41. Sawyer
Sawyer
T he sheriff still hasn’t found anything. The only news he brought this week was that the soil in Annabelle’s vegetable patch had been found to be contaminated with glyphosate, which is what we were all expecting, not alleviating our fears at all.
He also spoke to his contacts at the jail, where my former client resides, confirming that he’s had no visitors for months, made no phone calls, and now lives a somewhat quiet life, reading and playing cards in a three-by-three that he calls home.
There’s no indication that he would’ve orchestrated this recent spate of stalking behavior.
None of it makes any sense to me, and it keeps me up at night.
I’ve hardly slept, wanting Annabelle to sleep while I jump at every fucking noise I hear.
But this week since I’ve been here, nothing has happened.
Which doesn’t sit well at all. Because it reaffirms what we all think.
Nothing will happen while I’m here, but something certainly will happen the moment I leave.
I can feel it, and so can she, and the guilt that eats at me is ever present.
It’s connected to me, and I rack my brain, trying to think who it would be.
I also live in fear that she’ll want me gone. I’ve brought danger to her and the boys, and I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to them. But I put up a wall of protection around me, in the hope that when she leaves me, just like Mandy did, it won't hurt as much.
I ignored everyone and everything and dove headfirst into work.
It’s always been my saving grace in these kinds of situations, and I’ve had a lot to catch up on.
But I'm turning the wheels a little differently than before. My meeting with Benjamin Rothschild was one filled with mixed emotions, and one that has been brewing for some time, if I’m honest. It was a great chat, though, and the outcomes are going to be just what I need.
But all the work and all the emotional distance has been pointless, because as I’ve watched her all week, working the land after a long day at the school, then looking after the boys at night, I know she’d never leave me because of something like this.
She isn’t the kind of woman who would give up on us because of some outside force.
It isn’t in her nature. She would meet it all head-on, which is exactly what she’s doing by staying out here on the farm, giving whomever it is a big fuck you , and damn, if that doesn’t make me love her more.
While I’ve been trying to create distance, she’s been the calm, steady force at my side, waiting for me to come back around, and today, when I saw her digging in the dirt after getting confirmation of the Van Cleef deal, I realized what an ass I’ve been and how I now need to step up and be the man I know she thinks I can be.
It’s early morning now, just after two a.m., and after a few hours of sleep, I woke to find her lips wrapped around me. Every dream I had since I was a teenager literally came to life right then and there. As did I, right down her beautiful throat.
Now, sated for the moment, I run my hand up and down her bare back as she curls her naked body into mine, together listening to every movement, every noise.
“Tell me more about Steve.” Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, wanting to know about a man who treated her so badly and one I can’t even go after to put behind bars for her. But Steve is the boys’ father, and I want to know as much as I can.
“Not much else to him, really. He was nice to start with. It wasn’t until we both moved in together here with my parents and got pregnant with Kevin that things started to change.”
I frown. “Pregnancy and early parenthood can be times of heightened risk for domestic violence. Research shows that women are at an increased risk of experiencing violence from an intimate partner during pregnancy. If violence already exists in the relationship, it often escalates during this period.” Unfortunately, I know these statistics too well, having had clients who’ve dealt with similar pain.
“Yeah, it sounds about right. It started so gradually. It wasn’t until my parents died that violence became my nightly routine.”
I grip her tighter, trying to protect her from her memories.
“Was he close with your parents?” I know grief can have different effects on different people.
“No, not really. My parents worked hard. Were out on the farm from sunup until sundown. Steve was around, pitched in a little, but his work ethic wasn’t the same.
I remember my dad had a chat with him about it not long before he and my mom died.
Telling him that he needed to step up to help out.
The farm back then was busy, full of cows and goats and an array of animals.
But Steve didn’t really like my dad telling him what to do.
Never really liked anyone telling him what to do. ” She takes a deep breath.
