Kitabı oku: «The Heartbreak Sheriff»
“Tell me to stop.”
Her mouth opened. He waited, praying she didn’t say those words.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
Joy shot through him. Before she could change her mind, he tangled one hand through her hair and tugged her towards him, kissing her hard and deep. She gasped against his mouth, then relaxed, parting her lips so he could slide his tongue inside, so he could lick and explore and drink her in.
Every muscle in his body was coiled tight. His groin throbbed, the erection straining against his zipper harder and more painful than ever. He’d been with a few women since he and Sarah had broken up, but none of them had inspired this primal reaction inside him. None of them had made his heart pound and made him hungry with desire. Sarah was the only one who did that, the only one who could satisfy his appetite, his need.
Dear Reader,
Forgiveness—so easy as a concept, but not so easy when you’re the wronged party being asked for it. I’ll admit, I struggle sometimes with it. It can be hard to forgive, especially when all you want to do is hold a grudge, or when you’re too scared to forgive in fear that you’ll be hurt again.
I decided to explore this concept with Finn and Sarah, who share a turbulent past that led to a four-year separation. As the sheriff of Serenade, Finn knows the difference between right and wrong, but the wrong he committed four years ago continues to haunt him. Asking for Sarah’s forgiveness is one thing, but proving to her that he deserves it … well, that’s a whole different story.
I hope you enjoy Finn and Sarah’s emotional journey!
Happy reading,
Elle
About the Author
A RITA® Award-nominated author, ELLE KENNEDY grew up in the suburbs of Toronto, Ontario, and holds a BA in English from York University. From an early age, she knew she wanted to be a writer, and actively began pursuing that dream when she was a teenager. She loves strong heroines and sexy alpha heroes, and just enough heat and danger to keep things interesting.
Elle loves to hear from her readers. Visit her website, www.ellekennedy.com, for the latest news or to send her a note.
The Heartbreak
Sheriff
Elle Kennedy
MILLS & BOON
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Chapter 1
“I didn’t kill her.”
The quiet plea pierced into Finn’s heart like a dull, serrated blade, bringing a rush of pain and helplessness. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman sitting in front of him. He’d dreamed of being in the same room as her for so long now, but not like this. Not in this tiny, airless interrogation room, with a narrow metal table separating them, those liquid-brown eyes staring at him with anguish and resentment.
“Sarah,” he began, his voice coming out gruff, “just tell me what happened the night Teresa died.”
Sarah Connelly gaped at him. Even with her expression awash with anger, she was still beautiful. Her thick brown hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, and her mouth, though twisted in disbelief, was as lush and sensual as ever. She was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, and the only woman who could send a shiver of desire up his spine even when she was glaring daggers at him.
“Nothing happened the night Teresa died,” Sarah replied in a frosty voice. “I was at home, asleep. I woke up at three to give Lucy a bottle, and then I went back to bed, where I stayed until seven in the morning.”
“You didn’t leave the house at all?” Finn had to ask.
“No. Not until eight-thirty, when I dropped off Lucy at day care and opened the gallery.”
Finn stifled a groan. “Then how did your hair and fingerprint wind up at the crime scene? Christ, Sarah, explain it to me!”
“Don’t yell at me, Patrick.” Ice slithered into her tone. “I don’t know how my hair and fingerprint ended up at the scene—but I can assure you, I wasn’t there.”
Frustration bubbled in Finn’s gut. For the hundredth time, he wished Teresa Donovan had never been killed. Not because he and Teresa had been best buds or anything, but because the woman’s death had brought nothing but chaos to Finn’s peaceful little town.
Exactly one month ago, Teresa had been shot in the heart, her body discovered in the living room of the majestic stone mansion her ex-husband had built for her. Cole Donovan, the ex-husband, had been Finn’s prime suspect, but with the help of Special Agent Jamie Crawford—who also happened to be Finn’s best friend and took a leave of absence to assist him and Cole—Cole was cleared of the crime. Now Finn was back to square one, and it was definitely a position he didn’t want to be in.
Especially now, with this new evidence in his possession. Evidence that pointed right at Sarah.
“Your print was on the coffee table next to the body,” he said quietly. “Your hair was on the floor, by the puddle of blood pouring out of Teresa’s chest.”
