Chapter 8
Noah stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the messaging app where he’d opened the text thread with Sabrina. Then he closed it again and threw his phone on the bed near his left leg.
It was nearly midnight. Only a horribly insensitive person texted a girl at midnight.
Or one who had zero game and might as well let the girl write her name on his forehead. It wasn’t like he’d fooled anyone, least of all Sabrina, about how hard she’d hooked him.
What a great word for the riot of sensation in his chest. Hooked. Yeah, he’d done his fair share of flopping around on the dock, gasping for air as Sabrina’s laser-sharp blue eyes pierced him like a harpoon.
Somehow, the phone ended up in his hand again, just like it had the other dozen times.
Maybe he could check in with her really quick and then he could sleep. She’d kept pace with him on their date night and then popped up at Peavine bright and early. Maybe she wasn’t the type who needed a lot of sleep either.
Wouldn’t that be a great thing to have in common?
Miss me yet? he typed and immediately backspaced. How old was he, fourteen? Geez.
Did you get the SAR application link I sent you? Delete. That made it sound like he was checking up on her as if she was fourteen and couldn’t tap a link.
Dancer lifted his head from his bed in the corner of Noah’s bedroom, ears cocked at a sassy angle. Even his dog knew something was up.
“Don’t judge me,” Noah muttered. “I lasted six whole hours after she left the evidence scene. That shows remarkable restraint.”
He typed again: Can’t stop thinking about our case.
Innocuous. Easy to ignore if she didn’t want to talk.
Definitely not a lie. Well, it was not even remotely the extent of what he’d been thinking about, but she didn’t need to hear that she’d dominated his thoughts as he ate dinner alone, because even he knew you didn’t push to have dinner two nights in a row.
He hit Send before he could second-guess himself.
The message status changed to Delivered, then Read almost immediately. Three dots appeared as she typed back.
Sabrina: Took you long enough.
A grin spread across his face as he replied: You’re thinking about it too?
Sabrina: Among other things.
He sat up. Like what?
Sabrina: Where I want to sign my name in Sharpie.
Something extremely dangerous knifed through his midsection—the urge to grab his keys and hightail it over to Sabrina’s house so she could try out a few places until she found the right one.
Dangerous, because he didn’t want to mess this up.
And he had a very bad feeling it could tip either way. As if the slightest wrong move might send Sabrina scampering off, and he very much wanted to play his cards exactly right. Only a fool would blindly rush ahead without mapping out the lay of the land first.
Noah: Officer West, are you flirting with me?
She replied with a laughing emoji. And then: A girl doesn’t get an offer to sign her name on a hot guy every day. You can’t blame me for taking the suggestion and running with it.
He grinned and replied: Just to be clear, when I said I needed to be able to cover up your signature, I meant with my sleeve. So like, you can sign my wrist, for example.
This time, she replied with the mad emoji, the red one with the pouty face. I was hoping for a bicep at least. Maybe one of those amazing shoulders.
Noah: You think I have amazing shoulders? All this time, I just thought they were for holding up my shirt.
The eye-roll emoji flashed onto his screen. Somehow he hadn’t pegged Sabrina as an emoji texter but he liked it. Her texts felt very stream-of-consciousness, and he was nothing if not an avid student of what went on inside her fascinating brain.
He wanted to know everything: what she thought about, what she dreamed of, her favorite colors—because someone like Sabrina did not have just one, or he’d be very disappointed.
Sabrina: Spare me the false modesty. What do you bench, like 150?
200. Delete. Good grief, was that really how he wanted to impress a woman? Instead, he replied: A better question is why we’re not talking about the case.
Sabrina: Because that was a flimsy excuse to text me and we both know it?
That made him laugh out loud. In that case, you should just call me so we can talk all night.
His phone lit up with a call notification instantly, Sabrina’s name flashing across the screen. His heart slammed against his ribs.
Man, this woman was doing a number on him. He hit the Answer call icon.
“New phone, who dis?” he deadpanned.
“Angelina Jolie,” she retorted with a laugh that unfurled inside him. “I thought my lawyers told you to delete my number.”
“That is literally the best response to that question I have ever heard.”
“More where that came from.” She paused. “We can talk about our case if that’s really what you want to do.”
