Without protest she swallowed the pills. Again, this compliant Naomi concerned him. It was so unnatural. Naomi was strong, tough, and independent. She didn’t let people tell her what to do.
“You're keeping something from me.” Naomi settled herself deeper into the couch cushions and drew the blanket up to her chin, but her eyes were sharp now.
Uttering a brief prayer of thanks for Naomi’s intuitiveness that saved him from having to broach the topic himself, he nodded. “I saw Jonathon and Allina when I went to get you coffee,” he began, squatting in front of her. “There was a murder at your favorite café. A waitress. Nicole Carmichael.” At the pain that flashed across Naomi’s face he wished for the first time in his life that he wasn't always so blunt, that he possessed at least a little tact.
“Nicole is dead?”
“Yes. I'm sorry.” He meant it but didn’t know how to show it. He wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy. He wasn't good in these sorts of emotionally charged situations. The tears brimming in Naomi’s beautiful brown eyes ate at his heart, but he kept his voice brisk. “Did you know her?”
“Not well,” Naomi whispered. “We would talk sometimes. She’s going through a bad divorce. She was scared of losing custody of her son. She was nice. I liked her. I offered to look into her soon-to-be ex-husband for her free of charge and see if I could find anything to help her get joint custody. That was all she wanted. She didn’t want to take her son from his father, she just wanted them to both be a part of raising him.”
That Naomi had offered to help the woman, a virtual stranger, free of charge didn’t surprise him. She would do and always had done anything she could to help someone else, including risking her life in the process.
“There’s more,” Naomi noted astutely.
“The killer left something behind.” Sam hesitated for a mere millisecond before just getting it over and done with and blurting it out, “A picture of you dressed as a ballerina when you were a little girl. On the back was a message. Claiming that if you don’t give yourself up to him, he will kill more people.”
Naomi just stared at him. Her pale face was a blank mask of shock. It was a lot for her to take in all in one day.
Leaning in closer, he raised a hand to her cheek but didn’t touch her. He didn’t like to touch her. It made him feel things he wasn't comfortable feeling. “Naomi? You okay?”
“He killed her because of me?”
Never one to sugarcoat things he nodded. “Yes. I'm sorry, Naomi.”
“Do you think it’s the same man who shot me?”
“I think it’s a logical conclusion. Have you remembered anything yet?”
“No.”
“For some reason this man wants you. He has a picture of you as a child, he has to know you. Do you have any idea who it could be?”
She gave a slight shake of her head. “No.”
Now it was his turn to sense a vibe. “You know something.”
Her eyes had gone glassy, and she looked like she needed to rest, but he wasn't done with her yet. He needed answers. It was the only way to keep her safe. “I know your head has to be killing you, but I need you with me right now. This is serious, Naomi. He’s threatened you and any number of other people. What do you know?”
She hesitated but then complied. “I've been getting letters.”
“What kind of letters?” he asked sharply.
“Kind of threatening ones.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I disregarded them. I thought they were just some stupid prank. I'm sorry, Sam. If I'd said something, Nicole would still be alive. It’s my fault.”
“No,” he said firmly. “It’s not your fault. Do you know who sent you the letters?”
“No.”
“Do you have them?”
“I threw them away. I didn’t take them seriously. I just thought it was some angry ex of a client or something. I didn’t realize it was someone so dangerous.”
“How long have you been getting them?”