Sarah’s flawless fair skin went even paler. “Then someone put it there,” she whispered. “I didn’t kill that woman.” Her voice wobbled. “I can’t believe you’d even think that.”
Problem was, he didn’t think it. From the second his deputy phoned him with the news, Finn had been in a paralyzed state of doubt. Every cell in his body, every instinct in his gut, told him that Sarah wasn’t a killer. He knew her. He’d lived with her, kissed her, held her in his arms. She had a gentle soul, an innate need to nurture everyone around her. Even picturing Sarah with a gun in her hands, sending a bullet into someone’s heart, made his mind spin like a carousel.
But he was the sheriff. He’d taken an oath to protect the citizens of Serenade. And just because he hadn’t been fond of Teresa Donovan—who was?—didn’t mean he could overlook this new development in her murder case.
Still, that didn’t stop him from murmuring, “I don’t think you killed her.”
The shock in Sarah’s eyes was so strong it brought a spark of irritation to his gut. “What, you’re surprised?” he muttered.
She spoke in an even tone. “You showed up at my place of business at eleven in the morning on a Saturday, forced me to lock up for the day, and dragged me to the police station for questioning. Was I supposed to think you were on my side?”
I’m always on your side, he wanted to say, but bit back the words. She wouldn’t believe him, anyway, and really, how could he blame her? He hadn’t exactly proven to her, now or in the past, that he would stick by her.
“I’m doing my job, Sarah. I couldn’t ignore the evidence.” He swallowed. “And I really think you shouldn’t have turned down your option of having a lawyer present.”
Her eyes widened. “Do I really need one?”
“You might.” Reluctance clamped over him. “This doesn’t look good for you. Evidence places you at the crime scene, and there are witnesses claiming you threatened the victim.”
“I didn’t threaten her!”
Finn sighed. “No?”
“Well, okay, maybe a little, but I didn’t actually mean it,” she stammered. “She provoked me.”
“Tell me how.”
“I already—”
“Then tell me again,” he cut in. Leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, he raked both hands through his hair and fixed a tired look across the table. “Please. I need to know every last detail if I’m going to make sense of this.”
“Fine.” Looking very prim and proper, Sarah clasped her delicate hands together. “Teresa cornered me outside the grocery store the day after I got back to town. I had Lucy with me, and Teresa made some less-than-pleasant comments about how I had to adopt a baby because no man would ever want me. She then claimed that she’d slept with you, mocked me about how I wasn’t woman enough to hold on to you, and finished off with a lovely threat about calling social services to take Lucy away—because a mental case like me shouldn’t be raising a baby.”
She recited the speech in a calm, emotionless voice, but Finn suspected the encounter had affected her more than she was letting on. He knew firsthand how cruel Teresa could be, and being taunted by that woman would have driven anyone crazy. It drove him crazy, just hearing that Teresa was going around town telling people she’d slept with him.
Uh-uh, no way would that have ever happened. For him to have touched that loathsome female, the sky would need to be filled with flying pigs, there’d be a skating rink down in hell, and the Easter Bunny would be coming over for Sunday breakfasts.
But that was Teresa Donovan for you. A pathological liar. A woman intent on unleashing as much pain as she could on the world.
“Two people heard you threaten her,” he pointed out.
“Not my best moment,” Sarah admitted. “But she was completely out of line. And it’s not like I said I’m gonna kill you, you awful shrew.”
He winced, acutely aware of the mini-recorder whirring away on the center of the table, recording every word being uttered. I’m gonna kill you, you awful shrew. Good thing Finn wasn’t corrupt, or an artfully edited version of that tape could’ve landed in court, marked Exhibit A, Connelly’s confession.
“What did you say exactly?” he prompted.
“I told her if she didn’t leave me and my daughter alone, she would regret it.”
The threat hung in the air, an ominous black cloud that had motive written all over it.
“It was just talk,” Sarah insisted. “Obviously I wasn’t going to hurt her. I just wanted her to go away.” Her face went ashen as she realized what she’d said. “Leave the grocery store,” she quickly amended. “I wanted her to walk away. Alive. But just go somewhere else.”
Silence stretched between them. Finn valiantly tried not to stare into her bottomless brown eyes, for fear that he’d get lost in them. Just being in the same room as her, just smelling the sweet fragrance of her lilac perfume was pure torture. He’d been fantasizing about this woman for four years, dreaming of holding her in his arms again, longing to see forgiveness—the forgiveness he surely didn’t deserve—etched into her classically elegant features.
