Saved by the Lieutenant (Winter Rescue)

3. Amanda

3

AMANDA

I'm so damn angry. It's been two years since I last saw Jake Mathers. Two years since he walked out of our home and broke my heart. He's the reason that I've erected a wall around my heart. I'll never allow anyone else in. I've lost too many people, and my heart's been broken one too many times. I can't take any more pain. Losing Adam broke me, my brother was my best friend, my only family. He was amazing and losing him hurt. It broke something inside of me, but I glued myself back together with the help of Jake. When Jake walked away, he destroyed me. He left without a proper explanation and I never saw him again. Until now.

“Amanda,” he greets as I try my hardest to ignore him. I heard every word that he and Peter said while they stood outside in the blistering cold. I know they're worried about me, hell, I'm worried about me too. But bringing me here to be with Jake was not the answer. I'm still not over losing him and being here is going to make it even worse.

I glance up at him, hating that he's even more handsome than I remember. How on earth can he look this good while being an asshole? I scrunch my nose at the thought.

No, Amanda, don't go there.

I return my gaze to my laptop, going through my emails, trying my hardest to ignore the six-foot-three hunk that's watching me like a hawk.

The floorboards creek beneath his weight as he steps forward. I will myself to relax, no matter what, I'm stuck here with him and there's nothing I can do about it. Peter was right, Adam would want me safe and as shitty as it was for him not to tell me that Jake would be the one that would protect me, there's no changing it now. I'm here and Peter is going to do what he does best. Uncover who the hell is murdering women.

“You're not going to be able to ignore me forever,” he says softly.

I hate him. God, I hate him so much.

“Oh, and why's that?” I ask, not lifting my gaze from my laptop. I've almost forty unopened emails. Most are from people needing help to find a loved one, or to find out what happened to them. There are even some from inmates who claim they're innocent and would like me to help them. All these things I’ve done in the past. I'll read through their email, contact them if I think I can help, and ask for more information Or, if I can, I'll send them information of someone who can offer them the help they deserve.

“There's no one around for miles, Amy.”

I grit my teeth at him using the nickname he used to call me. He is the only person to ever call me Amy and I loved it. God, I could’ve died happy hearing it every day, but he ruined it. “My name's Amanda,” I say through clenched teeth. “And trust me, I'm well aware that we're alone, but that doesn't mean anything. I'm here to give Peter peace of mind. Using what Adam would want was low, all he had to do was ask and I'd have come willingly.”

“Would you have if you knew I would be here?” he asks.

I don't answer, the truth is, no I wouldn't have.

“Tell me about the killer,” he says, and I sigh. I guess he's not going to leave me alone. “How did you uncover the pattern?”

“I read through articles of the local papers,” I say with a shrug and a small wry smile. It’s something I’ve always done, I think it’s the journalist in me, always keeping up to date with the latest news. “Three women had died, all of the articles were from different counties or towns, but they all read similar. I've been doing this a long time and something about those articles stayed with me. I don't know what it was, but I knew in my gut they were connected. I just knew it. I couldn't help but dig deep and uncover that all three women were either homeless or prostitutes. They’re all in their mid to late twenties, brunette, and have green eyes. No one cared about them, they weren't looked for.”

My heart hurts for them. All three women are buried but no one turned up to their funerals. I should know. Once I found out they were murdered, I looked into them. All women were in the morgues waiting to be released to a family member. No one claimed them. Not one person looked for them. I wouldn't wish that sort of life on anyone and I hurt for them. That in their final moments they had no one.

“Then another woman died, again, this time a homeless woman, she was exactly the same as the previous victims. I swear, all the women could be sisters, they all look so very similar.”

It hurts my heart that no one other than me has made the connection to these women being murdered. It truly does hurt so very much. Everyone, no matter who they are or what they have done, deserves to have some justice. Being murdered in such a brutal and sickening way and having no one care about you to investigate properly is soul crushing. I wanted to give these women the justice they deserve. I wanted them to find peace where they know that the animal that hurt them has been brought to justice.

“What about the last two victims?” he asks, and I hate that he’s so close. My gut clenches at the sound of his voice, the deep gravelly tone that I loved so much is still there.

