A/N: Hopefully adding images will stop all my spam emails about art work. If not, then, I am sorry that you have to see how limited I am with the free version of Canva. I own nothing but the mistakes that were made. Yes this has Samcedes in it and a cliffhanger...

Nineteen

Deputy McCarthy responded to a call about a woman stopping

at mailboxes and going through everyone's mail.

Upon further investigation, it was only the mail carrier delivering it.

—LIMA CITY POLICE BLOTTER

Cedes was supposed to drop Hunter off at work with the promise of meeting him at the Caswell home later, but not before she tore him a new hole.

"Really Hunter Clarington?" she asked as they were leaving the house. "You let those students interview you about me?"

He flushed. "You know how crafty journalists are. They tricked me."

"They're high school freshmen students and not investigative journalists."

"Their parents are the epitome of evil, and they say the apple doesn't fall from the tree." After a minute, he said, "I am so sorry for everything, Mercy."

She wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed. "I know you are. What did these so called evil offspring tell you to convince you to answer questions about me?"

"They said they were interviewing me for a 'Getting to Know Our Community Leaders' series for their school's morning news program, and that as the first female sheriff of Lima Springs county, that they would be honored to feature you first."

"And you fell for that?"

"Hook, line, and sinker."

She allowed him to hug her as they said goodbye, and then she left him on the street and made him walk the rest of the way to the sheriff's office in the snow. He deserved some type of punishment because she had almost blacked out when she'd seen him in the video.

With him told off and out of her hair, she was able to go on a mission, and after making some calls, she found herself at the Menkins home early that afternoon. She didn't know what to expect. If there would be family with them or if word had yet to get out about their uncle Sandy's death.

Cedes was more than a little shocked to find Stacey at home. She had left the hospital to gather some things for Stevie to have in his hospital room. He had received a clean bill of health. They'd feared frostbite and hypothermia, but somehow the kid managed to keep all his fingers and toes, a fact Cedes found astonishing. But they were keeping him overnight for observation only.

She knocked on the door to the main house.

Stacey opened it and almost attacked her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to see your brother. Is he here?"

She looked around and then smiled at Cedes. They kept their distance while talking softly, but Stacey broke the rules and said, "Thank you so much for everything you did today, Mercedes."

"Sweetheart, Sam found him. I didn't do a thing. Your brother is simply amazing."

"I know. He's asleep now, but you can go up and tell him that."

Cedes took a step back. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly disturb his rest. He needs as much sleep as he can get."

Stacey pressed their luck further by grabbing her arm. "Don't be a chicken."

"Stacey, if someone sees or hears you being nice to me, it could get back to your Uncle Cooter."

"I know."

"Is Stevie really going to be okay?"

"Yes, thank God. Now go talk to my brother . . . bitch. But he'll never tell you a thing."

Cedes realized someone must have walked up. She turned to see another of the Menkins uncles, the one they were investigating, come onto the porch. Cooter stood behind her, looking her up and down.

Like most of the Menkins clan, Cooter looked like a six-foot hillbilly. In her experience of hillbillies, they had an inbred look to them like they had married two many close cousins, and their genes was harmed. Most of them had dishwater balding blond hair, thin mouths, and a pale sickly skin color.

Cedes knew Sam had a different father from his sister, but she was beginning to wonder if Stacey was a true Menkins as well. Either the inbred Menkins look skipped the women in the family, or she was just as illegitimate as Sam. Neither of them had that je ne sais quoi of white supremacy that the rest of the clan enjoyed.

"You'd better git if you're going because my uncle will kick your fat black ass off this land if you outstay your welcome," Stacey said.

"I will interview Sam and leave. Thank you so much for your hospitality Ms. Menkins." Cedes said as she walked past her and up the stairs.

"It's the second door on your left, Wheezy."

"No, need to rush up there on my account. I don't mind you being here if you came here to see a real man who knows what to do in the bedroom," Cooter said, smacking his lips as he checked her out. "Because if that's the case, you don't need to follow her directions because my room is downstairs. Third door on the right."

