Archer dreaded what he needed to say next. “I’m sorry Miss Carson, but can anyone vouch for your whereabouts this morning from say 4:00 a.m. to when you found the body?”
From everything he’d gathered so far about the independent and stubborn Sadie Carson he was expecting a defensive maneuver. What he saw, however, wasn’t knee-jerk indignation, nor a pale-faced realization that she didn’t have an alibi. It was a private reflection of unbearable sadness. It was in that unguarded glimpse, she was completely unmasked and vulnerable. What he saw told him she was broken, instead of guilty.
But eyes could lie. His own might be conning him at this very moment. Caving to her emotional display would only make him weak. So he tore his eyes away from the puzzling woman. He’d get to the bottom of this and wash his hands of his own guilt before it ate him alive.
He still wasn’t positive—wasn’t sure why it mattered—but if he’d read Sadie’s face right, he was fairly certain he had the answer to his unasked question. She lived here alone.
Boy was he glad to be out of there. After feeling strangely unbalanced for the past few hours with Miss Carson, Archer needed to regain focus. No better way to accomplish that than to dive into the facts of the case while he drove to meet his partner at the shooting range.
If what Sadie mentioned checked out, someone was looking for something they believed Westwick had possessed—something worth killing for.
Information from Westwick’s time in the service was a possibility, though he’d obviously kept quiet about it so far. Why now? Why kill a ninety-one-year-old man unless he was threatening to expose some dark secrets?
Love or jealousy seemed unlikely if Westwick’s spouse had passed on.
Money could be a motive in this case, though the condo, if it was anything like Sadie’s, was modest—not the home of a millionaire. Then again the man had been smart and had held down a great job, likely with a sizeable retirement. Westwick’s generation did tend to be more frugal. He could have a huge stockpile somewhere.
Westwick’s financials would be on his desk first thing tomorrow morning. Archer would save the speculation for later.
The crime scene had sucked up the rest of his day and he realized that he’d neglected his stomach, so he stopped for a burger and ate while he drove. Trying to clear his head, he turned on the radio to the sports network to catch some of the Cardinals game.
At one time, baseball had been his greatest escape. He’d been scouted in high school and might’ve had a shot at the bigs. But in the end he knew that even if he’d invested years in the minors, he might never have made it to the show, and the last thing he wanted to do was chase some pipe dream and end up like his father—poisoned by disappointment.
It was one of the main reasons Archer didn’t invest in a lot of relationships, romantic or otherwise. His dedication to be the best at his job made it impossible to have the time or energy to invest in anyone else. And after years of being treated like an afterthought, Archer knew he’d rather be alone than inflict those kinds of wounds on anyone else.
He shook the pointless thoughts away and pulled into the shooting range just as Sal stepped out of his car. Archer removed his jacket, slung it over his shoulder and approached his opponent. “You ready to get schooled, Sally?”
Sal tipped down his matching aviators. “Dude, just cuz your name’s Archer doesn’t mean you’ve got good aim with a gun.”
“I’m just surprised you keep showing up. All this losing week after week, gotta be tough on the ego, brother.”
“Bring it, Hayes.”
Archer laughed. “Oh, I brought it.”
After Archer mopped the floor with Sal during their training exercises, they sat together putting away their extra ammo and equipment. Sal was always a good sport, but Archer threw him a bone anyway. “Well I do love winning, but I gotta say, you’re gaining on me.”
Sal chuckled, shaking his head. “Thanks man, I’m learning from the best.” Raising his water bottle in a mock toast, he took a swig. “Hey, I’m meeting some friends at Hacienda for dinner. Best enchiladas in town. Wanna join?”
“Sounds tempting,” Archer lied. “But I had a burger on the way over. Maybe next time.”
“Absolutely. I can’t believe you’ve lived here this long and never been. It’s a cryin’ shame.”
Archer shrugged, wishing Sal would take the hint and stop asking to hang out after hours.
“Hey, whatever happened at the scene with that old conspiracy nut? You were gone all day. Natural causes shouldn’t have taken that long.”
“Looks good for murder, if you can believe it.” Archer shoved a reloaded magazine into his Glock, felt tension weave back through the muscle fibers in his neck as he gave Sal the rundown.
“… And then this witness left the scene and I had to track her down hours later. It was a long day.”
“Did you get to question her?”
“Yeah, at her place after she tore me a new one.” He scoffed, but not a moment later, the feisty blonde barged into his memory. The woman was a landmine, so tightly wound one wrong step could set her off. But strangely, she also possessed some element of grace that reminded Archer of Sunday morning as a kid.
Sadie Carson. A conundrum or a basket case?
Sure, she had the kind of curves that could drive a less disciplined man to his knees with one glance. Those curves hadn’t escaped notice, but the ones tracing like the work of a sketch artist in his mind were the curves of her face, a pert little nose, stubborn chin, generously proportioned lips—the girl was seriously attractive, but so what? He’d encountered plenty of attractive women over the years and yet none of them had ever lodged like a bullet fragment in his brain. Not like this. Archer cleared his throat to change the subject.
“Did you just blush?” Sal grinned. “Hold the phone! Who is this dame?”
