Sam and Jim shook Mr. Miller's hand and said their goodbyes, promising the distraught father they would do everything they could to find his daughter, a promise unlike the one he overheard Stella make to Mrs. Miller when he went to check on their progress.
One of the first lessons Sam learned in law enforcement was to never make promises he couldn't keep. Surely, he thought, this was a universal rule.
He had no doubt Stella, with every fiber in her being, believed the promise she had made to Katherine's mom but the longer time passed, the greater the likelihood her promise would lead to a possibly horrifying outcome.
There was no in-between for cases like this.
Sam and Stella joined Jim outside. He was pacing back and forth in front of the black SUV with an intense look on his face. A uniformed police officer approached them when they arrived and asked Sam if they needed anything before leaving.
Sam instructed the young patrolman to finish collecting the parents' statements and file their report as soon as they made it back to the station. Paperwork could take hours and Sam wanted to get everything in the system as quickly as possible.
"What's the next course of action, Sam?" Jim inquired. His question was aimed at Sam, but his attention was on Stella.
"We need to mobilize. I'm gonna give Ed a call," Sam answered.
Jim nodded. "I agree. Excuse me; I need to make a phone call as well." He marched off, but not before turning to glance in Stella's direction once more. Sam wondered who Jim was calling and an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach.
Stella, immersed in her own world, didn't take notice of Jim's side eye; instead, she walked over toward Sam, tugged on his elbow, and pulled him into her. She was all business; it was a quality he admired about her when they were working.
"We need to visit the last hardware store," she said.
Sam noticed something different in Stella, something he hadn't noticed before. She appeared worried but focused, which was probably a result of her desire to keep her promise.
"Give me a minute. I promise we will move on this as soon as possible," he said as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Stella nodded and took a step away from him, pulling out her notebook to review what she had written down throughout the day.
Over the years, Sam had developed a good working relationship with Ed. He knew that while Ed, even on a good day, was cranky and impatient, he was fair and trusted Sam to get the job done.
"I know, Ed, I know," Sam said into the phone after listening to Ed rant over the difficulties of organizing such a large-scale search. He shifted his body weight and leaned against the SUV, sighing away from the phone. Stella must have heard his loud, audible breath because she turned her gaze and her attention toward him, shielding her eyes from the setting sun.
Her brow furrowed, and her eyes posed an unspoken question. Sam continued talking to Ed while nodding reassuringly to Stella. He didn't want her to worry, so he put Ed on speaker, giving her the ability to hear the conversation.
"For fuck's sake, that is seven hundred thousand acres of forest land, Sam. I need you to narrow down your area of concern," Ed exclaimed, raising his voice an octave. Stella lifted an eyebrow but kept her focus on Sam.
"I agree."
"Well, shit. I'm glad you agree. I've done my part, now go do yours and make it happen." And with that, Ed put an end to their conversation.
Sam returned his cell phone to his pocket. He knew Ed was right. The difficult task of narrowing down the search area, coupled with the decreased likelihood of finding a victim alive past the first forty-eight hours, was weighing heavily on him. He rubbed his temples before loosening his tie and pulling it through his collar. Moments later, Jim rejoined Sam and Stella.
The unusual California heat and Jim's presence left Sam with a tension headache. It was in moments like this that his sobriety was tested. He took a few deep breaths (the kind he learned in mandatory therapy) and then went into facilitator mode.
"We need to narrow our search area; the forest is too large, and we don't have enough manpower," Sam exclaimed; he continued, "Ed already reached out to Forest Services and they have started a mandatory evacuation of the westside province."
Jim nodded in agreement before adding, "Yes, I think that is prudent."
Stella caught Sam's attention as he turned to face her. She had her hands on her hips and a determined expression on her face. He paused for a moment in anticipation for Stella to speak. When she remained quiet, he continued, "I'll take you both back to the hotel tonight. In the morning, Stella and I will go to the hardware store."
Sam turned toward Jim and said, "I'll send for a police cruiser to pick you up in the morning and bring you to the police station. I need you to work with the task force and set up checkpoints throughout the forest," Sam said, not giving Jim a chance to object. "The very least we can do until we narrow our search is to see who is coming and going from the park's east and west entrances."
"All right then," Jim said hesitantly.
