Cold Case Tracker, page 2
“Amy!” Jackson shouted. He dropped to the ground beside her and grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to steady her enough to pull the bag off her head. But a fresh scream tore from her lips and she struggled against him. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you—”
But the words had barely left his lips when her right hand darted up in front of his eyes. She was holding a small black canister of bear spray. The ring was wrapped around her finger. The nozzle was pointed directly at his face.
“Stop!” He let her go. “Put that away, it’s me, Jackson—”
Amy yanked the pin and fired.
TWO
He had to hand it to her. Amy hadn’t even hesitated and her aim was perfect. Two qualities Jackson would’ve really admired, if it wasn’t for the thick stream of noxious chemicals now hitting him right in the face. Immediately his eyes began to burn and stream with tears, blurring his vision. Despite himself, Jackson practically yelped in pain. Amy scrambled back, dropped the canister and began to claw at the hood still covering her face.
“Stop!” he called, only to burst into a heavy coughing fit as the bear spray seared his lungs. “I’m not going to hurt you! I’m a cop!”
She hesitated. “Who are you?”
“Jackson!” He’d told her that. “I work with the RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit now.”
“You’re a cop? Why didn’t you tell me you’re a cop!”
“I did!” he insisted. His voice rose and he nearly choked from the pain. “I’m guessing you didn’t hear me. It was kind of chaotic. Now let me walk you away from the blast zone. I’m going to take your hood off but first we’re going to move upwind a bit.” It felt like fire was filling his lungs with every breath. “Trust me, you don’t want to breathe in this stuff. Looks like the blindfold was tied in a knot and you won’t be able to reach it.”
She paused another moment. Then she turned her head away from the bear spray that still lingered in the air. She let him take her arm and walk her a few feet away from the detonation.
“Who was that guy?” Amy asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“He was completely silent,” she said. “I didn’t even hear him until he was on top of me. Does he have anything to do with what happened to my friend Gemma?” she asked.
“Again, I have no idea,” he said. “But I’m here to find out what happened to her.”
Amy’s head rose defiantly. “I don’t believe she’s really dead.”
“Well, neither do I.”
He started coughing again. His lungs and eyes were still stinging, and he could barely see. The first thing he needed to do was rinse his eyes out with water. That would give him temporary but much-needed relief. He’d then have to wash his skin with soap and water, change his clothes too, and see if he could give his eyes an extra rinse with saline solution. It was a whole complicated procedure not made any easier by the inability to properly see and breathe. But he couldn’t just leave her there. He wrestled with the knot until it came free. With his help, she pulled the hood off her head. Then she turned around.
Her hazel eyes met his and widened.
“Wow, I got you good,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your face. That looks really painful.”
Just how bad did he look right now?
“Thanks for your help,” she said. “Your name is Jackson, right? I’m Amy. I’ll go grab you some water. I’ve got some in the store.”
Wait, didn’t she recognize him? It was true they hadn’t seen each other in over a decade. He’d lost his youthful chubbiness, bulked up, gotten a new dent in the bridge of his nose thanks to a bad break and grown a beard since then. Not to mention the bear spray was probably doing a number on his features. Then it hit him. In the chaos of the moment, he’d called himself Jackson instead of Ajay. Furious barking filled the air. He turned to see Hudson galloping down the alley toward them. The dog’s teeth were bared. Hudson snarled. He must’ve heard Jackson cry out, managed to wriggle his way through the open truck window and was now charging to Jackson’s rescue. Or maybe he’d just smelled the spray and knew it meant trouble.
Amy gasped.
“Hudson, stop!” Jackson ordered. He held up his hand. “Sit. I’m okay. Amy is a friend.”
The dog sat promptly. Hudson’s head cocked to the side and he whimpered softly.
“Sorry, bud,” he added. “I’m sure this stuff smells even worse to you than it does to me.” Then he turned to Amy. Her face was pale. “This is my K-9 partner, Hudson.”
“Hi, Hudson,” Amy said, hesitantly.
The dog thumped his tail in response as if trying to reassure Amy that he hadn’t meant to scare her. She turned back to Jackson. “Hang on a second. I’m going to get you some water for your face.”
Amy dashed through the open door and was back seconds later with a bottle.
