Memories returned, as fresh as if it had all happened yesterday. How many times had she relived the events in nightmares that woke her in tears?
“Why?” His eyebrows lifted, head tipped to one side. “Why would you follow me?”
“I had a weird vibe that day. You seemed anxious to leave me and do something else, but when I asked you about it, you were kind of cagey.” Shrugging, she didn’t even remember precisely what had set her feminine jealousy flaring. It had been an instinct. A hunch that something wasn’t quite right. “I felt stupid for following you, but I just had this feeling you weren’t telling me something.”
“We’d been at the swimming hole with our friends that day,” Sam said, his hand still warm on her shoulders, anchoring her in the present even as her mind wandered back in time. “Zach was there with some others, and he told me he had a shift to work at the nursing home that night. He was worried about leaving Gabriella alone.”
“Maybe I overheard something about Gabby.” So much else had happened after that, it was tough to recall how it all started. “So I rode my bike through the woods. It wasn’t hard to stay hidden since you had on headphones and it was starting to get dark outside anyway.”
Her skin chilled at the memory. Her chest tightened with the need to draw a breath as the picture in her mind’s eye narrowed. Sometimes she wondered how much of that night she remembered accurately and how much hadshifted over the years, growing even more frightening with time.
Sam’s brow furrowed. “I took the car to Gabby’s, though.” His voice was gentle, like he didn’t want to contradict her. “Not the bike.”
“First you biked from my house to yours. Once you got in the car at the Hastings’ place, it still wasn’t that hard to follow you. You were headed toward the Chances’, and there aren’t many houses out that way.” That was where her memories really took on the qualities of a scary movie. In her nightmares, there was fog all around her, but she knew that hadn’t been the case in real life.
She’d been staring at the Chance house when she’d been helpless. Choking on her own fear.
“So you pedaled to the Chances’.” Sam’s voice was low and even. Calm.
Remotely, she realized he was stroking her hair now, but any warmth that she’d felt from his touch before had faded in the face of sharing this moment with him.
Swallowing, she closed her eyes. “Your car was in the driveway, so I hid the bike in the trees and then moved toward the living room window to look inside.”
“Why didn’t you just come to the front door? Confront me?”
How different her life might have been if she’d done that. But she could drive herself crazy second-guessing everything she’d done that day. If she changed any one of her choices, The Incident might never have happened.
“I knew you and Zach were friends. What if you were just there to see him?” She hadn’t wanted to appear irrational. Overly emotional.
Bottom line? She hadn’t ever wanted to behave in the same way her unstable mother might have in the samecircumstances. And no doubt about it—her mom would have lost it if she’d suspected the love of her life was cheating on her.
“So you looked through the living room window...” Sam kept the conversation on track, leading her through the night, all the while smoothing his hand down her hair with slow, even strokes.
Amy opened her eyes, unwilling to get lost in those old visions. She focused on the baby sleeping nearby instead, watching his chest rise and fall, the Cupid’s bow of his mouth slightly open, his skinny arms spread wide as he lay on his back. So precious.
“I did. And I saw you talking to Gabby.” It had looked like a heated discussion, in fact. “It must have been before she was attacked, but at the time, you both seemed upset. Your voice was raised, and I heard you tell her to wait.”
“Right. Because she wanted to go out and meet some scumbag who she’d been talking to online.” His voice went hard. Frustration evident even all these years later. “If only I could have convinced her to stay home, she would have never been accosted.” No doubt he’d had as many sleepless nights as Amy, wondering what would have happened if he’d done any one thing differently that day.
“I couldn’t hear all the details.” It had been like listening to voices underwater, the conversation distorted and muffled. “But you stood close to her, and I was worried about what was going on between you two. Right up until a man grabbed me from behind.”
Sam swore softly. He slid an arm around her waist and drew her close. Kissed the top of her head.
She appreciated that connection to him. It helped her keep her heart rate in check. Helped her manage the urge to run.
“He wore a hoodie pulled up, and his face stayed in shadow.” Shaking her head, she wished she could shake off the feel of those iron arms locking around her. One clamped at her hips.
One over her breasts.
“Was he much taller than you?” The question was a welcome reminder that she was speaking to a cop and not just her old boyfriend. In some ways, that made it easier, disconnecting a lot of the emotional baggage from the episode to focus on facts.
She might not want her experience on record, but it was simpler to tell the tale to an officer.
“A few inches. Medium height. But he seemed strong—like I could have never gotten away if I tried.”
Of course, she hadn’t tried. She’d been paralyzed with fear. As he’d tightened his hold, her chest cramped and her lungs burned with the need to breathe more air.
“Did he say anything?” Sam’s jaw rubbed lightly against her hair as he spoke.