"Good, it is settled," Stella said, walking past both men toward the SUV and climbing into the passenger seat. Seconds later, Jim and Sam followed her lead.
When they arrived back at the hotel, Sam pulled into valet parking and waited for the attendant, while Jim and Stella exited the vehicle.
Stella had texted Sam earlier in the day to let him know she wanted to go over some details about the case with him once they arrived at the hotel. She hadn't brought it up since she sent the text, so he was riding on the assumption she still wanted to meet.
At least he had hoped she still did.
Jim took note of the tall detective as soon as he met him. It was apparent to him that Stella had settled into a comfortable working relationship with Sam. Their ease with each other was bothersome to Jim.
"Are you coming?" Jim said to Stella as they both stood by the hotel entrance.
He hadn't had the opportunity to have much interaction with her since he had arrived in town, but Jim was hanging on to hope that he would be able to connect with his old colleague (his insecurity told him she was ignoring him).
"No. Not this minute," she said flatly. Stella didn't look at him when she responded but kept her eyes on Sam, who was still in the car.
Jim huffed, and before he could respond, she left him and walked over to the driver's side.
Flustered and miffed at her lack of acknowledgment, he turned around and headed into the hotel.
On his way toward the elevators, Jim noticed the restaurant and bar to his left. He was jet-lagged and increasingly annoyed at the situation he found himself in, and he concluded a quick drink or two would be justified. Plus, the bar had a good view of the lobby.
He was curious about why Stella was waiting for Sam. It could be about the case; if so, he was irked that she didn't include him. But in his mind, he suspected Stella had mixed business with pleasure once again.
He grew angry at the notion. Angry that Stella would jeopardize the case for a piece of ass, but angrier still that it wasn't his ass she desired. Of course, he didn't dare call her out. Sitting down at the bar, he raised a finger at the bartender.
"Barman, I'll take a whisky neat."
Sam and Stella waited in silence while the attendant was busy with another guest's car.
"I want you to stay with me tonight," Stella said stoically, breaking the silence, her gaze fixed on Sam.
At first glance, it would be easy to dismiss Stella's stare as cold or detached. But he knew better. Stella Gibson's complexities extended far beyond simple assumptions based on glances and facial expressions.
Sam stepped out of the vehicle and into her space. He lowered his head and placed his hands on his hips.
"Hmhmm, is that so?"
Stella took a shift back, her eyes still locked on him. She saw through him in a way he hadn't been accustomed to.
"Okay, Stell, let me grab my overnight bag from the car, and I will meet you upstairs."
"Very well, my room number is 505."
Stella turned around and headed toward the entrance, disappearing into the hotel.
Sam went around the SUV and grabbed his overnight bag. He always kept a spare change of clothes and toiletries in case of an emergency. This wasn't exactly what he would call an emergency, but he'd make an exception for Stella, something he had been doing considerably more of lately.
"Good evening, detective," the attendant said once he reached Sam, interrupting his thoughts.
Sam threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and said, "Keys are in the car, and thanks." The attendant nodded, pushed some buttons on his computer, and gave Sam a small white ticket.
As he moved through the lobby, he caught a glimpse of Jim at the bar. Their eyes met for a brief, tense moment before the elevator lobby wall shielded him from Jim's further glances.
Once inside the elevator, his thoughts rested briefly on Jim. Sam still considered him a wild card, and while their eye contact was brief, he wasn't sure if Jim would make a fuss about his visit to Stella's room. He would deal with it in the morning, he reasoned, not wanting to waste any more mental energy on Jim Burns.
He exited the elevator and, after a brief pause, knocked twice on the door of Stella's room. She opened the door and smiled, moving out of the way so he could step inside.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey, yourself," she chimed back.
Stella had already kicked off her shoes and untucked her blouse by the time he entered the room. Sam never developed a strong preference for the types of women he dated, leading to some questionable decisions in the past, which his therapist attributed to "hero syndrome." But with Stella, he didn't have to save her or fix her. She was an equal. He had never met a woman like her.
He flashed a grin at her, and she returned the gesture.
"Put your duffle in the closet and get comfortable," she instructed him, waving her arm toward the mirrored doors.
He sighed as he went through his nightly routine; removing his gun and holster, he placed it on the bedside table, noticing that Stella had done the same.