“Thank you.” He took it gratefully and splashed it over his eyes. “I should get changed too and wash my skin. Can you help me find somewhere to do that? Then we should sit down and talk about what just happened.”
Which was kind of hard to do while it felt like his pores were on fire. The closest motel was over an hour away—the longer he went without changing and washing, the worse it would be for him. He wasn’t about to let himself into the family cottage without asking Amy first, even if he did co-own it with his sister. He splashed his eyes again and when he glanced back, Amy was fiddling with her cell phone. Hang on, was she taking his picture?
“Give me a second,” she said. “You said your name is Jackson, right? And you’re a cop? Here to investigate Gemma Locke’s disappearance?”
“That’s right.”
Amy really did have no idea who he was. But maybe that was a good thing. The police who’d interviewed Amy before had thought she might be hiding something about Gemma’s disappearance. In a normal family, the fact he was the missing person’s brother would be an advantage, but Amy knew better than anyone that he and Gemma had never been close. The Amy he’d known back when they were teenagers would never have told Gemma’s little brother any of her best friend’s secrets. Maybe if she didn’t know who he was, he’d have an easier time getting her to open up. He could find out the truth...and maybe he’d be less anxious.
“And do you have a last name, Officer Jackson?” Amy asked.
“It’s Sergeant Jackson, actually. And my last name is...Finnick.”
Before he could think it through, his boss’s last name slipped over his tongue.
“Which division?” she pressed.
“The RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit.”
“Do you have a badge?”
“In my truck,” he said. “Hudson’s got a badge too.”
She paused for a moment as if considering his answer. Then she stuck out her hand. He shook it.
“Nice to meet you, Sergeant Jackson Finnick,” Amy said. “Sorry again for your face. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m just gonna pop back into my store and close everything up for the night. Back in a second.”
“I’ll come help you,” he said.
“No, thanks,” Amy said. “You stay out here with Hudson and keep rinsing your eyes.”
She walked back into the bookstore.
Jackson looked at Hudson. The dog cocked his head.
“Well, partner, do you think I just made the biggest mistake of my career?”
* * *
Amy closed the door almost all the way, leaving it open a crack. Then she calmed her breathing and looked around. The bookstore was eerily quiet now except for the sound of Reepi bouncing happily in his cage. The power was still out but solving that problem would have to wait until tomorrow.
She closed her eyes and prayed.
Thank You, Lord, that I made it out alive. Please keep me safe now and give me the wisdom I need.
She ran her hands over her belly, feeling for the comforting form of Skye. She held her breath and waited until she felt the flutter of her baby move inside her. Amy exhaled.
Thank You, God.
Skye was okay.
Now, what to do about the intimidatingly handsome Sergeant Jackson and his fierce partner? The cottage was only a few minutes’ drive away. He could get cleaned up there and they could talk. She even had a bottle of saline solution for washing out his eyes. But, he was still a total stranger and she didn’t know how much she trusted him. Amy glanced down at her sketch pad on the counter. The picture she’d drawn of the man she now knew as Jackson Finnick stared up at her.
Was he really who he said he was? Sure, he’d just told her that there was a badge in his truck, but it could be a fake or even his attempt to lure her to his vehicle. She sighed. Maybe what had happened with Paul had ruined her ability to trust anyone.
She pulled out her cell phone, dialed 911 and told the operator that it was imperative she speak to an officer in the RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit immediately. There was a click. She waited. And after a long moment, a voice came on the line.
“Constable Caleb Perry, RCMP.” The voice was confident and professional. “How can I help you?”
She blinked. “I didn’t realize the RCMP had constables.”
“Beats calling us entry-level grunts,” Caleb said.
“My name is Amy Scout,” she said. “I’m calling from Clearwater, Ontario. I have a man here with a large dog who claims to be a K-9 officer with your unit. I wanted to verify his identity.”
And get someone to send help right away if he was lying.
“Absolutely,” Caleb said. “Though, I can tell you we do have someone in Clearwater at the moment. Is his name Sergeant Locke?”
As in Gemma Locke?
“No.” Amy frowned. “Finnick. Sergeant Jackson Finnick. His partner is a German shepherd named Hudson. But Locke is the last name of the person he’s here to investigate so maybe there’s a mix-up there?”
