29
This wasn’t going to be hard, Sly told himself. All he had to do was draw Dawson to the door. As soon as he opened it—boom! The sound of the gun would cause Sadie to scream. She might even come running. And the hatchet would do the rest. In a few minutes, the whole thing would be over. She would’ve gotten what she’d been asking for, what she deserved. Sly would then drag Dawson’s body outside while he went back for the car. He preferred Dawson didn’t bleed too much in the house, but even if he did, and the police found it, those who wielded weapons like hatchets often injured themselves in the process of trying to hurt someone else. The presence of his blood wouldn’t prove anything—especially if Sly did a good job cleaning up.
He turned the handle of the back door again and brushed against the side of the house. He had to be careful, couldn’t be too obvious, or Dawson would simply call 9-1-1. Sly needed him to come take a look to see what was going on first. It wasn’t as if a man recently charged with murder would be overly hasty to call the police anyway, though. Dawson knew there wasn’t anyone on the force who’d be eager to help him.
When the ambient light he could see filtering down from the hallway upstairs went off, Sly knew someone was coming. He pressed himself to the back of the house and began to count. He had no specific number in mind. He just needed to remain calm until the door opened. Only then could he fire. Dawson might expect a confrontation, a fight, but he’d assume Sly was laboring under some hesitancy to take things too far, wouldn’t expect to open the door and be shot immediately.
That was why Sly felt his plan would work.
* * *
Sadie crept down the stairs behind Dawson. She had her phone in her hand, planned to call 9-1-1 at the first hint of trouble. She had to make sure they had a legitimate reason first, though. She couldn’t be perceived as someone who was trying to make Sly look bad, not when most of the officers on the force believed that Dawson was a murderer and she was an unfaithful wife.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“Stay back,” Dawson warned.
There was still a small part of her that wondered if they were overreacting to be so defensive and frightened. When she’d married Sly, she’d certainly never expected to find herself in such a situation. He’d seemed normal then. But he hadn’t been normal for a long time. She didn’t care if her reaction was extreme. She wasn’t going to lower her guard.
Dawson lifted a hand, indicating that she should remain on the stairs as he hit ground level and turned toward the back door. Unfortunately, there were no windows that looked out on the porch, but there were several small triangular-shaped windows in the door itself. Sadie held her breath as she leaned over the banister to watch Dawson peer out of those. They’d left the lights off downstairs so that whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see in, except via the dim light filtering down from above. But that meant Dawson seemed to get swallowed up in the darkness.
He must not have seen anything, because he didn’t open the door, didn’t go on the porch. She heard him move into the kitchen instead, and then the living room, checking to see if he could learn anything from what he could see outside the other windows in the house.
“Anything?” she whispered.
“Not yet.”
“Is there any chance we could’ve imagined those noises?”
“We didn’t imagine anything. But there’s always a chance it was a raccoon or possum.”
“Should I call the police?”
“Not yet. What would you tell them? That we heard someone on the porch? I doubt that would bring them running.”
He made a good point. They didn’t have anything to report yet...
She heard a creak, again coming from the porch, and felt her heart rate spike. Someone or something was out there; she was certain of it. She was about to ask if Dawson had heard the same thing, but he’d already switched directions, indicating he had.
“Stay back,” he murmured again.
She didn’t get the chance to respond before she heard breaking glass. She lifted her phone to call the police, but before she could even punch in the digits, a single gunshot rent the air.
* * *
Sly hadn’t wanted to break the door. He hadn’t had any choice. Dawson was too leery to come out, too smart to put himself at such a disadvantage, and Sly didn’t have a lot of time to mess around. He wasn’t too worried about it, though. He’d just stage the scene to make it look as if Sadie had tried to lock Dawson out—which was reasonable if they’d started to fight or she was afraid of him—and he’d forced his way in.
Sly heard her scream as he kicked the door open to find her frozen on the stairs, a look of horror on her face as she gazed down at Dawson. Sly hadn’t been able to see what he was shooting at, but he’d hit his target. Dawson had crumpled to the floor. Sly could sense Sadie’s uncertainty and desire to run toward her new boyfriend, which surprised him. She cared so much about him...
But then she saw the hatchet and realized what was in store for her.
* * *
A burst of adrenaline made Sadie’s legs so rubbery they would hardly carry her up the stairs. She wanted to call 9-1-1, but there was no time. Sly would be on her before she could complete the call.
All she could do was try to reach the bathroom. Once she got in there and locked the door, he could break it down with the hatchet, of course, but at least that might afford her the precious seconds she needed to reach emergency services.
She thought she might make it, but the terror of hearing his footsteps pounding up the stairs so close behind her nearly caused her legs to give out on her entirely. Go, go, go! her mind yelled. For Jayden. She didn’t want to leave her son motherless—with only a murderer for a father.
But panic had robbed her of her usual strength.
