Yuletide Protector, page 3
“Ash.” Sawyer sat on the edge of the bed beside her and took her hand, she curled her fingers around his and held on tightly. “Until this guy is caught, I'm going to be your bodyguard, and you're going to come and stay with me. He wants you dead, he could come back again and again, we need to play things safe, and that means doing whatever’s necessary to keep you alive.”
He waited a little anxiously to see Ashley’s reaction.
He had expected her to disagree, protest, and tell him—even if she couldn’t use words—that she didn't need anyone to look after her.
But she did none of those.
Instead, tears welled up in her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled.
She had held it together amazingly well so far, but no one could go through what she had and not be affected.
Ashley hesitated for a moment and then she threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his chest.
Sawyer held her and wished with all his heart there was something he could do to take away her pain. He felt so helpless feeling her tears soak through his t-shirt, there wasn't anything he could do to make this better for her. All he could do was be here, and nothing would stop him from doing that.
DECEMBER 21st
9:09 A.M.
Ashley sat in Sawyer’s townhouse staring out the window.
She couldn’t believe it had been well over three months since her life had changed forever.
The last few months had been surreal.
It felt like it had been forever, and yet at the same time, it was like she had blinked and it was Christmas time.
Christmas.
It didn't feel like it was Christmas, it hadn't snowed yet, and she needed snow to feel Christmassy. Ashley had always loved the snow, she had even done competitive skiing for a while. Even as a small child her attitude had been endure the warmer months to get back to winter. She loved watching snowflakes fluttering through the air, she loved the feel of them landing on her skin and leaving tingling cold dots everywhere they landed. She loved the crunch fresh snow made when you walked on it, she loved building snowmen and throwing snowballs, and snuggling up in front of a roaring open fireplace, sipping hot chocolate as the snow poured down outside.
No snow meant no Christmassy feeling, and she really needed something good in her life right about now.
For three and a half long months, she had been cooped up inside Sawyer’s house. It wasn't that she wasn't grateful to him for making space in his home and his life for her. He had basically given up everything, but staying here with her day and night, and night and day. He thought it was too risky for her to go out very often, so although they took the occasional trip to the grocery store or went for the occasional jog, that was it. The rest of the time she just hung around in here. She was sure that Sawyer must be sick to death of the sight of her by now.
She’d had to give up everything, including her home. The private security firm she worked for was run by three ex-cops, Ryan Xander, Paige Hood, and Brady Crowley. In order to try and keep her safe, it had been reported to the media that she didn't survive the second attempt on her life which meant as far as anyone outside the small circle of cops and co-workers was concerned, she no longer existed. Brady’s wife Aurora was a real estate agent and had arranged for it to look like her house had been put on the market following her death, and all her stuff had been boxed up, and other than the few belongings that had been brought to her here at Sawyer’s, the rest of her belongings were being stored in her basement.
All of that made her feel so lost.
So alone.
It was weird being dead.
She couldn’t really describe the feeling, and since she didn't know anyone else who had gone through what she was going through she didn't even have anyone to talk with about it.
Sawyer had been amazing. He was so supportive, worked so hard to cheer her up, and had been beside her every step of the way. Through every tear, through every angry outburst, he had just been there. She was never going to be able to thank him for everything he had done for her. She had really lucked out when she’d gotten him for a best friend.
The doorbell rang, but she didn't tense. The only people that ever came over were their friends, and besides, the killer was hardly going to ring the doorbell if he managed to find her here.
Ashley was starting to feel like all of this was a waste.
As far as the killer was concerned she had been reported dead, he had no reason to think she was a threat to him. This had to be over sooner or later.
It wasn't like she could live here like this forever.
At some point she was going to have to go back to her regular life. She wanted to so badly. She wanted to go back home, back to work, and back to her routine. She wanted to get her hair done and go out to eat at her favorite restaurants, and she wanted to go to the movies, and the gym, and just be a regular person.
“Hey, Ash.”
She tore her eyes away from the gray world outside.
Gray.
It was the color of nothingness.
It was the color of her life.
It wasn't the color of Christmas.
The color of Christmas was white.
White was peace and love and purity, it was hope, it was all things good, it was clean and beautiful.
Just like Christmas was supposed to be.
But this year it was ruined, just like her life.
There had been lots of moments of self-pity the last few months, plenty of wallowing in the mess her life had become, and today seemed to be one of those days.
No.
She wasn't going to do that.
She was alive.
She had cheated death twice, that was something to be grateful for.
And whether it felt like it or not it was Christmas time, and Christmas time was a time for miracles, who knew, maybe this Christmas she would finally get her wish, and the man who had raped and tried to murder her would be found and caught. If she was still young enough to write a letter to Santa that would be the only thing on her list this year.
Deliberately, she forced her mouth to curve into a smile, she wasn't a spoilt brat—well, she had been spoiled as an only child, but she wasn't a brat—and she was a glass is half full kind of girl, so she should act like it.
