A corner booth at the Riverside Café was the most private place Amber could think of to talk to Patrick. She no longer felt safe in her home and didn’t feel comfortable going to the police department—Patrick’s stomping ground. The private matter she had to discuss with him was better said in a neutral environment, over a cup of coffee.
That was if there even was a good place.
Thankfully, Patrick agreed to hold any questions until after they arrived.
Amber dropped her bag on the booth seat and scooted in beside it. Patrick settled into the seat across the table from her, and his gaze, full of questions, met hers. He was waiting for her to tie up the loose ends of the case. She inhaled slowly to calm her nerves.
Patrick propped both elbows on the table, clasped his hands. “So you think you know who your attacker is?”
“Yes and no.” She adjusted herself in her seat, the vinyl squeaking beneath her, as she gave a slight shrug.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve lost me already.”
Not a surprise. The breath she’d just sucked in sputtered out in a rush, snarling her nerves again. She was grateful that the waitress arrived to take their orders.
“You guys know what you want?”
“Amber.” Patrick gestured to her.
Forgoing her usual favorite, a decaf latte, she ordered a nice, strong cup of black brew. Somehow she felt as though she’d need it.
“I’ll take the same.” Patrick nodded at the waitress, then turned his gaze back on Amber. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”
A wave of emotion burned in Amber’s eyes. The beginning. He made it sound so simple. She took a slow breath, feeling the heat of his gaze on her, but finding it difficult to meet the dark cop stare. Persistent. Unwavering. No doubt, he was successful in the art of interrogation for suspects and criminals alike. He’d always had a knack for being perceptive. It was impossible to keep things from him.
That was why she couldn’t have stuck around after being attacked at the frat party. And here she was eleven years later having to explain that to him.
She placed a finger to her temple and rubbed where a dull pain started to thump.
“Amber.” By the coaxing in his voice it was evident he was waiting for answers. Answers he deserved. Not because he was the detective on her case, but because he was the man she used to love.
Amber met his gaze, trying to stay calm and downplay the agony roiling inside her. “The man who attacked me tonight mentioned something that sent me back eleven years.”
“Eleven years?” Patrick’s jaw visibly tightened, telling her she’d hit a nerve. “And what would that be?”
Amber breathed deep again, before she went on, “He said some secrets are best taken to the grave.”
“Secrets?” Patrick leaned in, an edge of curiosity in his tone. “What kind of secrets?”
“A very difficult secret...” Her voice dropped several octaves as a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it back.
A little pool of silence engulfed the booth. She was trying to keep it together and best phrase her thoughts without stirring up more emotion between her and Patrick. But as she looked back into her past, neither the horror of her attack nor the shame she’d suffered since seemed good enough reason for her decision to keep what had happened that night from him. Not even her concern over how he would react when he heard the story.
She looked up and Patrick’s gaze linked with hers, causing her to sit up straighter and stiffen her spine. It was time to get this over with. She opened her mouth, then closed it as the waitress plunked their coffee down on the table.
“Cream or sugar?”
“No,” they both said in unison.
“Thank you, though,” Amber added.
“No problem.” The waitress spun away, and Amber picked up her coffee, reaching for courage that still eluded her.
“Please continue.” Patrick’s coffee sat untouched, steam rising from the cup. He sat back in the booth and folded his arms.
A searing sensation washed over her eyes. She blinked, keeping the tears at bay, wishing she could do the same with the darkened memories. But there was no going back. “Patrick, before I get into this, I want you to know that you were the last person I ever wanted to hurt.”
The perplexed look was back.
Guilt ate at her. This was Patrick’s investigation. And here she was, about to put a personal spin on the case.
Patrick’s brows knit as he narrowed his gaze. “I’m not sure what’s going on or how it ties into your case, but I’m getting vibes that what you’re trying to tell me is that you broke our engagement for another guy.”
His assumption hit her like a blow to the stomach. “No,” she said automatically, meeting his accusatory stare. “I can’t believe you’d even consider that.” Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Well, I can’t lie and say that scenario hadn’t crossed my mind in the past,” Patrick said, his mouth compressing to a tight, razor-thin line.
Swallowing the sour taste in her throat, Amber willed herself not to cry. Patrick was frustrated and angry. And he had every right to be.
This confession was even more difficult than she envisioned.
Her mouth suddenly dry, she picked up her coffee and took a sip.
* * *
Patrick felt his patience waning. If Amber hadn’t left him for another guy, what else would she be hiding that could be worse than that? He searched her anguished expression for answers to years of pent-up questions.
He came up with nothing. Except... A horrifying thought took hold as his detective instincts kicked in, replacing any speculation and doubt. Suddenly, the pieces started to meld together. Their abrupt breakup. The way she’d walked out of his life with barely a civil goodbye.
Pressure built in his chest until he could barely breathe around it. The hurt and rejection that gripped him eleven years ago had kept him from seeing the truth.
Until now.
Oh, Lord, no. He hoped his assumption was wrong, but...
“Amber, did somebody hurt you?” His voice pulsed low. “Did they—”
She nodded quickly, sparing him from having to finish the question. Her lips parted just enough to inhale a breath of air. No words came forth.
