28 Days: a romantic suspense

by Lexi Buchanan

  He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel now, as he looked death in the face. His nerves were high and made him jumpy. Every clang in the prison made his heart race with fear that they were coming for him early…that he wouldn’t get his twenty-eight days. He was afraid. Anyone who said they weren’t at this point in their sentence was a liar.

  He was terrified.

  * * *

  11:55pm

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?” Alex raised a brow and frowned when Fern Jordan dodged under his raised arm on the doorframe and slipped into his apartment.

  At his brother’s defense attorney’s office, he’d expected the leggy woman to come and visit, but his horny ass wasn’t interested right then—revisiting his brother’s trial had a habit of killing his libido.

  He slammed the door shut and leaned back against it while Fern stopped in the middle of his apartment. She turned and met his gaze and very slowly unbuttoned her dress. His eyes followed the movement of her fingers as they glided over the material, giving him a brief glimpse of what was underneath—nothing.

  His mouth watered at the sight of her nude body, and he’d have to be a monk to not be tempted. He just wasn’t sure that using Fern for information in this way was such a good idea anymore, regardless of how much his body craved release.

  “You’re not moving?” she pointed out, backing up to the dining table. “I think you need more of an incentive tonight.” Fern leaned over the table, spread her legs, and wiggled her bottom. “Remind me to tell you later about the new evidence that you should know about.” She smirked.

  He prowled closer…

  Day 6

  8:00am

  * * *

  Saige took a tentative step into the police station where Detective Robinson now worked. From what she’d read, he’d worked there since Quinten Peterson had been found guilty. She may have read more into his move than what there was, but she really needed to know.

  Was he the one who’d taken her statement? She kicked herself for not checking before she’d left home. She’d had a lot on her mind though.

  Her dreams had been plagued over and over with the image of Quinten’s hands on her thighs. She tingled and felt scorched just from the memory. She craved more, and the craving for the rest of that memory had given her a headache.

  “Miss Lockwood?”

  Hearing her name startled her as she turned abruptly and nearly stumbled.

  “Hey there.” The man reached for her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s okay. I was just surprised at hearing my name.” She frowned up at the large man, and then squinted when another memory teased her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes and no. I’m sick and tired of memories teasing me and leaving me hanging.”

  “I’m not sure what that means.” He frowned.

  “You’re Detective Robinson?”

  He opened his mouth and snapped it closed again as though he was going to say something different than what he did. “Yes, I’m Detective Robinson. What can I do for you?”

  Saige looked around and felt nervous at being watched by the other cops who hung around reception. “Um, I wanted to talk to you.” She looked around again. “There’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks over, are you free to talk to me there?”

  He paused and looked to be contemplating something before he nodded. “Let’s go.”

  He ushered her out of the building while he sent a text message before he pocketed his cell. “I have to say that I never thought I’d see you again. You’ve changed, but I’d never forget your eyes.”

  “I get that a lot.” Saige offered him a nervous smile. “I’m sorry to pull you away from whatever you were doing, but I’m not sure this can wait.”

  They stayed silent for the rest of the walk to the coffee shop. Once they’d ordered and had their coffee before them, Saige sat back and watched the large detective, who watched her silently in turn. He was a handsome man and was over six feet tall and built like a linebacker.

  Saige took a deep breath, and asked, “Did you take my statement, Detective?” She bet his brown eyes missed nothing as he ran a hand through his thick, black hair that tapered neatly to his collar. The slight grey around his temples gave him a distinguished look and she guessed he was in his late forties.

  He sighed and leaned forward. “My name is Coulter, as your case is closed, I don’t see why you can’t use it.” He frowned and shook his head. “No, I didn’t take your statement. Why?”

  Saige swallowed. “How much do you know about what happened to me?” She let her question settle and continued when he stayed silent, “I mean, do you know about my memory loss?”

  He looked surprised.

  “I remember that you slept a heck of a lot once you’d been found. It wasn’t surprising considering what had been done to you…how long you’d been in surgery. You’d been starved for the entire time you were held captive, so after the trauma, surgery, and everything else, you had no energy to stay awake. On the few occasions that I spoke with you, you didn’t seem to know what was going on...I’m guessing you’re asking questions because of the execution warrant.”

  Saige nodded and wasn’t surprised that he was so astute. “If I didn’t seem to know what was going on then, how could I have given a comprehensive statement? I’ve read it and it doesn’t sound like it was given by someone who wasn’t ‘with it’.”

  “I’ve often wondered about that, but I was there when you picked Quinten Peterson from the lineup of photographs. You were asked if you recognized anyone. You picked him.”

  “Wait!” Saige sat forward. “You said that I was asked if I recognized anyone. Was I asked if I recognized my abductor? Please try and remember Detective...Coulter.”

