Книга - Buried Memories

Buried Memories
Carol J. Post


FORGOTTEN PASTAfter her broken engagement, Nicki Jackson hoped her move to Cedar Key would give her a fresh start—instead she quickly learns someone’s out to destroy her. Are the attacks tied to her mother’s recently reopened murder case…or to the nightmares Nicki’s beginning to suspect are actually hidden memories? With the threats against her escalating, former soldier Tyler Brant vows to keep Nicki safe. He refuses to lose the woman who’s swiftly becoming more than a childhood crush. But when danger circles closer, is Nicki’s traumatic past better left forgotten…or are her memories the key to something far more sinister?







FORGOTTEN PAST

After her broken engagement, Nicki Jackson hoped her move to Cedar Key would give her a fresh start—instead she quickly learns someone’s out to destroy her. Are the attacks tied to her mother’s recently reopened murder case...or to the nightmares Nicki’s beginning to suspect are actually hidden memories? With the threats against her escalating, former soldier Tyler Brant vows to keep Nicki safe. He refuses to lose the woman who’s swiftly becoming more than a childhood crush. But when danger circles closer, is Nicki’s traumatic past better left forgotten...or are her memories the key to something far more sinister?


WATCH THE COMPANY YOU KEEP.

IT CAN GET YOU KILLED.

Her blood turned to ice and her heart almost stopped.

She looked up at Tyler, her jaw slack. Her heart had resumed a frantic pace, and moisture coated her palms. “He was watching us. He saw us leave for Home Depot together.” She took a step back, shaking her head. “You have to stay away from me.”

He moved closer until he was standing at the threshold. “Do you really think I’m intimidated by this creep, who’s too much of a coward to show his face?”

“Maybe you’re not intimidated, but I am. I’m not willing to risk you getting hurt. This is my battle, not yours.” Although she had no idea what she’d done to get drawn into it.

He took a step closer and put both hands on her shoulders. “It’s our battle. Friends stick together. Or have you forgotten that?”


Dear Reader (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770),

Thank you for joining me for another trip back to Cedar Key. It’s one of our favorite vacation spots, with its quaint, artsy atmosphere and friendly people. Doing research on this series has been a pleasure.

Nicki and Tyler were fun characters for me to write. After a traumatic early childhood and two years in foster care, Nicki had developed a toughness that often kept her from connecting with others. And Tyler had his own issues to overcome. Like so many of our servicemen who see combat, he brought many of the traumas of war home with him, both physically and emotionally. Neither Tyler nor Nicki was able to begin the path of healing until they decided to open their hearts to love—each other’s and God’s.

I hope you’ll drop me a line. I love to connect with my readers. You can find me on Facebook (facebook.com/caroljpost.author (https://facebook.com/caroljpost.author)), Twitter (@caroljpost (https://twitter.com/caroljpost)), my website (caroljpost.com (http://caroljpost.com/)) and email (caroljpost@gmail.com). For news and fun contests, join my newsletter mailing list. The link is on my website. I promise I won’t sell your info or spam you!

God bless you!

Carol


CAROL J. POST writes fun and fast-paced inspirational romantic suspense and lives in sunshiny central Florida. She sings and plays the piano for her church and also enjoys sailing, hiking, camping—almost anything outdoors. Her daughters and grandkids live too far away for her liking, so she now pours all that nurturing into taking care of two fat and sassy cats and one highly spoiled dachshund.


Buried Memories

Carol J. Post






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

—Psalms 147:3


Acknowledgments (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770)

A huge thank you to my friend Chaplain (Major) Andrew Ropp, US Army (retired). I appreciate your willingness to share your experiences. Your help on this project has been invaluable.

Thank you to my critique partners, Karen Fleming and Sabrina Jarema. Your sharp eyes and creative minds always make my writing better.

Thank you to my editor, Giselle Regus, and my agent, Nalini Akolekar. I’m thrilled to be working with both of you.

And thank you to my husband, Chris. I might be able to do this without your love and support...but I wouldn’t want to.


Contents

Cover (#u27ee9d3c-4488-50d3-b7bb-fc0626e44a5d)

Back Cover Text (#ud254423d-fc94-5ad9-ab72-2a952130b366)

Introduction (#uafcfcd56-3521-5a15-9741-26073a927f9c)

Dear Reader (#ue4c51a74-c827-5fef-b84e-737439e1703d)

About the Author (#ub479d348-cdb6-519c-8fb0-07d0c2bac284)

Title Page (#ua2e3e61c-b521-5812-8f61-83e1a4ff49df)

Bible Verse (#u079573c8-0dc2-56d8-9af2-37fe14ff2115)

Acknowledgments (#u586a784a-a999-58aa-9361-9a01dd2d900b)

ONE (#u823297f7-7eef-57f6-8624-50fea041fd55)

TWO (#uaf6dbfe9-6604-52ba-b29b-e360ceaa80a4)

THREE (#u91ec06a3-fe03-5492-9030-0916f26c51eb)

FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770)

Nicki Jackson wheeled her bulging carry-on through the carport, the rumble of the plastic wheels against the concrete breaking the silence of the dark night. The golden retriever prancing behind her had enough energy for both of them. Of course, the dog hadn’t spent the past eight hours trapped in the car, battling traffic.

Nicki sighed. The last of her single friends was now married. But at less than a year from thirty, what did she expect? In fact, she’d almost made it to the altar herself. Instead, she was free and single, and her former intended was facing a hefty jail term.

She hesitated in the glow of the Ram’s headlights to finger through her keys, then dragged her bag the final few feet to the kitchen door. Bed was only a few minutes away. Unpacking could wait till morning. So could a shower.

She raised the key and stopped short. The door wasn’t shut tightly, and the jamb was chipped and scratched.

The headlights clicked off automatically, casting her in darkness, and the hair rose on the back of her neck. Someone had broken in to her house. Heart pounding in her chest, she pulled her phone from her purse and dialed 911.

“Come, Callie.” With a small tug on the leash, she moved to the truck and opened the door. The dog stared at her, a question in her big brown eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she jumped onto the seat, and Nicki slid in after her. Uneasiness crawled along her skin, the sense someone was nearby, watching. Why hadn’t that call gone through yet?

She lowered the phone and stared at the screen. Half a bar. More like a dot. In several places on Cedar Key, her cell service was sketchy. Under her metal carport, it was nonexistent. Sitting inside the truck wasn’t helping, either.

Leaving the driver’s side door open, she moved out into the moonlight, pulling Callie with her. Two bars. It was better than nothing.

The dispatcher answered, and Nicki’s hand tightened on the phone. Perspiration coated her palms, and all the strength seemed to have left her limbs. “Someone broke in to my house.” She quickly provided the address.

“Is anyone there now?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been inside.” Her gaze darted across the front of the house, and she backed toward the road, putting as much distance between herself and the house as she could. But nowhere felt safe.

A shadow fell over her, and she lifted her gaze. Clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring the three-quarter moon. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a far-off storm that might or might not reach Cedar Key.