“Amber.”
She swallowed quickly, tried again. “I set myself up, Patrick.” Her lips compressed when her voice wavered some. “You warned me more than once not to get sucked into the social scene at college. To stay away from the parties.”
For good reason. A sheltered girl reeking of innocence had no business hanging out in those circles. Intoxicated partygoers and drug seekers who lived for the thrill of the moment. He took a deep breath of his own. “You always looked for good in everyone. Trusted easily.”
“Too easily.” Amber shook her head. “Every weekend my roommates invited me to attend a party with them. And the one time I gave in...” She closed her eyes, took a moment before continuing. “I ended up getting drugged, assaulted and dumped in an alley.”
Patrick’s lower jaw went slack. He was speechless, incensed. Who would have done such a terrible thing? “When you say assaulted, Amber, was it a physical assault or se—”
“Fortunately, no,” Amber interjected sharply, holding her hand to her chest as if she was trying to keep her heart from jumping out. “He was interrupted before it got that far.”
Patrick thanked God for that. Although the strain in Amber’s voice told him the creep had done plenty of damage. A muscle angrily pulsed in his jaw. He couldn’t wait to bring her attacker to justice. “Amber, who did this to you?”
She gave a quick shrug, wiping the tears from her eyes with a napkin. “That’s the crazy part. I don’t know.”
“Don’t know? Or don’t remember?”
“I don’t know...exactly.”
“But you suspect someone?”
A gloominess crept into Amber’s eyes as she nodded weakly.
Patrick gave her a moment, silently praying for God’s strength to be with her. He knew this had to be difficult for her to talk about.
“When I first arrived at the party three guys I knew from high school paid a lot of attention to me.” Amber sighed, absently running a hand through her dark curls. “At first we were just reminiscing, and then they asked about you. How you were enjoying UGA and how your track season went. They even knew you were in Europe doing a training clinic. I remember thinking how much they’d grown up. They were so jealous of you in high school.”
“These guys... Were they by any chance Carl Shaw, Bruce Austin and Randall Becker?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
Patrick’s heart tripped wildly in his chest. If one of those guys had touched her... He gritted his teeth, forced himself to stay calm and not start throwing darts until he had the facts. Still, he recalled his rivals well, and those memories weren’t fond. “What about your roommate? The girl you attended the party with?”
“Once we got there everyone scattered. The house was packed with people. Everyone was drinking. It was hot and stuffy. Someone offered me a bottle of water.”
Patrick shook his head. He knew where this was going.
“It tasted like regular water.” She broke off, breathing deep. “It was cold, refreshing at first, then I started feeling woozy. Everything started moving in slow motion. That’s when Carl’s, Bruce’s and Randy’s demeanors started to change. They went from being friendly to taunting me about you. Asking me things like ‘Does Boy Wonder, the gold-medal dreamer, know he’s dating a party girl?’”
She stopped, blotted her eyes again with the crumpled napkins. Her silence told him what he needed to know. His throat went tight as a picture began to form in his mind of what she’d gone through—frightened and alone, unable to fend off her attacker. Heat swarmed his body.
“I was so sick,” she finally squeaked out. “So disoriented. Somehow, I ended up in one of the fraternity bedrooms.”
“Alone?”
“No.” She sighed, her voice hollow. “It was dark. Cold. Someone was laughing. Deep. Sinister. He kept asking the question, ‘Where is Boy Wonder now? Now who’s going to save you?’ I remember panicking, trying to get to the door, but he caught me, slammed me against the wall. He threatened to kill me if I said a word.”
Patrick swallowed, fury building in his chest as she went on.
“Thankfully a few minutes later someone pounded on the door, screaming that a fight had broken out and police had been called. The last thing I remember is a hand clamped over my mouth and the prick of a needle in my arm. When I woke up I was in an ambulance on my way to the hospital. My clothes were torn, my body battered and bruised.”
“Did you tell anyone what happened?
She nodded. “I informed the paramedic, the nurse, even the doctor. I was pretty groggy and disoriented. I’m sure they thought I had just been out partying. I was found in an alley behind a bar in the low-rent side of town after the manager called 9-1-1, with the needle still in my arm.”
“They left the needle in your arm?” The very idea turned Patrick’s gut. They’d been trying to make her look like a strung-out addict who’d overdosed.
“A urine screen found fentanyl in my system.”
A very potent opiate. Patrick took a deep breath. “So no one believed your story?”
Shaking her head, Amber brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “Once I was stable, I was given a pamphlet on the risks of IV drug use and the address of a local rehab facility.”
Well, that answered that. Patrick rubbed the cords of tension at the back of his neck. A lot of college-aged partiers used opiates for their euphoric effect, and ER workers probably saw their share of unintentional overdoses, but still it burned his gut that they’d disregarded Amber’s story.
But what hurt even more, she hadn’t told him.
He hauled in a deep breath. “I know you went through a terrible experience. But I don’t understand why you kept it from me.”
The corners of Amber’s mouth quivered into a grimace. “I couldn’t.” Her tone was anguished.
