Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sawyer sat at his cluttered desk, his eyes scanning the worn pages of the file in front of him. This case had been haunting him for days, the pieces of the puzzle refusing to fit together. The fluorescent light above flickered slightly, making the words dance on the page as he sipped his lukewarm coffee.

The soft lilt of a feminine voice drifted toward him from the recesses of the outer office, and his ears perked up. He recognized Yvonne’s voice, but also… Brynlee?

Sawyer pushed his chair back and strode toward the doorway, his gaze unerringly finding his neighbor standing next to Yvonne’s desk, her fingers running through Sarge’s thick coat as he stared adoringly up at her.

“Bryn?” Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, and he studied her intently. “What brings you here?"

Her teeth cut into her bottom lip and she gave Sarge one last pat on the head before drifting toward Sawyer’s office.

"I came to speak with Cam or Dare," she said, stepping inside. "But it looks like they’re both tied up.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“I think I need to file a police report.”

His brows jumped toward his hairline. “Did something happen?”

She sighed. “It’s kind of a long story. If you don’t want to deal with it?—”

“It’s fine.” Sawyer motioned for her to take a seat, pushing the files to the side. "What’s going on?"

Brynlee took a deep breath, settling into the chair opposite him. "I had to fire one of my stylists, Jessica, last Saturday. She wasn’t performing well, and it was affecting the business. Then, just a few days later, we had a major flooding incident at the salon."

Sawyer leaned forward, his interest piqued. “I remember hearing about that. What happened?”

“According to the plumber, it was a leaky valve," Brynlee explained. “It wasn’t even old—just loose. It caused a lot of damage—ruined carpets, cabinets, even our computer. The insurance adjuster came by and said it looked like it was my fault, but I have a feeling it was tampered with."

Sawyer’s brow furrowed. "Tampered with? Do you have any evidence?"

"Nothing for sure,” Brynlee admitted. "But it just seems too coincidental. I think Jessica might have done it out of spite. I want to file a police report, just in case."

Sawyer nodded slowly and reached for a notepad. "Can you tell me exactly what happened leading up to the discovery of the leak?"

Brynlee recounted the events of the past few days in detail, from the uncomfortable confrontation with Jessica to the moment she walked into the salon and found it in disarray.

While he took notes, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was more of a distraction than a genuine case of sabotage.

"Bryn, I understand your concern," he began carefully, setting his pen down. "But… it sounds like this might just be an unfortunate oversight. Valves can wear out, and leaks happen. Filing a report might not be the best use of our resources."

Brynlee’s face fell, her shoulders slumping. "So you think it was just an accident, too?”

He hated the way she said that—like he was giving up on her, too. Unfortunately, the plumber and the insurance agent were most likely correct. Things like this happened. Without solid evidence, there wasn’t much they could do.

“I’m sorry,” Sawyer said gently. "From what you've described, it doesn't seem like there's any evidence of deliberate tampering. But, to put your mind at ease, I can come take a look myself."

A flicker of hope crossed Brynlee's face. "Would you? I just need to be sure."

"Of course," Sawyer replied, grabbing his coat. "Let's head over to the salon."

The two made their way to the salon in silence, the tension palpable. Once there, Brynlee unlocked the door and led Sawyer inside. The faint smell of damp carpet lingered in the air, and the damage was evident as they walked through the space.

“I’ve already had a team come through and clean, but…” She shrugged as she trailed off.

“I get it.” He tipped his head. “Why don’t you show me where the leak started?”

Brynlee showed him to the bathroom, where he inspected the valve first, crouching down to examine it closely. It looked worn, but there were no signs of tampering or recent interference. Next, he checked the doors and windows for any signs of forced entry but found none. Finally, he looked around for any security cameras, noticing the absence of a security system.

"You don't have a security system?" he asked, straightening up.

"No," Brynlee admitted, her voice small. "I'm renting this place, and I assumed it was safe. There wasn’t anything mentioned in the lease about needing one."

Sawyer sighed. "Brynlee, from what I can see, there's no evidence of tampering or forced entry. It looks like an unfortunate mistake—maybe the valve was already on its last legs, and it just gave out."

Brynlee’s mouth turned down in disappointment. "So you really think it was just an accident?”

"I do," Sawyer said gently. "I know it's not the answer you were hoping for, but sometimes these things happen. It's always a good idea to invest in a security system, though. It might give you some peace of mind."

Brynlee nodded, her expression dejected. "Thanks anyway.”

"I’m sorry I couldn’t give you better news," he said. "If anything else comes up, you know where to find me.”

She managed a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I will. Thanks again."

A pang of guilt sliced through him as he climbed into his car and pulled away from the salon. He hated seeing her so upset, but he couldn’t manufacture evidence where there was none.

Much later that evening, as the sun began to set, Sawyer made his way into the house. Pausing next to the back door, he spotted Brynlee in her back yard, watering her flowers. The colorful blooms waved in the gentle breeze, and she carefully pruned the dead blossoms while Scooter watched from his perch on the table.

He rolled his eyes. Damn cat. At least the animal door seemed to be fixed, because he hadn’t noticed any paw prints on his car for the past few days.

For a moment he considered going out to talk to her, but she seemed withdrawn, her body tense. He knew he should leave well enough alone, especially when he had nothing new to offer. Without evidence pointing to foul play, he couldn’t justify questioning Jessica further or delving deeper into what might be a simple accident.

Her head lifted for a second and she surreptitiously glanced toward his side of the duplex before turning back to the task at hand. It was clear she was aware of his presence but chose to ignore him, focused entirely on her flowers.

Sawyer sighed and reached into the fridge for a beer. He would never understand her. Brynlee was such a damn enigma. The only place they were compatible was in bed. He could use the release, but he doubted she would be amenable. She barely acknowledged his existence until she needed him, and even then it was only on her terms.

He had a feeling if he walked outside right now and offered to take her to bed, she’d turn him down flat on principle. Hell, last night she’d told him it would never happen again. She probably meant it, too. Which was too bad, because they were fire together. He’d never felt anything like that with another woman. She drove him crazy in all the best and worst ways. It was a dangerous game they were playing, but it didn’t seem to affect her at all.

Sawyer popped the top on his beer and took a long pull before sinking into a chair at the table and flipping open the file he’d brought home for work. This, he understood. Dead bodies were a hell of a lot easier to figure out than the infuriating woman next door.