Last Chance Mate: Sawyer Read online

  But as Sawyer flipped through the photos, something niggled at him. Blood-covered as it was, there was something familiar about the victim.

  “The wife did it,” Hill chimed in between bites of his food. “She called an ambulance, and confessed on the scene.”

  Sawyer let the folder drop back onto the table.

  “And you called me out of bed for what then exactly?” he asked, cocking a brow at Hill, who was busy wiping mustard off his chin.

  “Ah, so you were out last night,” the man remarked. “As if the way you look didn’t give it away,” he added, eyeing Sawyer.

  “Look, if you dragged me down here to interrogate me…” Sawyer started, standing up from the chair.

  “Okay, okay,” Hill threw up his hands. “The lady said it was self-defense. That her husband just went crazy and attacked her.”

  “Then why is he the one that has enough holes in him to kill him three times over?” Sawyer replied, sitting back down.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Hill nodded. “But as far as we can tell, there’s no motive for murder. The guy had an ironclad prenup, so she isn’t getting a dime of his money. And everyone we spoke to told us the Clements were a perfect couple. As happy as could be.” Hill shrugged. “I thought maybe you could put some fresh eyes on it.”

  “Fuck,” Sawyer cursed, leaning back in his chair. “I knew the guy looked familiar.”

  That got Hill’s attention. He even put down his hot dog.

  “Care to fill me in, here?” he asked.

  “The wife, skinny redhead? Lips like she got stung by a bee?” Sawyer asked in return.

  “Yeah, that’s her,” Hill nodded.

  Sawyer had a familiar sinking feeling in his gut. The kind he got when he knew that he was about to get too deep into something he would have rather stayed out of. But if he was one thing, it was honest.

  “She hired me six months back, just before I closed up shop. Wanted me to tail her husband. Thought he was having an affair with the nanny,” Sawyer replied.

  “And was he?”

  “No.” Sawyer pursed his lips, putting a damper on Hill’s eagerness. “He was having one with the pool boy, instead.”

  “Damn,” Hill said, letting out a low whistle. “I imagine Mrs. Clement wasn’t too thrilled to find that out.”

  “Broke a vase in my office,” Sawyer replied. “The nice one, too.”

  And instead of divorcing her husband, went home and started plotting the guy’s murder, it seems.

  “So that’s why you got out of the PI business? Angry wives kept ruining your furnishings?” Hill asked.

  “Something like that,” Sawyer shrugged.

  Hill had finally paid for a meal for once, but that didn’t mean Sawyer was going to have some kind of heart-to-heart with the man. No good ever came from dredging up the past.

  “I assume you have some proof of all this?” Hill asked, sliding the file folder back his way.

  “I’ll e-mail you the surveillance photos I took,” Sawyer said, nodding.

  “Well, thanks for the motive then,” Hill replied. “You’re free to go back to whatever it is you do all day.”

  “You mean hoping you don’t call me?” Sawyer asked, drawing a laugh from Hill.

  “Don’t front. I know I’m your favorite detective. I’m also the only one that still talks to your surly ass, so there…”

  Sawyer had to suppress a smile. The detective was an alright guy, really. In another life, they might have even been friends. But Sawyer didn’t have friends anymore, nor did he want any.

  He stood up, content to let the meal and the conversation end as had been agreed upon. Couldn’t stand around semi-decent people for too long. Even if they were the likes of Hill.

  I deserve to be alone.

  Two

  Naomi

  “What are you still doing here?” Melanie asked, peering into Naomi’s office.

  Glancing at the window, Naomi noted the sun was already setting, and the hallways were awfully quiet. She glanced at the clock in the lower left corner of her screen, sighing.

  “I didn’t realize it was so late,” she replied, rubbing the kink in her neck.

  Melanie smiled, tilting her head at her.

  “That’s what you always say,” she said, walking inside to plop down into a small chair next to Naomi’s desk.

