Saving Emmy by Rayne Lewis

Chapter 3

Mitch and Susan Hayes sat on each side of their daughter, the three-cushion couch barely fitting the trio. Slate sat in the chair adjacent to her and leaned in with hands clasped and forearms resting on his thighs. In the kitchen, his team waited silently, listening from the room as Detective Washburn and Ranger Matthews went over Ember’s statement.

Two hours after Slate drove Ember home, she called Ranger Matthews and asked if he could come to finish the questions. She apologized for not giving the statement at the station, but now that she was in the familiar comfort of her own surroundings and felt more at ease she wanted to get it over and done with.

“I was in the office going over paperwork, trying to catch up on things before the weekend,” she told Washburn as she wrung her hands. “I wasn't working the front end, so I didn’t see him come in.”

“Him?” Matthews asked, writing old school on a notepad and glancing up in between questions. “Mr. Bazwar or Mr. Dorian?”

“Mr. Bazwar...I didn’t see him come in, but I saw him at the...scene...the crime scene.” Ember closed her eyes and immediately drew in a sharp breath. Instantly, his face was there. Cold, evil, haunting eyes blazing with hatred. A memorable but unrecognizable face. Why was he so familiar, yet unplaceable? Why had he sneered at her with a devious almost demonic glare when they arrested him? And why was he also gleeful? The memory burned in her mind and twisted her stomach.

Her eyes shot open and she started to tremble. Her mother placed a hand on her knee and her father placed a hand on her back, rubbing small intricate circles, trying to soothe her. Slate wanted to reach over, to be the one to soothe her, but right now she needed her parents. She needed the loving support they’d always provided her.

Slate stayed seated, his eyes trained on Ember, searching for any signs of the stoic, take-no-prisoners, hard-as-nails girl he knew. At the moment, she was MIA. Ember never cracked under pressure. She was always calm and collected in situations of danger or chaos. Her moniker, Diamond, proved just how hard she was.

Diamonds were formed under pressure and never cracked. They could cut through anything, just like Ember. But, Slate also knew that diamonds were precious and rare, a beauty of nature and a treasure to be sought. If ever a moniker encompassed every characteristic of a person, it was Ember’s.

“I was already in the back when he came in.” Ember continued, her eyes tracked, searching her mind, “I didn’t...see him…” her voice trailed off lost in thought.

“And Mr. Dorian? Did you see him?”

“Yeah, I saw Gabriel,” she answered.

Hearing her address the victim on a first-name-basis grabbed Slate’s attention. His interest piqued but he kept his posture and emotions in check. He gave nothing away. Intelligence gathering 101. Never show interest in details. Show no emotion. Never offer information. Keep the person talking. Let the story play out before asking the next, or follow up, question.

She went on, “I spoke to him when he arrived. He comes in a lot...often...I see him a lot.” Frustration bloomed in her expression. Her thoughts were jumbled, and it was clearly irritating her. Slate had never seen her have a problem articulating her thoughts. She was clearheaded, cool under pressure. Her mind a steel trap.

One of the attributes of every great sniper, second to being a solid shot, was the ability to recall the target, details, descriptions, times and atmosphere. Every minute detail had to be absorbed, logged and recalled, because along with taking out HTVs came a shit-ton of paperwork.

“How often?” Matthews asked.

“Um...I’d say once, maybe twice a week...sometimes more, sometimes less.” She mindlessly rubbed her palm on her knee.

“Were you friends?”

Ember thought for a minute, rolling the question around in her head. A minute too long for Slate’s liking.

Matthews softened his tone. “Did you see each other outside of the range?”

“We’d get coffee...I mean, not get coffee, but...we both like the same coffee shop down the street and we’d sometimes both be there...at the same time. Like, we’d get coffee, and we'd see each other and sit down and chat for a bit.”

Matthews’ looked up from his notepad at Ember, “Were you involved in a relationship?”

Ember blanched, reeling back from the question.

Slate stood abruptly, gaining everyone's attention. “I think she could use a break.” His tone was supposed to come off as comforting, but even he could hear the overwhelming alarm in it. His gaze fell on Ember. She looked frazzled.

“That’s okay, Elijah. I really just want to get this done. It’s been a long morning.” She squeezed and rubbed her temples with her thumb and middle finger.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Slate nodded and sat back down, placing his forearms on the chair’s armrests and trying to appear nonchalant. Does Red have an attraction to Gabriel Dorian? Jealousy coursed through him.

Ranger Matthews settled his attention back on Ember waiting for her to answer the question.

“No,” she said, shaking her head slightly, “we weren’t in a relationship. We were just acquaintances who happened to like the same coffee spot.”

A rush of relief came over Slate, which was ridiculous. Ember wasn’t his. Hell, she didn’t even know he wanted her, had wanted her for as long as he could remember. Since the day he first laid eyes on the girl with the fiery red hair. His kindergarten crush. She never noticed he’d crushed on puppy-love and never moved past it.

He knew she didn’t see herself in the same light as others. She was immune to her own beauty, seeing herself in some type of alternate universe where men didn’t give a second glance whenever she walked into a room, which was the furthest thing from the truth. All the years seeing and labeling herself as a tomboy had somehow hidden her femininity from herself. Ember may have been a tomboy when she was twelve, but those days were long gone. Slate saw how other guys looked at her. How postures seemed to straighten and voices got a little deeper, more husky, when she walked into a room. Everyone saw it...well, everyone but Ember.

The motion of everyone standing shook him from his reverie. The interview was over and Ember looked relieved. Slate stood as Detective Washburn took a few steps towards the front door.