  He frowned and watched Saige, realizing that his answer mattered. “I don’t believe so. I believe your stepmother’s exact words were, ‘Look carefully, Saige, and only select the person you recognize.’ I do know that the day we had it all arranged and a video ready to film you doing the lineup, ended up being a bit of a disaster and we had to reschedule. Basically, just as we entered the room, you fell asleep and no one could wake you. Your doctor ordered us all out. But the day we got it done, you looked confused, but cohesive when looking through the images...What did I miss, Saige?” he asked softly.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ve been spending time talking to Quinten’s brother, Alex.” She noticed the twitch in his jaw at the mention of Alex, but she continued, “He’s convinced that his brother is innocent. I can’t remember a lot, but yesterday, thanks to a photograph, brief memories teased my mind. What I remember is that Quinten had intricate tattoos on both arms that finished on the back of his hands with a vine twisting around both of his middle fingers.”

  “He does.”

  “The other memory was of the hands of my abductor with something silver in them just before I felt incredible pain...he didn’t have any tattoos. None that were visible on the back of his hands or his wrists...how can that be if Quinten is the one in prison? I’ve been told about all the evidence and DNA, but Alex said Quinten had badly cut himself, and bled everywhere.”

  “That is one of the things that bothered me, and still does now and again.” He took a sip of his coffee and rubbed at his jaw. “Quinten had a nasty gash along his arm, by the time we found him with you, the blood had soaked through the material he’d used as a tourniquet.”

  “The shirt from one of the murdered girls?”

  He nodded. “Yes...To me that explained all the blood in the shack, he also told us what he remembered touching and everything came back positive to his prints. There wasn’t anything else with prints on though. However, the DA moved to press charges and that was that. The thing is, which I argued at the time, Quinten had stated he’d cut his arm breaking into the shack. The evidence from him breaking in was there for us to see exactly like he said. Once he’d been charged and the case was be
ing built against him, no one wanted to know. I even mentioned it on the stand, which is why I think some of the jury voted not guilty. I’d put the same doubt in their minds.”

  They sat silently for a few minutes and drank their coffee. Saige really didn’t see how everyone would think him guilty. She knew her statement hadn’t helped him, but, “Why didn’t anyone question my relationship with Quinten? I couldn’t find any reference to it.”

  Coulter stilled, and leaned closer still. “What relationship?”

  She couldn’t hide her surprise at his question. “Alex hinted that Quinten and I had something going on. The memory of Quinten’s hands was of them on my body.” She blushed slightly but carried on, “When my stepmother asked if I knew anyone in those photographs, of course I’d have picked Quinten. Not only that, why wasn’t it revealed that both Alex and Quinten worked at my family home? They did the wood carving on the stairs and some of the molds around the light fittings. I might have lost my memory but back then I knew them, and apparently I knew Quinten really well.”

  “Shit!” Coulter cursed and sat back in his chair, shock written all over his face. “Your father swore that you had no relationship with him and that you’d never met him. I even asked him that specific question. I never even got the vibe that he lied.”

  Saige frowned, wondering why he’d lied. “But, what if we kept it from my father?”

  He dropped his head into his hands as he leaned over the table. “Maybe you did keep it a secret.”

  “Did you ask anyone else about us?”

  “I asked both Alex and Quinten and they said no. I was surprised that Alex didn’t jump on that because he was desperate to save his brother, and with how Quinten was found wrapped around you, it would have shed new light on that scene. What I don’t understand is why Alex and Quinten lied to me about you?”

  Saige felt a trill of hope somewhere deep inside of her. A part of her had known that Quinten was innocent, but she couldn’t understand why they both lied about her relationship with him.

  “I should have listened to my gut instead of the evidence. Something has always niggled at me about the case. It’s the only case I’ve worked on since I became a cop that I couldn’t stop thinking about. Why didn’t I listen?”

  “Like you said, all the evidence pointed to him being guilty, plus, if my father and Christina lied, then you had a closed case.”

  Saige felt tired and now knew that she had been right to start asking questions, which she would continue with soon. “I’m heading home with Alex. I’m not going to leave until I have answers.”

  “I wish I could be there when you ask questions, but I have a case that needs my attention right now. I want you to have this though.” He pulled a white card from his pocket and a pen. After scrawling something on the back, he passed it to her. “That’s my private cell number. If you need help with anything, or if I can answer anything else, call me.”

  Sage absentmindedly took the card from his hand, and asked, “If I wanted to visit the prison, would you be able to arrange it?”

  “That’s not a good idea, Saige.” He shook his head.

  “I know it isn’t, but I’m serious. Alex has told me that it could take months for approval for me to visit through the official channel. Couldn’t you get me in faster?”

  He sighed. “If I had to, then yes...what are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that if I’m with him and can talk to him, then maybe my memory will come back.” She lifted tormented filled eyes to Coulter. “I want to remember him, Detective. I want to remember our time together, and I want to remember why I ended up in a private hospital for two years, when I can only remember the last two weeks of my stay there. Why does the scent of antiseptic make me physically sick? There’s a lot that I want to know and I have a feeling that it all starts with Quinten.”

  “Your father lied for a reason, Saige. Maybe everything starts with him and his wife. Just be careful, and promise to call me if you need help.”