After finishing with the dispatcher, she slid her phone back into its pouch. The police would be there soon. Meanwhile, Callie was with her. Of course, Callie was a big pussycat.

She turned to head back toward the truck, the sense of vulnerability too strong to ignore. She was used to living out of sight of the neighbors. She’d grown up in the country, at least from age nine onward. That was when she’d moved to Crystal River and found out what a real family was. The dozen or so foster homes before that didn’t count. Neither did the time she’d spent with her birth mother.

But now, looking at the trees shielding her house on three sides, the privacy she’d cherished when she bought the place felt more like isolation. And not in a good way.

A rustle sounded nearby and grew rapidly closer. Her heart leaped into her throat. Callie stiffened, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Something was barreling toward them through the strip of woods separating her yard from the one next door. Something large. She jerked Callie’s leash, ready to run for the truck, but Callie wasn’t budging.

A male voice cut through the noise. “Sasha, heel.”

Sasha? The breath she’d been holding spilled out in a rush. Sasha was the German shepherd next door, her neighbor Andy’s dog.

A fraction of a second later, sixty pounds of quivering excitement broke from the trees and charged across the yard toward them. Both dogs’ tails waved back and forth at a frantic pace. By the time Sasha’s human counterpart appeared, the two dogs were busy exchanging sniffs.

She watched him retrieve the leash and loop it around his hand. The other end was attached to Andy’s dog, but the man standing in her driveway wasn’t Andy. In fact, he looked sort of like... No way. She squinted in the bit of moonlight leaking through the clouds.

“Tyler?”

He hesitated for two beats. Then recognition flashed across his face. “Nicki.” He wrapped her in a hug, then held her away from him, his hands on her shoulders. “Wow, you look good.” The recognition turned to confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” The hesitation in her tone proclaimed her own bewilderment.

Long ago, they’d been friends—close friends—until his mom got sick and moved him to Atlanta, where his aunt could care for them both. He’d been a scrawny fifteen-year-old at the time. She’d been a year younger and pretty skinny herself.

Now he was anything but. Her three-inch heels, added to her own five feet nine inches, put her almost eye to eye with him. But he outweighed her by a good seventy pounds, all of it muscle.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. “What are you doing here with Andy’s dog?”

“Andy’s my brother. I’m going to help him renovate that run-down inn he bought.”

The confusion cleared. Andy’s kid brother. The soldier. Andy and his wife Joan had told her he was coming and had given her a bit of his history, how two years ago, he’d been finishing his third tour in Afghanistan and had come under attack during a recon mission and how he almost didn’t make it out alive. Andy had just failed to mention his kid brother was Tyler Brant.

“He told me you were coming, but I didn’t make the connection.” With different fathers, they didn’t have the same last name. And during the two years she and Tyler had hung out, Andy was already out of the house and married.

“I just arrived this afternoon, and we had a lot of catching up to do. Since I’d kept them up way past their bedtime, I told Andy I’d take Sasha out. I didn’t realize she was going to bolt as soon as I stepped out the door, or I’d have kept a death grip on the leash.”

The teasing grin he flashed her carried her back fifteen years. When she was a cranky adolescent, he’d had a knack for sending the dark clouds scurrying with his quirky sense of humor. Of course, she’d done her share of warding off his storms, too.

She returned his smile. “Sasha probably picked up Callie’s scent. They’re best buds.”

He nodded down at the golden retriever. “She must like late night walks, too.”

“Actually, I’m just getting home.”

He had the late part right. It was three hours later than she’d planned. After the Saturday wedding in Miami, she’d stayed a second night and enjoyed a long lunch with friends. The northerly drive from Miami to the Gulf town of Cedar Key wasn’t a lot of fun anytime. Independence Day weekend, it was the pits. The truck that had overturned and strewn produce all over the turnpike hadn’t helped, either.

Sirens sounded in the distance and moved closer. When the glow of red-and-blue lights shone from the end of the road, Tyler raised his brows. “I’ve only been here a few hours, but when I used to come here as a kid, it was a pretty quiet place. I wonder what’s going on.”

“That would be me. Someone broke in to my house while I was gone.”

He frowned, the concern on his face obvious in the light of the moon, which had once again made an appearance. “Is anything missing?”

“I haven’t been inside yet.” But considering the creep had had all weekend to clean her out, the possibilities weren’t looking good.

“That’s probably smart. I hope it isn’t too bad.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

A cruiser pulled into the driveway, and the siren stopped midsqueal. The door swung open, and Amber Kingston stepped out. Amber was the newest member of the Cedar Key Police Department and among the group of people who’d taken Nicki under their wings from the moment she’d arrived in town.

“You had a break-in?”

Nicki nodded. “I left midafternoon on Friday and just got home, so no one’s been here all weekend.” Andy had agreed to collect Saturday’s mail, and her friends Allison and Blake had kept Callie. She hadn’t seen a need to have anyone keep an eye on the house.

Amber’s attention shifted to Tyler. “And you are?”

“Tyler Brant.” He jammed a thumb toward the house next door. “Andy’s brother.”

Amber gave a sharp nod before moving up the drive. “Let’s see what we have inside.”

Nicki started to follow, but Tyler’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Are you okay? I can go in with you if you’d like.”

She hesitated, then shook her head. She didn’t need anyone to prop her up. She was just overtired. She’d made the harrowing drive home on too little sleep.

But all the excuses in the world couldn’t stave off the sense of vulnerability that had swept over her the instant she realized someone had come into her house. There were things inside those four walls that couldn’t be replaced at any price, because they’d belonged to the two people she’d cared for more than anyone in the world. Two people who’d taken a foster kid with a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas and shown her a love that wouldn’t quit.

She squared her shoulders and forced a smile. If there was one thing life had taught her to do well, it was to stand on her own two feet. “Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He opened his mouth as if ready to argue, then reached up to jam his fingers through his hair. No longer in the military buzz cut she would have expected, it rested in soft layers, light brown or dark blond—it was hard to tell in the moonlight. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She watched him lead the dog toward the road, a sudden sense of nostalgia sweeping over her. She had friends, close ones, but Tyler knew things about her no one else did. There’d been no pretense for either of them. Could they pick up where they left off and renew the friendship they’d had so many years ago? She wasn’t the same person she’d been then, and after the horrors he’d lived through, he probably wasn’t, either.

She turned and, with Callie trotting beside her, led Amber toward the carport. She might as well get it over with.

“This is where he got in.” She pointed at the door. “Looks like I’m going to need some work done on the doorjamb.”

Amber removed her pistol from its holster. “I’m going to go in and clear the place, make sure no one’s hiding inside. You might want to wait in the truck.”

Nicki coaxed Callie up into the seat for the third time that evening. A few minutes later, Amber stepped back into the carport, her expression somber.

“You’ve got a little bit of a mess.” She held up a hand. “Nothing major.”

Nicki followed her into the house, her insides settling into a cold, hard lump. She reached to unhook the leash from Callie’s collar, then changed her mind.

“I’d better close her up.” Her house had become a crime scene. She didn’t need the dog traipsing through and destroying evidence.