Cedes ignored him and went towards the stairs as quickly as she could. It didn't take her long to open the second door on the left without bothering to knock on the door. Sam would just have to be mad at her because she was not about to endure Cooter Menkins looking at her any longer than she had to. That man gave her the heebeegeebees.

Entering into the dark room, Cedes' eyes had to adjust the darkness. Sam had blackout curtains and all his lights were out. She could understand why. He had to be exhausted when he finally made it home. She felt a little guilty about having to wake him up. He needed to rest uninterrupted for the two days he had been searching for his nephew.

She took her phone and turned on the flashlight, but made sure to angle the beam of light down toward the floor. He didn't need to be blinded on top of everything else.

"Sam?" she whispered, tiptoeing into the room. She didn't want to wake him, but if he just happened to be awake, she wanted to thank him.

Right? Wasn't that what she wanted?

To be honest, she wasn't sure how she felt about him saving her daughter's life and not telling her. The state of her daughter's well-being hung in the balance and he'd kept it to himself?

She heard soft breathing coming from deep inside the humongous room and followed the sound. The whole area smelled like Irish Spring or Dial soap and sandalwood. He'd probably taken a steaming-hot shower to warm up after he had eaten something, then gone straight to bed.

His bed. In his room. And she was in it. The closer she got, the faster her heart was beating. He'd saved her daughter's life, and she'd treated him like a leper whenever she saw him in town?

Then again, she didn't treat him any differently from how he'd treated her all these years. In fact, he was much worse. Like he'd had a vendetta against her. Like she'd wronged him in some way.

She thought back. Could he be angry with her about Gina? Maybe he'd thought she was somehow responsible for her daughter's depression and attempting suicide. He probably thought she was a bad mother.

By the time she got to his bed, her heart was beating so fast she feared she was having another a panic attack. Sam was lying on a massive bed, a thick blanket covering the lower half of his body. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, covering his upper body. She could see every muscle, his six pack, and those amazing arms and hands.

For her sanity, she had to focus the light of her phone on the floor to help her see just enough, so she get closer to the bed without tripping on something, like the boots and pair of jeans that were on his bedroom floor. She stepped over them and took in the glorious image before her.

Except for the soft rise and fall of his lean stomach, he was a marble statue. One her fingers itched to touch. How could they not?

A large capable hand with long fingers rested on his side. A muscular arm led up to powerful shoulders, a wide chest, a strong neck, and open eyes.

She started and jumped back in fear. "What the hell are you doing? Why are you awake?"

"Because I have an intruder in my bedroom interrupting my rest." His voice sounded thick and sleepy, and guilt washed over her.

"You most certainly do not have an intruder. I am a guest. Your sister sent me up here. How else would I know this was your bedroom?"

"Stacey has the strangest sense of humor." He had an arm lying across his forehead. He lowered it to cover his eyes and said, "Get in bed with me, Em."

"What? No. I just . . . I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me for what?"

She stepped closer to him, feeling a bit like a virgin, Beauty stepping closer to her womanizer, Beast. "For what you did almost seven years ago."

"And what did I do almost seven years ago that would ingratiate the impenetrable Mercedes Porter?"

"You saved my daughter's life by convincing her to not commit suicide." Despite all effort, her voice cracked with emotion.

He raised his arm and looked at her from beneath his eyelashes. "She finally told you about that?"

"Did you ask her to not tell me about what you did?" she asked.

"Why would I ask her to do that?"

Frustrated, she sank down on the side of his bed. Even the thought of Gina contemplating suicide caused her knees to melt. The knowledge that her baby girl was in so much pain, that she was in such a dark place, stole Cedes' breath away. "Did you know when you rushed up to her with Stevie what her plans were?"

After a loud sigh, he turned onto his side to face her, then crooked an arm to use as a pillow. "Of course I did, she looked like somebody who was ready to jump off a cliff, literally."

She was still hurt about that fact. "You should have told me as soon as you convinced her not to."

"Talk to you just like you talk to me. You never tell me anything, Em."

"What?" She studied his face but couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "What would I tall to you about?" Now, she could tell he was definitely serious. In fact, the term lethally serious came to mind.

