“And the man who was staying in the apartment? Who is he and what did he have to say?” someone else wanted to know.
“Nothing there, either. He’s a distant cousin of Sanchez’s and had no knowledge about Dylan or what had happened to him. He’d just been happy to have a place to stay. Unlike Sanchez, who seemed genuine and sincere, the man struck me as having fewer scruples. We came down hard on him in interrogation, but he held up, as well.
“He, too, was afraid of the possible consequences,” Bigelow went on. “He was of no help, other than to corroborate Sanchez’s story, to the extent that he was aware of the facts. There was no reason to suspect he’d been involved in the abduction in any way,” he concluded. He got out of his chair and strode to a window.
“If you’re sure they’re not responsible, why can’t they lead us to the person or persons who did abduct Dylan?” Shannon knew she was probably out of line challenging those with higher rank and more seniority, but there had to be something that would help them identify the kidnapper.
“We had Sanchez work with a sketch artist to get a likeness of the woman who brought Dylan to her. We knew that unless she had a criminal record or is one of the people we’ve looked at, it wouldn’t help us much, and it didn’t. The effort didn’t produce anything worthwhile.”
“What about the boy? According to what you’ve said, he was in public places. Why didn’t he run or cry?” another SDPD officer asked.
“Victim Services has seen cases like this before,” Bigelow responded, but Shannon could tell that his patience was wearing thin. “We suspect Stockholm syndrome. Sanchez said that Dylan asked about his father, but she’d reassured him that he was away on business and would be back to get him soon—just as she’d been told by the woman who’d contacted her.”
All very strange and improbable, Shannon thought. “It makes no sense. I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”
“Nor have we,” Leary agreed. “We’ll keep at it, though, and we will find the person or persons responsible.”
They had no choice but to resume their efforts from a blank slate, Shannon realized. They had no viable leads.
The debrief was lengthy. After that, there was report writing, complicated by the fact that it had been a multijurisdictional effort, which meant more paperwork.
Shannon had sent a quick text to Sawyer when she’d left the conference room during a break, letting him know she wouldn’t be able to make it. She didn’t have a chance to check for messages again until well after ten.
She grinned at the picture he’d attached of Dylan sleeping peacefully in his bed, one arm securely around Joey, the thumb of his other hand in his mouth.
Her heart did a little skip when she read Sawyer’s message.
I’m eternally grateful to you.
We’re blessed that you came into our lives.
Will you have dinner with me next week?
She bit her lower lip as she typed the reply.
Yes!
CHAPTER NINE
SHANNON WAS EXCITED and nervous at the same time. She had a date with Sawyer!
She respected him for wanting to wait a week before leaving Dylan with his sister, but the passage of time had only added to her nervousness about the date.
At least she hoped it was a date, rather than a “thank you for returning my son to me” expression of gratitude. Whatever his feelings toward her, Shannon’s were becoming clearer to her now. She was attracted to Sawyer. More than attracted...
Well, for better or worse, it was a first step—and an important one—to discovering what, if anything, could be between them.
Although she was immensely glad that Sawyer had his son back, the cop in her couldn’t avoid a lingering sense of unease about the fact that they still didn’t know who’d abducted Dylan. But she kept her thoughts to herself. There was no point in worrying Sawyer, when his elation over having his son home safe and sound was obvious and so understandable. Besides, the SDPD and FBI continued to work cooperatively, and she was certain they’d get to the bottom of it soon.
At the moment, her primary concern was deciding what to wear for dinner with Sawyer.
She skimmed a hand along the clothes hanging in her closet, mostly jeans and khakis, with a variety of casual shirts and sweaters. The word tomboy echoed through her mind. She groaned. Once a tomboy, always a tomboy, she thought. She could count the number of dresses she owned on one hand. Then her gaze landed on a garment bag tucked away at the back of her closet.
“Wait a minute!” she exclaimed.
Darwin scrambled over to her, making her laugh. She scratched him behind the ears. “Everything’s okay. Go lie down.”
Darwin leaned against her for a final rub before trotting back to his bed.
Shannon took the bag into her room and placed it on the bed. Unzipping it, she pulled out a silver-blue silk pantsuit. When she’d been invited to Jessica Palmer’s Jack-and-Jill baby shower a couple of months ago—being new in the unit and wanting to make a good impression—she’d decided to splurge on an outfit. The pants were slim-fitting and hemmed to wear with high heels. The sleeveless tunic top showed off her arms—well-toned because she worked darn hard at it. A thick belt, a slightly darker shade of blue, cinched the top, highlighting her waist.
She clipped on pearl earrings and fastened a matching strand around her neck. She fingered the necklace and smiled. Her parents had given her the set for her twenty-fifth birthday. She slipped her feet into a pair of off-white stiletto pumps she’d worn only a couple of times, and hoped she wouldn’t break an ankle. Examining herself critically in the bathroom mirror, she had to admit she looked good, her slim shape appearing curvier than she usually gave herself credit for.