She opened the door leading into the laundry room, then filled a bowl with dry food. Callie dove in right away. That would keep her occupied for a few minutes. After a couple of pats on the dog’s back, Nicki pulled the door shut and stepped into the kitchen.

It was the same as she’d left it two days earlier. The living room, too, appeared untouched. Two curios held thousands of dollars of figurines—Swarovski, Lenox and Armani—all undisturbed. A sliver of the tension eased. The intruder apparently wasn’t interested in electronics, either, because the big-screen TV and pieces of accompanying equipment still occupied their cubbyholes in the entertainment center.

Which meant the mess Amber had referred to was in her bedrooms. The guest room she’d chosen for herself, leaving the large master bedroom to function as a combination hobby room and office.

As soon as she stepped into the hall, she gasped. The open door at the end revealed her wooden work table covered with papers and files. She closed the distance at a half run.

All of her tools and materials for making stained glass were where she’d left them, but both file drawers were all the way open, the majority of the contents removed and strewn across her work area. Her bulletin board hung above the table, her to-do list pinned in the center. The first three items were crossed through. The remaining four, she’d assigned time frames for completion. Organization in the midst of chaos. But the sense of control it usually gave her had evaporated the moment she stepped into the room.

She reached for one of the files on the table. Amber’s voice stopped her.

“Don’t touch anything. I’m going to try to lift prints.”

Nicki let her hand fall to her side but scanned the items. Lots of papers lay on top, pulled from their folders. One stack was the paperwork from the sale of the Crystal River house, an hour from Cedar Key. It had belonged to her parents. Seven months ago, they’d taken early retirement to see the country and reward themselves for all the years of hard work.

Some reward. They’d been headed toward a picturesque small town in North Carolina when a tired trucker had crossed the center line. And she’d been left with a three-bedroom house on five acres and a great big hole in her heart.

Next to the Crystal River sale documents was the paperwork from the purchase of the Cedar Key house. And beside that was the file from opening her account at Drummond Community Bank upon first moving to Cedar Key. Her income tax forms were also there, along with some credit card statements.

All of her personal information was right out in the open—her name, address, Social Security number, date of birth—everything needed to steal her identity.

“You’d better file fraud alerts with the credit reporting agencies.” Amber’s voice was soft but filled with worry.

She nodded and followed Amber from the room, an emptiness weaving through her. She’d come to Cedar Key to regain her footing after life had kicked out one too many of her foundation blocks. The quaint town’s peace and tranquility had gone a long way toward mending the tattered pieces of her soul. And she wasn’t going to let this break-in take that away.

She squared her shoulders and started down the hall. Before she’d gotten very far, Amber stopped her with a raised hand.

“The intruder did some damage in this room, too. I’m hoping you can shed some light on what’s going on.”

During her mad rush to her work room, she’d hurried right past her bedroom without even looking inside. Now something in Amber’s tone sent dread showering down on her. Could anything be worse than what she’d already witnessed?

Amber stepped aside and Nicki closed the remaining distance to her room.

Then froze in the open doorway. Her old plush rabbit was hanging from the ceiling fan with a noose around its neck. Stuffing protruded from a slash that ran from throat to tail and littered the carpet beneath.

Her knees started to buckle, and she gripped the doorjamb for support. Lavender wasn’t just an old, scruffy stuffed animal. She was her childhood friend who’d gotten her through nights of terror while her mother was being beaten by her men in the next room. She’d been Nicki’s constant companion through one foster home after another when the parents couldn’t cope anymore with a disturbed, destructive child, and through weeks of uncertainty as she waited for her adoptive family to give up and throw in the towel. Lavender had been hugged and kissed and cried on. And had been there for a lonely, terrified little girl when no one else had.

Why Lavender? Houses got burglarized all the time. Maybe not in Cedar Key, but plenty of other places. Even going through her paperwork made sense. But why destroy a stuffed toy?

Nicki dragged her gaze from the rabbit to take in the rest of the room. Several dresser drawers were open, the contents hanging over the sides. The closet doors were open, too. Other than that, and the empty spot on the shelf Lavender had occupied, it looked undisturbed.

A soft hand on her shoulder reminded her she wasn’t alone. Nicki dropped her hand from the jamb and faced Amber. “I’m guessing the intruder was ticked about not finding any money and figured he’d do a little vandalism before he left.”

Amber shook her head, eyes now back on the stuffed rabbit. “That doesn’t look like vandalism to me. It looks like a threat.”

* * *

Tyler stepped out the door behind Sasha and drew in an earth-scented breath. Early morning sunlight slanted over the landscape, and the final remnants of pink still stained the eastern sky. The rain that had passed through during the night had left behind glistening droplets that clung to the shrubbery lining Andy’s front walk.

Cedar Key was a nice change from the city. Maybe he’d even stay awhile. He was committed to two months, anyway. Andy had bought an old inn and needed help with renovations. So he’d offered his services. He might as well put to good use those long-ago afternoons and weekends he’d spent working in his best friend’s dad’s construction business. Besides, after all the care packages that had traveled from Andy and Joan’s doorstep to Afghanistan, it was the least he could do. How long he stayed after the work was completed would depend on how quickly the nightmares caught up with him.

In the months following the attack, they’d been relentless. He’d been stationed at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, undergoing treatment, both physical and mental. After a year, the Army cut him loose with a monthly disability check.

Now another year had passed, and the nightmares were still pursuing him. Strenuous activity helped. So did starting fresh. That was how he’d lived ever since his discharge—move, find a temporary job, get semi-settled, repeat. So far it was working. Sort of.

Halfway down the drive, Sasha stopped walking, head angled toward the strip of woods and undergrowth separating Andy’s yard from Nicki’s. A few seconds later, a soft rustle sounded about twenty feet away.

The German shepherd lunged, and Tyler tightened his grip on the leash. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Callie would be inside, and he didn’t need to be led on a chase after some poor opossum or armadillo. He gave the leash a tug and continued down the drive.

Nicki’s in Cedar Key. The realization was still sinking in. He’d thought he’d never see her again. They’d promised to stay in touch. For a while they had. Then life got in the way and they’d each moved on. He’d had a terrible crush on her, something he kept secret throughout their entire two-year friendship.

When he reached the end of the driveway, he turned left and cast a glance toward Nicki’s house. It was dark except for the single light burning by the front door, apparently turned on after he’d gone home.

Since she’d had such a late night, she was probably still asleep. The same place he should be. But he’d woken up in the darkness after his usual four or five hours. And once he was awake, he was done. Sleep invited nightmares.

He continued down Hodges Avenue at an easy jog, Sasha as far in front of him as the leash allowed. The dog would have preferred a full-out run. But he wasn’t giving her the choice. Running long distances was one of several things he couldn’t do anymore.