She sat on the bed, and he sat beside her. Both stared at the black screen of the TV, their reflections staring back at them.
"I'm knackered, Sam, but I need some relief, and I was hoping you would, too."
"It was a big day. No matter how long we do this. Days like this never get easier," Sam said.
An affirmative groan escaped Stella's mouth. "The more reason we need this," she said, turning her body toward him.
Stella slowly unbuttoned her blouse; her eyes focused on Sam as her fingers gently traveled down the silk fabric. She let out a tired sigh and leaned her head against his shoulder. He knew the burdens she carried because he carried them, too.
He raised his hand and brushed her hair away from her neck, massaging the tight knots that had taken up space in her upper shoulders.
Her ample breasts were exposed between the openings of her unbuttoned shirt. She was exquisite, and unlike their last encounter, this time he could take his time and fully appreciate the beauty that was Stella Gibson.
His hand dropped from her shoulder as she stood and faced him. Stella's face carried a more relaxed expression, a far cry from the normal poker face he had become accustomed to during working hours. Sam wondered if she might be dropping her guard, but he wasn't yet ready to commit to the notion.
Stella slowly leaned forward and placed a hand on the nape of his neck. Her scent lingered between them, stimulating Sam's senses. His hands instinctively reached for her hips as he spread his legs, pulling her into the space between his thighs. She hummed as his fingers palmed her flesh. The distance between them was razor-thin now, and Sam could feel her hot breath against his cheek, sending chills up his spine and warmth toward his groin.
"This is nice," she whispered into his ear.
Her verbal approval only made Sam want her more, and he slowly moved his hands under her silk blouse. Stella shivered at his touch. Her skin was soft, and his hands explored every inch of her smooth torso, stopping just shy of her bra. He ran his fingers along the bumpy material; he'd taken enough bras off in his lifetime to recognize what he felt as lace, which just happened to drive Sam nuts, especially since Stella was the one wearing it.
Her breath hitched at the new placement of his hands, and she leaned into him, resting her forehead between his shoulder and neck. Stella tugged Sam's dress shirt free from his pants. She carefully and slowly slipped each button through its respective hole, no doubt in an effort to drive him wild. When she was done, she pulled his shirt from his arms while she simultaneously licked his neck.
"Fuck, Stella. You drive me crazy," Sam said, surprising himself at the gruffness in his voice.
His admission was out of character, but since he'd been around Stella, there were a few things he'd done that weren't normal—Stella was certainly a high-risk-reward gamble, but she was worth it.
Sam's hands moved freely to the back of her bra, quickly unclasping it and tossing it to the floor. Her breasts spilled out in front of him.
"You are gorgeous," he told her—another unplanned confession. Stella returned a playful smile in response, and he wondered if she was aware of how beautiful she truly was.
Her skirt bunched up at her waist as she secured herself to his lap, and her arms easily cradled his neck. Sam cupped her breasts with his hands and buried his face between her chest, kissing his way up her neck.
Stella moaned, rocking her hips in his lap as he peppered her with kisses.
Her chin.
Stella rocked.
Her cheek.
Stella rocked.
Her lips.
Stella rocked.
Sam's kiss was firm on her lips, and she responded by parting her mouth to him, giving his tongue unadulterated access to explore the inside of her mouth. His hands squeezed her backside as their lips tangled and mashed in an impassioned frenzy.
He didn't want to take his mouth away from her. Every kiss and every taste only intensified his need for her— every part of her.
His hands moved from her breasts, around her body, and down her spine, stopping at the top of her skirt. He found the clasp and zipper and easily moved the zipper down, leaving the fabric loose at her hips.
Sam felt the lacy top of her thong underwear. He pulled the thin strap between his thumb and pointer, and Stella gasped at the sensation caused between her legs. He followed the string toward the front and found her wet center. She felt so good, warm, and soft. Stella bucked as he playfully explored her body.
She nibbled at his earlobe. "Sam, take control." She told him.
She stood, and her skirt fell to the ground. Sam moved her black lacy thong to one side, revealing her neatly trimmed center. He pushed her gently away from him with one hand as his other hand held her wrist firmly, her naked body before him.
Sam dropped to his knees in front of her, and Stella moaned, his name escaping her mouth. He moved his head and kissed the top of her mons. Her fragrant, musky odor consumed him as he inhaled every inch of her silky box.
