“Why here, though? I know Mia’s family is here but that’s not a reason to stay. She could always come visit.”
“Mia won’t leave Summer.”
The mention of Sam’s mom brings tears to my eyes. I was like a second daughter to her. She treated me as one of her own. I spent holidays with Sam and Summer instead of flying back to California.
And I up and left her. Because I was hurting. Not giving any thought to the fact that she not only lost her daughter, her reason for breathing, but she would also lose me. I was selfish in my escape. I thought I needed to handle how I was feeling on my own. I didn’t want people to see me break.
A fresh start was all that was on my mind. Somewhere far from here. Away from the devastation I saw on everyone’s faces. I couldn’t handle the weight that was bearing down on me. The guilt and the sadness were overwhelming, and I believed running was my only escape from the pain.
I see now how wrong I was. The only people who will ever be able to help me heal, to help me move on, are the ones who bear the same pain I did. We all lost Sam. I wasn’t the only one hurting, yet I selfishly pushed everyone away. I left them to deal with the aftermath of her death. Disappeared for years. Stopped taking calls. Ignored their attempts to contact me.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath as we walk up the porch steps of the Hideaway, I make a vow. I’ve already promised Sam I would find who did this to her, but I want to amend that statement.
I will find who did this to Sam but I’m not going to do it for her, or even for me, I’m going to do it for Summer. For the woman who lost both her daughters and still found a way to go on. To survive when the darkness could have easily swallowed her up.
For our friends who have spent the last five years reliving the pain of that day. Who have dedicated their life to keeping Sam’s memory alive.
I’m going to find who did this for everyone who knew and loved Sam.
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as we are back to my room, Jay and I laid out a timeline of the events of Sam’s night that have been confirmed by the reports included in the case file.
The pub was slow, so she was sent home early since she was on overtime after picking up my shift. With all the college students on break, Sam was working extra hours. Not that she minded. She was saving her money for a car and she knew even with a slow week, the extra shifts would bring in the last little bit of cash she needed.
She left the bar at roughly ten o’clock. This was confirmed by her timecard, showing she clocked out at one minute after the hour, and again by a patron who saw her walk into the park around quarter after ten as he was getting out of his vehicle that was parked in front of Riley’s.
There were four text exchanges after she clocked out. Sam sent the first one to me at ten-ten asking if I’d made it back to town yet. According to the log the police obtained from her cell provider, I replied twenty-nine minutes later.
I remember reading her text that night and replying before I walked in the door of my apartment. That means I was driving past the park around ten-thirty as I made my way home.
The second text Sam sent was at ten-twenty-one to Jay, asking if he wanted to come straight to her house when he got back to town. Jay didn’t respond to her text until close to midnight saying he was still almost an hour away and was going home to bed.
There are witness statements from a couple that was making out in the park that night until it started to rain. Neither of them saw or heard anything. They entered around ten-thirty and left close to eleven o’clock, coming and going close to where Sam was attacked, using the east entrance.
Summer called the police to report Sam missing a little after eight o’clock the next morning when she didn’t show up for work or answer her phone. She found Sam’s bed still made, as if she hadn’t slept in it the night before, so she called Jay to see if Sam was with him, but he was asleep. By the time she called me, I was already in class and I had to send her to voicemail.
Sam’s body was found at eight-thirty in the morning by a neighbor as she was walking her dog. The dog started to go crazy and pulled the elderly lady into the alcove where Sam’s body was hidden behind a line of bushes.
The police determined Sam died between ten-thirty and eleven o’clock at night. Her cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head which caused her to bleed out.
Her walk home from Riley’s was less than a mile. It usually only took her twenty minutes, which was why she didn’t mind walking when it was nice outside. She said it helped her relax. I get it. After a long shift it often took me hours to find sleep if I didn’t unwind with a glass of wine or a book.
After looking at the timeline we spent most of the night piecing together, Jay and I began to speculate what may have happened between the time she sent her last text to Jay at ten-twenty-one and eleven o’clock. If she entered the park at quarter after, she would have arrived home no later than ten thirty-five, give or take a few minutes.
If she was looking at her phone, texting, she could have been caught off guard.
When I pointed out that fact, I immediately notice the change in Jay’s demeanor.
She was attacked immediately following her last text on the sidewalk where blood spatter was found. The assailant then carried Sam into the alcove, covered her mouth with tape, and tied her up to keep her silent. He already had her hidden when the couple entered the park but may have reconsidered carrying out the rest of his plan when they didn’t leave immediately, instead ducking out of the park at an unknown time more than likely with a plan to return later that night.
No one saw or heard anything when she was attacked.
No one saw or heard anyone on the streets that night that appeared unusual or out of place.
In fact, it was a quiet night in Great Falls with all the college students either recovering from spring break or still out of town. I don’t remember seeing anyone out and about as I made my way through town.
“So, what now?” he asks, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor near the foot of the bed.