Our case. He liked that. Liked how naturally she’d slipped into being his partner in this investigation. “We can talk about whatever you want. The case was just an excuse, because you see right through me, apparently. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
A soft intake of breath carried through the line. “I’m still not used to the way you lay it all out there. Most guys are not so direct.”
“Life’s too short not to be.” He leaned back in his chair, savoring the way just talking to her made everything feel more vibrant. “Besides, I have a feeling you appreciate honesty.”
“I do. And since we’re being honest—” she paused for a heartbeat “—I’ve been staring at my phone for the past hour wondering if it was too late to text you.”
His heart did a slow roll in his chest. “Great minds think alike.”
She didn’t give him a second to absorb the implications. “Thanks for the SAR application. I started working on it.”
Her voice sounded scratchy and low, as if she might be lying in bed too. He did enjoy that visual. “Good. I didn’t want to ask in case it felt like hovering.”
“I’m allergic to hovering. If I start to feel itchy, I’ll let you know.” Her tone held a smile that made him wish he could see her face.
Maybe he’d suggest FaceTiming tomorrow night.
“So, the training manuals, study guides and full history of the SAR program weren’t too much?” He’d maybe gone a little overboard with the supplemental material he’d attached to the email. But he’d never been accused of doing things half-heartedly.
“You forgot to mention the case studies.”
She was laughing at him. But he didn’t mind. “I’m ridiculous. I straight-up admit it. I just want you to succeed. So you can show up Bonner and hit him where it hurts.”
“Oh, I like you a whole lot,” she said, drawing out the o in whole. “You’re speaking my love language.”
“Vengeance and retribution are my favorite vices,” he informed her, even as his gut responded to the texture coming through the line loud and clear. “Especially when it ensures a tool like that gets what’s coming to him.”
How was this so easy? It felt like they’d had a million conversations like this, late at night when the rest of the world had faded away. He’d never had such a genuine connection with someone before.
Best of all, she seemed to feel it too. Right? She was flirty and engaged, and she’d been the one to call him, after all.
“Seriously though. The case studies were really interesting. That was a thoughtful addition to the mix,” she said.
“I figured you’re the type who likes to be prepared.”
“You figured right. There’s a case here about a rescue in Cataract Canyon. Reminds me of something that happened last spring.”
“Yeah?” He settled deeper into his chair, anticipating a good story. “Tell me about it.”
“Flash flood caught some kayakers off guard. Water came up so fast they barely had time to get to higher ground, but they were trapped on this narrow ledge with the river rising.” As she talked, he could feel the rising tension.
Had been in many situations exactly like the one she described, where you could lose the rescue in only a few seconds.
“I was first on scene. Had to figure out how to get them down before the ledge collapsed.”
“What did you do?”
“Improvised a rope system using my vehicle as an anchor point. The tricky part was getting the first line across to them. The current was brutal.” She paused. “Everyone said I should wait for backup, but I knew we were running out of time.”
“So you went for it anyway.”
“Had to. Sometimes you have to trust your gut, you know? Even when everyone else thinks you’re crazy.”
Noah’s chest tightened with recognition. How many times had he followed his instincts on a story, chasing leads others dismissed? “I know exactly what you mean. Back when I was reporting, I’d get these feelings about cases. Couldn’t always explain why, but I knew there was more to the story.”
“Like our Jane Doe?”
“Yeah.” He uncrossed his legs, energy humming through him.
“It’s the little details that don’t quite fit.
This kind of thing is never isolated. When you dig, you start to find patterns.
Connections. That’s what I loved about investigative reporting, and sometimes—” He broke off before he said something disloyal, something he couldn’t take back. “Let’s just say I miss it.”
“Why did you stop?” Her gentle voice carried no censure, just genuine curiosity.
Memories of his mother’s illness pressing against his chest.
“My mom got sick. Cancer. I came home to help take care of her.” The words came easier than he expected.
Something about Sabrina made him want to share the parts of himself he usually kept locked away.
“She was always my biggest supporter, you know? Used to say I had a gift for finding truth in the darkness.”
“Sounds like a great mom.”
“She was.” He swallowed hard. “It’s hard to believe she’s been gone four years.”
“I’m sorry.” Simple words, but he could hear the genuine empathy behind them. “So, you stayed in Dark Canyon for your family? After?”
It was a great question, one he’d only recently started reexamining himself.