“Hey.” She turned and smiled at her friends. Samara Patrick was a friend she had met through Sawyer’s sister Savannah. Samara was the younger sister of Savannah’s best friend Chloe’s husband. And Aurora was the wife of one of Ashley’s boss’. She liked to hang out with both of them, and both of them had made sure to stop by at least a couple of times a week to see her. She really appreciated how amazing her support group had been, if it wasn't for them, she didn't know how she would have survived these last months.
“We brought wrapping paper, boxes, ribbons, and bows,” Aurora announced, her golden-brown eyes glowing with delight. Ashley knew Aurora loved Christmas almost more than she did because it was Christmas Eve a few years back that she had met her now-husband Brady.
“We thought we could hang out, wrap a few Christmas gifts, start stacking presents under the tree,” Samara added, her blue eyes serious, just like they always were. Ashley wasn't sure she had ever seen Samara look relaxed. They had fun together, but Samara was always quiet and solemn, Ashley always wondered what had happened to her to make her so sad.
“Wrapping gifts sounds like fun,” she said, and pushed herself out of the rocking chair in the corner, and walked over to the kitchen table.
“I have to wrap on the floor,” Aurora said, sitting down on the floorboards with a bag of presents and a roll of wrapping paper.
“Did Brady come with you? Are he and Sawyer talking?” Ashley asked as she grabbed her own bag of presents and took them over to the table. Since she hadn't been able to go out to the mall to do her gift buying this year she had purchased everything online.
“Yeah they’re in the living room talking,” Aurora replied.
About her no doubt.
She knew they were all worried about her. Sawyer’s brother-in-law Jett and his partner Morgan had been working this case every single second they could, but so far they still didn't even know the name of the man who wanted her dead.
They might never find him.
What would happen to her if they didn't?
She couldn’t live with Sawyer forever, and she couldn’t deny that she had been thinking a lot about the idea of just going home, luring this guy out—assuming he still wanted to kill her—so the cops could arrest him.
Playing bait scared her but no more than living the rest of her life in limbo like this.
She wasn't going to worry about that now though. Now she was going to try to find a little of her Christmas spirit.
“I love this snowman box,” she said with a genuinely delighted smile as she picked up a box in the shape of a snowman. It was about fifteen inches tall, with a protruding carrot nose, a big black coal smile, and a black top hat as the lid. It was quite possibly the most adorable thing she had ever seen.
“Told you.” Aurora giggled.
“What?” she asked.
“Aurora said that you would pounce on that the second you saw it,” Samara explained.
Ashley couldn’t help but laugh, her friends knew her so well.
You only had to spend about ten minutes in her presence, and you knew how much she loved snow. Her whole house was—or had been—full of snowmen themed things. From cookie jars to bathrobes, to throw cushions, to art on her walls, her house was her own little personal igloo complete with a whole village full of snowmen to keep her company.
“It’s so cute,” she gushed, “and it’ll be perfect to use for Sawyer’s gift.” She had spent ages picking out the perfect gift for him this year, something that would go at least a small way toward repaying him for everything he’d done for her. She pulled Sawyer’s gift from her own little Santa bag, but then she paused. “Although it would also work well for what I bought for Savannah, too.”
Aurora laughed like that was the funniest thing she had ever heard, even serious Samara was smiling.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“I knew you were going to say something like that.” Aurora bounced up and grabbed another bag, pulling out another snowman box, and then another, and another, and another.
She laughed, a real laugh, and it felt so good. “These are just the best thing ever.” She beamed. “I think I'm going to keep one for myself.” Another round of giggles ensued, and this time she didn't have to ask to know what they were laughing about. “You got me one didn't you?”
Samara reached into her own Santa sack and pulled out one of the snowman boxes. “This is for you, from me and Aurora. I know it’s a couple of days early, but we want you to have it now.”
Touched, she took the box and opened it up, nestled inside was a gorgeous snowman watch. “Oh, I love it,” she said as she pulled it out and immediately put it on. The face of the watch was the snowman’s face, the hands were the carrot nose and a pipe, and the watch band had sparkles on it like little snowflakes. She loved sparkly things, she was definitely a glitter kind of girl.
“I'm glad you like it.” Samara smiled.
“Love it,” she corrected. “Thank you so much.” She gave both of her friends hugs. “I love you guys so much. I can't thank you enough for being here for me these last few months. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“That’s what friends do.” Aurora smiled. “Now, let’s get wrapping.”
Feeling lighter than she had in a long time, Ashley settled down at the table to wrap gifts, chat, and laugh with the people she loved.
* * * * *
10:33 A.M.
He was so frustrated.
Jett hated working a case that he couldn’t make progress on, and this one in particular was driving him crazy.