God, it’s been two years since he walked away and broke my heart and yet my body reacts to him. I hate that after all that’s happened between us, I know that I’ll never be over him. The love that I have for Jake isn’t something that can be forgotten. It’s rooted deep within me, it’s soul defining. He broke me. Shattered me. Yet here he is, still looking as beautiful as he did the last time I saw him. Our break up doesn’t seem to have affected him. I hate that, I hate that he's been able to continue with his life while I was stuck in limbo. I couldn't move on. How could I? The man that I loved so deeply and fiercely left after three years without a reason. “It's not working,” wasn't a real excuse. It was a cop out and I deserved to have the truth, after all we'd been through, I thought he'd have at least given me that, I guess I didn't mean as much to him as I thought.

“Amy?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I shake my head. “Sorry?” I ask, wondering what I've missed.

“What about the last two victims?” he questions for the second time.

I press my hand against my chest, feeling the wildness of my heart beating, it's not settled properly since I was attacked. “Liz Monford was a loving mother of two, a devoted wife, and from what everyone has said, a beautiful and kind woman who volunteered weekly at her local shelter and was an active part of her community.” I take a deep breath, talking about the victims helps, I don't have to think about me and what happened last night. “She was taken while out shopping. It was in the evening, she parked in the back of the parking lot, it was covered by overhung trees and was dimly lit. The killer waited for her to load her shopping into the trunk before they struck. Her husband called the police when she didn't return home after a few hours. With how close Liz was in the community, the police took it seriously, but there was no sign of her. It was two days later that her body was uncovered in a field almost ten miles away from where she was taken.”

“What about the latest victim?” he asks, his voice low and tight.

“Three days ago, Monica Michaels went missing, ten days after she came home from her honeymoon. Her husband called the police but as she'd not been missing for twenty-four hours, there wasn't anything the police could do, their hands were tied, it was twelve hours after that call to the police that Monica's body was found by runners. She was twenty-four, she had her entire life ahead of her and she was taken while leaving work.”

“Fuck,” Jake snaps. “How the hell has no one uncovered what this maniac is doing?”

“The killer is smart,” I tell him. “He's never killed in the same place twice. He's ensured that he takes women where there's very little visibility and no cameras. He's done his homework on the victims. I have no doubt that he's watched them, and he's gotten used to their movements. It makes me wonder just how long he'd been watching Monica, especially since it hand’t been long since she’d been back from her honeymoon.”

“That is a good point, we can look into that, see if any of the women commented on feeling as though they've been watched.”

I raise my brows and stare at him. “We?” I ask, unable to keep the bite from my tone.

“You're not leaving, Amy, not until this monster is caught. I can't lose you.”

The laughter that leaves me is filled with anger and bitterness. “I'm not yours to lose. But I'm not stupid, Jake, no matter what you may think. There's a killer on the loose and I'm in his line of sight.”

“I don't think you're stupid,” he says, his brows knitted together. “I never once thought that.”

I sigh, I really don't want to be doing this with him right now. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I'm beyond scared, but I'll be damned if I let that animal who's killing women ever know that they have me scared. I know that I'm safe right now and going back to Philly would have me in harm's way. I'm doing this because I'm not stupid and I want to live. I can work remotely, I have done it on many occasions, and I'm able to uncover things that others aren't. My methods may not be legal, but they get the job done.

“Tell me about the places that the bodies have been left,” Jake says, changing the subject. “You said that Monica was found by runners Where was her body left?”

“At a park the next town over, she was naked and bloody,” I say through gritted teeth. “Liz was the same, naked and bloody, but in a field. The farmer found her when he was working early that morning.”

Images of last night's attack hit me. I made Peter show me the footage of my attack. I needed to see for myself, needed to know what had happened. I wanted to see if the man who assaulted me was familiar, but the image was too grainy, I couldn’t see him other than his dark clothes. But I saw everything he did to me. Peter was right, I would’ve died had he not shown up when he did.

My heart once again starts to race and I shut my eyes tight, trying my hardest to breathe through the pain of the attack. I know what the killer does to his victims, I know that he kills them brutally. He beats them, strangles them, and then stabs them. Even when dead, he disrespects them by leaving their naked bodies in places where anyone could find them.

“Amy?” Jake asks, his voice soft and comforting.

I flinch when his hand touches my face. I open my eyes and see his dark brown ones filled with pain and hurt. “Talk to me,” he instructs.