Just past Gulf Boulevard, he turned Sasha around and headed toward Andy’s. Maybe by the time he got back, Nicki would be out and about. Last night, when he’d offered her his help, she’d stood straight and tall, projecting confidence. But her eyes had given her away. They’d held a fear and vulnerability even the nighttime shadows couldn’t hide. And his protective instincts had kicked into overdrive. He should have insisted on going in the house with her. But if there was one thing he remembered about Nicki, it was that once her mind was made up, there was no changing it.

He slowed to a brisk walk and struggled to catch his breath. It was barely six-thirty, and already the humidity was getting to him. It had never bothered him before. But neither had running. That last mission had changed a lot of things. Even more for his men.

He pushed the thought from his mind. He wasn’t going there. He had no say over where his thoughts traveled while sleeping, but he could control them when he was awake.

Today would be the first day on his new job, temporary though it was. He was looking forward to it. Over the next few weeks, he’d work hard. And when he and Andy finished, they’d have something beautiful. It was an appealing thought. He’d seen enough destruction to last a lifetime.

He’d almost reached Nicki’s driveway when she stepped off her porch, holding Callie’s leash. She looked up and raised a hand in greeting.

“Good morning.”

As soon as Sasha saw Callie, she shot off in that direction, pulling him with her. He didn’t resist. It gave him the perfect excuse to approach Nicki.

“How did everything go last night?”

She nodded, but there was something stiff about the action. “Okay. It doesn’t look like he took anything. I’m guessing he was hoping for some quick cash.”

“Good.” He studied her. There was more to it than that. “And no damage was done?”

“The doorjamb where he pried the lock is pretty messed up. The lock itself is kind of iffy, too. I’m having it replaced, but I’m getting one with a dead bolt this time.”

Callie led her down the driveway toward the road, and he fell in beside her.

“Can I install the lock for you? I brought power tools, and I’m sure Andy has a mortising kit I can borrow.”

She waved aside his offer. “That’s okay. There’s a handyman in town who has done some work for a friend of mine.”

“I want to help you out. Andy can tell you I know what I’m doing.” He paused. “I like to stay busy.” He had to stay busy. It was how he stayed sane.

She hesitated but finally nodded. “All right. But I’m going to pay you.”

He grinned. Stubborn as always. Of course, he hadn’t expected any different.

When they reached the road, Callie turned to go in the same direction he and Sasha had gone, but Sasha didn’t seem to mind repeating their route. She pranced along next to Callie, ears erect, head held high, which left him to walk beside Nicki, something he didn’t mind, either.

He’d thought she was pretty years before, but she was gorgeous now. Her features had matured, erasing the last traces of childish softness, and her green eyes held a determined sparkle, confidence replacing the scrappiness that had been there earlier. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face and brushed her shoulders. Previously a light brown color, it was now a shade of auburn too bright to be natural, but somehow perfect.

“I’ve got to be at work in an hour, so I won’t be able to get the lock to you until this evening. We don’t have a Lowe’s or Home Depot here. I guess I need to find a hardware store.” She glanced up at him. “I’ve lived here only a month.”

“No problem. Andy and I will be hitting Home Depot in Crystal River to pick up some materials for the inn. I’ll get your locks while we’re there.”

She released a relieved sigh. “I appreciate it. I was trying to figure out how to fit everything in today. I took off an hour early Friday to get a jump on my trip to Miami, so I hated to have to beg off again today, being the new kid on the block.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll make sure we have everything you need, and by bedtime tonight, I’ll have you secure.”

She frowned. “As secure as I can be with my personal data out there.”

He raised his brows.

“The intruder went through my files. Seemed to be especially interested in my financial information.”

“Not good.” No wonder she was ill at ease. “Have you filed fraud alerts?”

“I will in a few minutes. That’s going to be my entertainment over breakfast.” She gave him a wry smile, then tugged Callie’s leash to turn her around. Sasha eagerly followed.

“Anything else disturbed?”

She hesitated, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. It was something she used to do whenever she was perturbed or confused or any number of other emotions. Apparently she still did. “Lavender.”

“Lavender?” The purple rabbit? He’d once asked her why she was hanging on to an ugly, ragged-out stuffed animal, and she’d gotten rather...defensive. The bruises on his arm had lasted several days. “You still have Lavender?”

“Until this weekend, I did.” She frowned again. “Someone was apparently not happy about finding no money in the house and decided to string her up to the ceiling fan and slice her belly open.”

His gut clenched, and a cold wave of unease washed through him. “That doesn’t sound like your regular, run-of-the-mill burglar.”

She pursed her lips. “Amber took it as a threat.”

“I’d tend to agree.”

“But I don’t have any enemies.”

Maybe she didn’t have any she knew of. “How about saving my contact info in your phone?”

She pulled it from her pocket and her thumbs slid over the screen. When she was ready, he gave her his number.

“If anything happens or you feel at all unsafe, call me. I’m right next door. I can be here a lot faster than the police can.”

She slid the phone back into her pocket. “Thanks, but I think you’re worrying over nothing. I’m sure it was a simple act of vandalism.” She stopped at the end of her driveway. “I’ll see you tonight. Meanwhile, Callie will stand guard.”

“Let me walk you to your door.” He would make sure she was locked safely inside, then cut through the woods.

Halfway up the drive, his gaze stopped on her porch. Something was attached to her front door. She saw it at the same time he did and picked up her pace.

It was a single sheet of paper, folded in half, secured with a piece of tape. As she removed it, he cast an uneasy glance toward the woods. When he’d first stepped out of the house, he’d heard a rustle. He’d assumed it was an animal. Was it possible...

When he looked at Nicki again, she was staring at the unfolded paper, brow creased. Before he could ask, she angled the page toward him. It was blank except for three words written in all caps—THE PARTY’S OVER.

She gave him a sudden dry laugh. It held no humor, just a lot of desperation. “Trust me, these past few months, my life has been anything but a party.”

“Someone apparently disagrees and is planning to make sure things get unpleasant fast.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You need to call the police.”

“I will. But it’ll have to wait till tonight. I’ve got to get to work. I can’t be late.”

She pushed the key into the lock and turned it, then opened the door. Her hands shook, something she was trying hard to hide.

“Where do you work?”

“City hall.”

“How about if I take you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. No one is going to bother me here with Callie around, and I don’t think anyone would dare approach me at work.” She stepped over the threshold and raised a hand in farewell. “Later.”

He watched her close the door, then moved toward the woods with Sasha. Nicki wasn’t the only one who needed to get to work. Andy would be ready to start soon, too.

He’d just reached the driveway on the other side of the trees when the front door swung open. Andy stepped onto the porch holding up a cell phone. Tyler patted his pocket. He’d left the phone on the table after finishing his coffee.

“It’s Bridgett.”

Their older sister. He cringed. He’d forgotten to call her when he’d arrived yesterday. Of course, Andy could have assured her he was alive and well. But he knew Bridgett, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d heard it from him. She’d worried about him as much in the past two years that he’d lived stateside as she had during his tours in Afghanistan. Maybe more. His mom would have been right there with Bridgett. But the day before his eighteenth birthday, the cancer she’d fought since the summer he turned fifteen had finally won. His dad wasn’t doing any worrying, either. He’d walked out years earlier.