He'd stared at her, and his green eyes glistened with an emotion startlingly similar to rage. But when he spoke, his voice was dangerously calm and collected. "Are you playing games with me right now?"

She twisted around to better stare back at him. "Are you playing games with me?"

He continued to stare as though weighing his options.

She continued to stare, definitely weighing her options. After a moment, one of them would have to end the stalemate. He'd saved her daughter's life. He could be angry and grumpy and surly all he wanted. He could argue and belittle and look down upon her until the stars burned out. Bottom line, Sam Menkins saved Gina's life.

Without thinking, she put a hand on his jaw, bent over him, and placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

She was surprised that he let her, and when she righted herself, he asked, "What was that kiss for?"

"It's a thank you for saving my daughter's life."

"Then, please feel free to thank the rest of me, too. It was a group effort not just involving my head. It took every body part that I had to rescue Gee."

Her stomach dropped. In its defense, she'd had a difficult day. "You need to sleep more than you need kissing."

"You're just scared. Are you still a chicken?"

She seethed. "No, I am not a chicken. You know what? You're delusional from being out in the cold for two days and almost freezing to death."

"I was in no danger of freezing to death."

"Well, you're dreaming right now because you are so tired that it feels like a lucid dream."

"Em, if this were a dream, you'd be under me buck naked."

"This is all in your deranged imagination."

"The only person in here deranged is you, especially, if you think I'm going to forget you on my bed and your amazing lips on the corner of my mouth."

If she listened to him any longer, she would put her lips back on him, so Cedes stood and headed to the door, but she hadn't expected him to throw back the covers and follow her. She hadn't expected him to brace a hand against the door and hold it closed when she tried to open it. And she certainly hadn't expected him to press his long, hard body into hers. To wrap his strong arms around her from behind. To set her skin on fire with his proximity.

Him behind her with his arms on her was everything she'd ever craved. Every teenaged girl fantasy. Every horny thought. All wrapped up into one, magnetic person.

He bent his head all the way down until his mouth was at her ear. His warm breath brushed across her cheek when he spoke, but it was his words that caused the molten lava to pool in her nether region.

"The next time you come into this room and sit on that bed, you need to plan on staying long enough until we are both completely satisfied."

Then he took hold of the doorknob and opened the door for her. A door she couldn't get out of fast enough.

She hurried back down the stairs, every centimeter he'd touched on her skin was burning. Every molecule in her body was demanding that she go back to his arms.

When she looked up from the bottom of the stairs, his bedroom door was already closed. She took a deep breath and fanned her hot face just as a hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

The person whirled her to face its owner, Cooter Menkins, and the smirk he wore only further cemented her very low opinion of the man.

"Looks like you and the half Injun had fun."

She gave him her meanest glare, then dropped her eyes to the fingers wrapped around her upper arm before raising it back to him.

He let go and showed his palms in surrender. "Cold as a block of ice, you are."

Without answering him—any form of acknowledgment would only encourage him to talk more—she walked to the front door and opened it. The wind splashed an icy gust on her face, but it felt good. It was what she needed. A metaphorical slap to snap her out of her fantasy world.

Because Mercedes Porter and Sam Menkins?

Never in this lifetime. She would always be the one saying goodbye to him and Lima Springs. That was their destiny.

Gina took a short nap, something she'd loathed doing since she was a kid almost as much as she'd detested ketchup on fries, she preferred honey mustard, malt vinegar, or even ranch dressing. She was beginning to change her stance on both practices, especially when she mixed the ketchup with mayo and hot sauce, a practice which her mother found disgusting.

She did feel better after her nap. A little sluggish, maybe. A little sad because she had no way to contact Ricky and thank him. Sad because she had no word on Ashlyn. And sad she couldn't even visit Stevie in the hospital. Right now Ricky still permeated her thoughts. She was definitely in her boy crazy phase. She couldn't do anything about Ashlyn or Stevie, but she couldn't even talk to Ricky after all he did today. He was like Kevin Costner in her mom's favorite movie The Bodyguard.