“Sounds like a real peach.” Hating the dead isn’t something I’ve ever done, but I hope like hell he took the lift down instead of up for his sins against this woman. “How did the car accident happen?”
“He was never home, always out drinking. Came home drunk almost every night. He’d been at his dad’s that night and was driving home. The sheriff said that due to the impact marks, it was obvious they were speeding, and he crashed into a tree not far from here.”
“The car was beyond recognition. A mangled wreck. It caught on fire. The sheriff told me that he would’ve died on impact before his body burned.” I feel her body get heavy in my hold. Regardless of what he did to her, he was a massive part of her past, so the effect on her would be significant.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that.” Kissing her head, I wonder how in the world this woman is so strong and resilient.
“We buried him on his dad’s land. I haven't been to see him since.”
“Did Kevin ever see or suffer his wrath?” I grit my teeth, wondering if this asshole would hurt a child.
“Kevin was a toddler, so if he was quiet, he was fine. I think Steve forgot about him most of the time. But just before Steve died, Kevin started coming out of his room, and he saw me fixing my face, wiping the blood. Too much for a little boy to see.”
My chest tightens at the thought of her suffering. “When he died, I imagine it was pretty tough?”
She huffs. “Understatement of the year. So many things to navigate. He left me in a mess.” Her fingers scrawl patterns on my bare chest, leaving trails of sparks in her wake.
I’m glad she’s opening up. I don't think she really talks to too many people, and here, lying naked, there’s nothing between us, and she’s giving me her trust, her history, her emotions.
And I’ll never get tired of her hands on my body. I’ll never take it for granted either.
“He had a gambling habit. He took everything my parents built, all the money from our accounts, the money I thought he was paying bills with, all went to his hobby. He sold our tractors, some cows. I had to ensure I ran the farm in a way that allowed Kevin and me to eat, but in a way he wouldn’t notice.
So when I was pregnant with Noah, I got a milking cow from Bob.
An old one he offered to us, and it was a lifesaver.
It wasn’t worth any money to anyone, so Steve let me keep it, but I needed that milk for my boys and was so grateful to Bob for that. ”
It’s then I feel my chest growing wet, tears falling from her eyes.
“Did he have a life insurance policy?” But I already know he didn’t; otherwise, she wouldn't be living in so much financial distress.
“No. Couldn’t even pay the electricity bill sometimes.” My stomach rolls, thinking of her and Kevin going without the basic needs.
“You will never go without again, Annabelle. You have Gertie’s now, and you have me.
You and the boys will get everything and anything you want, anytime you want it.
I love you, and I love those two boys. I would do anything for them.
I want to chase after Noah and play ball with Kevin and give you all everything I can and more. ”
She looks up at me, before looking down, her fingers scratching at my chest a little as a smirk curls her lips.
“What are you doing, baby?”
“Looking for the S .”
My brow furrow deepens, having no idea what the hell she’s talking about. “ S ?”
“Yeah, Superman has an S on his chest; I’m just looking for yours.”
I bark out a laugh. “Tough as nuts, stubborn as a mule, and sexy as sin. How did I get so lucky, Lois?”
“You just had to move to Whispers and come find me.” She leans her chin on my chest, looking up at me like I gave her the world. It’s at this moment I know I owe Tanner a large debt, because without him, there wouldn’t be an us.
And she’s right. I had to move to Whispers to find her. I just didn’t realize that I would find myself in the process too.
With Annabelle and the kids at school, I walk into the sheriff's office, needing to talk. I’ve been mulling over Annabelle’s words all night, talking about her ex and their life, and my gut is still churning over what she had to endure.
“Sawyer. Coffee?” Tony shuffles into the small kitchen at the station, a few other officers tending to paperwork and taking calls around us.
“Sure. Black, please.” I run my hands through my hair, the heaviness still sitting on my chest. “Find anything?” I need an update, even though I asked him yesterday and the day before that. My visits here to the station are now a daily occurrence.
“Nothing new.” He passes me a cup, the black liquid steaming.