  Melanie’s red hair fell in immaculate curls around her shoulders, complementing the cream tones of her blouse and pencil skirt. The first time they had met, Naomi had felt intimidated by how put together her new colleague was.

  It only took the two women sharing a bottle of wine late one night after work for Naomi to realize they had a lot more in common than she would have thought. Immaculate styling or no.

  “I just really want this paper to come together,” Naomi replied, flicking her blonde hair off her shoulders as she leaned back in her chair.

  Melanie leaned over, peering at her laptop screen

  “Demonic myths as a reflection of early medieval societal values?” Melanie read out, arching a brow at her. “Pretty sure that was not the topic Cameron approved.”

  “I know,” Naomi replied, scrunching her face. “But it’s the one I want to write about. I just thought that once it’s done, and he reads it…” she trailed off, internally cringing at how blue-eyed it sounded.

  No, Cameron would never think that this was as cool as Naomi did. There wasn’t a chance in hell, and she knew it. But the heart wants what the heart wants, or something.

  “Naomi,” Melanie said, a motherly tone creeping into her voice. “Do you really want to piss off the dean, of all people? You’re already not on the best of terms.”

  Now there was an understatement. It wasn’t that Naomi didn’t know academia was strict, and particular, and involved a lot more politics than most people were aware of. But there had to be some room for passion, right? Right?

  “I don’t want to talk about Cameron right now,” Naomi said. “I’d much rather know what you’re doing here late on a Friday? I thought this was your date night with David.”

  “It is, usually,” Melanie nodded. “But were going to visit his parents tomorrow down in New Mexico, so I wanted to make sure I got everything done for Monday.”

  “New Mexico, huh. That’s nice,” Naomi commented lamely, giving Melanie a smile.

  Family wasn’t one of Naomi’s favorite topics, for obvious reasons, no matter whose family it was. So she plastered on a happy expression, forcing herself to stay in the moment so that her mind wouldn’t wander down dark roads.

  “Yeah, they have this huge house there, with a pool and Jacuzzi in the back. And Mrs. Jones is just the nicest. She has always treated me like a daughter. Probably because she has three sons,” Melanie laughed.

  Naomi tried hard to laugh along, but she couldn’t quite get there. She couldn’t help but wonder - what would her life be like right now if what happened that night hadn’t happened? If she didn’t carry around all the baggage that she did, if she weren’t so obsessed with questions she would never get answered…

  Would she be married by now and visiting her parents with a man she loved, instead of writing about topics she wasn’t supposed to even touch?

  Maybe. She would never know for sure.

  “And what are your plans for the weekend? Not sitting at home behind your computer, working on an unauthorized paper, I hope?” Melanie asked.

  “Of course not,” Naomi scoffed, pushing thoughts of family aside. “I’ll be hitting the club, getting wasted on Appletinis and taking home the first hot guy I find.”

  Arching a brow, Melanie shook her head at Naomi.

  “You joke, but maybe that’s exactly what you should be doing,” she said, giving her a pointed look.

  “Please,” Naomi laughed. “I’m too old for clubs, and I haven’t had an Appletini in my life.”

  “But you’ve had a hot guy,” Melanie wagged her brows at her. “And with technology today, you don’t even have to
leave your…”

  “No, no way,” Naomi waved her hands. “That’s not happening. There will be no swiping, or liking, or… emojis of any kind. Besides, those apps are mostly filled with horny college kids, and unless you want me hooking up with your students…”

  “A younger man might do you some good, since you insist on acting like an old lady,” Melanie interjected.

  “Uh, no thanks,” Naomi grimaced. “I’m not into cheap beer and body shots.”

  “Fine, fine,” Melanie raised up her hands in defeat. “I’ll give up for now. But when I get back, you and I are going to have a talk about your ageism,” she grinned.

  “Can’t wait,” Naomi deadpanned. “Now go pack, and have fun in New Mexico. And say hi to David for me.”