Somehow she managed to grip the door frame and launch herself through it. But she couldn’t close the door in time. She felt the pressure of Sly’s hand forcing the panel open despite her efforts to push it shut as he raised the hatchet.
She screamed—just as Dawson yelled Sly’s name.
Sly’s face registered shock as he turned to find Dawson staggering up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. Blood soaked his shirt, and he could barely lift the arm he used for most everything, but he was trying to stop Sly anyway.
“What the hell? You want more?” Sly screamed and turned on him, giving Sadie the chance to slam and lock the bathroom door.
Her hands shook as she dialed 9-1-1. She was terrified Sly would shoot Dawson again. Sly no longer had his gun in his hand, which gave her some hope, but he still had that hatchet, which could do just as much damage. Jayden’s father had completely lost his mind.
Before she could get the call to go through, however, she heard more footsteps, pounding up the stairs. Then she heard someone yell, “Freeze, or I’ll shoot!”
Chief Thomas! Sadie scowled at her phone in confusion. She hadn’t spoken to anyone yet. How was it that Chief Thomas had shown up?
“Chief?” she yelled.
He didn’t answer. He was too busy giving commands. “Get down on the ground! Now!”
Heart pounding, Sadie cracked open the door to find Thomas standing, gun drawn, over Sly, who was now lying facedown on the floor, his arms and legs spread out. Somehow the police chief had gotten past Dawson on the stairs, but Dawson was still trying to drag himself up to reach her.
“Are you okay?” he asked the moment their eyes met, his face pale and anxious.
“I’m fine, but...what about you? I thought...” She fought the lump that rose in her throat. “I thought he’d killed you.”
He pressed his left hand to the bullet wound in his shoulder. “No. I’m okay. Hurts like a mother, but... I’ll get some meds.”
“Call for help. He needs an ambulance,” Thomas said, but she didn’t need anyone to tell her that. She was already dialing.
* * *
Sadie sat in the waiting room of the Ojai Valley Community Hospital, the closest hospital to Silver Springs, while Dawson had surgery. She’d been in such a rush to climb into the ambulance with him when it came that she’d forgotten to grab a coat. Fortunately, Chief Thomas had arrived not long after she did and insisted she take his. The waiting room wasn’t that cold, but she was so jittery, so worried. Dawson had seemed okay in the ambulance, had kept reassuring her. But he hadn’t been seen by a doctor at that point, so she had no way of knowing how bad off he really was. What if he’d lost too much blood? Or the bullet had struck a nerve or damaged muscle tissue that would mean he’d lose the use of his right arm? He depended on his ability to use his hands in order to make a living.
“You okay?” Chief Thomas asked.
He’d been on his phone since he arrived, so they hadn’t yet had a chance to talk. “I am. I’m just afraid for Dawson.”
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
She’d been hunching over, clasping her hands between her knees while staring at the floor, but now that he seemed to be available for a conversation, she sat back. “How did you know?” she asked. “How did you get to the farm in time?”
“I was already there waiting and watching for him.”
“Where?”
“At the back, by the canal, but when it started getting late and nothing happened, I decided to go home. I was exhausted, couldn’t stay awake anymore. But when I tried to turn around, I got stuck. I was just coming to the house to get Dawson to pull me out with his tractor when I heard the gunshot.”
“Wait. You’re saying you got stuck in Dawson’s trap? That you would’ve been gone if not for that?”
“It was a trap?”
“For Sly, not you.”
“Well, it caught one of us. And it’s a damn good thing.”
“Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? Why did you cancel in the first place?”
“I was trying to have some faith in my officer, was trying to do everything I could to save him. I even warned him. But after I canceled with you and spoke with him, I received word on something that changed my mind.”
She lifted her eyebrows in question. “What? It didn’t come from Damian Steele, did it?”
“No. Although it might appear to you that we haven’t done much, we have been conducting our own investigation of the fire. That investigation included checking the various stores outside Silver Springs for video footage of a man purchasing a black hoodie and dark jeans.”
“That had to be like looking for a needle in a haystack!” she exclaimed.
“It was, except I remembered Sly mentioning something about going to Santa Barbara not long before the fire. I figured, if it was him, he would’ve picked up that stuff there—since it wasn’t so close to home.”
“You found the footage to prove it?”
“I did. He’s on video—clear as day—purchasing those items from Walmart. I believe it’s the same clothing he had on tonight.”
Sadie gaped at him. “That connects him to the fire.”
“Let’s just say it’s a piece of the puzzle, some fairly strong circumstantial evidence. We’d need more than that to get a conviction. But he’s going to prison regardless—for attempted murder.”
So whether her arson investigator came through with more evidence didn’t matter. She had what she needed.
She covered her mouth as she drew a deep breath. Her ex would no longer be around to intimidate, threaten or frighten her. It was almost too good to be true. “I’m free.”