He stepped onto the porch and took his phone from Andy. Once he’d convinced his sister that he was all in one piece, he headed to the back to dress for work. Tonight he’d get Nicki’s lock replaced. While he was at it, he’d check the ones on her other doors and windows. Any he wasn’t happy with, he’d replace the following day.

The fact was, he’d cared for her all those years ago, and he felt no less for her now. As young teenagers, they’d been drawn together by a mutual toughness. He’d had a chip on his shoulder from his dad walking out, and she’d still had an attitude from her years in foster care.

But things had been simple then compared to now. In the fifteen years since he’d left Crystal River, he’d faced too many battles. He bore the scars, both physical and emotional. Nicki probably had enough of her own issues to fight without having to deal with his. Besides, he couldn’t stay in one place long enough to pursue anything more serious than friendship with anyone. He had to keep moving to hold the memories at bay.

But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing everything he could to protect her while he was here. Someone was threatening his longtime friend, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He wouldn’t leave until he made sure she was safe.

Maybe, if he was successful, it would help make up for the other times he’d tried to protect someone but failed.


TWO (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770)

Nicki picked up the porcelain bowl in the corner and crossed the kitchen. The painted paw prints lining the bottom shone clean and clear, licked to a glossy shine. As she placed the empty dish in the sink, Callie watched her every move, tail wagging, eyes filled with doggy eagerness. She never gave up hope that maybe, just this once, there would be seconds.

Nicki strolled toward the side door and cast a glance back at the golden retriever staying right on her heels. “You behave yourself.”

She would be out all evening for the midweek church service. But she hoped the admonition wouldn’t be necessary. A year ago, yeah. When she’d first brought Callie home from the Humane Society, she’d been well past the energetic puppy stage, but past abuse had made her terrified of everything that moved and a whirlwind of destruction when left alone.

Now she didn’t even need crating. Finding a forever home where she was showered with love had made a world of difference. Nicki bent to scratch the dog’s neck. She could relate.

After stepping into the carport and closing the door, she fished for the key. Two nights ago Tyler had installed a new lock, complete with a deadbolt, and made repairs to the jamb. And he’d done a great job. So much so she might see if she could hire him to do some other projects. She would love to have the pedestal sink in the hall bath replaced with a vanity, and some shelves added to the two closets in her hobby room.

She hadn’t seen him since he’d made the repairs. Their times for taking the dogs out hadn’t coincided, and they’d both been busy. She was almost disappointed. It had been fun having someone to talk to on her morning walk.

She inserted the key into the deadbolt and turned it. The lock slid home with a satisfying click. She’d regained a little of her sense of control, thanks to Tyler. He’d even checked the locks on all her windows to make sure they were secure.

Fifteen years ago, they’d been the best of friends, spending hours hanging out at the park or high on a branch of the huge oak overshadowing most of her backyard. As he’d opened up about his anger with his father, she’d let down some of her own walls. Back then, he’d just been Tyler, her friend and confidante, the one person in the world she’d been able to connect with, because he was as lost as she was.

He was still Tyler. But now he was Tyler all grown up. It was hard not to notice how well he filled out those T-shirts he wore, or how his golden-brown eyes filled with warmth every time he smiled. But with her track record, she didn’t have any business contemplating anything that smacked of romance. She was still trying to ward off the repercussions of the last disaster.

She pressed a button on her key fob, and the Ram’s locks popped up. Tonight she would be occupied, with or without Tyler. She was going to church, something her friend Darci had talked her into. She’d been surprised to find she enjoyed attending. It was almost like belonging to a family again—a loving heavenly Father and lots of brothers and sisters.

That wasn’t all she’d been talked into. After the crash that killed Nicki’s parents, Darci was the one who’d suggested she sell out and come to Cedar Key. When her ex had dropped the second bombshell on her, she’d finally agreed. One month had passed since the move. She still missed her parents terribly, but she hoped the call from Peter a week ago was the final one. He claimed that everything he’d done was for her. So what? It was over.

She swung open the driver’s door of her truck, but before she could get in, a dark sedan pulled into her driveway. As she watched a man and woman exit, tension crept across her shoulders. Both visitors were strangers.

“Can I help you?”

The man showed her his badge. “I’m Detective Granger, and this is Detective Mulling. We’re with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office.”

As he spoke, her mind whirled. Maybe they’d learned something about her break-in. But Jacksonville? That was where she’d spent her early years. In a run-down shack with peeling plaster, grime-encrusted windows and puke-green shag carpet.

“Can we have a few minutes of your time? We need to talk to you about your mother’s murder.”

She nodded, a weight pressing in on her chest. She’d worked hard to leave those memories behind. The steady stream of creepy men who’d paraded in and out of the house. The way some of them had leered at her, making her hair stand on end. The nights she’d spent curled into a ball with her pillow over her head, trying to shut out the thud of angry fists and her mother’s muffled pleas.

She swallowed hard and led them toward the house. “It’s been twenty-two years. Why now?” If they hadn’t solved it then, with fresh evidence, how would they uncover anything leading them to the killer over two decades later?

“We’re investigating an incident that happened two weeks ago, also in Jacksonville. There are some similarities, and we think they might be connected.”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I wasn’t there.” She unlocked the door and ushered them inside. After a few quick sniffs, Callie apparently decided the visitors were okay and plopped down in front of the entertainment center, dark eyes alert.

Nicki motioned toward the sectional sofa. “Have a seat.”

Once they’d settled onto the couch, Mulling turned back the cover on a notebook.

Granger clasped his hands loosely in his lap. “Thank you for talking to us.” Although the female detective was sitting closer to Nicki, it looked as if Granger would be the one asking the questions. “I’m sure it’s going to be difficult, but I need you to tell me everything you can remember about that night.”

She drew in a deep breath. Yeah, it would be difficult. Not because she still grieved for her mother. She’d come to terms with her death years ago. In fact, if events hadn’t gone the way they had, Nicki’s life would have turned out quite differently. Ending up in the Jackson home was the best thing that had ever happened to her. No, this was going to be difficult because she didn’t want to remember.

She leaned back against the padded leather. “I was spending the night with a friend, Lizzie. She lived next door.”

“Do you remember Lizzie’s last name?”

“McDonald. Elizabeth McDonald.”

“What about her parents’ names?”

She shook her head. “I never met her dad, and I just called her mom Mrs. McDonald.”

Granger continued while his partner filled up the first small page. “Was anyone there when you left to go to your friend’s house?”

“My mom and my sister. I don’t remember anyone else.”

“When was the first time you learned about your mother’s murder?”

“The next morning. Mrs. McDonald said something awful had happened. She was crying. And she wouldn’t let me go home.” In fact, Nicki never set foot inside her house again. By lunchtime, the authorities had gathered up her belongings and whisked her away to the first of many foster families.

“Did you know of anyone who’d have wanted to hurt your mother?”

Hurt or kill? “A lot of them hurt her.”

“How?”

“Slapping her, punching her, throwing her against the wall, pushing her to the floor.” Fights were a regular occurrence, especially after a night of heavy drinking and shooting up.