  “Will do,” Melanie sighed, getting up. “Don’t work all night,” she warned, before turning toward the door.

  “Bye, Mel,” Naomi called after her, smiling to herself.

  “Bye,” Melanie called back, disappearing into the hallway. “See you Monday!”

  Naomi listened to her friend’s footsteps grow quiet as she stretched in her chair, wondering if going against Dean Cameron again would get her fired or not. Little did she know, that was a concern that would become trivial in just a few short hours.

  Sitting on her couch, legs tucked beneath her and a glass of wine in her hand, Naomi was idly channel surfing when her phone rang on the coffee table. It was late and everyone in their right mind was either asleep or drinking with their friends – it was a Friday, after all. But who would be calling her at this hour?

  Picking up her phone, she saw Melanie’s name, and flicked her thumb across the screen to pick up the call.

  “Mel,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “Naomi Moore?” a male voice asked, catching her off guard.

  It wasn’t David, that much she was sure of. But she didn’t recognize who else it could be.

  “Yes,” she said tentatively, picking up some background noise.

  It sounded like several different voices, and was that a camera shutter clicking? She couldn’t really tell.

  “Who is this?” she asked, an uneasy feeling starting to form in her gut.

  “This is Detective Hill, Tempe PD,” the man said, his voice even and professional. “Mrs. Jones wanted us to call you. I think you should come over.”

  “Why didn’t she call herself?” Naomi asked, heart starting to thud in her chest.

  If a cop was calling her, it couldn’t be anything good.

  “She’s uh…” Hill stammered for a moment. “Getting taken care of by paramedics right now. But don’t worry, she’s fine.”

  A million thoughts were rushing through Naomi’s head. How was Melanie fine if she was getting treated by medics? And what was the detective not telling her? Already on her feet, Naomi headed for her hallway, grabbing the first coat she could find and pulling it on with her free hand.

  “What the hell happened?” she demanded, slipping her feet into some sneakers.

  “I think it best to…” the detective started, as Naomi grabbed her car keys.

  I just saw her…

  “Just tell me,” she cut him off, her frustration taking over.

  Something bad had happened to her friend, and she wanted to know what. All kinds of terrible situations were already running through her mind, from burglary to a house fire, and she wasn’t in the mood for getting the runaround from some cop.

  But she wasn’t prepared for Hill’s reply.

  “There’s been a murder,” he said, making Naomi’s blood run cold.

  For a second, she stopped in her tracks, hand hovering near the door handle. Images from that night flooded her mind as she tried to shove them away. Finally, she focused on Melanie, and the smile in her voice as she had said goodbye earlier.

  Opening the door, she quickly locked it behind her and headed downstairs. She had to keep moving, because if she didn’t, she was afraid she might never take a step at all. Memories were a potent force when roused by trauma.

  “Ma’am?” Hill asked.

  “I’m on my way,” was all Naomi replied before hanging up.

  Three

  Naomi

  Naomi parked her car near the driveway at Melanie and David’s house with a lump in her throat and her hands shaking. Two police cars were parked out front, bathing the house in blue and red lights. An officer was setting up police tape near the front door, which was hanging open.

  Outside the perimeter stood an ambulance, with medics moving around the back of it. A tall black man in a suit noticed her first, and made his way toward her as she got out of her car, unsure of what to do next.

  Keep breathing, she reminded herself.

  The familiarity of the scene in front of her only added to the fear and anxiety swirling inside her. And to say she did not like talking to the police would be an understatement.

  “Ms. Moore?” the man walking toward her asked, a badge dangling from his neck.

  She recognized his voice immediately, and clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking.

  “Detective Hill,” she nodded, as the man came to a stop in front of her. “Can you take me to Melanie?”

  “I have to warn you – she was very distraught when we arrived. The paramedics gave her a mild sedative, so she might not be entirely coherent,” Hill replied, eyeing her with some curiosity.