There was a pause.
“Maybe,” Caleb said. His tone was indecipherable.
“I took a picture of them if it helps,” she added.
“Yeah, please do send it through,” Caleb said. Now he sounded surprised. Or maybe even impressed. “I’ll give you my personal cell number you can text it to.”
She typed in the number as he rattled it off, then she sent him the picture she’d furtively taken of Jackson and Hudson.
“Yup, that’s Jackson Finnick and Hudson all right,” he said, after a long moment. “I grabbed some food with Jackson yesterday actually and he told me about the case. They’re in Clearwater right now to look into the disappearance of Miss Gemma Locke.”
“Yeah,” Amy said. So that all checked out. “Gemma was a friend of mine. I’m staying in her cottage and manning her bookstore for her until she gets back.”
“So, you don’t believe she’s dead either,” Caleb said, almost as if to himself.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, neither does Jackson,” Caleb said. “So, you’re in good company. Jackson is one of the very best officers I’ve ever known and Hudson is second to none. If you need more character references, I’m happy to pass the phone around the unit. Everyone will say the same.”
“No, that’s all right,” she said. She was beginning to feel a little foolish. “Thanks so much for your help, officer.”
“No problem,” Caleb said. “I’ll text you the unit’s direct line. Feel free to call either the unit or myself if you need anything.”
“I will,” she said. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
They ended the call. Okay, seemed like there were still some people in the world she could trust.
She found Jackson and Hudson where she’d left them.
“Come on,” she said, “grab your bag and I’ll take you to the cottage where I’m staying. I’ve got saline solution and a special soap that’s good for getting bear spray off your skin. You can get cleaned up and we can talk about Gemma.” She gently grasped his arm. “I’ll steer.”
“Sounds good,” Jackson said.
They made their way to his truck, where he grabbed his jacket and a large bag from the vehicle.
He glanced in the rearview mirror as he did so, clocking his reflection.
“Yup,” he said. “I’m a beauty all right.”
His eyes were still red and swollen, and his whole face was puffy. Guilt pricked her heart. She couldn’t imagine how much pain he was in and yet he hadn’t even complained.
As opposed to Paul, who’d lose his temper whenever anyone so much as got his drink order wrong. She would know. When they’d met she’d been a waitress.
“My car’s up here,” she said brightly. It was a twenty-year-old Volvo with more dings and scrapes than she could count. But it was reliable and it was hers.
Hudson stretched out in the back, Jackson got in the passenger seat, and she started to drive through the woods and down the narrow roads that would lead her back to the cottage.
“So, you have a place up here?” Jackson asked.
“I’m staying at Gemma’s, actually,” she said. “Making sure everything is taken care of while she’s gone.”
“I know that you spoke to the local police for their investigation,” Jackson said. “But they didn’t mention you were living here.”
“I hadn’t really decided what I was going to do by then.”
She still wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do. Skye was due in less than two months and Amy still didn’t know what kind of life she could even provide for her.
“How long have you been living at Gemma’s?” Jackson asked.
His questions were casual and his tone was light, but she could tell he was interviewing her. She wondered why he’d started by talking about her living situation instead of the attack. Maybe it was his way of easing into the conversation and trying to make her comfortable.
“A few months,” she said. “I had some financial problems and she invited me to come live with her.”
That was the easiest way to explain it, without going into the wreck Paul had left her life in.
“Where were you before that?” he asked.
“Niagara Falls,” she said. “For a little over a year.”
“And before that?”
“Traveling the world. I never really settled down anywhere.”
Although now that she was about to be a mother, that life was behind her, with nothing left to replace it.
Thick trees pressed in on all sides. Before Paul, her life had been spent leaping from one adventure to the next. She’d just gotten back from backpacking around Europe when she’d taken the waitressing gig in Niagara Falls for a few months to save up for her next adventure. Paul would come in alone and ask for a table in her section. He’d told her he was a real estate developer from Southern California who was visiting on business. She hadn’t even found him attractive at first. He was short, balding, and seemed older than the thirty he claimed to be. But she’d thought he was interesting. He’d worn her down slowly over time. There’d been large tips, then dates and gifts, until the next thing she knew she was in a long-distance relationship receiving dozens of calls and texts from him every day.