“Yes.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, mostly to herself, but she sent the police chief a sideways glance. “Aren’t you going to warn me about making another mistake by getting involved with Dawson?”
He straightened his uniform. “No.”
“Because...”
“I’ve learned something about Dawson, too—something that makes me believe Dawson isn’t the man we thought he was, either.”
She tried to read his expression. “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, that’s good. Aiyana Turner called me a few hours ago.”
At the mention of Aiyana’s name, Sadie came to her feet. “She was able to discover the name of the brother of that drifter Dawson believed killed his parents!”
“Yes. She worked on it all afternoon and evening. And that discovery led to the drifter’s name—Ronny Booker, a onetime welder and drug addict with a rap sheet a mile long.”
She curled her fingernails into her palms. “Will you be able to locate him, though?”
“Already have.”
“Where is he?”
“Jail, awaiting trial on a separate case.”
She wished Dawson could hear this. “For what?”
“Robbed a house about nine months ago—and killed three of the occupants with a butcher knife. They have his DNA as well as a witness who survived—a fourth member of the family. Booker will go to prison for sure, and he’ll never get out.”
“Oh my gosh!” she cried. “Dawson knew the man he met that night was the one, could tell he was unstable, not right.”
Chief Thomas’s voice filled with caution, but she could tell that he believed Ronny Booker was their assailant, too. “We don’t have a lot of hard evidence to pin the Reed murders on him yet, but—” he gave her a sheepish smile “—he does wear a size nine shoe.”
For a moment, Sadie wasn’t sure why that was so significant. Then she remembered the footprint found outside Dawson’s parents’ house—the one that was too small to have been left by Dawson. “Wow,” she said. “That wasn’t left by a random stranger as I heard reported in the news.”
“We don’t think so now.”
“That’s wonderful. Incredible, really. But...why didn’t Aiyana call us?”
“She planned to. She was just giving me a head start, didn’t want Dawson to get involved too soon and accidentally screw anything up—or do something he might regret.”
In other words, she’d still trusted Chief Thomas after Dawson had lost faith in him. “Thank you for following up on that lead. Ronny Booker killed the Reeds. I know he did, because it wasn’t Dawson—and no one else had any reason to hurt them. Booker was the only stranger around that night.”
“If it was Ronny, we’ll prove it.”
“Dawson hired a forensics specialist—”
“I know. If he finds anything, it will help, but I don’t think it’ll even be necessary.”
“I’m stunned,” she said as she sat back down. Dawson had tracked down his parents’ killer. He’d no longer have to live under the terrible suspicion that had plagued him since their murder. And Sly would go to prison even if they couldn’t prove he set the fire.
“Where is Sly now?” She’d paid little attention to what was happening with Sly once Chief Thomas stepped in. She’d been too worried about Dawson.
“They’re booking him at the county jail. He’ll be there until his trial. Then he’ll go to prison, like I said.”
She tried to imagine what the future might be like without him—and felt such hope and excitement. She’d be able to do whatever she wanted with her life with no thought as to how he’d react or whether he’d approve or let her. “I never want to see him again.”
“I don’t blame you. You won’t have to. He’s a cop. Any judge he gets is going to give him the longest sentence possible.”
The memory of Sly coming after her with that hatchet chilled Sadie to the bone. He’d shot Dawson and would’ve killed her if Chief Thomas hadn’t come charging in when he did. She and Dawson would both be dead. “He’s a monster,” she said.
“That’s another thing. Just before I left for the farm, as if what I’d already heard wasn’t enough, the bartender from The Blue Suede Shoe called to tell me how intimidating he’d behaved at the bar. I’m afraid he’s not the man I hired over a decade ago.”
Sadie didn’t get the chance to respond. The doctor had walked in. “Is there a Sadie Harris here?”
She stood up again. “Yes. I’m Sadie Harris.”
“Dawson is asking for you,” he said.
She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I had quite a time removing that bullet from his shoulder, but I managed, and because I managed, he should make a full recovery. He just needs to rest up.”
Sadie smiled in relief as she turned to Chief Thomas. “He’s going to be fine.”
Thomas returned her smile as he got to his feet. “I think he’s going to be even better than fine once you tell him the good news.”
“You’re not going to tell him?” she asked in surprise.
“No. I’ll leave that to you. I’m going home.”
She tried to return his coat, but he refused to take it.
“Bring it by the station tomorrow or the next day. There’s no rush.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that...that you were there tonight. We thought you...”
“I know what you thought.” His voice carried a trace of disappointment as he continued, “I didn’t want to show any doubt in my men, in case I was wrong. Something like this is...well, it’s so unfortunate, especially now, with the way people are feeling toward law enforcement.”
“You’re not all like Sly,” she said.
“I’m glad you realize that—and I’m happy it worked out as well as it did for you and Dawson.”
She put out her hand to shake with him. “It only worked out because you did your job. Thanks again.”