Whispers Under A Southern Sky. Joanne Rock
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had her on the ground and was on top of her before I could even get close to where they were.”
She gasped, connecting the dots to her own trauma that night. “He hurt her?”
“He tried his damnedest.” His eyes cleared, focusing on her. “But I got there before he could do much physical damage. I lunged at him, but he was bigger than me, and he started to get the upper hand until I got my hands on a log about the size of a baseball bat.”
“A weapon,” she half whispered, knowing she couldn’t change the outcome of a story that was long over, but she still found herself breathless from hoping Sam and Gabby got away.
“I hit him so hard I thought I killed him.” He leaned down to scrape his hand along a scraggly cattail growing near the creek bed. The movement released a cloud of fluffy white into the air. “Gabby had run off, and I left the guy to search for her. Another car came along, and I debated calling for help when it stopped, but I couldn’t see well enough, so I hid instead. When Gabby was safely in my car, I went back to where the body should have been, but it was gone.”
“Meaning he got up and went in the other car?”
“Or else a friend came and took the body away.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t be sure, and I was too scared of getting kicked out of my foster family’s house to go to the cops. Besides, Gabby wanted no part of talking to police. She was hysterical.”
Pieces of the past fell into place, slowly making sense.
“So Zach wanted to take his sister away from a cyberstalker who might still be after her. And you needed to get away from the guy, too, or else not be in Heartache when someone discovered him dead.”
“That’s why I left.” He pointed to a flat rock near the stream, and she followed the unspoken suggestion, taking a seat. He dropped down a few inches away, a strong, masculine presence that tripped a whole chain of sensations inside her she had no business feeling.
She hugged her knees to her chest.
“You didn’t breathe a word to anyone, including me, because you couldn’t afford for anyone to link you to the stalker.” His reasons for leaving—and keeping quiet about it—were so different from what she’d imagined. But Sam had possessed a strong sense of right and wrong even as a teen. Of course he’d made the choice to be noble at all costs.
“Gabriella’s mother didn’t even protest when Zach said he was taking her out to the West Coast when he started college. Hell, I’m not sure Mrs. Chance realized Zach hadn’t even graduated high school yet. She just gave him some money and told him good luck.”
“It definitely helps to have cash when you’re starting over in a new city.” She’d refused all help from her family after she’d left town, not realizing how difficult it would be to make ends meet on her own. “I told my dad I was going to file the paperwork to become an emancipated minor when I left, but he said not to bother. They wouldn’t fight me.”
Or fight for her.
When it came down to it, her parents hadn’t blinked at her departure any more than Mrs. Chance had protested her daughter’s.
“I heard you moved to Atlanta.” He sifted through some tall grasses and pulled up a flat stone. “Zach kept tabs on news from Heartache, always keeping an eye out for info on the man who jumped Gabriella.”
“And now you think Jeremy Covington was the man who lured Gabriella out and assaulted her?” But Gabby wasn’t the only one he’d hurt. This case was bigger than she’d realized.
And while she understood why Sam took this case personally, she would not be able to help. She had her own reasons for needing to stay far away from the man who hurt Gabriella. She wasn’t any more ready to share those reasons now than she had been a decade ago.
“I do. And I want to see his ass in jail for more reasons than I can count.” He whipped the stone side-arm to send it skipping along the water’s surface. “I’ve been working overtime to find more leads and be sure Jeremy Covington is put away for life. But yesterday I got a message on my phone that threatened Aiden if I keep searching for witnesses.”
Amy felt a weight land squarely on her chest. A vision of Aiden’s blue eyes and happy, kicking foot clutched at her.
“How could he have threatened you from jail? Do you worry you have the wrong man?”
“Never.” He reached to touch her, laying one big, broad palm over the whole of her forearm.
Even as one anxiety eased, another emotion took its place. A sharp awareness of Sam Reyes.
She knew he wanted answers about that summer that had changed both their lives forever. But right now, with a new attraction stirring inside her faster than her usual instincts for self-preservation, Amy blurted the most important question.
“Are you married?”
LIKE A BUCKET of water to the face, the mention of marriage had him surging to his feet.
“Married?” He could have sworn they’d been talking about his case. Stalkers. Jail time. But a wife? “Hell no.”
From another woman, he might have considered the question a signal of interest. Except Amy was staring at him like he was a bug under a microscope, with none of the old warmth and happiness he recalled from when they were dating. She’d changed a lot over the years. Sure, she’d always been aloof and more standoffish than the other Finleys. But when you got to know her privately, there had been a wry sense of humor and a sweetness about her that had drawn him.
Now? Her wary body language and restless green gaze suggested she didn’t let anyone close to her anymore.
He started walking and she stood to follow him, her footsteps on the fallen leaves surprisingly quiet while the sun glinted off auburn highlights in her brown hair.
“You didn’t mention Aiden’s mother the first time we met and I wondered.” She pointed to a deer downstream, a young doe watching them intently. “Then today, when you said your son had been threatened, it made me curious who was watching him for you.”
The doe didn’t hold his interest nearly as long as the woman did. He found it interesting that her thoughts had lingered on his son and the threat to the boy.
“Lorelei. My foster mother.” He studied Amy’s face while she watched the deer. Her pale skin and delicate features were the same as he remembered. She still looked as if a stiff wind might blow her down, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case if she was toughing out a winter in that hunting cabin with no stove and no heat. “She and her husband still take in kids. The house is right in town and always full of activity. No one will get close to Aiden there.”
“Good.” She nodded, a smudge of dirt on her cheek calling to his fingers. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She hugged thin arms around her waist and turned to glance up at him. “You may find it hard to believe, but I’ve actually become a worse conversationalist as an adult than I was at seventeen.”
“You weren’t prying.” He leaned down to the rushing stream to grab a handful of cold water and splashed it on his face, appreciating the stinging chill on his perpetually tired eyes. “I’m just a bit shell-shocked trying to get used to single fatherhood.”
He wasn’t the kind of guy who ever felt the need to explain himself. Except right now, with Amy Finley, he found himself wanting to. And he would have. But she chose right then to clutch his arm in a tight grip.
“What is that?” she asked quietly, her eyes wide, her whole body rigid.
Straightening, he followed her gaze.
A full-grown wild boar steamed hot breath into the cool fall air, staring directly at them.
He tensed.