She frowned at the memory. He’d been so persistent that she never imagined he didn’t actually care.
Then he’d surprised her with the most incredible gift of all—blueprints of the tiny seafront art gallery he bought for her. She could fill it with her own sketches and use it to support other up-and-coming talent too. She could hire staff to run it when she traveled. All she had to do was say yes. They’d elope that afternoon and she could start the emigration process immediately. He’d even bought her a ring and booked a wedding chapel in the hopes she’d agree. And impulsively, she decided to jump into the promise of a new adventure.
Only none of it turned out to be real.
He hadn’t even lived in California, and she didn’t even know his real name. Everything about him was fake.
“Everything okay?” Jackson asked. “You look upset.”
A look of genuine concern moved behind his puffy red eyes. Like he actually cared about how she was doing beyond just investigating the case.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just lost in thought.”
“Are you okay if we go over the details of what happened back at the bookstore?” he asked. She nodded. “What do you remember about the guy who attacked you?”
“He was tall, masked and, like I said, he was silent.” She sighed. “I didn’t even hear him until he snuck up on me.”
“And you don’t have any idea who he was?” Jackson asked. “Could he be an acquaintance or someone you were once in a relationship with?”
“No,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never met him before.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Yeah, and he had an accent too.”
“What kind of accent?” Jackson asked.
“Australian, I think. Really thick, like he was putting it on.”
Jackson nodded. “What did he say?”
“I don’t remember the exact words,” Amy admitted. “But he told me not to fight and that I was going to help him find something.”
“Find what?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But the police never found Gemma’s laptop. It wasn’t here or in her car, and I’m pretty sure she took it with her.”
Jackson’s cell phone began to ring. He squinted at the screen. “My eyes are so watery I can’t even read it.”
She glanced over. “It’s Caleb Perry.”
He slid his phone back into his pocket. “He’s a colleague.”
“I know,” Amy admitted. “A low-level grunt.”
Jackson’s eyes widened slightly, then he winced as if it had hurt him to do so. “He’s a constable... How did you know that?”
“While I was in the store, I called 911,” she went on. “I asked them to patch me into the RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone through 911, but if you had turned out to be a liar, I would’ve needed emergency help, now wouldn’t I?”
But the words had barely left his lips when her right hand darted up in front of his eyes. She was holding a small black canister of bear spray. The ring was wrapped around her finger. The nozzle was pointed directly at his face.
“Stop!” He let her go. “Put that away, it’s me, Jackson—”
Amy yanked the pin and fired.
TWO
He had to hand it to her. Amy hadn’t even hesitated and her aim was perfect. Two qualities Jackson would’ve really admired, if it wasn’t for the thick stream of noxious chemicals now hitting him right in the face. Immediately his eyes began to burn and stream with tears, blurring his vision. Despite himself, Jackson practically yelped in pain. Amy scrambled back, dropped the canister and began to claw at the hood still covering her face.
“Stop!” he called, only to burst into a heavy coughing fit as the bear spray seared his lungs. “I’m not going to hurt you! I’m a cop!”
She hesitated. “Who are you?”
“Jackson!” He’d told her that. “I work with the RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit now.”
“You’re a cop? Why didn’t you tell me you’re a cop!”
“I did!” he insisted. His voice rose and he nearly choked from the pain. “I’m guessing you didn’t hear me. It was kind of chaotic. Now let me walk you away from the blast zone. I’m going to take your hood off but first we’re going to move upwind a bit.” It felt like fire was filling his lungs with every breath. “Trust me, you don’t want to breathe in this stuff. Looks like the blindfold was tied in a knot and you won’t be able to reach it.”
She paused another moment. Then she turned her head away from the bear spray that still lingered in the air. She let him take her arm and walk her a few feet away from the detonation.
“Who was that guy?” Amy asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“He was completely silent,” she said. “I didn’t even hear him until he was on top of me. Does he have anything to do with what happened to my friend Gemma?” she asked.
“Again, I have no idea,” he said. “But I’m here to find out what happened to her.”
Amy’s head rose defiantly. “I don’t believe she’s really dead.”
“Well, neither do I.”