“Please, don’t hesitate to contact either one of us if anything else comes to mind.” Ranger Matthews said holding out his hand first to Ember and then to each of her parents.

“I told you just about all I know, but if anything comes to me…” she let the sentence trail off.

With that, Matthews, Washburn and Harrington exited the house.

Ember wrapped her arms around her middle as she leaned into her father’s side. He held her, placing a kiss atop her head, and she nestled in a bit closer. Mitch’s eyes met Slate’s and he gave the slightest nod. His arms fell away from around his daughter and she was swept into a hug by her mother.

Slate excused himself, heading to the kitchen to talk with his team. The guys were in mid-discussion when he entered.

“Any information yet?” he asked quietly while coming around the table to Cypher’s side, who had his laptop open, scouring the contents of the screen.

“Still digging, but Tex found some things I want to delve a little deeper into before I get ahead of myself,” he said without his eyes leaving the screen.

“Were you able to get the security footage?”

Cy mockingly scoffed as if insulted. “Got it right away.” He continued typing.

“He hasn't gone over it yet,” King broke into the conversation, “but we’ll brief back at HQ and hash out the information there.” Then, before Slate could ask, King added, “There’s got to be something other than just a random, accidental shooting at a range. Something’s missing, not adding up.”

Slate nodded in agreement, “My gut’s screaming, I just don’t know at what yet. Everyone and their brother has a gun in Texas and an accidental shooting is rarely accidental.”

Around the table, the guys nodded in agreement.

“Gut’s always right. If anyone’s learned that, it’s us. Never failed us on the battlefield,” Trip said.

Arctic and King exchanged solemn glances, both knowing when they were ambushed as Deltas their guts knew something was amiss, though upper command ignored them and shit went sideways.

“Agree with you brother,” T-BAR answered Trip. “Something's off.”

“We’ll find it. Just going to take some digging. Tex and I pulled background checks, credit scores, and bank records, both on Bazwar and Dorian. Usually financials give you a better picture of someone’s personal life...better than interviewing their own mother. Debt, gambling, prostitutes aren't things privy to a mother, or even if they are, not something she’d likely disclose to strangers, but Big Brother will lead you down some pretty shady alleys.”

All heads turned as Mitch walked into the kitchen.

“Susan and I are going to be heading out. Ember said she wanted to be alone right now.” Then he added, “Not the advice I would suggest.”

The men agreed.

“Was wondering if I could have a word with you, Eli?”

Slate nodded as the rest of the guys stood from their chairs.

“We’ll see you at the office. No rush. We’ll be on this the rest of the day; just come in when things settle down,” King told Slate.

He nodded once and threw a chin lift at the rest of the team. They reciprocated.

Before the men could leave, Mitch stopped King with a light hand to his forearm. “Anything yet?”

“Not yet.”

“On the trail?” Mitch looked King in the eye. Being former military, he knew King’s experience was more than regular Army, and knew that Slate, being Delta, meant that King and the boys were more than mere soldiers.

“Marching the path.” King returned.

Mitch nodded in a sign of appreciation and King nodded in return. They shared a mutual look of respect then King led his team through the kitchen and out the front door.

Mitch turned to Slate who stood a few feet away. “I need you to stay with Ember. The last thing she needs right now is to be alone...even if she thinks that’s what’s best.”

Slate agreed one hundred percent. Even if her father hadn’t brought up the suggestion, there was no way he was going to leave her alone.

“I agree.”

“You know she’s going to ask you to leave?”

Slate nodded.

“And then, demand that you leave?”

Slate nodded again.

“She’s a stubborn one.”

Slate nodded a third time.

“Must get that from her mother,” Mitch said with a chuckle.

Slate chuckled, too. “I’m going to have to politely disagree with you, Pops. That trait is all your DNA.”

Mitch nodded his head in agreement, then sobered. “Are you ever going to tell her?” He asked with knowing in his eyes.

Slate looked down at his feet and shifted from side to side.

“You’ve loved her for as long as I’ve known you, and that’s a really long time.”

Slate didn’t look up.

“Sooner or later, you're either going to have to tell her, or you're going to have to let her go. I would hate for you to miss the opportunity when it’s always been yours.”

Slate lifted his gaze to Pop’s. Opening his mouth, the words wouldn’t seem to come. Mitch had been the father Slate thought he lost. He’d taught Slate to shave, drive, change a tire, and most importantly, how to treat a lady. Mitch’s influence shaped Eli’s decision to join the Army, entering the same branch as Pops. In the honor of his father, and Pops, he wanted to serve his country as well as his community.

“As military men, we’re always looking for the sure thing. We have a plan A, and a plan B, C, D, and on, and on. But, you also know that sometimes we have to go with our gut,” Mitch paused, “even if it scares the shit out of us. When the gut tells you to go, you go.”

Slate knew he had a point.

“And,” he added, putting a hand on Slate’s shoulder, “you know as well as I do, we’re not promised tomorrow. That goes the same in life and in love. Don’t wait until tomorrow’s passed and you’re left wanting the opportunity back.”

Slate was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever speechless but getting this somewhat unconventional blessing from the man he'd looked up to his entire life, made a lump form in his throat.

“I would like grandchildren someday, and I can't hedge that bet on Rhys, or heaven help me, even worse...an unknown guy out there somewhere who probably eats kale, wears Birkenstocks, and weaves his own hemp shirts.” Mitch shuddered.

The levity of the moment made both men laugh.

“You’re a son to me, Eli. Let’s just make it official sooner rather than later.” He said it with a slap on Slate’s shoulder as he turned to leave the room. He paused and over his shoulder he added, “Take care of my baby girl.”

And he left.