That one of the victims was the woman his wife’s twin brother was secretly in love with made things so much worse. He knew how hard this had been on Ashley. Having to give up her life and basically spend twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for the last three and a half months sequestered inside Sawyer’s house had been beyond rough on her. He wanted to find this guy, he wanted to be able to go to Ashley and tell her that it was over, that she could go back home and back to work, that the threat against her was no longer hanging over her head and she could have her life back.
Instead, he was standing in an alley not far from the one where Ashley had almost lost her life, staring at another dead body.
“You really think this is the same guy?” his partner, Morgan Hawksworth, asked.
Morgan was wrapped up in a thick woolen turtleneck, a coat that made her look like she was about three times her actual size, a scarf wrapped around her neck all the way up to her bottom lip, and a beanie pulled down to just above her eyes. Despite all the layers, Morgan was shivering, his new partner hated the cold, and even though they were yet to get any snow, the weather had been freezing.
He and Morgan had only been partners for the last ten months. His previous partner had gone off the rails and embarked on a killing spree that nearly claimed Savannah’s life, and it had been hard to get a new partner. Hard to let himself trust someone else after Blake had taken his trust and decimated it. But he liked Morgan, she was a couple of years younger than him, she was smart, she paid attention to everything anyone said or did, she was good at reading people, and she loved to brainstorm and think outside the box. She was a great partner, and he was glad they were working this case together, maybe she would see something that he and Blake had missed.
“I do,” he said, answering Morgan’s question.
“He didn't strangle her with a metal chain though,” Morgan pointed out.
That was true, but this case was related.
He could feel it.
When he had first started out as an FBI agent, it had taken him a while to learn to trust his instincts. He’d always thought that trusting your gut sounded silly. How could you possibly know whether what you were feeling was to be taken seriously or not? And how could your feelings possibly know anything useful? But he was thirty now, and had been with the FBI for six years and more times than he could count, his gut had saved him or led him to the killer he was hunting.
“He didn't strangle her with a metal chain, but he did strangle her.” He crouched beside the body, and careful not to touch anything, pointed at the young woman’s neck. “See this, whatever he used he pulled so tight that it left marks actually embedded in her skin, not just a red line. That’s just like what he did with the other victims.” The killer they were hunting had left scars on Ashley’s neck from where the metal chain had dug into her skin when he was strangling her.
“That’s true, I guess,” Morgan said, sounding unconvinced.
“Same victimology,” he added. “Una Attar is twenty-three years old, with long dark hair and dark eyes. That he stuck with the same type of victim tells us something, he needs his victims to look like this which implies that it’s for a reason. These women are probably substitutes for someone he knows. He changed what he used to strangle them because he assumes that Ashley told us enough about him that he’s scared we’re going to find him. But he couldn’t change everything. He took the same type of victim, he still strangled them, and he stuck with his same method of grabbing and killing them.”
“Okay,” Morgan agreed with a nod. “I'm convinced that this is probably the same guy. He’s laid low since the attack on Ashley, probably afraid we were going to come for him. But it’s been almost four months now, and we haven't, so he obviously felt like it was safe to continue. How long do you think before he takes another victim?”
“Before the break after Ashley, he had been taking less and less time between kills. He killed his first victim over three years ago, he didn't take his second until almost six months later, then another four months before victim number three. It wasn't until victim number four, another four months later, that Blake and I were given the case. He started stepping things up, killing a new woman every couple of months. The last few before Ashley he was barely waiting a couple of weeks between kills. Given that he had to hold off for so long, if we don’t find him soon, it might be as little as a couple of days before he goes after someone else. Waiting this long before killing Una had to be hard for him.”
“This is the only time he’s killed two women in the same city,” Morgan said.
Unfortunately, that was true.
So far their killer had kept on the move, one of the reasons it had been so hard to find him. He moved about from city to city, killing only one girl in each before moving on to the next. That he was still here could mean only one thing.
“He’s here for Ashley,” Jett said simply, it was the only thing that made sense.
“We had it reported that she didn't survive the second attack,” Morgan said. “So as far as he knows she’s already dead.”
“Unless he doesn’t believe us,” Jett countered. “He could think we’re just trying to lull him into a false sense of security, so he doesn’t make another attempt on her life. He was interrupted at the hospital when Ashley threw the pad at the glass and knocked it over, sending Sawyer into the room to check on her. The killer had to abandon his attempt to kill her, and he probably knows that he didn't have his hands around her neck long enough to strangle her. Faking Ash’s death was always a gamble, and one that’s kept her alive for three months, but the only thing that’s going to keep her alive is finding this guy.”
“It’s Christmas time, a time for miracles,” Morgan said, rubbing her gloved hands together to warm them.
Last Christmas he had gotten his own miracle, reuniting with the woman he had loved since he’d first laid eyes on her. They had broken up because he hadn't been there for her when she needed him, but he hadn't been able to let her go. He had kept his distance for three years while keeping tabs on her life, and when she had accidentally gotten herself on his ex-partner’s radar, and the two of them had been forced to spend time together, they had managed to rekindle what they’d lost.