“We know what happened, when, and how. We need to figure out the who since they’re the only one who can tell us why.” My words come out slowly as I take in every naked inch of his chest. Rock hard abs, defined muscles. His tattoo swirling around his shoulder blade, dipping toward his chest but stopping short.
I want to trace it with my finger. Every intricate detail. The black ink against his bronzed skin -
“What do we know about him?” Jay snaps his fingers in front of my face to get my attention. When I lift my eyes to his, he’s smiling at me, reading my mind like I’m an open book.
Every dirty thought.
Ideas of what I’d like to do to him.
What I’d like him to do to me.
Focus, girl.
“You would never suspect him,” I state, averting my eyes down to the list of people the police interviewed in the days following Sam’s murder. “He’s everyone’s best friend but knows how to blend into a crowd. People know of him but don’t know him. Not on a personal level. He keeps his feelings to himself. Doesn’t allow people to get close to him. This is generally a sign of verbal abuse from his childhood. More than likely from a father figure, but his relationship with his mother would have been strong. She is who he compares all women to. Which is a big part of why he’s often single, unable to maintain a healthy relationship for a long period of time.”
Closing my eyes, I try to focus on the facts, on what I’ve learned over the years. On the murderers I’ve studied, interviewed. I’ve gotten in their heads. I’ve been able to decipher things about them they didn’t even know. Why they killed. How they chose their victims. When it all started, the urges to take a life.
Most don’t give it much thought. They are the way they are. They feel the need to kill so they follow through with the action. It empowers them. It’s the high they’re seeking. To keep them from going insane.
“He’s charismatic and
girls trust him easily. Instead of bringing a girl flowers, he would go overboard and buy her jewelry in a vain attempt to impress her. To keep her. To buy her attention because at his core that’s what he craves. I’m guessing he wanted Sam’s attention and she turned him away. He convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she wouldn’t give him the chance to show her. That would have angered him, hurt his feelings.” My mind is reeling as I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and take a deep breath before continuing.
Jay watches my every move intently, my skin heating beneath his stare. He’s making it hard to focus. A fact he knows, and judging by the smile on his face, he’s proud of the effect he has on me.
“More than likely, he had been watching her for a while. There are two main types of killers. Organized and unorganized. The man who killed Sam falls into the organized category. He planned this. He knew what he was doing. I’d classify him as a pathological, obsessive killer. That’s a big part of why I think it’s someone local. Sam was habitual. She always took the same path home through the park. She worked the same schedule at both the Java Bean and Riley’s every week. But we were all gone on spring break. There was no chance you were picking her up and giving her a ride. No chance I was working that night. He was prepared when he attacked her, which means somehow he knew she would be there when she wouldn’t have under normal circumstance.”
The pieces are starting to fall into place as an image of a man with no face clouds my vision. He’s dressed in black head to toe. A hood pulled over his head, blocking his face. I have to shake my head to make him go away.
“He’s probably a regular at Riley’s. That could be how he knows her. Something Mindi said tonight struck me as odd. She said she should have been there, watching out for Sam. She and I were the ones who used to close on Sunday nights. It was like that since I started. She had regulars that would come to visit her. It makes me wonder if it’s one of them. Someone who knew Mindi wouldn’t be there. He wouldn’t be missed that night and he knew Sam was going to be there instead of me.”
“Don’t you think you’re digging a little too deep into something that could be a pure coincidence?”
Grinding my teeth to keep from saying something mean and nasty, I glare at Jay for a few minutes without defending my position. This is what I do. I dig deeper. The little details often seem insignificant when they’re actually the glue that holds the puzzle together. We need to figure out those details.
Once I feel I can compose myself, I take a deep breath and let it out.
“That’s my job, Jay. To look at every potential aspect. To try and walk in his shoes. I will never understand why they do what they do completely, but I can attempt to see how he planned it out. Because this was premeditated. Which means he’d been planning this for a while. Which is how he was able to gather materials from out of town without drawing suspicion.”
“That! That’s what we need to find out who he is. The rope. We need to find out who sells rope that length.”
“It’s been five years, Jay. If the initial investigation had caught it, there would have been a chance to link it back to a suspect. It would have been slim even back then, though. He’s smart. His moves are calculated. He would have paid cash. Bought the tape and the rope from different store in different cities on different days. He’s that organized. That calculated. He would have anticipated being caught and took every precaution to avoid it.”
“And he left no DNA behind,” he says, frustration clear in the way he lets out a huff of air.
“He wore gloves. More than likely a hat. Dressed in dark clothing. The fact that it rained that night worked in his favor. If there had been any DNA is would have been washed away.”
“Which brings us back to square one. A male, from Great Falls, who is a closet murderer that no one would ever suspect. This town is full of friendly faces. It could literally be anyone at this point.”
