15 CONNOR
Sam sat down. Her breathing was rapid, her eyes fixed on her hands. I stayed on my feet, waiting for her to explain.
“When Ahmed called to say my number showed up in Bob’s call history, I assumed he meant the call you made to your friend.” Sam bit her lip, clearly hesitant. “Then Ahmed told me when the body was found—and that I’d been calling Bob right when the police discovered him.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“The night of the date, I was supposed to meet my friend,” she began. “But when I reached the end of the alley, some guy told me my friend was running late and called a rideshare for me. The driver took me to the bar where we’d agreed to meet. That’s when I saw you there with a girl.”
I sat down, watching her closely. Looking for any sign of a lie. I knew Sam. She was a good actress. I’d seen her pull it off before.
“I didn’t want you to see me, so I left and called my friend.
He didn’t answer. I went to another bar a few blocks away and sent him my location, letting him know about the change of plans.
Half an hour later, he texted back saying he couldn’t get off work in time.
He gave me a number to call—the person we were supposed to meet—since the guy was probably still waiting at the other bar. ”
“Bob,” I said, and Sam nodded.
“I didn’t know it was him at the time,” she said, hugging herself. “When he didn’t answer, I decided to go back to the bar, even though I knew I might run into you and interrupt your date. But you weren’t there anymore.”
“I’d already been drugged.”
“When I didn’t see anyone waiting for me, I headed home—and found you collapsed in the alley.”
Sam looked me in the eyes. They seemed hollow.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out you were the specialist Bob was going to introduce us to?”
“I don’t know. I got scared,” she replied.
“Of what?”
“Damn it, Connor. I don’t know,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “Deep down, I think I was afraid you’d think exactly what you ended up thinking.”
“The blue car. Do you remember what the driver looked like?”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” she said, raising her head. “Actually, I thought it was strange that I didn’t see his phone. I kept wondering how he knew where to go, but he seemed friendly enough, and we just chatted about the weather.”
I stood up and walked to the window. I stared out at the night, as if it might offer me something more.
“Connor.” Sam touched my arm, and her touch still sent warmth through my skin, just as it had all night. “I know I should have told you, and I hate myself for not saying something sooner… but I didn’t mean any harm… I just didn’t want you to look at me the way you just did.”
“Sam… I…” I stared at her swollen lip. “I’m sorry. I completely lost my head.”
“You’re under a lot of stress.”
“I’m used to it, Samantha. That’s my job. But this… tonight, that’s not how I am. That’s not who I am.”
“It’s okay. I would’ve suspected me too,” she said with a small smile, then winced when her lip stretched against the wound.
“Let me see that.” I cupped her face in my hands and studied her lips. My finger traced the soft flesh of her lower lip, and I felt a slight burn in my chest.
Sam’s eyes followed my movements. Almost as if she were expecting something. Wanting it. The orange scent of her hair reached me as a breeze drifted through the window.
I breathed deep, taking in as much as I could. It was a sweet scent that held me there.
“Does this hurt much?”
“I’m fine… you should see the other guy,” she joked, and I let go of her face.
“Forgive me for seeing that.”
“I won’t lie… it was a little weird… but he kind of deserved it.” Sam shuddered slightly. “Now come on… let’s take care of that eye of yours. It looks worse than my new lip filler.”
Sam pulled a first aid kit from her bag and started cleaning the wound on my face. Her fingers touched my skin gently as she worked.
“You shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I was on the first aid squad in school,” she said, finishing up the bandage. “All done, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Thank you.” My fingers brushed against hers as she pressed the bandage down, and I grunted slightly.
“Sorry. Did that hurt?” Sam pulled her fingers back suddenly.
“It’s fine.” I smiled, and she let out a relieved breath. Sam kept staring at me. Words seemed to swirl in her head, but she couldn’t settle on any. “What is it?”
“What if the driver was Ammit?” She shuddered. “He knows who I am now… and maybe…”
“Hey. Ammit won’t touch you. Ever.” I took her hands in mine and ran my thumb over her knuckles. “I would never let that happen.”
Sam nodded.
Even though she seemed comforted, I didn’t let go of her hands. The touch of our fingers felt right in that moment.
“How old do you think he is?” she asked suddenly.
“I don’t think he’s much older than me. Somewhere between 50 and 60 now.”
“Could a 60-year-old man do something so brutal?”
“Evil ages too, Sam.”
“The driver wasn’t old. Maybe 35 at most.”
“Could just be a pawn, like the girl who drugged me. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s the next body to turn up.”
“But not her.”
“Who?”
“The woman in the bathroom.” Sam stared at me. “She could have disappeared—after all, Bob had already been found dead. You were drugged. The blonde ended up dead. But not her. Why?”
“Probably because she’s not a pawn,” I said. “Can you remember anything about her that could help us identify her?”
Sam racked her brain but seemed to struggle to come up with anything.
“Not much. I was distracted. All I remember is the red hair and the red lipstick,” she grumbled, discouraged.
“I think I know how to help you... but you’re not going to like it.”
Sam eyed me suspiciously.
“Relax, I just need you to let me into your mind.”