cleared his throat. “You should try to put a little something in your stomach.”
Henry sucked greedily on the bottle, peering at Sawyer with big blue eyes. His denim overalls had little horses embroidered on the knees, and his tiny brown socks were printed to look like cowboy boots.
Sawyer’s hands itched to hold him, but he divided the eggs onto two plates instead, then poured twin cups of coffee for Emma and himself. The idea of holding something as precious as Henry frightened him, and Sawyer was rarely afraid. He took a seat beside Emma at the table and wrapped calloused palms around the small white mug. His hands had done awful things in the name of freedom. His hands were meant for hard labor, for holding rifles and following orders.
Emma took a slice of plain toast from the pile he’d plated and set between them, and bit into the corner. “What did you think of Sara’s notebook? It was hidden so it must be important, right?”
“Maybe.” Sawyer dug a fork into his breakfast. “Sara works at a bank, right?”
“Credit union,” Emma said. “She’s an account specialist, and she had that notebook with her all day before she was taken. I found it hidden in a basket of dirty clothes. She must’ve put it there when she realized that man was coming for her.”
Sawyer cleaned his plate and grabbed a second slice of toast. “I want to visit her office today. I wasted a ton of time overlooking the obvious. I was looking at the numbers like a soldier. Trying to solve them like a cipher. First, I assumed they were a code. When that didn’t work, I imagined them as dates and times or map coordinates, addresses, you name it.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Eventually I remembered Sara works at the credit union. Those numbers are probably a list of accounts. She’s just jammed them all together, probably to disguise them.”
Emma finished her toast and took away the empty baby bottle. “What are you going to do at the credit union?”
“I want to find out if she was working on any special projects. If any accounts or customers might’ve been giving her trouble, and if she seemed like herself the last few times she was in. I’d also really like to get a look at her desk. See if she kept any more notebooks like that one.” He tipped his head toward the book on the table.
Emma unbuckled Henry from the high chair. “The police will probably be asking the same things today. The staff will be leery and guarded after that. Everyone loves Sara, and they don’t know you. I doubt anyone will be candid with a stranger given what’s happened.” She turned Henry against her chest and patted his back. “I’ll go. They know me. I’ll ask to see her desk and try to collect anything that might be of interest. Then we can go through it here in privacy. If we find anything that leads to more specific questions, we can go back after lunch and ask.”
Sawyer frowned. “I think you’d better let me be the face of this for you. As it is, whoever took Sara doesn’t seem interested in you, and I’d rather you not get involved. Her abductor didn’t even search the house while he was here. His mission was pointed. Not at you, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Emma chewed her lip, cheeks flushed with distress. “I’m Sara’s only sister and I live with her. How long do you really think it will take before he comes for me? For Henry? If she doesn’t give up whatever it is that he wants from her?”
Sawyer locked his jaw. The abductor would be smart to use Sara’s family as leverage if she gave him any trouble. Sawyer’s captors had tried the same thing. Eliminating his men one by one, using their allegiances to one another to find the weakest link. But there had been no weak link, and they had died. One by one. “All the more reason for you to stay out of sight.”
“But if Sara was keeping a secret book of account numbers,” Emma said, “then someone at the credit union might know something about her kidnapping, and I don’t want to draw any attention that will keep me from getting a look at her desk. You—” she lifted a narrow finger at him “—draw attention.”
Sawyer sucked his teeth. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. His six-foot-two-inch frame had been thickened, hardened and cultivated during his time in the service. The added scars and tattoos only served to enhance his dangerous appearance. Slowly, he relaxed against the seat back. He didn’t like it, but she had a point, and while he would have preferred to go in and throw some weight around, Emma’s idea wasn’t a bad one.
EMMA CLIMBED ONTO the curb across the street from the credit union, Henry on one hip, his empty diaper bag on her shoulder. “I won’t be long,” she told Sawyer, who made no pretense of agreeing with her decision to go in alone.
She shut the door and hurried along the crosswalk before the light changed. Traffic was tight on the normally quiet streets of downtown Knox Ridge. The sidewalks teemed with people enjoying a beautiful Saturday morning. The weekly farmers market was set up a few blocks away, and barricades closed the street to traffic at the next intersection, making parking a nightmare. They’d gotten lucky finding a space in view of the credit union, but it was just another thing Sawyer had complained about. He’d wanted to be closer. Preferably right in front of the door. As if Emma was somehow in danger on a busy sidewalk at ten in the morning.
An exiting customer saw Emma coming and held the door.
“Thank you,” she said, slipping inside.
The credit union’s interior was quiet. A line of people stood between rows of velvet ropes, awaiting their turn with a teller. The air smelled vaguely of aged paper and new carpet. And despite the fact it was barely October, instrumental holiday music drifted softly overhead.
Emma scanned the room for a familiar face that wasn’t already with a customer.
Kate, the assistant manager, came swiftly into view. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Emma, and she cut through the space in a flash. “Oh my goodness. How are you?” she asked. “The police were here this morning. They told me what happened. I can’t believe it.”
Emma swallowed a painful lump in her throat. She hadn’t expected to get emotional at the mere mention of what happened. She’d had a hold on herself at home, but out in the world, knowing other people knew made Sara’s abduction seem impossibly more real. “What did the police say?” Emma asked. “Do they have a suspect? Or a clue?” If so, no one had bothered to call Emma with the information.
“No. They were asking a lot of questions. None I could answer. I just saw Sara a few days ago and she was fine. She looked tired, maybe distracted, but not enough that I even thought to ask her about it. I mean, we’re all tired, right?”
Emma certainly was. She took a breath and prepared her practiced line to get into Sara’s desk. “Did the police go through her things? Would you mind if I did? I think she has the spare house key,” Emma lied, “and now I’m paranoid someone will come walking in at night while I’m sleeping.”
Kate paled. “Oh no. Of course. This way.” She walked Emma to a row of cubicles along the far wall and waved an arm toward Sara’s desk. “There it is. Take a look. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Emma gave Kate her most pitiful face as she lowered onto her sister’s chair. “Sara did seem tired. I’d assumed it was work-related stress. She probably had a lot on her plate or an extra difficult account.”
Kate puzzled. “We’re all overworked, but she never mentioned a difficult account. She