As far as reunions went, this was not what he’d imagined. But what choice did he have? The mayor was breathing down his neck, demanding that Finn close this case so that the citizens of Serenade could sleep easy. Get the murderer off our streets, Mayor Williams had snapped during their last phone conversation.
Finn agreed with Williams—he wanted to catch this killer, too.
But he knew, without a doubt, that the killer he was searching for was not Sarah.
“So what’s going to happen now?” Sarah’s soft voice pulled him back to grim reality. “I told you what happened and you’re going to let me go now, right?”
Uneasiness circled his gut like a school of sharks. “I can’t let you go.”
Her gasp echoed in the suddenly cold air. “What do you mean, you can’t? Am I under arrest?”
“No.” Despite the lump in his throat, he had to add, “Not yet.”
Incredulity flashed across her face. “I didn’t do this, Finn! Someone is obviously trying to frame me.”
Yep, he’d heard those words before, hadn’t he? Cole Donovan had insisted the same thing, only a week ago, when the murder weapon was discovered in the town dump. Although the gun had been wiped clean of prints, Cole had been at the dump a few days after his ex-wife’s murder, which had raised Finn’s suspicions. But Cole’s fancy big-city lawyer had made it clear to Finn that he had no case, no leg to stand on in court, and Serenade’s district attorney had been inclined to agree.
The D.A., however, did not agree with Finn regarding this particular suspect.
“I suggested the same thing to Gregory,” Finn told her, referring to Jonas Gregory, the D.A. “But he thinks the framing angle is far-fetched.”
“Far-fetched?” she grumbled. “Well, it’s true. I’m not a killer!”
“Sarah …” His voice drifted, the growing unease plaguing his body.
Her brown eyes narrowed. “What? Just spit it out, Patrick.”
She only called him Patrick when she was angry with him, and right now, he didn’t blame her, especially considering the bomb he was about to drop on her. “Gregory is concerned about your, ah, history of mental instability.”
Silence. Sheer deafening silence, though he could swear he heard her heart thudding against the front of her royal-blue turtleneck sweater.
“I can’t believe this,” she finally burst out. “God, Finn, out of anyone, you know what I went through. Not that you cared—” her voice cracked, and so did his heart “—but you know why it happened. I battled depression, damn it! Four years ago! And now, what? You’re going to use that to say I’m mentally ill? That I killed Teresa because I’m insane?”
“I’m not saying anything,” he said hoarsely. “I’m just telling you what Gregory said.”
“Well, screw Gregory!” Her entire face collapsed. “And screw you, too, Finn.” A breath shuddered out of her mouth. “I think I want that lawyer now.”
With a bleak nod, Finn scraped his chair back against the linoleum floor. “I’ll bring you a phone.”
As he exited the room and closed the door behind him, his legs shook and his chest ached as though someone had pummeled it repeatedly. Maybe not the most macho reaction, but right now, he didn’t feel big and tough. He felt completely powerless.
He strode through the bull pen toward his office, ignoring the sympathetic look his deputy Anna Holt cast his way. He loved Anna to death, but right now, he didn’t want the younger woman’s sympathy. He just wanted to help Sarah. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this.
She hadn’t killed Teresa. He refused to believe that Sarah had murdered anyone, that she’d snapped under Teresa’s callous taunts and taken her life.
She snapped before.
The unwelcome thought slipped into his head like a damn cat burglar. His hands instantly curled into fists and then anger and shame jolted through him. Like she’d said, he knew better than anyone why she’d broken down. And she was right, he hadn’t handled it the way he should have. But the depression and posttraumatic stress she’d battled all those years ago didn’t make her a killer.
Finn entered his small, cramped office and swiped the cordless phone from the cluttered desk. Before he could leave the room and let Sarah make her call, his cell phone came to life, bursting out in a ring tone that sounded like a foghorn, which his friend Jamie continued to tease him about. But, hey, it got his attention.
His jaw tightened as he glanced at the caller ID. Mayor Williams again. That man was like a damned dog with a bone, gnawing at him, refusing to let go until Finn arrested someone for Teresa’s murder.
“I can’t really talk now, Mayor,” Finn said, his teeth aching from the forced polite tone. “I’ve got Connelly in custody and she requested a lawyer.”
