Witness in the Dark (Love Under Fire #1)(5)

“They sure can’t do anything if they don’t know.”

“What if he comes after you to shut you up?” Nikki whispered. She liked to joke around, but Sam could tell she was serious.

She swallowed as she thought it over. The whole scenario should have seemed preposterous. And it would have, if she hadn’t seen a woman murdered right in front of her.

“I have to do the right thing,” she said.

“The right thing for who?” Nikki demanded. “The girl who is already dead and can’t be hurt anymore? What about the right thing for you, Sam? What about the safe thing?”

“I have to go. I’ll call you tonight.” Sam didn’t want to get into an argument. Nikki was only trying to keep her safe. She knew that.

“I’ll stop by when you get off work. We’ll drink until you’ve forgotten all about this,” Nikki promised.

Sam didn’t think it was possible, but she was up for trying.

After hanging up, she took a deep, cleansing breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the police station, determined to help bring Heather Riddell’s killer to justice.

The station appeared different in the daylight. Less gloomy, but just as in need of fresh paint as the night before.

Detective Richards came out and greeted her with a small smile. He was probably close to the age her father would have been.

“Thanks for coming in again. Have a seat.” Richards gestured toward his office. She took the same seat she’d spent hours in the night before. The chair groaned when she sat, as if it remembered her.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Okay.” She was doing far better than Heather Riddell.

“Did you remember anything about the man?” He asked the big question.

Sam nodded, but said nothing else. Nikki’s warning played over and over in her head.

“Good. I have some pictures I want you to look at. I’ll get a sketch artist—”

She shook her head and cut him off. “I don’t need a mug book or a sketch artist. I know who he is.” Her voice didn’t sound near as confident as she wanted.

The detective’s eyebrows rose. “You do?”

“Yes. You know him, too.” She twisted her fingers as he waited, his brow now creasing. She opened her mouth to do the right thing. To tell the truth. Her whole life, she’d been told that things would always get worse if she lied about them.

She heard Nikki’s voice in her head. What if he comes after you to shut you up? It was a valid question, but the answer still came back the same.

She had to tell the truth.





Chapter Four


“It was Congressman Ashton Howe,” Sam said clearly, so there would be no confusion. She was sure of her answer, even when the detective frowned and looked up at the stained ceiling.

“Congressman Howe?” he repeated.

She nodded.

“Last night you said you didn’t remember his face. Certainly, you would have recognized him then.”

“I didn’t realize it was him until I saw his picture on the side of a bus on the way home. Then I put it together.”

Richards pressed his lips into a tight line and laced his fingers together on top of his desk. “It’s not uncommon to see someone in the same clothing, and put their face into the slot your mind is trying to fill,” he said softly. “You saw a man in a suit. Then you saw Congressman Howe, and it fit.”

It made sense, but she knew it hadn’t happened like that. “No. It fit because it was him. I’m sure of it.”

“You’re sure of it? Last night, you couldn’t even remember his hair color.”

“You told me to go home and relax so it would come to me. It did. It’s him. I’m certain.”

“Okay. Calm down.”

She hadn’t realized she’d leaned over his desk and was halfway out of her seat. She backed off.

“Let me check on a few things,” he said. “Stay here.”

He walked to the first desk outside his office and leaned down to talk to a lady in a sweater that was too tight. The woman nodded and picked up the phone on her desk.

The detective continued down the line of desks and stopped at a cubicle near the back wall. He gestured while he talked, and then left, disappearing into another room.

He returned to his office and set a cup in front of her. “Coffee?” He dropped a pile of creamers and sugar packets on the desk. She picked up the cup and sipped it black. He seemed to approve of her choice.

“So, the girl last night—”

“Heather Riddell,” Sam said in a shaky voice.

“Yes. Heather.” He set his cup down. “She was a twenty-six-year-old paralegal and a single mother. She dropped her son off with her mother and went to meet this man last night.” He pulled a photo from a manila folder. “She was introduced to him through an online dating site. His name is Kenneth Holden. Does he look familiar?”

Other than the fact he resembled the congressman, he didn’t look familiar. Her stomach felt a little queasy. She shook her head. “No.”

“We went to Holden’s house to talk to him. It doesn’t look like he came home last night, nor did he show up at work today. He’s in the wind.”