But, since he was grounded from using his phone and probably from leaving his room possibly for the rest of his life, she considered walking to his house but immediately nixed that idea. Although it had warmed up significantly, it was not warm enough to drag herself through the snow without the sun shining to provide light and heat.

Instead, she decided to do some research and check out Ashlyn's online presence. Or she tried to. She couldn't find any social media accounts. And worse there were no tags or mentions. The girl was a ghost an anachronism who didn't go on social media sites or try to keep relationships with friends she might have had in Salt Lake City.

Perhaps she was trying to be invisible on purpose, to stop whomever she knew was coming after her.

Gina couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her. To know that she was going to be kidnapped and murdered years before it actually happened. What horrors had Ashlyn gone through? What damage could something like that knowledge do to a young girl?

And then to have no one believe her on top of all of that.

Almost forty pages deep into her Google search, give or take, she finally came across a picture taken on a crisp fall day of a young girl with curly red hair and her name, Ashlyn Caswell, had been spelled wrong in the caption, but it was her, all right.

Ashlyn was only about ten in the picture. Her cheeks a bright peach from the cold. Her eyes glistening with life.

She was posed with a boy around the same age. He had dark hair and was very cute. The smile on his face said that he could be a handful.

They were hugging, their smiles so bright that it even made her smile looking at it.

Hopefully, the person who posted the picture had spelled the boy's name right. Gina finally had a lead.

She scrambled to look him up on social media. On a hunch, she put his hometown as Salt Lake City and hit Enter. He was fourth on the list, which surprised Gina since his name, EJ Caswell, appeared. Now she just needed some contact info.

Her phone dinged with a message from her mom. She was checking up on her with a "Knock, knock."

Gina put down her coffee and texted back. "Who's there?"

"A your old lady."

She knew this one but went along with it, anyway. "A your old lady who?"

"Oh, my god! All this time, I had no idea you could yodel!"

After an involuntary snort, she texted, "That's a really old one."

"All my knock knock jokes are older than you are, ladybug. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I promise. I have a huge favor. Can I call someone and say that I'm working for the Lima Springs Sheriff's Office so that I can do some digging into Ashlyn's case? I have a lead."

The way Gina saw it, no more secrets meant no more secrets between her mother and herself. She would tell her what she'd been up to at the academy and what she was doing now while trying to find Ashlyn. Mostly, because her mom had the best resources. And she would do anything to help find Ashlyn before her birthday.

"Nope," she said, and Gina slumped in her chair.

"Pretty please?"

"I won't stop you, but if you get caught and arrested, I don't want to read your autobiography in ten years telling everyone it was my fault."

"Thanks mom!"

Gina put her phone on Do Not Disturb before her mom could call her back after she changed her mind. She'd never seriously give a fourteen-year-old permission to impersonate a law enforcement officer. Though her mom did send her on an undercover assignment once. She had to order street tacos from an outdoor vendor. She could've died that day.

After impersonating a sheriff's deputy, a police officer, and a detective at various businesses and organizations in the Salt Lake City area—Salt Lake City Police Department, for example—she finally had a phone number for the guy. And possibly a warrant out for her arrest.

She made a mental note never to visit the state of Utah, then dialed the number. It was later in Salt Lake City than in Lima Springs, but still too early for school to be let out. She called EJ, anyway. And crossed her fingers.

A boy answered with a deeper voice than she imagined based on the picture. "Hello?"

Gina almost fell out of her chair. "Good Afternoon. Hello. Hi. Is this EJ Caswell?" Wow, she was good at this. NOT.

"Depends on who is asking," he said.

"Well, my name is Gina, and I'm looking for a friend. Do you know and are your related to a Ashlyn Caswell?"

"What's this phone call about?"

"Ashlyn is a friend of mine, and she is missing. She's been abducted, and we're looking for some information about her."

After a long pause, he asked, "What's your name again?"

"Sorry. It's Gina. Gina Porter. My mom is Sheriff Mercedes Porter of Lima Springs County, California. You can look it up on the internet if you need to see if I am telling the truth."

"And she has you working with the sheriff's office on Ashlyn's case?"