Granger leaned forward, sympathy filling his eyes. Or was it pity?

She drew in a deep breath and lifted her chin. She didn’t need sympathy. She’d put her past behind her a long time ago. And she didn’t want pity.

“These men who used to hit your mother, did you ever see any of them with a knife?”

She shook her head.

With a signal from Granger, Mulling removed a picture from the back of the notebook and handed it to her.

“Does this man look familiar?”

She looked down at what she held. Cords of steel wrapped around her chest and throat, squeezing the air from her lungs. It was a booking photo. Wicked tattoos reached out from beneath the wife beater shirt, and eyes as black as sin glared back at the camera with a lethal hatred. To a seven-year-old child, the man had seemed huge. Judging by the thick neck and monster pecs, her perception hadn’t been far off.

All the men had scared her. But this one had frightened her the most.

She shook off the fear. He had no reason to hurt her. And her mother was beyond his reach.

“Uncle Louie.” She handed the photo back to Mulling.

“No blood relation, I take it.”

“No, same as all the others. I had more uncles than any girl alive.”

Granger gave her a soft smile. It held the same hint of sympathy she’d noticed earlier. “What can you tell us about Louie?”

“He was there a lot the last few weeks before my mom was killed. I think he was mostly living there.” A shudder passed through her. “I didn’t like him.”

“Why not?”

“I was afraid of him. He had an awful temper. Whenever I was home, I’d stay in my room and sneak to the kitchen to get something to eat once he and my mom were passed out.”

She closed her eyes, events she’d tried hard to forget bombarding her. “Once I made the mistake of taking the peanut butter to my room. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed me into the wall. When my mom tried to stick up for me, he turned on her and beat her to a bloody pulp.”

She suppressed another shudder. At the time, she’d thought it was her fault. Now she knew better.

“You haven’t heard from him since that night, right?”

“No.”

“He was picked up near Ocala the morning after your mother was found and jailed on drug charges. Ended up doing fifteen years. But he was never charged with the murder. He had an alibi, albeit a shaky one, and although he was a suspect, we were never able to find enough evidence to convict him. Two weeks ago, another woman was stabbed to death. She’d recently ended a rocky relationship...with Louis Harmel.”

Nicki nodded, a cold numbness spreading inside her. Maybe her mother’s killer would finally pay for his crime. But how long would it take? And what would she go through in the meantime? How many memories would have to be dredged up before it was all over?

“Do you have any contact with your sister?” Granger’s words cut across her thoughts.

“No. We were separated after our mother was killed.” And even before that, they hadn’t been close. They’d shared a room—a dinky space hardly big enough for the two twin beds and single chest of drawers. But Nicki hadn’t taken much comfort in her sister’s presence. No matter how terrifying the sounds coming from the next room, Jenny had never let her share her bed.

“Six months ago, I hired a private investigator to find her,” Nicki said. Although the dysfunctional home and five-year age difference had kept them from being close, she’d thought of Jenny often over the years. Now Jenny was the only family Nicki had left.

“Are they making any progress locating her?”

“Yes and no. Three different times, the investigator has gotten leads, but every time he gets close, she disappears. It’s as if she doesn’t want to be found.”

There was probably a good reason. A criminal background check had turned up a hefty list of arrests. Nothing too serious. Just a bunch of petty stuff—forged checks, shoplifting, possession of marijuana, disorderly conduct. And likely plenty of other stuff waiting to catch up with her. No wonder she kept running.

“We’ve had the same experience. We haven’t been able to get close enough to explain what we want with her.”

“My guy is going to keep trying.” As long as she had the money. Her inheritance had allowed her to start the search and would enable her to keep it going for some time. “He’s making it clear to everyone he talks to that it’s her half sister looking for her, not law enforcement.”

Nicki hoped the message would eventually reach her. At least she was pretty sure that was what she wanted. Twice the investigator had asked her if she wished to continue, his tone heavy with doubt both times. Jenny’s life was a mess. She’d stayed in the foster care system until she aged out and had never known the love of a real family. Nicki didn’t even try to deny what she might be getting herself into seeking a relationship with her long-lost sister.

But she couldn’t turn her back on her. Yes, Jenny was messed up. But Nicki had been pretty messed up herself when Chuck and Doris Jackson chose to look past her faults and love her anyway. She could do no less for Jenny.

Granger stood, and his partner closed the notebook and followed suit. He extended a hand to shake Nicki’s, then handed her his business card. “We’ll be back in touch. Meanwhile, if there’s anything you remember that you haven’t told us, please give us a call. It doesn’t matter how insignificant it seems.”

She walked them to the door. “I will. And if you happen to find her, you’ll let me know?”

“We will.”

She watched them walk toward the sedan, then closed and locked the door. It was too late to go to church. Wednesday night services started at seven, and it was already seven-twenty. She crossed the room to sit on the couch, the same spot she’d vacated earlier. Callie approached and rested her head in Nicki’s lap.

Was Louie the one who’d killed her mother? Any number of men could have done it. But from everything she remembered, he seemed the most likely. He had the worst temper. And it wasn’t just that. He seemed to radiate evil.

She shuddered again and reached for the remote. An evening of brainless television held a lot of appeal, the opportunity to lose herself in someone else’s life for a short time. She let her head fall against the padded back of the couch and closed her eyes.

She’d spent the last two decades trying to forget.

Now they needed her to remember.

* * *

Tyler emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp but free of drywall dust. He’d hoped the days would be a little longer. It was Friday, and all week, Andy had been ready to call it quits by seven o’clock. Tonight it had been even earlier. Nine years Tyler’s senior, maybe Andy was slowing down. Or maybe he’d been thinking about Joan’s cooking and couldn’t hold out any longer.

Tyler drew in a slow, fragrant breath. The scent of baking roast beef that had plagued him since he stepped onto the front porch wrapped around him again, and his stomach growled. When he entered the kitchen, Andy was already there, helping Joan cut up salad ingredients.

She smiled over one shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. You guys messed me up coming home early.”

The doorbell rang, cutting off his response. Leaving them to their meal preparation, he made his way to the front door. When he swung it open, Nicki stood on the porch, Callie next to her. A smile spread across her face and lit her eyes, sending an odd warmth straight to his core.

“I was walking Callie and saw you guys were home.” She shifted her weight and cocked her head to the side. “You said you like to stay busy. How would you like to do a few projects for me?”

“Sure. What do you have in mind?”

“Several things. When you get a chance, stop by and I’ll show you what I’m looking for.”

He stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. “I’ve got almost twenty minutes till dinner. And if I’m a few minutes late, I’m sure Joan and Andy will save me some.”

Nicki walked several feet down the driveway, then cut across the yard and into the woods. She glanced back at him, grinning. “Shortcut.”

“Yeah, I found this one myself.” It was the same route he’d taken Monday morning after seeing her to her door.

When they reached her yard, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket. “I used to not worry about locking up if I was just stepping outside for a few minutes. Now if the house is out of sight at all, you can be sure it’s locked.”