“Lawyered up, huh?” The law enforcement slang sounded absurd coming out of the mayor’s mouth. “That’s a sign of guilt, isn’t it, Sheriff?”
“No, just a sign of intelligence,” he couldn’t help but reply. “She’s concerned about her rights.”
“Well, I’m concerned about who she might kill next. By the way, I’ve got Jonas Gregory here in my office. You’re on speakerphone.”
Finn fought a rush of annoyance. “Mayor, I don’t think we should jump to conclusions. She—”
“Did she admit to threatening the victim?” Williams boomed, ignoring Finn’s attempt at defusing the precarious situation.
“Yes, but—”
“Good. Then we’re all set.”
A spark of wariness ignited in his gut. “All set for what, Mayor?”
“Finnegan, it’s Jonas,” came a second male voice. “Look, I read over the reports you faxed, and I want to move forward with this. We’ve got trace evidence placing Connelly at the scene, she threatened the victim two months prior to her death, and she’s got a history of imbalanced and reckless behavior.”
Finn swallowed. “What are you saying, sir?”
“Arrest her. We’ve got a good enough case here, one I can take to a grand jury.”
Good enough? Finn resisted the urge to hurl the phone into the wall and watch it shatter into a hundred pieces. Sarah’s life, her entire future, was in danger of being taken away for good enough?
“Sir, with all due respect, I think this might be premature,” he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Let me and my staff do some more investigating, make some more inquiries—”
“What more do you need?” Gregory interrupted. “Make the arrest, and then work on tying that murder weapon to Connelly. Right now, we have enough to indict.”
Knowing when he was beaten, Finn’s shoulders sagged, but he still made a futile attempt at getting some leniency for Sarah. “Can I let her go after she’s charged? She’s a single mother, and she—”
“We’re not doing that woman any favors.” This time it was the mayor, whose words contained a twinge of outrage that Finn would even consider such an idea. Williams spoke again, now sounding suspicious. “You’re not still involved with her, are you, Sheriff?”
“Of course not, Mayor. Connelly and I ended our relationship more than four years ago.”
He referred to her by her last name, hoping it would help distance himself. But it didn’t. Her beautiful face was still imprinted in his mind, the memory of her soft laughter still wrapped around his heart. Didn’t matter what he called her. She would always be Sarah. His Sarah.
“We treat her like any other criminal, Finnegan,” Gregory agreed. “She stays in lockup until the bail hearing.”
“And when will that be?”
“Her lawyer can petition for an emergency hearing, but Judge Rollins is in Charleston, playing a golf tournament. I doubt he’ll fly back for something so trivial.”
Trivial? Finn wanted shout. Taking a mother away from her child, keeping her locked up for the weekend, was trivial? Rage churned in his stomach. How was a damned golf tournament more important than a woman’s life?
He suddenly cursed this small town, with its one D.A. and sole judge and closed-minded attitude.
“Make the arrest and we’ll meet on Monday morning at the courthouse,” Gregory said, his tone brooking no argument. “We really need to figure out how she got hold of that gun.”
“Yes, sir.”
Finn was numb as he hung up the phone. He let it drop from his fingers, and it clattered onto the desk, knocking over a small tin of paper clips. Ignoring the mess, he simply stared into nothingness, a chill climbing up his spine.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t arrest Sarah.
This is your job.
No, it isn’t, he wanted to snap, but the voice of reason was right. He was the sheriff of Serenade, North Carolina, the man elected by the townsfolk to serve and protect them.
But who would protect Sarah?
Feeling as though his legs were made of lead, he trudged back across the bull pen, ignoring the curious look Anna shot him. He made his way down the hall, pausing in front of the interrogation-room door.
Sucking in a heavy breath, he opened the door and entered the room. “Sarah,” he began gruffly.
She lifted her head in confusion. “Where’s the phone?”
“I can’t let you make the call until after—” he exhaled in a rush “—until after you’ve been booked and processed.”
She blinked, and then horror dawned on her achingly gorgeous face. “Finn….”
“I’m sorry, Sarah, but you’re under arrest.”
Chapter 2
Under arrest. Sarah couldn’t wrap her head around it as she silently endured the humiliation of getting her fingerprints taken and posing for a mug shot. A mug shot.