“How about that, Darwin?” she said, as she walked into the bedroom and smiled. “I can look girly when I want to.”
The dog tilted his head and made a noise that sounded very much like “huh.”
She chuckled as she let Darwin out. She’d just fed him when the doorbell rang. Taking a final glance in her hallway mirror, she quickly fluffed her hair, then opened the door.
Shannon knew as soon as she saw Sawyer standing in the doorway that all her primping had been worth it. He stood there, staring at her, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand. When he stepped toward her, he tripped on the door stoop.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just didn’t expect...wow!”
Before she could respond, Darwin rushed over to greet Sawyer, and he obliged by squatting down and rubbing the dog’s head. Standing up again, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a package of gourmet dog treats. “Is it okay for him to have these?” he asked. “I wanted to thank him for his part in bringing Dylan home.”
“Sure.” With a grin she couldn’t suppress, she looked meaningfully at the huge bunch of flowers in his hand. “And are those for him, too?”
“What? Oh...” He glanced down. “These?” He lifted the bouquet and presented it to her. “They’re for you. A small token of my appreciation.”
“They’re beautiful.” Raising them to her nose, she inhaled deeply. “They smell wonderful.” Emboldened, she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” She stood back from the doorway. “Come inside so I can put these in water and you can give Darwin a treat.”
“Great. Yeah.”
He seemed a little nervous, maybe uncertain, and that just added to Shannon’s giddiness.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked over her shoulder as she led him toward her kitchen.
“No, thanks. Nice place.”
“I like it, and it’s convenient for work. It’s on the small side, but it made it affordable for me. It has a good-size yard for Darwin, and I’ve been fixing it up gradually. How’s Dylan?” she asked as she got a vase from a bottom cupb
oard and filled it with water.
“Good. Good. I arranged for a therapist—a child-trauma specialist—to see him. I’ll tell you about it over dinner,” he said.
She looked up at him while she arranged the flowers in the vase, trying to gauge whether his comment was an indication that this dinner was more about Dylan than them. She’d know soon enough.
Putting the vase on the kitchen table, she stood back to admire the flowers. She didn’t consider herself the type of woman men bought flowers for. They were much more likely to take her to a ball game. She liked flowers, and was touched that Sawyer had thought to bring her some. Even if it was just to thank her.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Sawyer said, patting his jacket, then reaching into the inside pocket. He handed her an envelope with her name printed on it in blue crayon. She raised her eyebrows as she accepted it from him.
“Go ahead and open it,” he said with a wide smile.
She did, and pulled out a hand-drawn card, obviously made by Dylan. It showed an uncanny likeness of her and Darwin. On the bottom he’d drawn a big red heart and in bold, capital letters, his name.
“It was his idea,” Sawyer explained.
Shannon was touched by the thoughtful gesture. She propped the card up against the vase. “It’s beautiful,” she said to Sawyer. “Please thank Dylan for me.”
“I hope you’ll have a chance to thank him yourself,” he said, as he offered an ecstatic Darwin one more treat before sealing up the pack and placing it on the table, too.
Sawyer held the door for Shannon as she climbed into his Range Rover. His treatment added to her warm glow and made her feel special.
He hadn’t told her where they were going, and she turned to him in surprise when he pulled up in front of the restaurant.
“You’re taking me to La Petite France?” she asked with a small laugh.
“Is that a problem?”
“No. Just a little intimidating, since it’s one of the top restaurants in San Diego.”
Sawyer put the vehicle in Park. “Have you been here before?”
She laughed again. “No.”
“Well, then, mission accomplished,” he said with a grin. “I wanted something different.”
He got out and opened the door for her again, before she had a chance to do it herself. Passing his keys, along with a twenty-dollar bill, to the valet, he set one hand lightly on her lower back and guided her toward the entrance.
Unobtrusively, he passed another bill to the maître d’ and they were seated at an outside table next to the railing.
The waiter handed them menus, recited the specials and asked if they wanted a cocktail. They both declined. Instead, Sawyer asked for the wine list. After consulting Shannon, he ordered a bottle of 2006 Bourgogne Chardonnay.
Once their wine had been served and their orders taken, Sawyer raised his glass. “To you and how beautiful you are,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.
Shannon took a sip, then made her own toast. “And to Dylan being home.”
He touched his glass to hers again, but a shadow settled across his eyes.
“You said Dylan was okay,” she said with immediate concern.
“Oh, yes. But not unaffected.” He shook his head and stared out across the water. “How can a child not be affected by something like that?”
“I’m sorry...” Shannon murmured, feeling ineffectual. “You said he’s seeing a therapist.”
Sawyer exhaled. “Yeah. Outwardly, Dylan is behaving as if nothing happened. Much as he did after Jeannette disappeared. But he asks about ‘tía,’ the woman who was with him, and I can’t get him to let Joey—his stuffed kangaroo—out of his sight. Sometimes he rocks himself and he’s also started sucking his thumb again. Something he hasn’t done since he was nine months old.” Sawyer let out another long breath. “The therapist working with him says he wasn’t abused or mistreated, but she diagnosed him with Stockholm syndrome.” He glanced at Shannon.