“Actually, we’re probably closer than you think. Remember, we’re building a profile for the police. Yes, we have the files and all the information and that helps our profile become more complete. At the end of the day, though, all I’ll be able to do is present the profile to the chief and his officers. If they can identify a potential suspect, that’s great. If not, we can’t do much more to hand them the person responsible. We’ve weeded out people who don’t fit the description. We have a complete timeline of events. That will help them narrow down the suspect pool even further.”
Silence descends upon us. This is the worst part of my job. Not being able to pinpoint who the suspect is by name. I know his personality. I often understand what drives him to kill. But his identity is a mystery.
Which is a big part of why I stepped away from working with active investigations and focus now on studying those that have already been caught. The criminals that have given us every detail about themselves. The pieces of the puzzle are already in front of me. I just need to fit them together so we have the entire picture and not just a snapshot.
Picking up all the files strewn around the room, Jay and I crawl in bed shortly after midnight. My mind is still reeling yet I fall asleep in minutes, his warm embrace making me feel safe after spending hours dissecting more details of Sam’s murder.
When my alarm goes off a little after six o’clock, I reach for Jay, but his side of the bed is empty, the sheet still warm. Tossing back the blanket, my feet hit the cold, hardwood floor, sending a chill up my spine. Reaching for my phone, I contemplate calling him to see where he went when the door slowly creaks open and Jay slides in.
He’s freshly showered, his hair still damp. Little water drops are scattered across his shoulders and the back of his T-shirt, causing the light gray to darken.
It’s obvious by the way he closes the door he’s unaware that I’m awake. He’s turning the handle and holding it in a vain attempt to keep the latch from sounding. When it finally slides into place, the sound echoing through the room, Jay’s shoulders tense as he slowly turns to face the bed.
He visibly relaxes when he sees I’m already awake. He has two cups of coffee in his left hand, this time in signature Hideaway mugs. They’re deep red with the B&B’s logo on the front in white and black etching.
“Raiding the coffee station without me?” I joke, standing and taking the outstretched mug from him.
“I figured you would sleep a little longer and thought coffee would be a peace offering after last night.”
Last night?
“And why would you need a peace offering?” I ask, blowing across the steaming liquid before taking a small sip.
Jay’s eyes watch my lips in fascination, his tongue darting out, licking his bottom lip as I pull the mug away.
“I was a little frustrated and I didn’t want you to think it was with you. This case has me wanting to pull my hair out,” he explains, stepping closer, taking back my coffee and setting both mugs on the table behind me. When he grips my hips, my body seems to come alive.
Just one touch. A simple caress of the skin. That’s all it takes for me to want him. To consider climbing his body like a tree and wrapping myself around him.
It’s always been that way. My body has always responded to his touch which is why I used to avoid it at all costs. I couldn’t hide my reaction to him, and the last thing I wanted was for Sam to notice. To see the lust in my eyes that I was harboring for her boyfriend. Or worse, the lust in his that should have been reserved for her.
I would give him a wide berth when he’d walk near me. Avoided putting myself in a room alone with him. I’d sit across the room or on the other side of Sam if necessary. Anything to avoid him brushing up against me and causing a reaction I wouldn’t be able to hide.
The one thing I never could avoid was his stare, though. His eyes seemed to find mine in the crowd. Speaking to me without words. Telling me everything I wanted to hear at a time when those very words, if spoken aloud, would have been the catalyst that destroyed both of our relationships with Sam.
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br /> Those same eyes are staring into mine right now. Communicating with me in a way I feel deep in my soul. The difference between this moment and all those stolen glances of our past?
No one is here to stop us from showing each other how we feel with actions. From speaking the words that would have brought our world crashing down around us all those years ago.
After the fight I put up, resisting the pull Jay had on me, my entire life fell apart anyway. It shattered into pieces with one phone call.
Chapter Fourteen
The significance of today wasn’t lost to me when Jay cupped the back of my neck and pulled my lips to his. The intensity behind his kiss didn’t erase the years of betrayal I’ve held onto. It didn’t ease the guilt I still carried in my heart.
Those things only dulled while a different feeling blossomed.
Waiting. Wanting. Longing. Feelings I buried down deep over the years.
Afraid to admit them to anyone. To say the words out loud.
Yet, I’ve called his name in my sleep. On multiple occasions.
The first year I was back in LA I would dream about him almost nightly. That we were given our chance to be together. His kisses always stole my breath, and I would wake up panting, the ache between my legs too much to bear. I’d be forced to take care of myself. And every time I would start to teeter on the edge of the cliff, Sam’s laughter would ring in my ears and I’d start crying.
The worst was when I had company.
I compared every date I went on with what I thought it would be like if the guy across the table were Jay instead. They never measured up. The way they kissed me didn’t light a fire deep inside of me. My pulse didn’t race. My heart didn’t beat wildly in my chest.
Because they weren’t Jay. They never would be.
A Moment Too Late Page 12