How was this happening?
I’m not a killer! she wanted to scream as Anna Holt inked up the pads of the fingers on her left hand.
It wasn’t Anna’s fault, the woman was just doing her job, but Sarah was having trouble remembering that as the deputy gently took the impression of her thumb.
“It’s procedure,” Anna apologized, her dark eyes swimming with compassion. “But we do already have them on file, you know, from that Proactive Crime thing you did in high school.”
And, boy, didn’t she regret that decision now. For her senior-year law course, she’d done an independent study on crime prevention, with the hypothesis that if citizens were required by law to submit fingerprints and DNA, crime in an area would reduce drastically. As part of the project, she’d organized a program called Proactive Crime, which involved getting all the seniors to submit prints and saliva swabs to the police. Which meant that her information was in the Serenade department database.
And for some inconceivable reason, she’d been flagged when the Donovan evidence had been logged in.
Sarah’s head continued to spin as she followed Deputy Holt down the narrow staircase leading to the basement of the station. She’d never been down here before, but she knew what she would find. They were going to put her in a cell.
Because she’d been arrested. For a crime she hadn’t committed.
Again, how was this happening?
Sarah felt all the color drain from her face as she got her first glimpse of what a jail cell looked like. Seeing one in a movie didn’t count. This was real. And terrifying. Her pulse raced as she stared at the long row of small cells lining the lockup area. The steel bars seemed to glare at her in accusation. The clinking of keys sounded, and she turned to see Anna unlocking one of the doors.
“You’ll have to wait in here until your lawyer arrives,” Anna said softly.
The metal door creaked as the deputy dragged it open. Sarah’s hands trembled. The cell was maybe fifteen by fifteen, boasting a narrow cot with a thin wool blanket. That was it. No toilet. No window. Nothing but this claustrophobia-inducing little space, illuminated by a single bulb dangling from the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” Anna added.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Sarah willed up some courage and forced herself to walk into the cell, head high. She only prayed that the criminal lawyer whose name she’d picked at random from the yellow pages showed up soon.
When she was on the other side of the bars, Anna dragged the door closed, and both women flinched as she locked it into place. “The sheriff will be down soon,” the young woman finished in a strained voice.
Tell him not to bother.
Sarah swallowed down the bitter retort, then watched as the deputy hurried across the cement floor in the corridor. Her footsteps faded, and then Sarah was alone.
In jail.
She sat on the cot and reached up to rub away the tears pooling in her eyes. How could anyone think she’d killed Teresa? No matter what those damn DNA results said, she hadn’t been in Teresa’s house the night she died. She’d never been in that woman’s house.
So why did the evidence indicate she was there?
It was a question she’d been asking herself ever since Finn showed up at the gallery earlier, but so far, the answer continued to elude her. Well, not quite. The answer was actually simple: someone was framing her.
But that only raised a whole slew of new questions. First and foremost—what the hell?
She didn’t consider herself Ms. Popularity or anything, but people in town liked her. Even after her breakdown, most of the folks stood by her, offered their support during her struggle.
Not all of them, a voice laced with hostility pointed out.
That’s right. One person had no problem leaving her to face it alone.
As if his ears had been burning, Finn suddenly appeared in front of the bars. When she noticed the anguish creasing his handsome features, all she could think was too little too late. He could look as devastated as he wanted, act as concerned as he felt like, but she didn’t need his damn support. He hadn’t given it to her when it actually mattered, and she had no use for it now.
“The lawyer you called just phoned,” Finn said gruffly. “He’ll be here in two hours.”
Two hours?
She willed away a fresh batch of tears. Okay. Two hours. She could do this.
“Thanks for letting me know,” she said in a clipped voice.
She expected him to walk away, but he stayed rooted in place, studying her through the narrow bars.
“What?” she snapped.
“I just … are you okay in there?”
She gawked at him. “Are you serious? Do I look like I’m okay?”
Finn shifted, looking utterly miserable. His unmistakable turmoil did nothing to soothe her. Just being in the same room as this man brought back unwelcome memories, lingering pain that she’d tried desperately to overcome. It didn’t help that he was as gorgeous as ever, with those piercing blue eyes and scruffy black hair. The broad, muscular body that used to send a thrill up her spine, the roped arms that once brought her solace.