He started coughing again. His lungs and eyes were still stinging, and he could barely see. The first thing he needed to do was rinse his eyes out with water. That would give him temporary but much-needed relief. He’d then have to wash his skin with soap and water, change his clothes too, and see if he could give his eyes an extra rinse with saline solution. It was a whole complicated procedure not made any easier by the inability to properly see and breathe. But he couldn’t just leave her there. He wrestled with the knot until it came free. With his help, she pulled the hood off her head. Then she turned around.
Her hazel eyes met his and widened.
“Wow, I got you good,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your face. That looks really painful.”
Just how bad did he look right now?
“Thanks for your help,” she said. “Your name is Jackson, right? I’m Amy. I’ll go grab you some water. I’ve got some in the store.”
Wait, didn’t she recognize him? It was true they hadn’t seen each other in over a decade. He’d lost his youthful chubbiness, bulked up, gotten a new dent in the bridge of his nose thanks to a bad break and grown a beard since then. Not to mention the bear spray was probably doing a number on his features. Then it hit him. In the chaos of the moment, he’d called himself Jackson instead of Ajay. Furious barking filled the air. He turned to see Hudson galloping down the alley toward them. The dog’s teeth were bared. Hudson snarled. He must’ve heard Jackson cry out, managed to wriggle his way through the open truck window and was now charging to Jackson’s rescue. Or maybe he’d just smelled the spray and knew it meant trouble.
Amy gasped.
“Hudson, stop!” Jackson ordered. He held up his hand. “Sit. I’m okay. Amy is a friend.”
The dog sat promptly. Hudson’s head cocked to the side and he whimpered softly.
“Sorry, bud,” he added. “I’m sure this stuff smells even worse to you than it does to me.” Then he turned to Amy. Her face was pale. “This is my K-9 partner, Hudson.”
“Hi, Hudson,” Amy said, hesitantly.
The dog thumped his tail in response as if trying to reassure Amy that he hadn’t meant to scare her. She turned back to Jackson. “Hang on a second. I’m going to get you some water for your face.”
Amy dashed through the open door and was back seconds later with a bottle.
“Thank you.” He took it gratefully and splashed it over his eyes. “I should get changed too and wash my skin. Can you help me find somewhere to do that? Then we should sit down and talk about what just happened.”
Which was kind of hard to do while it felt like his pores were on fire. The closest motel was over an hour away—the longer he went without changing and washing, the worse it would be for him. He wasn’t about to let himself into the family cottage without asking Amy first, even if he did co-own it with his sister. He splashed his eyes again and when he glanced back, Amy was fiddling with her cell phone. Hang on, was she taking his picture?
“Give me a second,” she said. “You said your name is Jackson, right? And you’re a cop? Here to investigate Gemma Locke’s disappearance?”
“That’s right.”
Amy really did have no idea who he was. But maybe that was a good thing. The police who’d interviewed Amy before had thought she might be hiding something about Gemma’s disappearance. In a normal family, the fact he was the missing person’s brother would be an advantage, but Amy knew better than anyone that he and Gemma had never been close. The Amy he’d known back when they were teenagers would never have told Gemma’s little brother any of her best friend’s secrets. Maybe if she didn’t know who he was, he’d have an easier time getting her to open up. He could find out the truth...and maybe he’d be less anxious.
“And do you have a last name, Officer Jackson?” Amy asked.
“It’s Sergeant Jackson, actually. And my last name is...Finnick.”
Before he could think it through, his boss’s last name slipped over his tongue.
“Which division?” she pressed.
“The RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit.”
“Do you have a badge?”
“In my truck,” he said. “Hudson’s got a badge too.”
She paused for a moment as if considering his answer. Then she stuck out her hand. He shook it.
“Nice to meet you, Sergeant Jackson Finnick,” Amy said. “Sorry again for your face. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m just gonna pop back into my store and close everything up for the night. Back in a second.”
“I’ll come help you,” he said.
“No, thanks,” Amy said. “You stay out here with Hudson and keep rinsing your eyes.”
She walked back into the bookstore.
Jackson looked at Hudson. The dog cocked his head.
“Well, partner, do you think I just made the biggest mistake of my career?”
* * *
Amy closed the door almost all the way, leaving it open a crack. Then she calmed her breathing and looked around. The bookstore was eerily quiet now except for the sound of Reepi bouncing happily in his cage. The power was still out but solving that problem would have to wait until tomorrow.