To his delight, Stella lifted her leg and rested her knee on his shoulder, giving Sam better access. Her legs bucked as he sucked and nibbled between her swollen folds. Stella's fingers frantically ran through his hair, holding him tightly as he worked her over.
He grabbed the back of her ass for leverage as his tongue tasted every inch of her, delighting in her wetness. He intensified his rhythm—his mouth explored and licked every inch of her soft, ripe center, sending shockwaves to his dick.
Stella moaned, and her body tightened—she came in waves, screaming his name as he ate her glorious English pussy out.
He'd made her come with ease; she needed him, and there he was, on his knees, pleasuring her unselfishly. It was more than carnal desire; something else settled between them. She wasn't ready to speak or name it, but it was different this time.
Sam stood, grinning down at her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but his grin still remained.
"Ah, you liked that, did you?" Her body was still euphoric from her orgasm.
Sam returned a soft, unassuming chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. Stella noticed a tiny shade of pink filling his cheeks. Her defenses lowered toward the man standing before her. There was nothing meek about Sam; he was strong and knew what he wanted, but something about him made Stella feel safe to be herself.
That, and he did just give her a glorious orgasm.
"Evidently, not as much as you did," he said.
Stella smiled coyly and reached for his pants. But before she could finish, he grabbed her face in his hands and bent down, bringing his full lips to hers. Stella gladly granted his tongue access once again. He tasted like her, and she only wanted more of him.
Her hands found his pants again, and she quickly unbuttoned them, sliding them down along with his boxers, allowing them to fall to the floor and free his very pronounced erection.
Sam returned the favor by removing her thongs, after which he lifted her by her buttocks, her legs easily wrapping around his waist.
They really did make a good team, she thought to herself, smirking at her private revelation.
Sam returned a puzzled look, and she pressed her lips against his. He muttered her name as she sucked his pouty bottom lip between her teeth.
He carried her to the chair, sitting as she straddled his lean, naked waist—his erection pressed against the inside of her thigh. Stella inhaled his kiss one more time before pulling away, taking his bottom lip with her. He winced.
"I don't have anything with me," he said.
"I do," Stella said with a grin across her face. Sam hummed into her neck, kissing it gently.
Stella stood and walked toward the bathroom, instantly missing his touch. She returned seconds later with a condom in her hand. Sam stroked himself while he watched her walk toward him. Her hips swayed side to side, and when she reached her destination, she moved Sam's hand and placed the condom along the length of his shaft.
She hurriedly took her place on Sam's lap, moving squarely over his length. The desire to have him inside her fueled her every move. Chills traveled up her spine, and Sam hissed as she slid down the entirety of his well-endowed erection.
He felt so good inside her.
He grabbed her ass, guiding her up and down slowly at first, controlling each thrust with perfect attention. She was transfixed by his lean and muscular body, and she watched as his arms tensed with each up-and-down motion. Her senses fired on all cylinders as he continued to move her with ease, increasing the pace more and more with every pump.
How this man managed to captivate her so easily left her feeling dizzy. She'd had plenty of sexual encounters, but this was exceptional.
"I won't come unless you go first," he told her, and Stella, in response, moved quicker, her hands resting at his neck. Her breasts bounced at each thrust, and her back arched as she felt her insides tingle and tighten around Sam's perfect manhood.
She was at her edge. Their breath echoed the movement that their bodies had so effortlessly become entangled in.
She grabbed the back of the chair and braced herself as she worked faster and deeper. Sam's hands still holding on, guiding and supporting her. His eyes closed, and a look of concentration settled on his face.
"I'm close," she said between labored breaths. Deeper still , her legs tightened around him, and her belly burned with fire as she continued to ride him. She was on her throne, grinding the stress and frustrations of the day away. She moved her hands to his shoulders, and her fingers dug into his flesh. Sam bit his bottom lip, wincing in response. Euphoria was about to consume her; she felt every fiber in her body ignite as she rode Sam, and he chased her to the edge, coming inside her.
"Fuck," he said breathlessly.
Stella smiled at his expletive, then sealed his words in with a wet, sloppy kiss. He was still inside her, and the sensation was maddening, but she wasn't satisfied; she slowly moved in a circular motion around his dick.
