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Chapter Seven
It’s almostmidnight before I force myself to take a break from reading through the case files. I’m no closer to completing my profile than when I started. The level of violence is heart-breaking. What Sam went through brings tears to my eyes. I still have unanswered questions.
Was she scared?
Did she try and call out for help?
Those are questions I’ll never have the answer to. The only person who can give us the answer is gone.
There is one lingering question that I’ve circled in my notebook multiple times though.
Did she know her attacker?
My gut tells me she did. That she had no reason to be alarmed and that’s why she had no defensive wounds. I’m certain it was a man based on the angle and depth of the blunt force trauma to her head. That’s how he disarmed her. He caught her off guard and knocked her unconscious before he tied her up.
Her cause of death? Blood loss.
Had she been able to scream she might still be here.
I’m piecing together a preliminary timeline of the events when I hear shuffling outside of my door again. The only light in the room is from the lamp on the desk I’m working at. I see a shadow come to a stop in front of my door, and then disappear again … only to return a few minutes later.
I’m already shaken up after reading the case files. I didn’t sleep last night because someone was outside of my door. It’s time to find out who it is and put a stop to the quiet torture.
Looking around for something to protect me, I spy a tall, gold candlestick holder. After gently removing the candle and setting it on top of my open notebook, I take a deep breath and stand.
I tiptoe over to the door, place my hand on the knob, and turn as slowly as possible so as not to make a sound. When I hear the shuffling again, I pull the door open quickly and prepare to defend myself.
“Jay.” There’s no hiding the surprise in my voice. He’s the last person I expected to find standing outside of my door.
Not that I’m disappointed. Hell, my inner cheerleader is jumping for joy at the mere sight of him. For the first time since he walked back into my life, I’m allowing myself to get a good look at him.
He’s dressed in the same dark T-shirt and jeans he had on earlier. This close up, I can see how mature and defined his features have become. His jaw is stronger than I remember, more sculpted. The hint of scruff that I didn’t notice at dinner has me wanting to reach out and take his face in my hands, just to know how it would feel against my skin.
It’s his eyes that capture me, though. His hazel eyes are darker, the blue around the iris’ lost in their depth. The way he’s looking at me causing my stomach to flutter, the butterflies beginning to take flight. He holds my stare without saying a word. The intensity overwhelms me, forcing me to finally break eye contact and focus on his lips instead.
Bad idea.
“So, you are still awake.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips he’s trying to suppress. When I look up at him, I find him staring at the candlestick I still have raised over my head. It causes his dimple to make an appearance, the deep groove making his attractive face even more beautiful.
Slowly lowering it, I take a step back so he can come in. “Still working on the profile.”
“How’s that going?” he asks, walking over to the desk, his eyes scanning the photos that are scattered everywhere.
“Slowly. Why are you here?” My feet will me to move toward him, but I stay planted by the open door as he continues to study my work.
He doesn’t answer me right away, the tension in the room building. It gives me time to take him in, his back facing me. He’s in need of a haircut, the hair around the nape of his neck curling randomly. His shoulders seem broader as they taper down to his narrow waist. And just below that, his mouth-watering ass. The perfect accessory to the rest of his body. I can only imagine how tight it is beneath his jeans. They fit him like a glove, accentuating the perfect heart shape.
My attention is still fixated on his ass when I notice him begin to turn. Flicking my eyes away, I focus on the wall behind him. As soon as he speaks, his deep, sensual voice grabs my attention.
“You think she knew him,” he says as our eyes meet.
“It’s a strong possibility.”
“Why?” Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Jay crosses his arms over his chest, causing his shirt to stretch to accommodate his large frame, and leans back against the desk.
“Gut feeling, I guess. You and I both know Sam used to walk through the park on her way home all the time. If we knew that, so did other people. Not to mention no one heard her scream, and she was less than five hundred feet from the nearest house. She wouldn’t have screamed if she felt safe walking with someone.”
“Your theory solidifies your timeline. If she knew him, he could have made her feel comfortable and then taken her down with the hit to her head. After that, he would have covered her mouth and tied her up. What I don’t understand is why. If she was already knocked out, why tie her up? Why cover her mouth? What was the point?” Turning back toward the desk, Jay seems to be searching for something in particular.
