He slammed the door shut and leaned back against it while Fern stopped in the middle of his apartment. She turned and met his gaze and very slowly unbuttoned her dress. His eyes followed the movement of her fingers as they glided over the material, giving him a brief glimpse of what was underneath—nothing.
His mouth watered at the sight of her nude body, and he’d have to be a monk to not be tempted. He just wasn’t sure that using Fern for information in this way was such a good idea anymore, regardless of how much his body craved release.
“You’re not moving?” she pointed out, backing up to the dining table. “I think you need more of an incentive tonight.” Fern leaned over the table, spread her legs, and wiggled her bottom. “Remind me to tell you later about the new evidence that you should know about.” She smirked.
He prowled closer…
Day 6
8:00am
* * *
Saige took a tentative step into the police station where Detective Robinson now worked. From what she’d read, he’d worked there since Quinten Peterson had been found guilty. She may have read more into his move than what there was, but she really needed to know.
Was he the one who’d taken her statement? She kicked herself for not checking before she’d left home. She’d had a lot on her mind though.
Her dreams had been plagued over and over with the image of Quinten’s hands on her thighs. She tingled and felt scorched just from the memory. She craved more, and the craving for the rest of that memory had given her a headache.
“Miss Lockwood?”
Hearing her name startled her as she turned abruptly and nearly stumbled.
“Hey there.” The man reached for her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I was just surprised at hearing my name.” She frowned up at the large man, and then squinted when another memory teased her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes and no. I’m sick and tired of memories teasing me and leaving me hanging.”
“I’m not sure what that means.” He frowned.
“You’re Detective Robinson?”
He opened his mouth and snapped it closed again as though he was going to say something different than what he did. “Yes, I’m Detective Robinson. What can I do for you?”
Saige looked around and felt nervous at being watched by the other cops who hung around reception. “Um, I wanted to talk to you.” She looked around again. “There’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks over, are you free to talk to me there?”
He paused and looked to be contemplating something before he nodded. “Let’s go.”
He ushered her out of the building while he sent a text message before he pocketed his cell. “I have to say that I never thought I’d see you again. You’ve changed, but I’d never forget your eyes.”
“I get that a lot.” Saige offered him a nervous smile. “I’m sorry to pull you away from whatever you were doing, but I’m not sure this can wait.”
They stayed silent for the rest of the walk to the coffee shop. Once they’d ordered and had their coffee before them, Saige sat back and watched the large detective, who watched her silently in turn. He was a handsome man and was over six feet tall and built like a linebacker.
Saige took a deep breath, and asked, “Did you take my statement, Detective?” She bet his brown eyes missed nothing as he ran a hand through his thick, black hair that tapered neatly to his collar. The slight grey around his temples gave him a distinguished look and she guessed he was in his late forties.
He sighed and leaned forward. “My name is Coulter, as your case is closed, I don’t see why you can’t use it.” He frowned and shook his head. “No, I didn’t take your statement. Why?”
Saige swallowed. “How much do you know about what happened to me?” She let her question settle and continued when he stayed silent, “I mean, do you know about my memory loss?”
He looked surprised.
“I remember that you slept a heck of a lot once you’d been found. It wasn’t surprising considering what had been done to you…how long you’d been in surgery. You’d been starved for the entire time you were held captive, so after the trauma, surgery, and everything else, you had no energy to stay awake. On the few occasions that I spoke with you, you didn’t seem to know what was going on...I’m guessing you’re asking questions because of the execution warrant.”
Saige nodded and wasn’t surprised that he was so astute. “If I didn’t seem to know what was going on then, how could I have given a comprehensive statement? I’ve read it and it doesn’t sound like it was given by someone who wasn’t ‘with it’.”
“I’ve often wondered about that, but I was there when you picked Quinten Peterson from the lineup of photographs. You were asked if you recognized anyone. You picked him.”