Naomi had returned home to Dalton, Georgia, just long enough to shower, change, pack a bag, and withdraw cash from the bank. At first they gave her a hard time because of her lack of ID, but thankfully she knew the mortgage department well after dealing with them in taking over her mother’s small house after her death, so they gave her what she needed.
She’d purchased a cheap cell phone and considered calling Sawyer. Then scoffed at herself for being foolish. Instead, she hit the road to head back to Chattanooga.
For some strange reason, she’d felt compelled to take the less direct route to Tennessee, heading up Highway 71. The same general area where she’d been rear-ended and kidnapped while following a white van.
As she neared the area where the crash had happened, she’d found herself clutching the steering wheel tightly in a deathlike grip. But then she was past the area and crossing the border.
Highway 71 turned into Highway 60, so she angled west toward Chattanooga. She stopped at a gas station in East Ridge and nearly had a heart attack when she saw a black Buick parked next to one of the pumps.
The kidnappers?
Naomi’s heart pounded so fast she feared it would burst from the center of her chest. Scrunching down in the seat as much as possible, she slowly passed the Buick, memorizing the license plate. Being low in the seat made it difficult to see if there was damage along the front of the Buick. With trembling fingers, she called the Chattanooga police station to ask for Sawyer.
Some friendly lady told her he was out on a call but that she’d give him the message, reassuring her that he’d return her call as soon as possible. Naomi hadn’t been happy but gave the number of her newly purchased cell phone. She’d driven past the gas station, afraid to stay too close. What if they were the kidnappers and they noticed the damaged rear end of her car? She shivered despite the warm sun beating through the windows.
No, she couldn’t let them see her. But she didn’t want them to get away either. If they were in fact the kidnappers.
The car had been empty, the men must have been inside the gas station convenience store, paying for gas and getting something to eat.
Naomi realized she needed to go back, to see if she could catch a glimpse of the owner of the black Buick. Taking several deep breaths in an attempt to slow her racing heart, she looped around the block and approached the gas station again.
There! Someone was getting inside the black Buick!
From the back she couldn’t tell if the guy sliding behind the wheel was the same one who’d driven her and leering man away from the scene of her accident.
As the guy pulled away from the gas station, she followed, keeping a wary eye on her nearly empty gas tank. She edged as close as she dared, her stomach tied in knots. There was only one man in the car, which made her doubt in the fact that the driver was indeed the same guy she’d escaped from.
But she needed to know for sure.
The black Buick headed onto a two-lane exit leading to Interstate 75. Gathering every ounce of courage she possessed, she pressed the gas until she was alongside the Buick. The driver glanced at her, and she stared at him as long as she dared.
Was it the same man? As she hadn’t gotten a good look at him the first time, she couldn’t be absolutely sure.
But he might know her. A wave of panic had her stomping hard on the brakes, causing several drivers behind her to hit their horns, which had the opposite reaction by drawing more unwanted attention.
Hide! Hide! Naomi frantically looked for a place to get off the highway. Her instincts were screaming at her to put as much distance between herself and the Buick as possible.
She managed to jerk the wheel to get into the next lane, then she hit the gas again to zoom ahead of the car beside her so she could get off on the exit. In some corner of her mind, she heard her cell phone buzzing, but she was too scared to take her hands off the wheel to answer it.
More horns blared, and she found herself ducking down lower in her seat, so much so that she could barely see over the top of the steering wheel. When she reached the bottom of the exit ramp, she instinctively turned west to head into downtown Chattanooga.
Fifteen agonizing minutes later, she pulled into another gas station, her fingers trembling so badly she had trouble picking up the phone. She wanted to believe the driver of the Buick had been the same man who’d kidnapped her, but she knew she couldn’t swear to it. And there had been no sign of leering man, which was strange.
Was she losing her mind? Was the guy behind the wheel of the Buick really the same one who’d kidnapped her? He resembled her sketch, but the shape of his mouth and his nose hadn’t looked at all familiar.
She rested her forehead against the steering wheel for a long moment, pulling herself together with an effort. When her phone rang again, she managed to pull it from her pocket and answer it.
“Hello?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strained.
“Naomi? Are you okay?” Sawyer’s voice was panicked, and she belatedly realized he must have been the one who’d called earlier.
“I—think so.” She swallowed hard. “Thanks for calling me back.”
“Where are you? Are you safe?” His voice softened a bit as he added, “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I’m fine.” Sort of. “I’m outside of East Ridge and have the license plate of a black Buick for you to check out.”
There was a brief moment of silence before Sawyer said, “I can do that, but you know there are lots of black Buick vehicles on the road.”
“I know. There was only one man in the car, and when I came up alongside him to get a good look at his face, he did resemble my sketch of the driver.”
“You what?” Sawyer’s voice rose in agitation.
“I had to know, Sawyer.” She tried to downplay the danger, even though she’d been scared out of her skin. “Not that it helped, since I never got a good look at the driver during the kidnapping.”
Another pause. “What are you doing in East Ridge?”
“Getting gas. Listen, can I give you the license plate information? If it turns out to be nothing, then fine. But it can’t hurt to check.”
She heard him sigh. “Okay, give it to me.”