“That’s a good idea.”

He followed her into the house. Before Monday night, he’d made an assumption based on the simple block exterior. But on the inside, the place looked like something out of one of Joan’s home decor magazines. A leather sectional sofa wrapped around an oak-and-glass table set on a wrought iron base. A marble-type floor tile in varying shades of brown and beige met three walls the color of Dijon mustard, the fourth a deep burnt orange. Two curio cabinets held a variety of figurines, and a floor lamp with amber globes bathed everything in a warm glow.

“This looks great.” Whatever projects she had in mind, they probably didn’t include this room.

“Thanks. The prior owners made some updates but never finished. I like the floor tile, but they’d painted all the walls a boring off-white.” She grinned over at him. “I had to jazz it up a bit.”

“That picture is perfect.” He tilted his head toward the seascape hanging over the sofa. It was a sunset scene, depicted in colors that complemented her decor.

“Thanks. I had Meagan Kingston, a local artist, do it for me. It was my birthday present to myself.”

“Happy belated birthday. And what about the stained glass wall hangings?”

“Those are mine.”

“I thought so. I saw your supplies when I was checking the window locks.”

“That’s my hobby. Or maybe it’s more than that, since I sell them. I’ve got them downtown at the Cedar Keyhole Artist Co-op and Darci’s Collectibles and Gifts.”

She led him into the kitchen. “The prior owners stripped and refinished the cabinets and replaced the appliances. I had the granite countertops put in. But I’ve got to get rid of that light fixture.”

“Yeah, it looks sort of industrial. Do you have something picked out?”

“Not yet.” She walked from the room and headed down the hall. “I plan to make one trip and do it all at once.” She stopped at the open door to the bathroom. “Pedestal sinks look great, but they’re not very practical. I’d like to replace it with a vanity and a cultured marble top. Are you up to it?”

“Sure.” He was more than up to it. The broken arm had mended, and the burns were as good as they were going to get. All that was left of the smoke inhalation was some shortness of breath if he overexerted. Most of the damage to his body had healed. The effects on his mind, not so much. Splints and bandages couldn’t blot out the images.

Or justify his returning home when his men hadn’t.

He shook off the thoughts and followed her into the bedroom across the hall.

“This is technically the guest room, but it’s where I sleep. So I’d like to get some more space in the closet.”

“Closet organizers?”

“Yep.” She opened the louvered doors. “On this side, I’d like the top shelf raised to make room for double rods. I’ll keep a single rod on this side. In the center, I’d like a small set of drawers with a shoe cubby above. Twenty or thirty slots, if possible.”

He eyed her with raised brows. “You got enough shoes?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She grinned up at him.

Warmth filled his chest, and he grew serious. “It’s good to see you again, Nicki.”

“Yeah, same here. I’ve missed you.”

He held her gaze for several moments. The years melted away, and they were once again connected by that invisible bond that tied his heart to hers. Distance hadn’t severed it and neither had time. Did she feel it?

She turned, and he followed her into the hall. When she reached the large room at the end, she made a wide sweep of her arm. “As you can see, this is my work area.”

He walked to a table where a partially completed stained glass scene lay. Peaks and valleys rose and fell, outlined in what looked like copper. Some kind of flowering trees occupied the foreground.

“The room has a his and a hers closet.” Her words drew his attention, and she swung open one of the doors. “I’ll leave the smaller one as it is, with the rods and all, because if I ever have company, this is where they’ll sleep.” She motioned toward the daybed against the far wall, then turned back to the closet.

“I want to have several shelves installed on all three sides here. Right now, I’m storing a lot of stuff in bins, and it’ll make my life a lot easier to have everything more accessible.”

“Let me know what you want, and I’ll build it.”

“Awesome.” She pulled a pushpin from the corner of the bulletin board and handed him a sheet of paper. “Here’s my wish list. Do you think you’re up to it?”

“And then some.” The work she’d laid out would keep him occupied for quite a few evenings. And it would give him somewhere pleasant to focus his mind, far away from the horrors of war.

“Are you out for good now?” She walked from the room and headed down the hall.

He followed her into the living room, shaking his head at her uncanny way of reading his thoughts. “I’m out for good.”

“They can’t call you back?”

“Nope.” They’d retired him. And he was still trying to find his purpose.

She leaned back against the entertainment center. “I thought your first months or years out, they can always recall you.”

“Not always.”

His clipped answers weren’t what she was looking for, and he knew it. But he didn’t want to talk about it.

The progression from enlisted to retired didn’t happen overnight. Those things never did. They reassigned him to a warrior transition unit for a year. The cast eventually came off his arm, but the skin graft procedures seemed to go on and on. Finally the doctors decided he was as good as he was going to get, and the medical board made their determination. He could no longer do the job. And that was that.

He shifted his gaze to the window overlooking her front yard. Drapes in earth tone patterns hung on each side, connected by a matching valance. Lacy sheers occupied the space between, partially obscuring whatever lay in the lengthening afternoon shadows. Another task he would add to his to-do list—installing some blinds behind the sheers. The bedrooms had them, but the living, dining and kitchen areas didn’t.

“How should I go about getting the materials you need?”

Her words pulled his attention from the window, but movement in his peripheral vision snapped it back. For a brief moment, a vague shape hovered at the left portion of the sheers, then disappeared. He tensed and raised a hand. What had he seen?

“Stay here.”

He made a dash for the door, jerked it open and pulled it shut behind him. As he rounded the corner of the house, a figure melted into the woods lining the back of Nicki’s property. Tyler pounded through the grass and ran into the tree line a few moments later. Seeing no one, he stopped to listen.

A rain-scented gust whipped the trees around, the steady shhh drowning out the rustle of the intruder’s movements. He turned slowly, all senses on alert. Some distance to his right, the snap of twigs underlay the steadier sounds of nature. He moved in that direction, his own footsteps little more than a whisper. His pulse picked up as he closed in on his prey.

Soon a voice drifted to him, soft and distinctly feminine. Then another, this one male. Both young. And a flash of clothing. Moments later, two figures came into view, and he shook his head. He’d followed a couple of teenagers on an early evening hike. And the intruder had gotten away.

As he approached, the guy took her hand, pulled her to a stop and drew her into his arms. Fifteen years ago, that had been him and Nicki. The hanging-out, walking-through-the-woods part, anyway. The other had been only in his dreams.

He cleared his throat, and they both started.

“Did you see anyone pass by in the last few minutes?”

They shook their heads. There was no sense continuing his search. Nicki’s Peeping Tom was long gone. And she was probably inside wondering if he’d lost his mind. He hadn’t taken the time to explain.

When he got back, though, Nicki wasn’t in her house. She was standing at the edge of the sidewalk, face angled downward. She looked up as he approached.

“You were supposed to stay inside.” His tone was stern.

“I did, for a minute, anyway. What’s going on?”

Judging from the furrows in her brow and the concern in her eyes, he could have asked her the same thing. He cast a glance down. A wicked-looking knife lay in the flower bed, partially obscured by the daylilies planted there.