  “I didn’t expect her to be not distraught after her husband’s been killed,” Naomi said, her tone coming out more clipped than she had intended.

  Hill raised his brows at her. He hadn’t told her more than that there had been a murder, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out the victim had to be David. He and Melanie didn’t have any children, and since they were getting ready for a trip, Naomi didn’t think they would have had visitors over tonight.

  “Did you know David well?” Hill asked, getting out a small notepad and pen from his breast pocket.

  “Well enough,” Naomi replied. “Melanie is one of my closest friends. I was invited over to dinner often.”

  “And as far as you know they were happily married?” Hill asked, jotting something down.

  “Excuse me?” Naomi shot back, her voice rising. “What exactly are you asking?”

  She still didn’t have any details about what could have possibly happened, but she knew one thing – Melanie was not a murderer. That this detective, who knew nothing about her friend, would even suggest something like that…

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Hill immediately replied, tucking his notebook back into his pocket. “This can wait. I’ll take you to Mrs. Jones,” he said, gesturing toward the ambulance.

  Naomi followed him to it, all the while staring daggers at the man’s back. Admittedly, she might have been prejudiced against the man, since he was law enforcement. She could admit that, since in her experience, cops only wanted to close cases.

  It didn’t matter if they were actually solved or not.

  Taking a deep breath, she put those thoughts aside, though. She was here for one reason – to be there for Melanie, not to criticize the police. After all, they didn’t know Melanie like she did. Could she really blame them for wanting to look at things from all angles?

  Hill led her to the back of the ambulance, and said something to the paramedics in a low voice. She couldn’t make out what was said, but the man and woman Hill spoke to, clad in navy slacks and a white shirt, stepped aside after words were exchanged.

  Hesitating for a moment, Naomi moved closer, to find Melanie sitting on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance, her eyes red and swollen and mascara streaked down her cheeks.

  Spatters of blood covered her arms and face, and she was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants with the county logo on it. Naomi guessed that her own clothes had already been taken into evidence. Naomi climbed up, catching Melanie’s attention as she did.

  “Oh, honey,” Naomi sighed, a pit in her gut so deep that she couldn’t know if it even had
a bottom.

  “Naomi,” Melanie said, trying to get to her feet, but staggering.

  “Hey, hey,” Naomi replied, rushing over and making her sit back down. “I’m here.”

  Instantly, Melanie began to sob. Naomi sat down next to her, wrapping her arms around her friend’s shoulders. She rubbed Melanie’s back as the woman cried, not knowing what else to do.

  Nothing she could say could make things better. She knew that all too well.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Hill pacing awkwardly a couple feet away, shooting glances their way.

  “David,” Melanie got out in between sobs. “Oh god, David. He’s…”

  “I know,” Naomi said. “They told me. I’m so sorry, Melanie.”

  Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, Melanie pulled away from her, a glazed look in her eyes. The sedatives must have been kicking in again, as her crying quieted, and she wiped her cheeks.

  “I was in the bedroom packing,” Melanie said, an odd calmness to her voice. “I heard a loud crash, and then David yelled… I ran out, and there was this man…” she trailed off, before locking eyes with Naomi. “But he wasn’t a man at all, Naomi. I don’t know what he was, but he wasn’t a man,” she insisted, grabbing onto her shoulders. “I know what I saw, Naomi, and he wasn’t a man,” she repeated again, her face twisting in anguish.

  Stunned, Naomi opened her mouth but no words came out. Clearly, Melanie was in shock. But then, wasn’t that what the cops had said when she had told them her story, once upon a time? She couldn’t bring herself to tell Melanie to calm down, or that she should get some rest, or any of the other placating bullshit.

  Like sleeping is going to change the fact her husband is dead, she scoffed in her mind.

  “It was a monster, Naomi,” Melanie said, her fingers digging into Naomi’s shoulders, now. “A terrible, terrible monster. You believe me, right?” she asked, her grip becoming painful. “Have I gone crazy?”