Chapter 10 #3
Today the peek game involved lifting Aiden up over his head, then slowly lowering him into his field of vision. This elicited drooly smiles and cooing from the baby while he gummed at three fingers. The kid was too dang cute.
“Good parenting doesn’t always leave time for good cooking.” She poured him a glass of wine from a forgotten stash of Chianti he hadn’t known was in the pantry. “Nice job making the more important choice.”
With her shoes off and her sweater sleeves rolled up, she looked at home and comfortable here in his house.
In his life. Her clothes—layers of dark garments that ensured no hint of skin showed from her neck down except for her hands—still seemed at odds with the vibrant woman he remembered.
Her auburn hair hadn’t changed, though. He’d liked running his fingers through it when he kissed her.
“It is cool to spend some time with the little guy.” He’d given Aiden a bath and put him in sleeper pj’s while Amy had prepped dinner. He’d thought that would mean opening a pizza box, but she’d gone to a lot more trouble than that.
She’d dragged out some mismatched wineglasses—one of which had been on his mantel since it had been part of a golf tournament trophy from a long time ago—and made them suitable for use.
She’d used some kind of magic to find salad ingredients in the fridge, and the resulting spinach, curled carrot strips and walnut salad had been damned good.
“Thanks for doing this.” He laid Aiden on a baby blanket near the bright quilt with the remnants of their dinner, tucking him under a play gym of red-and-black toys. “I know you already gave up a lot of the day to be with me.”
She topped off her own wine, too, a lock of red hair skimming her cheek as she moved. “I was intrigued to see if this evening could possibly be as much fun as the afternoon.”
“Not everyone would call being on the scene of an arrest fun.”
“That’s definitely not the part of the day I had in mind.” She settled herself on the floor beside him, their backs against the leather couch while they kept Aiden in view.
The reference to their kiss heated his blood to a slow, steady simmer. He was in no position to start something with Amy, not with an eight-week-old at his feet. But maybe it was too late to put the brakes on an attraction that had dug into him a long time ago.
“Glad you could look beyond the showdown in the parking lot.” He’d dated women who were put off by his job—the dangers, being put out when he had to respond to emergency calls, the decreasing community respect for the uniform.
So it made him glad that Amy wasn’t rattled by what she’d witnessed this afternoon.
“I had hoped Kate would explain what prompted the argument, but no such luck.”
Would it do any good to haul Tiffany McCord in for another interview?
“I met a woman at my sister’s store who is coming into the police station to give you a deposition this week.” Amy speared some of the leftover walnuts with her fork, all her attention on chasing down the nuts.
It surprised him that she’d shared the information. She’d so far been reluctant to discuss the trial or his investigation.
“Yes—Faith Wilkerson. I’m glad some people are starting to come forward.” He’d sent his appeal out in all directions in the community, and it seemed those pleas were finally paying off.
“Faith didn’t see her attacker.” Amy stirred her fork around the bowl without eating anything else. “So maybe her testimony won’t help.”
His cop instincts started humming, and he warned himself to tread carefully.
Having Amy talk about this voluntarily was far better than him asking and putting her on the defensive.
He wanted to maintain the easy rapport with her.
Let her feel comfortable sharing things without him pushing his own agenda and asking follow-up questions.
But that wasn’t easy when he had about twelve inquiries in mind.
“It will help. Establishing a common MO links the cases and helps show the jury that one man was behind multiple assaults. If he says similar things to his victims, or lures them to the same spots, it shows a pattern.” He lifted his wineglass and took a sip to stop himself from diving into interrogation mode.
Since it was impossible to talk around a mouthful of Chianti, he leaned forward to tickle his son’s foot while the boy’s eyelids grew heavy.
Amy set down her fork, staring out over the living room floor littered with baby gear.
“Anything that helps connect the cases is valuable,” he continued, unable to stop himself.
What did she know, damn it?
“Even if it’s old information?” Her green eyes slid his way.
“I’m actively seeking both old and new information to prove the same guy has been quietly working this area for years.
I’m personally invested in nailing him for what he did to Gabby and the other women.
And, frankly, what he did to me.” He hadn’t dwelled on that, of course, since Gabriella had been the intended target.
The one who’d been scared out of her mind and screaming on the forest floor while a masked bastard wrenched off her dress.
“Helping Gabby through that was hell for me and Zach—it was far more than a couple of seventeen-year-old boys were equipped to deal with. I turned my back on my foster family, on you, on the military career I wanted...”
For years he’d told himself that it didn’t matter. But the truth was, his life had taken a radical turn because of Jeremy Covington’s attack in the woods.
“It must have been hard on all of you.” She leaned forward to peek at Aiden’s face, checking on him.
Sam watched his son fall into peaceful baby slumber, envying the kid his simple needs even as Sam vowed to make sure he would always be there to fulfill them all.
“I moved back here to try and close the case.” Carefully, he lifted away the play gym and covered the baby with a corner of the blanket he lay on. “I’ve wanted revenge for ten years.”
Amy was quiet for a long moment. So long that he almost excused himself to put Aiden in his crib. But then she drew a deep breath.
“I know something that might help.” She spoke quietly. Holding herself very still, she glanced up at him with wide eyes. “That same night Gabriella was attacked, a man molested me outside her house.”