  “I will.” She shrugged. “I have so many questions and I know the answers are locked away inside me. I just want to remember.”

  “Hmm. I once had a case where a young woman lost her memory after being the only survivor when her sister and parents were found dead. Her memory came back in the middle of the funeral. She launched herself at her mother’s father...I’m basically trying to tell you that your memory might come back when you least expect it to. Something will trigger the whole lot and you’ll be swamped with nothing but memories.”

  “As much as I don’t want to remember those five days, I want to remember everything else. I need to.”

  “I understand.” He stood after glancing at his phone. “I need to get back, and I know I’ll be seeing you again.” He smiled. “Take care of yourself.”

  Saige nodded and watched him walk away, feeling more positive than ever that the truth possibly lay with her father and Christina, but why would they lie? Her father hadn’t wanted her to look into the past, but was that to protect her, or for his own selfish reasons? He’d never come across as selfish. In fact, he was the most selfless person she knew. Her stepmother on the other hand...

  As she took her cell out of her pocket, she messaged her father to let him know that she was on her way home, and that she was bringing a guest who would stay in the guest room. No way did she want him thinking that she wanted to snuggle up with a guy, especially under his roof.

  She then messaged Alex that she was ready to go and where she was. Some of what Detective Coulter Robinson had told her she would keep to herself. No way did she want Alex going off on her parents until they had time to talk.

  * * *

  10:00am

  * * *

  “Who was the woman?” were the first words out of Amber McGregor’s mouth when he slid into his chair and stared at his messy desk.

  He grinned at her tone and wondered if she was jealous.

  Amber, with her riot of fiery orange hair that matched the freckles dusting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, would cause his heart to race in his chest while in her presence. He spent too much time speculating what that mass of hair would feel like against his naked skin. Would it be silky soft, or rough and springy?

  The sound of a throat being cleared made him snap his eyes up to Amber’s and he grinned at the blush on her face, he’d been staring at her lips. He cleared his own throat, and answered her original question, “Saige Lockwood.”

  Her eyes flittered with recognition. “And the plot thickens. So what did she want?”

  “To talk.” He rubbed his face, too tired to carry on with the hundred and one questions, even when he knew that she was there for a reason, and one she could have probably used the phone for.

  “Do you have anything for me, Amber?”

  She watched him before nodding. “Yes. When we uncovered the breast implants, only a partial serial number remained on them.” She smiled. “But, when I gave them a name, that name matched the partial...Jocelyn Peterson had breast implants just over seven years ago.”

  “I hate being right,” Coulter grumbled. “But at least I know who didn’t do it.”

  Amber frowned. “Right, Quinten was already in Harlington.”

  He nodded. “Jocelyn lied through her teeth once Quinten had been arrested. Nothing that could be proved, outside of the fact that there’d been no official police reports of domestic violence, or disturbances—I had a gut feeling. She wanted to be the wounded party and she wanted people to feel sorry for her. She made some money off of the injured victim act when she charged for interviews. According to her, she’d been married to a murderer.” Coulter offered Amber an exhausted smile. “But the media grew tired of her and no one felt sorry for her. She was accused of knowing and keeping silent about Quinten by the press. As soon as the trial ended, she high tailed it out of town...This is the first I’ve heard of her since then.”

  “I’m still waiting for some test results to come back, but I’m guessing tha
t she’s been dead for nearly as long, around seven years.”

  “I give.” He smiled, knowing that she was itching to give him a bit of a science lesson, one he probably knew already, but he loved watching Amber become animated.

  “When a body is buried in the ground, and left, once it starts decomposing the chemistry of the soil changes significantly, which means—”

  “You’ll be able to match up the year of death by how much the soil has changed.”

  “You got it in one, Detective.” Amber grinned, and it was only when his captain cleared his throat beside his desk that he realized he was grinning just as wide back.

  Between a half cough and half laugh, he managed to wipe whatever his boss thought he saw from his face. He was too old for that crap anyway, which he needed to be reminded of often when Amber was around.

  She was a breath of fresh air to his old ass—mid-thirties to his late forties.

  “You have an appointment at the prison this afternoon,” his Captain stated. “Tell him about Jocelyn and when you’re done, question the brother next.”

  Already planned.

  “That’s on the agenda,” he replied, only just stopping himself from asking if there was anything else.

  “You’ve got a couple of hours until the interview so I suggest you make a move.” The man glanced at Amber and then him.

  “I’ll go back to the morgue.” Amber glared at the captain, not giving a shit, and why should she when he wasn’t her direct boss.

  “Call me if you discover anything else,” he requested to Amber’s retreating back.

  “I will.”

  Once Amber left, he noticed his Captain stood gazing after her. “Easy on the eyes.”

  Coulter slammed his hand down on the desk in anger at his captain’s words. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”

  He didn’t wait for a response as he left.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t be around for a while longer now that he had to interview the people from Jocelyn’s life. Those interviews would happen a few hours away from Tampa, in Port Jude and Harlington.