“Nobody—”
“Man, she’s got you all worked up! Is she fine?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right.” Sal lifted his chin, an impish grin begging for a world of hurt. Reading Archer’s nonverbal threat, Sal’s taunting expression vanished. “So, you taking me with you to check out this guy’s place or what?”
Chapter 4
Sadie Carson
After Special Agent Smolder left, the rest of the afternoon passed in a daze. Stuck in a sort of traumatic aftershock, the events of the day tortured her again and again. She couldn’t be persuaded to eat. Or sleep. Or even move. More than likely she was now dehydrated since her tears had run dry over an hour ago. But she remained sacked out on the couch, swaddled by yards of a buttery soft old quilt. She should be feeling lazy, cozy, and snug, but today the world had once again lost its warmth.
Silence screamed at her from the other side of the wall and the cold fingers of loneliness started to take hold. Charlie was gone. Never again would they spend the afternoon singing old songs or attempting to declutter his place.
Charlie, like many of her patients, just needed someone to talk to, someone who might take the time to listen. To remind him he wasn’t alone. It was hardly groundbreaking or lifesaving, but it had become her life. A kind of sad life. Fixing others so she might forget how broken she was.
Was she making a difference at all? Had she even made a pinprick on the surface of the earth? So many of her patients were drowning financially, denied of medications and treatments that would improve the quality and duration of their lives. There wasn’t much extra she could give with the heavy burden of her student loans, so she made it her mission to help heal them in other ways.
She made sure they were taken care of, comfortable. But she worked hardest to help mend the hurts of their pasts. To help them find peace. A final assurance. Closure—the one thing she never got. She gave it everything she had, but i
t still wasn’t enough.
Now, with Charlie gone, who would she talk to?
It’s not like she was a loner, exactly. She’d see her parents and her brother Finn at least one night a week for a family dinner. Church on Sundays provided a wide array of interactions. And, of course girls’ night as often as possible with her best friend, Joselyn.
Just last night was girls’ night, in fact. Sadie and Joselyn had watched It Happened One Night and ate a half a pan of brownies and a pint of coffee ice cream.
What a difference a day makes.
But even as she justified all the times she wasn’t alone, it was Agent Hayes’ voice asking if anyone knew where she was today that echoed in her mind, resurrecting the painful realization that she was indeed alone. And what was worse? She was sure he’d seen the pathetic loneliness play across her face. That glimpse of vulnerability was a weak moment Sadie had no intention of repeating. One crack and the wall she’d been building around her heart for five years could come crumbling down.
Though begrudgingly, she could admit to herself she was sort of grateful for his presence today. Something about him made her feel protected. Perhaps she’d feel that way about anyone in law-enforcement with a killer on the loose, but his attempt to put her at ease was sort of … sweet.
Then again, it was her first encounter with an FBI agent. It was probably the standard-issue sensitivity training found in the FBI handbook. That, or a patronizing ability to reduce her to a helpless damsel in distress. No, thank you.
Frustrated by her train of thought, she decided to focus on the equally irritating things about Special Agent Archer Hayes. First of all was his stare. His big honey brown eyes, fringed with lashes to rival a Maybelline model, were so intrusive and insightful—likely helpful in his line of work and probably a big hit with the ladies—but so … so …
Words escaped her when the details of his face proved too distracting.
Definitely a nice face.
Rugged was the word that came to mind. With what she assumed was a permanent five o’clock shadow dotting naturally tanned skin, she conjured up a vision of his chiseled features, full lips, and dark tousled hair, long enough to curl slightly behind his ears and at the nape of his neck. He looked like a cowboy playing dress up in a suit. And then there was that small scar etched in his dark eyebrow which only enhanced his rugged appeal.
Strange, she thought as she shook the images away, she hadn’t remembered studying him so closely, but now even after their short encounter she could recall every detail.
Whew! Sadie kicked off the blanket. It was way too early for a menopausal hot flash. She had half a mind to literally bang her pathetic head against the wall, but settled for shoving her face into the nearest throw pillow for a muffled berating session.
What was wrong with her? Had it really been that long since she’d been alone with a man? She let her memory roll back to the last time she’d had a man in her condo, besides Charlie, and honestly couldn’t think of one. It’s not like she didn’t go on dates. Okay, so mainly a lot of first dates. But a girl’s gotta have standards.
Like some sad old maid her thoughts returned to the only man who had occupied her airspace in months. Agent Hayes. He’d lingered at the door before he left, made some small talk and said he would question the regulars at Longview Park to check her alibi. Told her to call if she had any more questions or remembered anything helpful.
And then it happened again, their gazes locked like “Some Enchanted Evening” until she was completely immersed in those warm golden eyes, recklessly abandoning her life raft and braving the hazards of the deep.
Tearing her eyes away, she’d broken the spell—a wicked falsehood of an intoxicating man. He played the game well, she’d give him that much. He seemed sincere. That deceiving sense of security she felt in his presence was dangerous. And she definitely didn’t trust him. Charlie had reached out to him, and look how that turned out.
