He closed his eyes, and snapped them open when he felt a hand on his chest.
“Seven,” she whispered. “I’ll message you the address.” Amber reached up and pecked him on the cheek before making her way to the ME’s van.
Coulter shook his head, ran his hand down his weary face, and turned back to look at the crime scene. Only then did he notice that Amber and he had an audience when the search for evidence suddenly continued.
David broke away and moved closer, a grin on his craggy old face. The man had been in the department for years before Coulter had started and had aged well. So well, in fact, that no one even knew his age.
“I lost the bet,” he grumbled, amusement on his face.
“Bet?” Coulter raised a brow in question.
“Yep. That lot over there had a bet going as to who would be the one to make the first move. We all said she would. Your captain said you would.” He shook his head. “I hate losing.”
“I hadn’t thought it was that obvious.”
“Are you kidding me? The minute she was around, your eyes would glaze over before you’d pull yourself together...it’s been fun, and I can’t wait to see the rest.” David wandered off and Coulter was left wondering if he was the only one to not know about the bet. Did Amber?
“You’re damn lucky.”
Coulter turned at the voice and frowned when Steve, one of the forensic techs approached. “The bomb on your truck had faulty wiring, otherwise it would have exploded the minute you turned the key.” Steve shrugged. “The full report is with your captain, but I figured you’d want to know.”
“Thanks. Any prints?” he mumbled.
“No.”
He had a feeling that everything connected together and that it would lead him back to Quinten Peterson. He just needed to figure out how to connect the dots.
* * *
9:00am
* * *
One thing Saige loved about being home was that she didn’t have to cook for herself. She wasn’t exactly bad at it, but it was nice to take a break, more so considering she was usually around the diner waiting on tables.
Pattie, her father’s cook, was a delight and had worked for him for around twenty-five years. She loved to mother Saige, and Saige had never objected, as her own mother had died when she was just three years old. Christina had always felt more like an older sister than anything. Her stepmom hadn’t exactly been mean to her, and with age, Saige thought that maybe Christina had just been awkward and not known how to communicate with her since Saige hadn’t exactly been welcoming after having her father to herself for years. It had been a shock when, at thirteen, she found herself with a twenty-six year old stepmother.
Smiling now though, Saige came back to the present and watched Alex load his plate to bursting with eggs, sausage, bacon, fried tomatoes, hash browns and, let’s not forget, the biscuit.
Saige laughed when he caught her watching and offered her a cheesy grin. She shook her head and selected scrambled eggs and a slice of toasted rye bread.
“Morning,” Christina mumbled, taking her usual seat at the table. She looked like she hadn’t slept well.
She was still beautiful, even with tiredness clouding her face. Not the kind of tired from lack of sleep, but the kind a person gets when they’ve completely had enough of life.
Saige frowned while Christina served herself a small spoon of fresh fruit, and then shook the thoughts from her mind and asked Alex, “Sleep well?”
“Surprisingly, I did.” Alex swallowed a mouthful of food. “I didn’t think I would, but I had a lot taken out of me last night, so I slept like a baby.” He grinned and glanced at Christina.
Saige raised a brow, especially when her stepmom gave him a startled look before she focused on her breakfast and ignored them.
Alex caught Saige’s silent question and gave a slight shake of his head, which she’d have missed if she hadn’t been looking.
“Christina,” Saige waited for her stepmom to meet her gaze before continuing. “Can we talk to you and Dad about what happened to me?”
Christina’s fork clanged back to the dish, disturbing the silence in the room. She glanced between Alex and Saige before answering. “Depends on what you want to talk about,” she hedged.
Saige got the feeling that her stepmother was very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, and that caused her stomach to churn.
Her own breakfast in front of her no longer looked appetizing so she pushed it away. “Christina, not only do I want my memory back, but I want to remember my time with Quinten Peterson. I’m sure you remember him.”
Christina paled and nodded.
“Nothing to say, Christina?” Alex sneered looking angry. He slammed his hand on the table and stood. The plates rattled, and Saige thought her stepmom was about to be sick. “My brother is fucking innocent. All he ever did was love your stepdaughter, and refuse to fuck you.”
Saige gasped. “What?”