“Mind if I chat with you in private?”
He stops mid-sip.
“Let’s go to my office.” He leads the way through the admin area to a large office at the end, where I take a seat, and he closes the door, looking at me seriously.
“What’s on your mind?” As he sits behind his desk, the array of paperwork and files on it makes me almost shiver with anxiety.
Do people around here never do their paperwork properly?
“I wanted to talk to you about Annabelle’s late husband.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“Steve?” he asks, like there’s another option.
“Yeah, heard he was a bit of trouble?” I push, not knowing what he’ll tell me and what is confidential.
“Well, I’m not sure what Annabelle has told you…”
“She’s told me he was violent. Told me he drank, gambled. Tanner and Bob have also said he wasn’t a great guy.”
He nods slowly.
“Well, we never found any traces of violence. I went to see Annabelle almost every week. She never said anything, never asked for help. Our hands were a little tied in helping her in that regard.”
I grind my teeth. I know he couldn’t do anything without proof or request from Annabelle, but the fact they let it go on for so long without intervention of some kind still frustrates me.
“What about his death?” I question, which gets his interest.
“Motor vehicle collision. Died on impact.”
“Do you have the file?” I ask, and he frowns.
“Why are you interested?” He’s immediately suspicious.
“Annabelle said the car caught on fire. I’ve been thinking about it all night, wondering how you identified the bodies.”
I see the moment the penny drops, and he laughs at me. “He’s dead. It isn’t him, Sawyer.” I haven’t worked my ass off in law for years to be laughed at by a small-town sheriff, regardless of if his wife makes the best coffee in town.
“So I can take a look at it, then?” He sighs.
“Suit yourself. But we investigated that accident well. A team came in from Williamstown, and they did the forensics.” He stands, moving to a wall of file cabinets. He opens the drawer, pulls out the file, and hands it to me.
I open it, look over photos of what was left of a burned car, the flames obviously big, given the size of the charred marks on the ground and up the tree.
“Full tank of fuel in the car?” I ask him immediately, my eyes still glued to the file.
“Looks like it.”
“And… time of impact was predicted to be about an hour before emergency services arrived?” I ask, knowing that an accident out there would probably go unnoticed for a while. Until someone smelled smoke or saw flames or drove past.
“That’s the estimate.” He nods, looking at me expectantly. “What exactly are you looking for here, Sawyer?”
I take a deep breath, about to open the biggest can of worms for this small town and for Annabelle with no evidence and just a gut feeling.
“There’s something going on here, Sherriff, that doesn’t feel right. It feels personal.” I give him a look that tells him exactly what I’m thinking.
“Are you suggesting that Steve didn’t die that night? Because if you are, you’re out of your goddamn mind,” he grits out.
“Maybe. But tell me that’s not a possibility. Tell me that bone fragments were found?” I press him.
I close the file, placing it on his desk, waiting for him to refute my claim. But he doesn’t.
“I know men who hurt their women do so because of power, because they want to control them. Annabelle has been controlled for a long time, and the moment she steps out of character with me, things start happening.”
“That’s a very long string you have attached there, Sawyer, but I’ll humor you, if for no other reason to ensure Annabelle knows he’s gone for good.
I suggest you leave it with me, for at least a few days.
I’ll speak to the team in Williamstown, get them to go over things on their end to ensure no stone was left unturned. ”
I breathe out the breath I’ve been holding.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asks, just as I start to stand.
“Sure.” I wait.
“If you think things only happen when you're gone, then maybe you should go.”
I look at him like he’s crazy, because he is. “I’m not leaving her,” I tell him adamantly.
“I don’t think anything is going to happen while you’re there. If we have any chance of catching who it is, then we need you gone, and we need her alone.” He looks at me, unwavering, and I think I need to vomit.
“You’re asking me for the one thing I just can’t give you.”
“I know. But maybe we can come up with a plan?” he says in a way that makes me think he already has one, and so I lower back down and take a seat.