She closed her eyes and prayed.
Thank You, Lord, that I made it out alive. Please keep me safe now and give me the wisdom I need.
She ran her hands over her belly, feeling for the comforting form of Skye. She held her breath and waited until she felt the flutter of her baby move inside her. Amy exhaled.
Thank You, God.
Skye was okay.
Now, what to do about the intimidatingly handsome Sergeant Jackson and his fierce partner? The cottage was only a few minutes’ drive away. He could get cleaned up there and they could talk. She even had a bottle of saline solution for washing out his eyes. But, he was still a total stranger and she didn’t know how much she trusted him. Amy glanced down at her sketch pad on the counter. The picture she’d drawn of the man she now knew as Jackson Finnick stared up at her.
Was he really who he said he was? Sure, he’d just told her that there was a badge in his truck, but it could be a fake or even his attempt to lure her to his vehicle. She sighed. Maybe what had happened with Paul had ruined her ability to trust anyone.
She pulled out her cell phone, dialed 911 and told the operator that it was imperative she speak to an officer in the RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit immediately. There was a click. She waited. And after a long moment, a voice came on the line.
“Constable Caleb Perry, RCMP.” The voice was confident and professional. “How can I help you?”
She blinked. “I didn’t realize the RCMP had constables.”
“Beats calling us entry-level grunts,” Caleb said.
“My name is Amy Scout,” she said. “I’m calling from Clearwater, Ontario. I have a man here with a large dog who claims to be a K-9 officer with your unit. I wanted to verify his identity.”
And get someone to send help right away if he was lying.
“Absolutely,” Caleb said. “Though, I can tell you we do have someone in Clearwater at the moment. Is his name Sergeant Locke?”
As in Gemma Locke?
“No.” Amy frowned. “Finnick. Sergeant Jackson Finnick. His partner is a German shepherd named Hudson. But Locke is the last name of the person he’s here to investigate so maybe there’s a mix-up there?”
There was a pause.
“Maybe,” Caleb said. His tone was indecipherable.
“I took a picture of them if it helps,” she added.
“Yeah, please do send it through,” Caleb said. Now he sounded surprised. Or maybe even impressed. “I’ll give you my personal cell number you can text it to.”
She typed in the number as he rattled it off, then she sent him the picture she’d furtively taken of Jackson and Hudson.
“Yup, that’s Jackson Finnick and Hudson all right,” he said, after a long moment. “I grabbed some food with Jackson yesterday actually and he told me about the case. They’re in Clearwater right now to look into the disappearance of Miss Gemma Locke.”
“Yeah,” Amy said. So that all checked out. “Gemma was a friend of mine. I’m staying in her cottage and manning her bookstore for her until she gets back.”
“So, you don’t believe she’s dead either,” Caleb said, almost as if to himself.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, neither does Jackson,” Caleb said. “So, you’re in good company. Jackson is one of the very best officers I’ve ever known and Hudson is second to none. If you need more character references, I’m happy to pass the phone around the unit. Everyone will say the same.”
“No, that’s all right,” she said. She was beginning to feel a little foolish. “Thanks so much for your help, officer.”
“No problem,” Caleb said. “I’ll text you the unit’s direct line. Feel free to call either the unit or myself if you need anything.”
“I will,” she said. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
They ended the call. Okay, seemed like there were still some people in the world she could trust.
She found Jackson and Hudson where she’d left them.
“Come on,” she said, “grab your bag and I’ll take you to the cottage where I’m staying. I’ve got saline solution and a special soap that’s good for getting bear spray off your skin. You can get cleaned up and we can talk about Gemma.” She gently grasped his arm. “I’ll steer.”
“Sounds good,” Jackson said.
They made their way to his truck, where he grabbed his jacket and a large bag from the vehicle.
He glanced in the rearview mirror as he did so, clocking his reflection.
“Yup,” he said. “I’m a beauty all right.”
His eyes were still red and swollen, and his whole face was puffy. Guilt pricked her heart. She couldn’t imagine how much pain he was in and yet he hadn’t even complained.
As opposed to Paul, who’d lose his temper whenever anyone so much as got his drink order wrong. She would know. When they’d met she’d been a waitress.
