“Hunting a serial killer. He killed more than fourteen people. The investigators are still trying to determine exactly how many victims there actually were.” I let out a breath. “Have you heard the name Jake Logan?”
His eyes widen. “Emma…”
I turn my head slightly away from him, not wanting his sympathy.
“It wasn’t an easy experience for me. I was taken out of the field because of some things I was going through, and after going through what I did with Jake, I had a hard time bouncing back completely. I’ve been having nightmares. Flashbacks. My boss decided it would be best for me if I started therapy to help me through the issues of my past and that experience.”
“Your father is still missing,” he says with calm understanding.
Few people know the full story of when my father disappeared. But it was Sam’s arms I fell into when the rest of my world was falling apart.
“Yes. No one has heard from him in ten years,” I say.
“I can’t believe it’s been that long.”
I nod. “And a year ago, my boyfriend disappeared. My ex-boyfriend. He broke up with me right before he went missing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So, as you can imagine, there has been a lot for the therapist to unpack. She thought a vacation was a good opportunity to relax and relieve some stress.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that. I can’t even begin to imagine what that put you through.”
“It’s my job,” I tell him, picking up my tea again and staring down into the mug. “This is what I signed up for. It’s what’s I’m made for. The risks are just part of it.”
“No, Emma,” Sam says. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I turn to look at him. “This may be what you chose, but it doesn’t mean you have to just swallow everything down. Being strong doesn’t mean not feeling.”
He goes quiet, but our eyes stay locked on each other.
“What?” I say softly several seconds later.
“I can still see you,” he says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He gives me a faint smile. “I can still see you. The girl who wanted to be an artist and created the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. The one who could talk all night about the tiniest details in movies.”
My chest tightens, and my breath catches in my throat as Sam leans toward me. I see the kiss on his lips. I stop myself before I can take it.
“That’s not who I am anymore,” I whisper.
Sam pulls away and lets his head hang for a second. When he lifts it again, he sets his tea down.
“I think I’m going to go,” he says. “I should try to get some sleep.”
We stand up, and I follow him to the door.
“We need to go talk to Vincent tomorrow,” I say.
He nods in agreement. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
The house feels emptier when I close the door behind him. My nightmares didn’t follow me, but that might be because my past has its own ghosts here.
* * *
Vincent’s face looks drawn when he opens the door. We got a later start this morning than yesterday, but it’s still early enough for some of the neighbors on his street to be making their way to work. A few pause at their cars, curiosity drawing their eyes over to us. They don’t say anything, but they’re hoping to hear something.
There isn’t a single person in this town who hasn’t heard what happened yesterday. Even if they didn’t watch the press conference, the news would have trickled to them from their families, their neighbors. Mothers share the fear with other mothers. Fathers threaten war to hide their own. Grandparents lament a simpler time when something like this wouldn’t happen, even though they know this is a threat that transcends generations. They’re all waiting for anything to grasp onto. Sherwood is holding its breath.
“I thought you might come today,” Vincent says through a long exhale. He steps back away from the door. “Come in.”
Valerie comes down the stairs angrily, lashing the sash of her bathrobe around her waist as she glares at us.
“What are you doing here?” she demands. “Don’t you think you’ve put my husband through enough?”
“We didn’t put your husband through anything,” Sam says.
“You can’t possibly still think that envelope was a joke,” I say. “It led to the body of a murdered ten-year-old girl.”
She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m making a statement, and that statement is someone who knows a lot about a murdered child sent clues to Vincent, and we want to know why.”
“Do you have a warrant?” she asks.
“Valerie, please,” Vincent says.
“No. They’re invading our privacy. They’re harassing you. All our neighbors have seen them in front of our house two days in a row now. You don’t think they’re going to start making that connection?”
“This isn’t about Vincent right now,” Sam cuts in. “This is about a little girl named Alice Brooks, who lost her life in a brutal, horrible way and two other children who are still missing. This guy chose Vincent for some reason, which means he might be the strongest clue we have.”
Valerie glares at Sam like she wants to say something, then turns away in a huff and stalks into the living room to the side. I watch her search a large bookcase and finally select one of the hundreds of volumes filling the shelves. She picks up a small notebook and pen from a small table set beside the case and stalks back up the steps.
“Come sit down,” Vincent says in the wake of a door slamming closed over our heads.
We sit in the living room she just left, and I look to Sam to start the conversation.
“Is there anything else you know that you haven’t told us, Vincent?” he asks.
Vincent shakes his head and holds his hands out as if to show they’re empty.
“Nothing. I called you as soon as I found that envelope yesterday. What you saw is all I know.”
“You have no idea who left the envelope?” I ask.
“No. It was just there when I opened the door.”
“Do you have any way of checking? Surveillance cameras? A video doorbell? A neighbor who might have been out that early and seen something?”
“No. As you might have caught on to by now, Valerie is a very private person. She hates the idea of any kind of camera, even if it’s supposed to be recording other people. She watched an expose on those cameras and how they get hacked. All she can think about is someone watching her while she’s going around the house or out in the yard.”
We talk for a few more minutes but don’t get any new information before we stand up to leave. Sam shakes Vincent’s hand and gets reassurance he will call if he hears anything else. He opens the door to let us out and then quickly closes it.
“What’s going on?” Sam asks.
“Jennings is out there,” Vincent mutters. He walks over to the window that looks out over the yard and pulls it aside just enough to peer out. “Son of a bitch.”
“What is he doing here?” Valerie asks in a hiss as she comes back down the stairs.
She’s dressed now, but her expression hasn’t changed.
“I don’t know,” Vincent says.
“Do you see what you’re causing?” she asks Sam. “I don’t want my family out in the scrutiny of the public eye.”
“I’ve already told him to back off,” he tells her.
She narrows her eyes. “Then do better.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Valerie, please,” Vincent begs.
“No, Vincent. I’m not going to let this town turn on us because we end up in the news. You handed over that information. Your involvement is over now. But if the Sheriff can’t stop William Jennings from interfering with our lives…” her voice trails off, but the look in her eyes is enough to say the rest for her.