She nodded. “That’s when a—” She was going to say “victim” but caught herself, realizing it would’ve been an insensitive way to refer to Dylan. “It’s when a person develops feelings of trust or affection toward a captor.”
“Yes. That’s why the therapist thinks the trauma might have long-term consequences.”
“I’m so very sorry.” There wasn’t anything else Shannon could say.
“On the plus side, she feels that getting Dylan treatment early will help. But look,” Sawyer said with a hesitant smile. “That’s not why we’re here. I wanted this to be a celebration. Yes, there are issues we’ll have to work through, but the outcome could’ve been a lot worse.”
Shannon thought of Charlie and had to agree, but kept her opinion to herself.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done. Especially bringing Dylan back to me. So let’s put that aside for now. I’d like to enjoy a meal with a fascinating, beautiful woman.”
The evening passed much too quickly. As they shared tiramisu and lingered over coffee, Shannon couldn’t remember enjoying a man’s company as much as she did Sawyer’s. It was as if she was getting to know him all over again. He’d been filled with fear, rage and angst while Dylan was missing. The anger was still there, but now she was discovering a lighthearted, humorous, intelligent man. He made the butterflies flutter in her belly just by smiling at her.
“Would you like to go for a walk along the water’s edge?” he asked once they were standing in front of the restaurant.
She was caught up in the romance of the evening and wasn’t ready to say good-night to him yet. “I’d like that very much,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t twist an ankle in her high heels.
He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. They strolled to the end of a pier and there, under the star-speckled sky and with the gentle breeze playing over her skin, he turned her to face him.
“You’re truly beautiful, Shannon. Inside and out.”
He slid his hand around her shoulder and up to the nape of her neck. Then he lowered his head.
With a sigh, she let her eyes close as his lips touched hers. The stars overhead paled in comparison to the brilliant lights that burst against her eyelids as she gave herself over to the sensation of Sawyer’s kiss.
The touch of his lips was light. Undemanding.
But it stirred feelings in her that endured long after the kiss had ended.
When she opened her eyes again, the tenderness in his and the warm smile on his lips set a thousand more butterflies aflutter in her stomach.
He brushed his fingers across her cheek, and placed another light kiss on her nearly healed abrasion. Then he took her hand in his as they strolled back to his vehicle.
At Shannon’s house, Sawyer walked her to the front door. “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he said. Framing her face with his palms, he kissed her again.
He waited until she was inside before getting into his SUV. She watched from the living room window as he backed out of her driveway.
She was falling for Sawyer Evans. With a giddy sense of joy, she thought she knew how he felt about her now. This hadn’t been a simple thank-you dinner. He was interested in her as more than a friend.
* * *
SAWYER PULLED INTO his garage and shut off the engine.
He thought back over his evening with Shannon. Who would’ve guessed he’d fall for a cop? He’d dealt with enough of them while he was assistant DA, but he’d never met one quite like Shannon. He’d grown closer and closer to her while Dylan was missing, but he’d believed it was only because she was a link to the police and the investigation to find his son. He’d rationalized that his emotions were overactive because of the turmoil he was feeling over Dylan.
It was more than that.
Yeah, he’d taken her out tonight t
o thank her for everything she’d done. Supporting him. Keeping him informed. Keeping him sane. And most important of all, bringing Dylan back home.
But tonight had proved something to him.
He had feelings for Shannon.
And that surprised him. What surprised him even more was that he’d wanted to kiss her.
He’d dated a few women since Jeannette’s disappearance, mostly at the urging of his family.
But none of them had stirred his emotions the way Shannon did. Nor had he expected anyone to do so.
Sawyer had met Jeannette in high school. She’d been his first and only love. She’d been his soul mate—something a lot of people never found in their lifetime. Her loss had left a void that he’d accepted would never be filled.
And yet, Shannon roused emotions deep inside him.
He hadn’t been able to resist touching her. Kissing her. Sure, he’d kissed her once before, but that was on the spur of the moment, part of the excitement of having Dylan back.
Tonight was different.
He rested his head against the back of the seat. He needed to pull himself together before he went inside or Meghan would see right through him.
And he wasn’t prepared to discuss his feelings for Shannon with her or anyone at this point.
Yes, he was drawn to Shannon, but his feelings for her came with guilt.
Over the three years Jeannette had been gone, he’d never really stopped thinking of himself as married. Three years after her disappearance, he still couldn’t bring himself to accept that she was dead.
Even though his feelings for Jeannette now seemed to be a mere shadow of what they’d once been, did his new feelings for another woman make him unfaithful to her?
And was it fair to Shannon if his heart, now and possibly forever, belonged to someone else?
Dejected, Sawyer removed his wallet from his pocket and took out the worn picture of Jeannette and him on their wedding day.