I appreciate you telling me now. I always wondered.”
He had plenty of things that he’d wondered about, too. Like why she’d left Heartache right after he did. Like what had happened to chase the warmth he remembered out of her eyes.
But he couldn’t afford to think about what he wanted. He had to focus on the case and Aiden’s safety.
“I hoped that, in return, you would spend some time talking to me about what happened to you that summer.” He nearly ran into her when she slowed her step suddenly.
He caught himself just in time.
“I told you I don’t know anything that will help your case.” Her voice sounded strangled.
Because she was hiding something?
Or because there were emotions at work between them that she didn’t want to acknowledge any more than he did?
That wasn’t going to be easy to untwine.
“But you can’t be certain of that,” he pointed out reasonably, following her lead in slowing the pace down as they headed back toward the cabin. “I’m not going to ask you anything personal or try to invade your privacy.” Nine times out of ten, that was what people were worried about when they resisted police questioning. Unless, of course, they had something to hide. “I just want to try and create a timeline of that summer. Walk through it and try to account for our whereabouts each day. Just see what small memories might crop up.”
She seemed to consider it.
Or at least, she didn’t protest right away.
“It could jog my memory, too, you know.” He hadn’t really thought about that until this moment. “You might remember things that I’ve forgotten, so when we put our stories together, between the two of us, something new could spring to light.”
“So you think us walking down memory lane is going to give you the evidence you need to convict Jeremy Covington?” The look she slanted him told him exactly what she thought of the strategy.
“I have no idea what a walk down memory lane will do, but if there’s a chance it will give me a more complete picture of that summer, why not? I’ve been encouraging more recent victims to come forward. I even went into Crestwood High to talk to the teens about it, but I’m getting a whole lot of blank looks and silence in return. I can’t face this guy in a courtroom and not bring all possible evidence to send his ass to prison.”
A scuttling sound underfoot startled her, and she moved closer to Sam. He regretted that their walk had made her jumpy, but he liked having her in arm’s reach. Liked that her first instinct was to be next to him. He let himself brace her elbow for a solid three seconds.
He slowed his steps as the old cabin came into view through the trees, not ready to let her go until she agreed to see him again. To replay that summer and help him find some clue he’d missed.
Amy turned to face him, leaning against the trunk of a maple as she peered up at him. “One of the reasons I chose to come back to Heartache now is to support my sister when Heather testifies against this guy.” She drew a deep breath. “So I promise you, I am committed to putting him behind bars, too. I may have been absent from this family for ten years, but I’m still a Finley, and hearing how that creep threw her in the back of a van with another girl that he’d tied up...” She shook her head, unable to finish the thought. “I am here to see justice done, Sam. But I am not here to testify.”
An interesting distinction. Especially considering no one had asked her to testify when she claimed not to know anything. But he didn’t want to pick apart that point right now. All he wanted was the chance to talk to her at length about that summer. About any interaction she might have had with Gabriella. He needed to find out if she remembered anything that could help tie the crime against Zach’s sister to Jeremy Covington.
“So walk me through those last weeks we spent together and help me spur my own memory,” he urged, risking a step closer to press his point. “Give me an afternoon.”
“Does it have to be a formal questioning at the police station?” Her worry was obvious. Because she had normal anxiety about speaking to law enforcement? “Or can we do it here?”
The more she resisted, the more he wanted to record her statement. As a cop, he had a naturally suspicious nature, but his instincts told him she knew more than she was letting on. But those same instincts warned him if he pushed Amy too hard, she would shut down altogether.
“All right, your place it is?” He would ask her permission to record the session, of course, and at least then he would be able to review it at length.
She nodded. “Fine. Not tomorrow, though. I have a permit inspector lined up to come and help me apply for some of the renovation paperwork.”
“The day after, then.” He wasn’t budging from this spot without a commitment.
“I’ll be there.” Her green eyes narrowed as she looked him over. “Are you sure you’re ready to relive that summer? Fourth of July? That night we took the late shift to close up the pizza shop together so we could be alone? Because like it or not, those are the times I remember best, and I don’t think they’re going to shed much light on the case.”
She’d deliberately chosen some of the most heated moments they’d shared. And hell no, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear them chronicled from her point of view. He couldn’t afford that kind of distraction while he was building his case and trying to figure out how to raise a son on his own.
“Maybe not.” He’d put Amy Finley out of his mind a long time ago, knowing that was best for both of them. Yet with the feel of her hip still imprinted on his skin, he wasn’t sure he could keep her as part of his past. “But I’m glad to know you have some good memories in spite of how it all ended.”
He’d never meant to hurt her, but a whisper of something in her eyes said clearly he had.
Shoving away from the tree, she straightened.
“No sense denying what happened. Especially since it will be a matter of public record soon enough.” She headed toward the cabin, her fine hair gently swaying with her movements. “Thanks for standing between me and the wild boar, Sam,” she called over one shoulder. “It’s been a long time since anyone put himself in harm’s way for me.”
A damn shame, as far as he was concerned.
He watched her walk away, his eyes drawn to her hips as he remembered what she’d felt like in his arms all those years ago. The attraction hadn’t died. It was still plenty hot. Only now that awareness was tempered with suspicion. Something wasn’t right.
Once she reached the cabin door and retreated inside, he pointed his feet home, wondering why she had tried so hard to avoid this conversation. And why she had goaded him about their past to distract him and throw him off guard. He’d like to think it wasn’t going to work.
But the truth of it was he’d be reliving those nights with her in his dreams anyway. And he already remembered them very, very well.
* * *
A WILD BOAR was chasing her.
Amy ran and ran through dark woods. Branches scraped at her face and tore at her clothes as she scrambled down the hill toward the hunting cabin. She was close. So close to safety.