Patrick Finnegan had been the love of her life, the only man to ever have a complete and total claim on her heart.
But then he’d gone and broken that heart. Crushed it between his big, strong fingers, leaving her to drown in sorrow. Alone.
She hadn’t thought she’d ever recover from Finn’s betrayal. Hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to regain the capacity to love again. But she’d survived. Let go of the trauma of the past, became strong, stable, capable. And now she had Lucy, the beautiful baby girl she adored, who’d changed her entire life and gave her a sense of peace and fulfillment.
Oh, God, Lucy!
“What is it, Sarah?”
She’d forgotten he was still standing there, and when she lifted her head, she saw the alarm washing across his rugged face.
“Lucy,” she burst out, fear wrapping around her throat like a boa constrictor. “The day care closes at four. What time is it now?”
Finn glanced at the utility-style watch on his wrist. “One-thirty.”
Her lawyer wouldn’t show up for two hours, and even then, he might not be able to get her out of here in time.
“I … I need to call the center,” she said, urgency lining her tone. “Maybe Maggie can take Lucy home with her when the day care closes. Or maybe …”
She trailed off, her terror amplifying. What if Maggie called social services when Sarah told her where she was? The owner of the day care might be gentle and kindhearted, but she probably wouldn’t be pleased to hear that the mother of her three-month-old charge was locked up. Maggie had mentioned during their initial interview that she had a legal duty to inform child welfare if the kids under her supervision weren’t being taken care of.
Sarah had only adopted Lucy three months ago, and it had been an arduous two-year process. Financially, she’d been in a good position to raise a child, what with the handsome inheritance she’d received from her aunt and the prosperous art gallery she owned and ran. But her history with depression had raised a red flag at the adoption agency. Sarah had endured dozens of home interviews, therapy sessions and surprise visits from her caseworker before finally being approved for the adoption.
But if social services were called … they would take Lucy away from her. God, she couldn’t let that happen. She’d waited two long years for Lucy—she refused to have her baby snatched out of her arms, not after everything she’d gone through in order to have the chance of being a mother.
She leaped off the cot and practically launched herself at the bars, wrapping both hands around the cold steel. “You need to do something for me,” she whispered.
Finn’s expression darkened with suspicion. “What do you need?”
“Bring Lucy here.”
He balked. “What? No way, Sarah. I can’t bring a baby to lockup!”
“Please,” she begged. “Please do this. If I tell Maggie what’s going on, she’ll have to inform social services. They’ll take my baby, Finn!”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and her hands begun to shake, vibrating against the metal bars. “Just bring her here, and then we can figure out what to do with her.”
Suddenly Finn’s large hands were covering her own, his warmth seeping into her cold, white knuckles. “Sarah. Sarah. Calm down.”
She realized her breathing had become shallow, as her head spun dizzily from the panic coursing through her blood. She was also aware that this was the first time Finn had touched her in four years, and as her heart rate slowed and she regained her senses, she yanked her hands away and pressed them to her sides.
She couldn’t let him touch her. Physically, or emotionally. Just being around him sent her back to that dark place, the hole she’d fallen into after he’d abandoned her.
“The mayor would have my head if he found out I brought a baby here,” Finn mumbled, averting his eyes. “I can’t do it, Sarah.”
“Please,” she said again. “I’ll call Maggie and tell her that I’m giving permission for Anna to pick up Lucy from day care. I’ll say I’m tied up at work. I’ll find somebody to leave her with, maybe …” A thought entered her mind. “Jamie. Jamie can take her home with her until I get out of here.”
“That could work,” Finn said grudgingly.
“Of course it will. You know Jamie won’t say no.”
He scratched his head. “Let me give her a call. I know Cole was released from the hospital today, so they should be at the cabin by now….” He removed his cell phone from the black case clipped on to his belt, edging away. “There’s no service down here. I’ll go upstairs to make the call.”
Sarah watched him go, relief flooding her body, mingled in with the gratitude over the fact that she’d befriended Jamie Crawford. A profiler with the FBI, Jamie had come to town two weeks ago to help Finn solve Teresa’s murder, and Sarah had immediately hit it off with the auburn-haired federal officer. She knew that Jamie would take care of Lucy in a heartbeat, even with Cole still recovering from the gunshot wound he’d incurred while saving Jamie from one of his ex-wife’s crazed lovers.
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