Carol Steward - Finding Amy

Sam felt about as tall as an anthill. He’d been set on discrediting this woman’s husband, and all this time she’d been worried about being there for her daughter. “Yeah, it’s going to be okay.” This was the part of his job he hated—seeing the pain that one person’s selfishness caused another. Justice came with a price, and it rarely stopped at the perpetrator of the crime. And now Jessica’s child would grow up without her father.

No one ever guaranteed life was fair.

A cool breeze whistled through the pine trees, offering much-needed relief from the heat. “Do you mind if I loosen my tie?”

Jessica laughed, hoping he didn’t notice her interest in him. She held up her sandals. “You’re asking me?” Sam probably didn’t want to know that she wouldn’t mind if he wore khaki shorts and a T-shirt. “I’m not much for formal attire, but these days, you do what it takes to keep a job that you love.” Which reminded her of the real reason she’d been introduced to Sam. She watched him fumble with the knot of his tie and unbutton the collar, finding it quite odd that something so casual could make a confident man like Sam look uncomfortable.

“I hear you there.” He sighed and his mouth curved into a devastating smile. “This breeze is a Godsend after the heat we’ve had this week. Eleven straight days of over a hundred degrees. That’s one record I’d rather we never break again.”

Jessica closed her eyes and breathed deep. “I could do without the heat, but I miss the long days when summer ends. It’s so nice to have time at the end of the day to go for a picnic or play at the park.”

“How is your daughter doing?”

Jessica felt a sudden warmth just thinking of Amy. “She’s doing well. She still won’t talk much, but her pediatrician reminds me that she’s been through a lot for a three-year-old.”

His quick smile crinkled the skin around his deep-brown eyes. “You both have. I’m sure she’ll come out of it soon.”

She felt like a blanket of comfort had been wrapped around her.

“I remember her golden pigtails,” he added.

“How could you remember that?” Jessica laughed. “She barely had enough hair to get into tiny barrettes then, but she loved having her hair fixed. I just happen to have pictures, if you’d like to see them.”

“I’d love to.” Sam stopped walking and motioned toward the park bench.

Sitting down, Jessica dropped her sandals to the grass and slipped them on. She pulled several snapshots from her bag, describing the pictures and who was with Amy in each. “I’m a little possessive after that night. And much more appreciative.”

“As you should be.” He took the offered pictures and admired them. “Still has that golden hair and blue eyes. She’s as beautiful as her mother.” Sam stopped speaking suddenly, as if he hated complimenting her.

Jessica felt her skin flush, whether because of the compliment or his practically snatching it back, she wasn’t sure.

“She’s a precious little girl. It’s amazing how a few seconds can change your life so drastically. I don’t know how I’d have lived with the guilt if something had happened to her, too.”

Despite her ignoring his compliment, Sam’s shoulders tensed and he edged away. She tried to ignore the pain his simple action caused her. They really didn’t know each other, and she knew better than to take his comment too seriously. He was being so incredibly polite, letting her go on and on about Amy; the least she could do was not make an issue of his embarrassment.

Sam looked across the lake, his furrowed brow and five o’clock shadow intensifying that rock-star appeal.

“Something wrong?”

Sam acted as if she’d caught him spying on someone. He shrugged. “I’m not sure. That looks like my dad.”

Odd, she thought. “He is here, remember? I’m sure he and Lidia haven’t left yet.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s still early, isn’t it.” Sam eased back on the seat, though he continued to stare across the lake. “It’s strange having him in town all the time. He traveled a lot when we were kids.”

“I’m sure that is an adjustment. How is it having him home all the time?”

Sam thought a while. “It’s different. Nice, but a little strange. I’ve been so used to keeping an eye out for my mom and sister that I feel like I’ve been demoted or something.” His brooding expression emphasized the tender side of Sam that she remembered, and she knew what Lidia admired about her youngest son. Lidia claimed he was the teddy bear of the family. He looked and acted tough, but was all mush inside.

Jessica found it difficult to build an image of a tough detective singing and playing an electronic keyboard. To say he puzzled her was an understatement. Right now, she’d give anything to see the teddy bear.

Jessica glanced at her wrist and realized she hadn’t worn a watch. She hadn’t thought the cartoon-character watch she usually wore would fit in at an exclusive hotel. “Do you know what time it is?”

Extending his arm, Sam exposed a fancy gold watch and took a quick glance. “About eight-fifteen.”

She took another sip of her ginger ale. She hadn’t seen Sam drink a drop. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

“Yeah, but drinking alcohol is prohibited when I’m wearing a weapon.”

Jessica waggled her eyebrows while examining his belt, puzzled that she saw no evidence of a gun. “A secret weapon, I presume?” She couldn’t help but look again, embarrassed that she was staring at him.

He crossed one ankle over the opposite knee and smiled, pointing to a small leather holster and a gun. “Just like in the movies. Except in real life, officers don’t drink alcohol while on duty.”

She felt her cheeks turn pink and laughed at her ignorance. “Of course. Does your ballpoint pen blow up, or is it your hidden camera?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You watch too many movies.”

“Only if there’s an attractive hero in it.” She offered her glass. “Would you like to finish my ginger ale? I’m really not thirsty, but the waiter has been so kind, bringing me refills, that I don’t have the heart to decline another glass.”

He looked shocked. “Ginger ale? Wish I’d thought to ask for a soda. It seemed like too much bother to ask for something special.” He accepted the glass and guzzled it.

“So you’d rather go without.” The pink hotel looked even brighter as the sun peeked above the mountain. Jessica studied the sky. “What a gorgeous sunset tonight.”

Sam leaned forward again, obviously too intent on the men outside the hotel to make small talk. He stood and motioned toward the ballroom. “I suppose we should head back.”

“Oh, sure. It is about time I got home.” Jessica put the snapshots back into her bag and started to stand. Sam put his coat on and offered his hand. She’d never met a man her age with such good looks and impeccable manners as well.

Jessica wondered how to broach the subject of the fund-raiser. Time was getting short and they were almost to the terrace. “Sam, there was something else I needed to talk to you about,” she said, the words barely escaping her mouth. She needed to complete her list of participants before the surgery. If she didn’t, publicity wouldn’t get out until after her sick leave was over. She couldn’t miss this deadline. This project was new to the Colorado Springs community, according to her committee members’ recollection, anyway. She knew it could be successful. It had to go smoothly—for her career’s sake, and for the well-being of the shelter.

Sam placed his hand around her waist just as she heard deep, angry voices. He pulled her into the trees.

“Sam, what’s wrong—”