“Purple, yellow, orange 238.”
“Got it. I’ll see what we can find out. In the meantime, I have a question for you.”
“What?”
“Did Kate wear elastic hair bands?”
Her heart stuttered in her chest. “Yes. Why? Did you find something?”
“Any particular color?” Sawyer asked.
“Her favorite color is blue.” She gripped the phone so tightly her fingers ached. “Did you find a blue elastic band?”
“No, sorry. I found a pink one, about twenty yards from the hunter shanty.”
She cast back in her memory. “I think Kate has worn a pink one in the past.”
“Well, it could be nothing, so don’t get your hopes up,” he warned. “I have the crime scene techs taking a look at it more closely, see if we can find any hair follicles caught in the elastic. But again, it could be nothing. People hike in the woods all the time. Anyone could have dropped the band.”
Logically, she knew he was right, but she couldn’t bear to let go of the possibility that Kate had recently been in Chattanooga. “Thanks for telling me, Sawyer. I appreciate it.”
“I assume the fact that you’re currently in East Ridge means you’re not planning to return to Dalton anytime soon.”
For the first time in what seemed like forever, the corner of her mouth tipped up in a smile. “You assume correctly. I’ll be back in Chattanooga soon, although I honestly don’t know how far away I am.”
“Fifteen minutes, tops. Listen, why don’t you meet me at the City Café Diner for lunch? It’s right off the main highway.”
She was pleasantly surprised by his offer. “Okay, see you soon.”
Somehow, just talking to Sawyer calmed her nerves. On one hand, she felt certain he’d prefer she return home to Dalton, yet on the other hand, she was glad to be seeing him again when she didn’t look like something dragged up from the bottom of the Tennessee River.
While waiting for Naomi, Sawyer used his computer in the squad to run the license plate of the black Buick. The owner was a guy named Melvin Curtis. As he peered at Melvin’s driver’s license photo, he noted there was only a passing resemblance to Naomi’s sketch of the driver.
Interesting that she hadn’t been able to recognize him either.
Sawyer put Melvin’s name and date of birth into the system, hoping he had some sort of criminal record. The guy had done time for auto theft, but that had been fifteen years ago, when he was twenty-five. Now he was forty, and Sawyer couldn’t help but wonder how the guy had gone from auto theft to sex trafficking.
If Melvin was guilty of anything at all.
He glanced up as Naomi pulled in and parked beside him. He quickly pushed out of the squad to join her.
She looked amazing, and still far younger than her twenty-six years. Her blond hair was shiny and clean as it framed her face. She’d changed into clean clothes, nothing fancy. A soft pink T-shirt and blue jeans that hugged her figure. She also must have gotten a replacement phone too.
He had to give her credit for pulling herself together the way she had, despite her horrific ordeal.
“You look great,” he said by way of greeting.
“Thanks, although that only makes me think I must have looked awful before,” she said wryly.
“Not true.” Idiot. He mentally kicked himself for making her think that.
“Well, thanks.” She blushed and turned toward the entrance to the diner.
Despite being quarter past one o’clock in the afternoon, the place was crowded, likely the result of the summer tourist season. He only saw one empty table and quickly snatched it up.
“Did you run the license plate number for the Buick?” Naomi asked.
“Yes, the guy who owns the vehicle is Melvin Curtis.” He watched for any sign of recognition, but she only stared blankly. “Sound familiar?”
“No.” She sat back against the seat when their server arrived to bring menus and water.
After placing their orders, she leaned forward again and asked in a low voice, “Can I see the elastic hair band?”
“No, I’ve already given it to the crime lab.” He eyed her steadily. “Try not to get too excited about a simple elastic band. Do you know how many people hike the Smoky Mountains each year?”
She sighed and sat back in her seat. “I know you’re right. It’s just . . .” She glanced away. “I can’t stand not knowing where Kate is and if she’s okay.”
“I know.” He hesitated, then added, “You should have stayed in Dalton, Naomi. There isn’t anything more you can do here.”
A spark of anger lit up her blue eyes. “I found a black Buick, which could be the same one used to kidnap me.”
Could have been, but not likely. “Melvin doesn’t have much of a criminal record. A car theft when he was twenty-five, and that’s it. No solicitation for prostitution charges or anything similar. No crimes involving weapons.”
Naomi looked dejected at the news. “You don’t think he’s the same man who’d helped kidnap me.”
Sawyer’s heart went out to her. He understood her need to make sense out of a situation that was anything but logical. “We’re working the case, Naomi. Trust that we’ll do our job, okay?”
She stared down at the table for a long moment. “I know you will. But I want to help.”
Her helping was only likely to slow them down. He tried another tactic. “What is Kate going to think if she goes home to an empty house?”
She met his gaze. “I left her a note with my new cell number, so hopefully she’ll call me.”
“If she can get access to a phone,” he felt compelled to point out. “If she manages to escape the way you did, she probably won’t have a phone or money either.”
Her eyes clouded as she frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Their server brought their respective meals, and they ate in silence for a bit. He was so relieved Naomi was unhurt that his appetite had returned with a vengeance. He made quick work of his buffalo chicken sandwich and fries.