The earth felt as if it shifted beneath him. “You couldn’t?”
Shaking her head with a sigh, Amber lowered her gaze to her coffee and slowly ran her finger along the handle of her cup. “I was so broken, Patrick. Embarrassed, tired, scared. I had hoped by the time you got back from Europe, I could have put what happened behind me. But...” Amber kept trailing the rim of the cup, still carefully averting her gaze. “The closer it came to your returning home, the more I realized it would be impossible for me to keep a secret from you.”
Well, she’d done a pretty good job of that for the past eleven years. Then the truth hit him, pounding at his temple with the force of a sledgehammer.
“You broke up with me because you thought I would blame you?”
Disappointment sparked bright in her gaze. “No, I’d never think that.”
“Then what?” He worked to keep his voice even in spite of the boulder sitting in the pit of his stomach.
“It’s just that...” Amber’s voice cracked as her eyes clung to his. “You would have muscled every guy who attended the party until you found out who my attacker was. And once you found him...” She paused, drew in a shaky breath. “Patrick, none of those guys would have had a chance against you. A charge of assault and battery, regardless of the reason, would have jeopardized your college scholarship and your athletic dreams.”
Cold sweat erupted on his skin. She’d tried to protect him. He wanted to discount her words, to be furious, but her concerns held some validity. He’d been a star athlete out to conquer the world. Cocky, impulsive and known for a quick temper. Nobody messed with him.
Foolish bravado. He shook his head. And for what?
False hope in a dream he’d never realized. After years of hard work and training, impressing his coaches and trying to stay on top of his competition, all it had taken was a broken leg to knock him out of the US track-and-field trials.
In a flash the notoriety had vanished, as had his chance of winning a gold medal.
A sigh crawled up his throat, but he swallowed it back. It’d been a lesson in futility, he’d decided. And stupidity.
“Amber, I’m sorry.” That was all he could say.
Her chin trembled, but she tempered it quickly and breathed deeply, seeming to pull strength from the air. “It’s just part of the past.” She nodded, a gritty resolve in her eyes. Something she’d accepted and moved on.
All the same, something in that emerald gaze contradicted that opinion. In his heart he knew she’d meant to protect him, but she had hurt both of them and shaken her faith in the process.
* * *
An hour later and Amber’s shocking revelation still haunted Patrick’s thoughts. He was beyond frustrated, his thinking disjointed, his mind numb and swirling, blaming, stinging.
Amber had gone through unspeakable trauma. As a cop and an elite military soldier, he didn’t need an imagination to know how ruthless some people could be. What he had a hard time getting his mind around was that she’d chosen to suffer through it herself.
Anger built in his chest, for himself and anyone else that kept what happened from him—even Amber.
Pent-up emotions and dozens more spiked through him with savage force. Gritting his teeth, he swung his SUV out of Kim’s driveway. Amber was safe at her friend’s house for the night. Cell phone in reach, security system on, doors locked tight.
He was wired. What he hadn’t understood eleven years ago, he was still trying to understand now. Why had Amber just walked away? He wanted to stay mad, disappointed, but how could he? She gave up on their dreams of a life together...to protect him.
Protect me! Patrick slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Every muscle tensed, every fiber hummed. He wouldn’t have faulted her for attending the party. He’d made plenty of foolish mistakes himself.
His own sense of failure cut him to the quick. If only she’d trusted him enough, maybe she would have come to him.
He wanted to believe he would have kept a level head. Supported her. Let the police do their job. Not do something as impulsive as break down doors in search of her attacker.
But...
He knew better than that.
Tightening his fingers on the steering wheel, he shook his head.
Now that he worked as a law enforcement officer, he loathed people who interfered with his investigations. Knowing the way he was back then, he would have made a few enemies, for sure.
Patrick gritted his teeth, then released the breath he’d been holding.
Thankfully those days were behind him.
Although, too little too late.
Patrick slowed at the blinking lights of an intersection before proceeding through.
When Amber walked out of his life, she’d taken part of his heart with her. For years he couldn’t get her out of his head, couldn’t stop wondering how she was doing. Stubbornness had kept him from picking up the phone, especially when his dreams of becoming a champion runner had begun to unravel.
One more reason to wallow in misery.
Nope, he hadn’t handled disappointment well, so how could he fault Amber for handling the pain in her life the way she had? He’d nearly given up himself when his dreams had crashed and burned. What had finally got him straight was a kick in the pants from his boot-camp training officer, who taught him to persevere and thrive on adversity. To be a man.
As a result he got stronger. Less impulsive and hopefully wiser.
He firmly rubbed at his right temple, where a definite headache started to form, then stopped short as a thought barreled into his brain. If he’d gained any wisdom over the years, what was he thinking, leaving Amber alone tonight?
A block from his condo, Patrick turned into the first fast-food restaurant he saw open. Almost midnight, but the odds of a good night’s sleep were slim to none. He was agitated and still buzzed from adrenaline the evening with Amber had wrought. As long as he was awake he might as well get in a little surveillance. A cup of coffee and burger should hold him until morning.