"Uh-huh." Lying made her stomach hurt. "I'm helping with this case. It's urgent that I find someone who was close to Ashlyn who lives in Salt Lake City."

"We're very close. We are first cousins, actually. So, I probably know her better than anyone."

EJ sounded older to her on the phone. If he were in school, he must be a junior or senior.

"Her cousin? This is fantastic. Do you know about her premonition?"

"Sure. The whole family does. Not that anyone believes her. Besides me, of course."

"Why do you believe her?"

"Because Ashlyn doesn't lie. Ever. So, it really happened? No one called and told me."

"She was taken, yes. We're trying to find any clues as to who could have taken her. Something she may have left out of her diary or something she only told her closest friends and relatives."

He unleashed a heavy sigh that didn't sound promising in the least. "I wish I knew something. I've been trying to call her for two days. I should have known it happened. I should've been there with her."

"Did you ever see anyone following her? Anyone acting strange? Did she have someone stalking her or calling her and hanging up?"

"None of that happened here, but there was something that happened a couple of weeks after they moved to California."

Gina straightened in her chair. "Really?"

"Yeah. I told Uncle Dennis that I'd clear the limbs that had fallen in their yard after a storm here in Salt Lake City."

"That was nice of you."

"Right? I went over there and started picking up branches so I could rake their lawn, and this guy walked up. He said he was with the gas company. He had a clipboard and a uniform with his name embroidered on it, so I believed him. But he started asking me all these questions about my aunt and uncle. When they moved. Where they went. Stuff like that."

"And if he was with the gas company," Gina said, "he should have had that information already."

"Exactly. So, I started getting suspicious, especially when he walked up to their house and looked in the windows. Almost like he didn't believe me."

"Did you get his name?" Gina asked, not really hopeful. If it was their guy, any name he would've given would probably have been fake.

"I did, and that's when I got even more suspicious."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The name on his shirt read Penny. When I asked him about it, he said it was his last name. Joe Penny."

"Sure it was. Did you tell your aunt and uncle?"

"I did. I called Aunt Debbie, but she didn't seem concerned. She said it was probably nothing, and it would only upset Ashlyn, so I didn't say anything to Ashlyn. I didn't want to stress her out, you know?"

"I understand. Can you describe the guy?"

"He was average height. Shorter than me, I am six foot. He was thin with brown hair. He looked like an average American man. Somebody who would not stick out in a crowd. I don't think I could pick him out of a lineup if you paid me to. But this happened months ago."

"That's okay, EJ. You have been very helpful. Did my number come up on your cell?"

"Yeah."

"Can you call me if you remember anything else? Anything at all?"

"Of course. Can you keep me updated? Please."

"I will."

When she took her phone off Do Not Disturb, her mom had texted her again.

"You know I was kidding earlier, right?"

"About what?" she asked, giggling just a little. Then she texted, "The kidnapper may have been keeping an eye on Ashlyn in Salt Lake City. If so, he's thin and of average height, and has brown hair."

Her mom texted back. "How did you—? Never mind. She didn't mention that in the letter or her diary."

"This is from a cousin, EJ in Salt Lake City. He always believed she was telling the truth about her premonition."

"At least she had someone who did. How many laws did you break getting this information?"

"How many laws are there?"

When her mom texted back, "Regina Grace Porter," Gina fought a giggle before getting up and running into the kitchen.

"Hey, GeeGee, I need to go get something from my bedroom."

"Okay, sugar plum. I made beef stew because we finished the soup at lunch time with those homemade biscuits that you like."

Gina's mouth watered instantly at the sound of homemade biscuits. "It smells delicious as always. I'll be right back. Don't start eating dinner without me!"

She threw on her jacket and hurried across the backyard to her new bedroom that Ricky had built the wall facing the outside of. She loved her room and had planned on spending the rest of her life in her grandparent's guest house. She'd never felt home, really home, until they'd moved back to Lima Springs. It was like the place had been calling to her. Waiting for her to finally come home.

Then Lily Lynn had to show up.

Gina was about to unlock the front door of the guest house when a hand closed over her mouth.