Sam winced at the oversensitivity.
"Stell," he murmured.
"One more, please, Sam," she pleaded in his ear as she slowly rocked her body on top of his.
Sam smiled, and she pressed her lips against his neck. Stella was tingling again. It was painfully good. The aftershocks mixed with new waves of desire.
He removed one hand from her ass and placed it at her opening. He pulled out and put his hand on her mons, moving his fingers over her swollen folds. Stella gasped at the sensation taking over her body. She moved in a circular motion up and down over his hand, then Sam, making a fist, slid his hand inside her. Stella whined at the delightful pain, moving over and over as he gently held her backside and let her rock over his fist. His strong grip guided her and held her as she continued to work herself into another frenzy.
He moved his thumb against her g-spot, and Stella felt the familiar tingle, signaling her to move faster. Her body, now on overload, shook as she once again moved past her edge, delightfully coming all over Sam's hand. Her body collapsing with exhaustion over him.
Sam, breathing heavily, carefully and slowly removed his hand from her warm, soft center. Stella was in an Oxytocin stupor, and Sam gently brushed her sweat-matted hair from her forehead.
"Let's get you to bed," he whispered into her ear, and Sam gently stood up, taking her still-shaking limp body with him.
He placed her on the bed, untucked the covers, moved her underneath, and then fetched her some water from the minibar fridge. He held the bottle of water at her lips, as she took several sips before she waved, signaling that she was done. He returned the bottle to the fridge, then joined her in bed, and Stella pressed her body against his.
"Thank you," she said, quickly falling asleep in his strong arms.
"People shouldn't be alone in the forest; it's unsafe," the stranger said.
Stella shivered. The room was frigid and poorly lit. "Why? Why shouldn't people be alone in the forest?" she asked him.
His cold eyes burrowed into her soul. This time, her shivers were not from the temperature in the room but an involuntary reaction to the man's blank stare. But she couldn't make his face out; the room was too dark. It frustrated her. Why couldn't she see him?
Stella got up to leave, but the stranger leapt forward before she could stand, reaching for Stella's hand.
Not again.
Panic took over; try as she might, she couldn't break free.
"Guard! Guard!" She yelled. But no answer. The more she struggled, the more he tightened his grip. She couldn't breathe. He was on top of her now, his hands at her throat, tightening around her windpipe.
Not again.
"Please help me! Please!" she yelled.
"Stella, Stell, wake up. Stell," his voice was firm but calming.
Sam.
It was Sam's voice she heard. Stella gasped for air, and when her eyes opened, she was sitting up in bed. Sam was by her side, assuring her she was safe.
A nightmare.
Stella's hands were clammy, and sweat beaded around her forehead and lips.
Hey, are you okay?" He said, as he softly rubbed Stella's back.
"Yes. I'm fine," she said, holding back tears. She gripped the sheets as she evened her breathing. She wasn't okay, of course, but her default was to protect herself.
Don't let anyone in.
She knew Sam wasn't buying it. But he was patient with her. She knew that about him.
"Here, drink this," he said, as he once again fetched her a cold bottled water from the mini fridge.
"Thanks," she said breathily.
He crawled back into bed beside her. Stella took several sips of water and placed the half-empty bottle on the nightstand, then she opened the small drawer and pulled out her dream journal and pen.
She took a deep breath and recalled her nightmare, writing down every detail before forgetting. When she finished she returned the notebook back into the drawer, pushing it shut.
"Come here," Sam said, lying on his side with the covers open to receive her. She didn't say a word but easily slid into his body, her back against his muscular torso. Sam tightly wrapped the covers and his arms around her, and she intertwined her legs with his.
"You want to talk about it?" he whispered.
"No."
She pulled his arms in closer, and Sam gently kissed her neck.
"Okay, I'm here when you're ready," he said.
Stella shut her eyes. Willing herself back to sleep.
It was two am and last call was thirty minutes ago. The hotel bar had thinned out and Jim asked the bartender to close his tab. He'd watched the lobby all night. Sam never left the hotel, and Jim knew what that meant. He tipped the bartender and made his way up to his room. While waiting for the elevator, he thought about his next move and what implications this might have for their case.
He'd have to process it more in the morning. He was too drunk and tired to care anymore.