She could almost reach out and touch the familiar rough-hewn logs...
But the grunting pig was faster.
Steaming breath scorched her ear as she struggled. Hairy hooves pawed at her. She wanted to scream. But fear robbed her of sound. Every time she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Tears burned her eyes. Fury fired her insides.
Silently, she lay there as the beast nuzzled under her clothes...
Knifing upright, Amy blinked out of the dream. Drenched in sweat, tangled in her sleeping bag, she felt around to discover she was safely inside her father’s hunting cabin. Tools lay all around her from the remodeling project; the cabin floor was still covered in dust from where she’d removed the wall. She must have been more rattled by the wild boar than she’d guessed since the thing had given her nightmares for two nights straight.
Then again, she had struggled for years to forget about other predators that lurked in the woods around Heartache. The boar was just another way for her brain to relive that long-ago horror—the night when she’d been too shell-shocked to scream or defend herself.
Bad enough a faceless man pawed at her in that memory. Now she contended with a two-hundred-pound pig.
Same difference, she thought ruefully.
The urge to get in her car and drive that rattling heap the hell out of Heartache was strong. Yesterday, after she’d dreamed about the man-pig the first time, she’d tucked her car keys in the attic crawl space, just far enough out of reach that she’d have to really think hard about leaving town before she did it. It had taken ten years to get back here. She wasn’t going to turn tail and run without good cause.
And bottom line, no matter how scary things got, Jeremy Covington was still in jail. Based on what Sam had said, Amy had good cause to think Covington was the same man who’d hurt her. If that was true, she was safe from faceless molestation in the woods as long as the man stayed behind bars.
A surge of anger prompted her to sift through her purse and pull out a cell phone. She’d come home to support her sister when Heather gave testimony against the bastard. It was high time she actually delivered on that support and stopped hiding in the woods.
Opening her contacts, she scrolled down to the Hs and pressed her sister’s name. Two rings later, a groggy voice answered.
“Amy?” Heather sounded like their mom on the phone, although at least she spoke her name with more kindness than their mother usually had.
“Hi.” She gripped the device tighter. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to call.” Had it been almost a week? “But I’ve been working on the cabin. If you want to stop by—”
“I can come in the morning,” her sister offered quickly, sounding more awake.
In the background, Amy could hear a man’s voice. Zach, no doubt. Probably asking who was calling in the middle of the night.
“Okay.” Better to follow through before she lost her nerve. “I have to meet Sam later in the day, so morning is good.”
“I’m glad you called, Ames.” The warmth in her voice chased away the last remnants of the dream that had gripped Amy.
For a moment, she was transported back to the old bedroom the three of them had shared—Erin, Amy and Heather. Heather would tell stories until they fell asleep. Or they would act out fairy tales like “The Three Bears” and fall asleep giggling. Quietly, though. Always quietly.
The game was over if they disturbed their mother.
“Good. I’m up early. Come anytime.” She disconnected the call, forgetting to say goodbye. Regretting it.
She didn’t mean to be rude. She was just out of practice being a sister. A friend.
But she was here, damn it. Back in Heartache, trying to do better.
Unable to get back to sleep, Amy slid out of her sleeping bag to walk around the cabin. Finding her purse, she searched for her retractable baton, a weapon she’d carried with her since the early days in Atlanta. She’d found it in a pawnshop, where the old couple who ran the place had given her a good deal that she still hadn’t really been able to afford. Holding it in her hand now, feeling its familiar weight, helped settle her nerves. Seeing the boar and having the disturbing dream had stirred old anxieties. Hell, just being in Heartache was an anxiety.
Baton in hand, she forced herself to unlock the front door—the original lock as well as the new dead bolt she’d installed her second day in residence. She wasn’t crippled by her old fears. She’d learned tangible ways to own them, manage them and keep them at bay. The locks helped, as did the assortment of self-defense devices. Plus she was more physically equipped to handle herself now than she had been as a teen.
Her first year in Atlanta, she’d taken a free class at the YMCA to learn how to get away from an attacker. Each year, around the anniversary of The Incident, she rewarded herself with a new class. Karate. Kickboxing. Krav Maga. She still wasn’t strong, but she was a whole lot smarter than that paralyzed, silent teen in the woods had been.
Breathing in the cold night breeze, she leaned against the porch rail and hoped the fresh air would help her sleep. In the distance, when the wind blew the trees a certain way, she could just catch a glimpse of a light farther down the hill. It had to be Sam’s house, the only other residence within half a mile from hers.
Would he be awake right now, too? Did worries about his son have him pacing the floors? She hated that someone had threatened that tiny baby simply because Sam was good at his job. It also unsettled her to think that whoever had made that threat was not behind bars. Sam didn’t believe he had the wrong man in jail, but who else besides the man who had assaulted Gabriella Chance and the others would want to stifle new evidence in the case?
The attacker—whoever he was—might still be free.
Her gaze slid from the light in the woods to her car parked out front. She could leave whenever she wanted. Whenever she needed to. She wouldn’t allow this trip to Heartache to undo all her hard work to put the past behind her.
But for now, she would stay. She still wanted to reconnect to the family she had since she’d never have one of her own. Life was too short to live with regrets.
Slipping quietly back into the cabin, she locked and bolted the door before settling back in her sleeping bag. Tomorrow, she’d see one of her siblings face-to-face for the first time in a decade. She’d offer whatever help she could to Heather since her big sister had proved braver than her to testify against a local menace. If Covington went to jail, maybe her nightmares would end. But as she laid her head on the pillow, Amy didn’t think about vindication or revenge, or even her family. Instead, the image that settled into her tired brain was the moment in the woods when Sam Reyes had stood between her and everything scary. The moment when he’d touched her with shocking intimacy that had stirred long-forgotten pleasure.