“I'm fine,” I bite out, I hate being vulnerable, I hate showing others that I hurt. I learned how to bury everything deep inside when my parents died. Adam raised me, he did his very best to give me everything I could have ever wanted. I hid the pain of losing my parents, not wanting to add to his own turmoil, he gave up everything to ensure that I was safe and cared for. Without him, I dread where I'd have ended up. As the years went on, I continued to hide the pain I felt when around others, only breaking down when I was alone and even then, it was very rare that I did. I think I'm so used to hiding my hurt and pain that I find it hard to let go when I can.

“No, you're not,” he fires back. “Christ, Amy, you're breathing hard, you're pale as can be. You're obviously going through something. Let me help.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” I hiss. “You're the last person I'd ever come to for help. Had I known you were here, I'd never have agreed to come.”

His jaw clenches and he watches me for a beat. “I know I hurt you, I wish I could take away the pain I caused, but I can't. I promise you, Amy, while you're here, you're safe.”

I want to laugh. He has no idea that he's the only person in this world that has hurt me, and he still has the ability to do so. I promised Peter that I'd stay here until it was safe for me to leave and I'll not break that promise, but I'm pissed. I'm so freaking mad at him for doing this to me. At the two of them for putting me in a situation where I'm not safe. Sure, I'm safe from the killer, but my heart isn't.

“The first victim was found in an alleyway, again, beaten, naked, and bloody. It took the police weeks to be able to identify her as she was homeless and had been for years. She'd changed so much from the last picture that her parents had of her.” I take a deep breath again and continue. “The second victim was found in a dumpster. The guy who found her was a seventeen- year-old who was bringing out trash from his job at a restaurant.”

“Christ,” Jake bites, and I realize that he's still in front of me. Too damn close.

“The third was found on the side of the road, a commuter found her on their way to work. The fourth was in Philly, she was found much like the first, in an alleyway, but this time she was placed in a way that she was hidden. Each body is left in more open areas, he's getting braver, cockier even.”

Jake nods. “Seems it. He's gone from taking homeless women and prostitutes, to taking women that'll get him attention. It's fucked up, Amy, it's so fucked up that he's not been uncovered yet.”

“He will,” I say adamantly. I'm not going to stop searching until I find out who's doing this. “The police took swabs from me, they'll find out who's doing this.” He would’ve left behind some DNA, I’m hoping that he has.

“You're very sure that it's a man,” he says, but in a soft gentle tone. “Why is that?”

“I had my suspicions about it being a man from the get-go. It's very rare for a woman to do this, especially as every autopsy has come back with no signs of any drugs, usually women killers will use some sort of drug on their victims to incapacitate them. This isn't the case with this killer. But I knew for certain last night, it's definitely a man. He's strong, he knows what he's doing and he's angry that I was looking into the murders.”

Jake releases a harsh breath as he shoves his hand through his hair, something he used to do when he was angry and frustrated. “How the hell did he find out that you've been looking into the murders? Did he come after you to stop you from doing so?”

I press my lips together as I remember what the killer said to me last night. My blood runs cold as his words replay in my mind.

“What?” Jake asks. “What is it?”

“I was always on his radar,” I confess softly.

“What do you mean?” he grunts. “How do you know that?”

“You’re a fighter, I like that, none of the others have fought like you. It’s a shame, it wasn’t your time, not yet at least. But you couldn’t keep your nose out of it,” I say low, repeating the words that the man growled at me last night.

Jake rears back. “Tell me you're fucking joking?” he snaps. “Why the fuck didn't you tell Peter or I that before?”

I push my laptop off my lap and rise to my feet, every inch of my body is hurting, it feels like my throat is on fire, I'm tired and I won't let Jake talk to me this way. Not now, not ever.

“I forgot,” I snap at him, wincing as my throat burns. “You have no idea what happened last night, you don't know what the hell I've been through. Don't you dare speak to me that way, Jake. I didn't tell Peter because I forgot, I had other things to tell him, you asking me about the killer sparked the memory.” I blink back the tears. “You can be an asshole Jake, but you won't ever speak to me that way again. I'm tired and I'm going to bed.”

I push past him and gingerly walk toward the bedroom, thankfully he doesn't say anything and lets me be. The bedroom doors are open, and I spy Jake's belongings in the room to my left, I take the other room and close the door behind me. The second the door closes, a tear falls from my eyes, it's followed by another, then another. I crawl into bed and my body shakes as my tears fall silently.

I didn't cry last night, I haven't cried since I was attacked and then Jake comes along and within an hour, I'm crying.

How does that man always know how to hurt me?