“My car’s up here,” she said brightly. It was a twenty-year-old Volvo with more dings and scrapes than she could count. But it was reliable and it was hers.
Hudson stretched out in the back, Jackson got in the passenger seat, and she started to drive through the woods and down the narrow roads that would lead her back to the cottage.
“So, you have a place up here?” Jackson asked.
“I’m staying at Gemma’s, actually,” she said. “Making sure everything is taken care of while she’s gone.”
“I know that you spoke to the local police for their investigation,” Jackson said. “But they didn’t mention you were living here.”
“I hadn’t really decided what I was going to do by then.”
She still wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do. Skye was due in less than two months and Amy still didn’t know what kind of life she could even provide for her.
“How long have you been living at Gemma’s?” Jackson asked.
His questions were casual and his tone was light, but she could tell he was interviewing her. She wondered why he’d started by talking about her living situation instead of the attack. Maybe it was his way of easing into the conversation and trying to make her comfortable.
“A few months,” she said. “I had some financial problems and she invited me to come live with her.”
That was the easiest way to explain it, without going into the wreck Paul had left her life in.
“Where were you before that?” he asked.
“Niagara Falls,” she said. “For a little over a year.”
“And before that?”
“Traveling the world. I never really settled down anywhere.”
Although now that she was about to be a mother, that life was behind her, with nothing left to replace it.
Thick trees pressed in on all sides. Before Paul, her life had been spent leaping from one adventure to the next. She’d just gotten back from backpacking around Europe when she’d taken the waitressing gig in Niagara Falls for a few months to save up for her next adventure. Paul would come in alone and ask for a table in her section. He’d told her he was a real estate developer from Southern California who was visiting on business. She hadn’t even found him attractive at first. He was short, balding, and seemed older than the thirty he claimed to be. But she’d thought he was interesting. He’d worn her down slowly over time. There’d been large tips, then dates and gifts, until the next thing she knew she was in a long-distance relationship receiving dozens of calls and texts from him every day.
She frowned at the memory. He’d been so persistent that she never imagined he didn’t actually care.
Then he’d surprised her with the most incredible gift of all—blueprints of the tiny seafront art gallery he bought for her. She could fill it with her own sketches and use it to support other up-and-coming talent too. She could hire staff to run it when she traveled. All she had to do was say yes. They’d elope that afternoon and she could start the emigration process immediately. He’d even bought her a ring and booked a wedding chapel in the hopes she’d agree. And impulsively, she decided to jump into the promise of a new adventure.
Only none of it turned out to be real.
He hadn’t even lived in California, and she didn’t even know his real name. Everything about him was fake.
“Everything okay?” Jackson asked. “You look upset.”
A look of genuine concern moved behind his puffy red eyes. Like he actually cared about how she was doing beyond just investigating the case.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just lost in thought.”
“Are you okay if we go over the details of what happened back at the bookstore?” he asked. She nodded. “What do you remember about the guy who attacked you?”
“He was tall, masked and, like I said, he was silent.” She sighed. “I didn’t even hear him until he snuck up on me.”
“And you don’t have any idea who he was?” Jackson asked. “Could he be an acquaintance or someone you were once in a relationship with?”
“No,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never met him before.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Yeah, and he had an accent too.”
“What kind of accent?” Jackson asked.
“Australian, I think. Really thick, like he was putting it on.”
Jackson nodded. “What did he say?”
“I don’t remember the exact words,” Amy admitted. “But he told me not to fight and that I was going to help him find something.”
“Find what?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But the police never found Gemma’s laptop. It wasn’t here or in her car, and I’m pretty sure she took it with her.”
Jackson’s cell phone began to ring. He squinted at the screen. “My eyes are so watery I can’t even read it.”
She glanced over. “It’s Caleb Perry.”
He slid his phone back into his pocket. “He’s a colleague.”
“I know,” Amy admitted. “A low-level grunt.”
Jackson’s eyes widened slightly, then he winced as if it had hurt him to do so. “He’s a constable... How did you know that?”
“While I was in the store, I called 911,” she went on. “I asked them to patch me into the RCMP’s Ontario K-9 Unit. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone through 911, but if you had turned out to be a liar, I would’ve needed emergency help, now wouldn’t I?”