Naomi picked at her salad, which made him feel bad that he’d ruined her lunch. He smiled reassuringly. “Hey, you can go back to Dalton and be there for Kate when she gets home.”
When, not if.
She shook her head. “I’m not going back, Sawyer. I can’t. Not yet. I’m the only person who can identify the kidnappers.”
Except she hadn’t been able to identify the driver, a fact he decided not to reiterate.
When they finished eating, he signaled for the bill. Naomi pulled out some cash, but he waved her away. “I asked you to meet me here, so it’s my treat.”
“I owe you for the towing and the repairs to my car,” she protested. She shoved a couple of hundred-dollar bills toward him. “Take it. Paying you back is the least I can do.”
He didn’t touch the cash. “Please keep your money, at least for now. There will be plenty of time to square up when this is over.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “Would you do this for anyone else?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I would. I promise I only want to help you through this. No strings attached. I, uh, once had a guy do something similar for me.” Sawyer normally didn’t talk about himself like this, but he wanted to reassure her. “Joe was a cop, too, and helped me out of a jam. I learned to accept his help, the way you should accept mine. I wouldn’t be here today if not for him.”
“I’m glad to hear you had someone helping you,” she said softly. She drew in a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll keep the money for now, but I need you to know that I expect to pay my own way.”
“I do,” he assured her. “Even though I really wish you’d go home.”
“You can wish all you want, but I’m staying.” She slid out of the booth.
He inwardly sighed and briefly considered arresting her for driving without a license. But doing something like that would only add to her already stressful ordeal.
Although her ability to get a motel room without a credit card and ID would be slim to none. Which may actually force her to head home. He relaxed a bit as he slid out of the booth and followed her outside.
Should he offer his place again? It wasn’t as if he was using his guest room.
As soon as the idea flashed in his mind, he thrust it aside. No, what he needed to do was make Naomi realize that her being in Chattanooga was unnecessary. If she couldn’t find a motel room, she’d likely head back to Dalton.
Maybe. Hopefully.
“Thanks for lunch, Sawyer.” Outside the café, Naomi gave him a solemn look. “Will you please call me if you find something related to my kidnapping or the missing girls?”
“Naomi . . .” He sighed. “I can’t talk to you about an ongoing investigation. As I said before, I need you to trust me. Trust the process.”
She looked down at the ground and reluctantly nodded. “I’ll try.” She lifted her gaze. “But you need to understand that I won’t rest until I know what happened to Kate. And if that means bothering you every single day, too bad. I don’t care. She’s only sixteen.”
Her defiant gaze made him want to smile. Frankly, he’d be surprised if she only bothered him once a day. “Got it.”
She turned to reach for her car door, then stopped and swung back. “Sawyer?”
“Yeah?” He’d opened his own car door and rested his arms along the top.
“I—would you be willing to give me your personal cell phone number?”
He hesitated, knowing it was a bad idea.
“I promise I won’t bother you too much,” she went on. “But if I see the leering man or the driver of the black Buick, I’d like to be able to call you directly.”
Even though it went against protocol, he nodded. After all, by now they were hardly strangers. “Fine. Actually, you already have it. I used my personal cell to call you back. But understand if you become a nuisance, I’ll block you.” The minute the words left his mouth, he felt foolish. No way would he block Naomi’s number.
A fact that bothered him.
“I know, thanks.” She pulled out her prepaid phone and stared at the screen. “Is this your number?” She held up the display.
“Yes.” She hit the call button, and his phone vibrated in his pocket. “See?” He pulled it out and added her name to the number in his contact list. “We’re all set.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and slid the phone back into her pocket.
“Take care of yourself, Naomi.” He had to force himself to slide in behind the wheel. Why on earth was he so attracted to her? Because she was beautiful and strong and had managed to outsmart her kidnappers long enough to escape?
It wasn’t as if he didn’t serve alongside a couple of capable female officers who were just as brave, because he did. Granted, cops like him took on the risk by donning their uniform each day.
Unlike Naomi who didn’t deserve to be in harm’s way. It wasn’t something she was trained to do.
Although now that he thought about it, he’d never asked about her career. Did she work at one of the carpet factories too? She’d mentioned Kate working there but hadn’t said anything about her own role in the community.
Not that it should matter to him one way or the other. Naomi Palmer had been a vulnerable victim in a terrible crime. A victim he refused to take advantage of.
He glanced over, waiting for her to back out of her parking spot first. She gave him a little wave, then slowly rolled her Toyota backward.
Crack!
The gunshot and the resulting shattering glass spurred him into action. He shut off the squad and rolled out of the vehicle, weapon in hand. Keeping his head down, he spoke into the radio on his collar. “Shots fired, repeat, shots fired outside the City Café on Edgerton Road.”
Naomi’s car was half in and out of the parking spot. Had she been hit? His heart lodged in his throat as he darted around the front of his car, still keeping his head down, to reach her driver’s side door.
“Naomi? Are you okay?” He cranked on the door handle, but it was locked.
“Naomi?” He glanced around, then used his baton to crack the rear passenger window open, fearful of raining glass on her. “Are you hit?”
She didn’t answer.