Page 16 of Saved By the Lieutenant
I want to believe him, I really do, but there's so much pain in my heart from him that it's going to take a while. But I want him, I want us back. I love him enough to give him another chance. I step toward him, and he doesn't hesitate, he pulls me into his arms, and I crash against his solid chest. Glancing up, I see the love that he has for me shining through his deep blue eyes. God, the man is so damn handsome. His gaze flickersbetween my eyes and lips, my pulse speeds up as he lowers his head, the anticipation of the kiss between us grows and my stomach knots. God, I want this.
The ringing of his cell breaks through our moment before our lips even touch, I step back, knowing that he'll have to answer. He doesn't, instead, he pulls me back into his arms and lowers his mouth against mine. I melt into the kiss, feeling the warmth of his lips against mine, the familiar sensation sending a rush of emotions through me. Despite everything that’s happened between us, there's no denying the intensity of our connection, the way his touch ignites a fire deep within me.
As we deepen the kiss, the world around us fades away, leaving only the two of us standing in the silence of the dimly lit room. For a moment, it feels like we're back to how we used to be, wrapped up in each other without a care in the world.
But reality soon comes crashing back as Jake's phone continues to ring incessantly. Reluctantly, he pulls away from me, his eyes filled with longing and regret. “I have to take this,” he says, his voice strained.
I nod silently, trying to ignore the sudden ache in my chest as he answers the call. His expression changes as he listens to whoever is on the other end, and I can sense the tension as his muscles go taut. Whatever news he's receiving isn't good, I can tell by the way his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow in concern.
After a few moments, Jake ends the call and turns to me, his face grim. “Amy,” he starts, his voice heavy with worry. “There's been another murder.”
My heart sinks at his words, the weight of our earlier conversation now distant as the urgency of the case takes precedence. “Who?” I ask, my mind racing through the list of potential victims and suspects we've been tracking.
“Your neighbor,” Jake replies, his words like a punch to the gut. “From what Peter said, she stopped someone from entering your home and the killer struck.”
Shock rushes through me as I listen to him speak. My neighbor, Mrs. Dorrit was a seventy-three-year-old widow who had no children. I’d spend my Saturday afternoons with her at least once a month having lunch and catching up. She was a sweet woman who was all alone. I felt a kindred spirit with her knowing that we both were alone in this world. She’s one of the best people I know. To find out she's dead, it's a sucker punch to the gut. This killer is a maniac, and it won't be long until he's caught. I just hate that Mrs. Dorrit was caught in the crossfire.
“Good news is that we have them on camera. Peter’s emailing you a still from the footage now, not of the murder,” he adds quickly as my body tenses. “But of the killer. He wants you to take a look at it and see if you can identify him.”
“What's the bad news?” I ask, knowing that he's not telling me everything.
“The killer left a message for you,” he says through clenched teeth. “He said that he's coming for you.” I see the darkness swirling in Jake's eyes and I know that he's angry, I am too.
This animal is after me and he's killed Mrs. Dorrit because I wasn't there. Now I'm wondering how many others are going to die because I'm in hiding.
“Don't,” he growls. “Don't fucking think like that, Amy, this isn't your fault.”
I blink, surprised at his harsh tone. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“Because you've got the biggest heart that I've ever seen, and you'll feel guilty for your neighbor dying.”
My laptop pings, letting me know that there's a new email. My hands begin to shake, and my breathing deepens. This is it. This is where I find out who the hell is behind all of this.
Jake is at my side before I even make it to my laptop, his hand slides along my waist as I take a seat. Just as before, he keeps his front plastered to my back, offering me support. Peter's email is staring boldly at me as I look at the screen. I click on it, holding my breath as I wait for the image to load.
My heart sinks when I see the man that's staring back at me.
Never in a million years did I think it would be him. God, how naive I've been.
“Who is that?” Jake asks, his voice barely concealing his anger.
“Detective Callum Dawkins,” I reply, looking at the screen that shows the detective so very clearly, he's holding a bloody knife in his hands and wearing a sinister grin, just like the one from my nightmares.
It's what my subconscious has been trying to tell me for days, the dreams are all starting to make sense now. I knew my attacker, well at least my subconscious did. It was his voice. It was familiar and I couldn't place it. Now I know.
Bile crawls up my throat and I push away from Jake and the table as I run toward the bathroom. God, I barely make it to the toilet before I'm throwing up. The coffee that I've been drinking burns as it makes its way back up. I feel the heat of Jake behind me, his hand rubbing my back. Over and over again I vomit, unable to keep it down.
“We know who it is now, baby, Peter is going to find him.”
I wish I could believe that this man is clever. He's been killing under the radar for so long, he's supposed to be on vacation. My gut is screaming that he's going to try to find me. I just pray that he doesn't. I know that if he finds us here, he'll hurt Jake, and I don't want that to happen.
Jake pulls me into his arms once I finish throwing up, I cling to his shirt as I sob against him. I feel wrung out and exhausted.
I pray that Callum is found soon, and that Mrs. Dorrit is reunited with her husband and is happy. I wish that for her.
8
JAKE