She didn’t quite know what to make of Agent Hayes, but she knew one thing for sure. She would find out the truth, and make sure the FBI was held accountable for their negligence.
Crawling into bed, the bone-deep weariness settled in until she couldn’t move. Her man-deprived brain revolted against her wishes, drawing a final look-see at Agent Hayes’s memory.
Sadie knew that as the investigation continued she’d encounter him again. What bothered her was that the thought gave way to a tingle of anticipation she couldn’t explain, nor did she want to.
Hours later she lay awake, staring into her darkened room now as black as the bleakness in her heart. As tired as she was, it was truly amazing and infuriating that she couldn’t sleep. Sure she could fall asleep in the middle of the day at the most inopportune time, but when an appropriate time for sleep came it eluded her. Go figure.
After tossing and turning a bit more she sat up, turned on the lamp on her nightstand, and let her head fall into her hands.
“Oh God, everything’s a mess.”
She closed her eyes and prayed. For courage to do the right thing for Charlie. For answers. For peace. But as she drifted off to sleep she was conscious enough to recognize that peace wouldn’t come. Not tonight.
“Ryan, slow down. My feet hurt, I’m tired, and I told my mom we were running down the street to catch the ice cream man ... and now your ‘short cut’ has us stuck in the mud and like forever from home.” Blowing out an exasperated breath, twelve-year-old Sadie attempted to get the hair out of her face without using her now mud-caked fingers. “Would you get back here? Ryan, I’m not kidding. I’m not going one step farther until you look me in the eyes and tell me you know where we’re headed.”
At her near hysterical rant, Ryan stopped in his tracks and glared back with rolling eyes. “When did you get so girly?”
“Uh, duh stupid, I am a girl. Besides everyone knows girls are far superior to boys. Now help me out of this muck, and can we please go home? I’m really not up for Indiana Jones today, Ry. Please.”
Stomping over crunching twigs to where Sadie stood pouting in a damp creek bed, Ryan’s face gave it up. He had no idea where they were, but he was too stubborn to admit it.
He seemed to be having a hard time adjusting to the new Sadie. She called it “less mud, more polish.” After all, they were heading to the new middle school next year for sixth grade. Ryan didn’t appear to grasp why things were changing and seemed desperate to prove they could still have a blast doing the same old stuff they always did together. Like playing capture the flag and ghost in the graveyard night games and exploring in the woods acting out their favorite scenes from Indiana Jones and Empire Strikes Back.
He smiled down from the lip of the embankment. “All right princess.” He chuckled. “Gimme your hand.” Leaning down he grasped her hand to pull her up out of the muddy slope.
Just as she gained her footing and grabbed onto a nearby branch Ryan let go and a slick of mud gave way. Ryan twisted to try and grab hold of a branch or anything to keep him from sliding all the way down into the creek, just missing Sadie’s outstretched hand.
He fell hard, a crack splintered through the dense woods. Howling in pain, he surrendered to the sludge, cradling his ankle.
In a split-second she was sinking back into the mud beside him, examining his leg. “I hate to tell you this, Ry, but I think it’s broken. It’s already swollen and getting greenish. Ehh ... But I think I can find something out here to splint it.” She closed her eyes for a moment to shoot up a quick prayer, then scoured the area and returned with supplies. Using his T-shirt for padding, a sizeable piece of tree bark and his tennis shoe laces, she made a brace for his leg.
“I swear MacGyver, you’re gonna make a great doctor one day.” He smiled through gritted teeth.
Sadie stood and held out a hand to help him up. “Let’s get you home, slick. Hop on.”
Ryan started a sort of macho protest but gave in after one wobbly step. He hopped on her back, and she carried him piggyback all the way back they came.
When they finally made it home, she hugged him good-bye and his mom loaded him into the car to go to the ER. Sadie trudged rather zombie-like across the street to her house, her legs cramping from the lengthy excursion and the burden of Ryan’s extra—albeit gangly—weight.
Turning back, she met Ryan’s gaze through the rear window. There was something peculiar in his stare she couldn’t decipher. His eyes widened with surprise before darting away.
More than once she noticed that look, like he was ... caught. Weirdo. What had gotten into him lately?
Light filtered into Sadie’s bedroom as a new day dawned. Only it didn’t feel like a new day. It felt as hopeless as yesterday. When she’d nodded off on the side of the road she’d dreamt of Ryan. It’d been the first time in years, and she rationalized that the events of the day had triggered the flashback. But last night Ryan had visited again.
She rolled to glance at the clock. Seven twenty-eight. “Ehh,” was her incoherent moan when she let her head flop down on the mattress, breathing in the subtle tang of her citrus breeze fabric softener. So, she’d overslept a little. Today was one of those days when foregoing her morning run and shooting back an extra cup of coffee sounded like a cure-all.
When, alas, there was no more time to dawdle under the covers, Sadie got up, threw on a pair of black yoga pants and a white tank top for work, and tied her unruly waves into a sloppy bun. Shoving some nicer clothes and her cosmetics bag in a duffle for her late lunch date with her mother, she dropped it by the door and went to fix some breakfast.
When Fall Fades (The Girl Next Door Series Book 1) Page 3