“Where did that come from?”

“It’s my chef’s knife. It’s been missing since my house was broken into. I thought I’d misplaced it.”

He frowned. “Someone was at your window. By the time I got around the side of the house, he was disappearing into the woods. I took off after him, but I didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Find anything?”

“’Fraid not. I ended up following a rabbit trail.” At the question in her eyes, he continued. “I heard something, which led me to a couple of teenagers.” He glanced back down at the knife. “We need to call the police and have that fingerprinted.”

Another gust swept through, the rain even closer, and Nicki moved toward the front door. “The intruder must have taken the knife, then dropped it the night he broke in. I’ve been in and out this way with Callie, but I wasn’t paying any attention to the flower bed at the time. So I didn’t notice it.”

He nodded. That was one explanation. Except he didn’t buy it. His own interpretation was much more sinister. He stepped onto the porch and opened the door for her, then followed her inside. “Maybe you’re right and he dropped it the night he broke in, or...”

“Or what?”

He turned her to face him and took her hands. He would do everything he could to protect her. But she needed to be armed with the facts.

“Maybe he took it with him the night he broke in, then brought it back tonight, fully intending to use it.”


THREE (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770)

Blood.

So much blood.

It covered the woman’s body, seeping outward in an ever-expanding circle. She lay facedown on the floor, hand curled into a fist, as if she was spending the final moments of life in an angry protest against the void creeping over her.

She drew in a final shallow breath. The fist tightened, then released.

Nicki bolted upright with a gasp and pressed a hand over her racing heart. It was only a dream. One nightmare of many. This one was probably triggered by the visit from the two detectives and all the talk of her mother’s murder. The knife lying in the mulch might have played a part, too.

She slid from the bed and bent to stroke Callie’s head, trying to shake off the final remnants of the dream. She was no stranger to nightmares. Scary movies triggered some of them, the evening news others. Growing up, she’d seen things no child should ever see, watched movies that would terrify the most hardened adult.

But often her dreams held elements of the past—leering grins, sinister glances and whispered threats. Louie had landed a starring role in more than one.

As she removed a T-shirt and shorts from the chest of drawers in the corner, her gaze slid toward the closet. She’d left the doors open last night. Shoes lined the bottom, and her clothes hung in organized sections, although packed in way too tightly. Lavender once again occupied his spot on the shelf.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to throw him away. So she’d bought a needle and some matching thread and set to work. Now, with the exception of dozens of tiny stitches crisscrossing his belly, he was back in the same condition he’d been in before the attack—one eye missing, pale purple fur matted and stuffing so compacted his head listed pitifully to one side.

All these years, she’d held on to him. He was the only thing from her early childhood she’d managed to keep. She’d started out with a bin of personal belongings, but through the series of foster homes, one by one, the items disappeared. Some she accidentally left behind, but more often, other kids took them. Once someone tried to take Lavender. The foster mom had to pull her off the other child. The next day, she was on her way to another home with her beloved stuffed rabbit.

Callie nudged her hand, letting her know she’d dallied long enough. It was time for a walk. And after that, breakfast. Like most dogs, she approached both with equal enthusiasm.

Once showered and dressed, Nicki hooked up the leash. As soon as she stepped outside, uneasiness sifted through her. She scanned the yard, then shifted her gaze to the flower bed. Nothing was there, no threatening objects. She tried to shake off the apprehension. It was broad daylight. And Callie was with her.

But finding her chef’s knife lying in the mulch Friday night had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. And although neither she nor Tyler had seen hide nor hair of the intruder in the day and a half since, tension continued to wrap itself around her body.

She glanced toward Andy’s, then headed down her drive. Tyler was probably back inside, having long since finished Sasha’s walk. Maybe she should try to coordinate Callie’s walks with Sasha’s. She would feel safer, and the company was nice. Reconnecting with Tyler had been a pleasant surprise.

But he was different from the boy she’d known long ago.

Friday night, when she’d asked him about his military service, she could feel him shutting down. Her questions had been innocent. But he’d clammed up so tight she couldn’t have pried the information from him with a crowbar.

He never used to be that way. During those balmy days, sitting in the tree in her backyard, sharing stories as daylight became dusk and finally darkness, there’d been no secrets between them. But those experiences had happened a lifetime ago. That Tyler was gone. Maybe that Nicki was, too.

When she reached the road, she looked in both directions. She hadn’t gotten up as early as she did during the week. Maybe if she had, she could have avoided the nightmare. If that was the case, the extra hour of sleep hadn’t been worth it.

She took in a deep breath and increased her pace to a jog, giving Callie the opportunity to work out some of that inexhaustible supply of energy. Yesterday after Tyler had finished his work at the inn, they’d made a run to Crystal River for materials. Today he had the day free and planned to tackle her bathroom vanity installation in the afternoon, as soon as she got home from church. Andy refused to work on Sundays. Tyler didn’t have any such compunctions.

Callie skidded to a stop so suddenly, the leash jerked Nicki’s arm backward before she could halt her forward movement. She frowned down at the dog, who’d stepped off the pavement and was busy sniffing the ground. “A little bit of warning would be nice.”

Nicki let her gaze drift down the street. A short distance away, a car sat parked against a patch of woods. When Nicki started moving again, the engine cranked up. The driver made a U-turn and sped away, heading toward downtown.

Her chest tightened, and she tried to push aside the uneasiness. The driver was probably a lost tourist consulting a map, then discovering he was on the wrong part of the island. That was a logical explanation.

Except for the break-in and the note and the knife left near her living room window.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten close enough to make out the tag. Other than the fact that it was small to medium size and white, she couldn’t even say what kind of car it was. She wasn’t good with car models. She’d always been a truck girl herself.

A few minutes later, she turned around and headed in the direction of home. Callie would keep going if Nicki let her, all the way to town. But long walks alone had lost their appeal. There were too many deserted stretches along Hodges.

Back at the house, she opened the front door and removed Callie’s leash. The dog made a beeline for the kitchen, then stood watching her enter, eyes filled with eagerness. After opening a can and dishing up a generous serving of a smelly concoction named Savory Beef Stew, she poured herself some cereal and sat at the kitchen table.

Yesterday’s mail was still piled at the edge. She’d been busy cleaning when she saw the mailman stop and hadn’t taken the time to go through it. Then she’d set to work on one of her stained glass projects until Tyler arrived to take her to Home Depot.

She picked up the top piece and tore open the envelope. Central Florida Electric Cooperative. The charges were every bit as high as she’d expected. Summers in Florida were hot and it showed on the power bill. Of course, that was all she’d ever known. At least she had air conditioning, which was more than she could say for her early years.

The next envelope contained a credit card offer, which she intended to run through the shredder. Beneath that was something from Chase. One of her credit cards was through them. But the page showing through the windowed envelope looked more like a letter than a statement.

As she scanned the type, dread slid down her throat, lining her stomach with lead. Someone had applied for a credit card in her name, likely before she’d placed the fraud alert. She hadn’t gotten home till Sunday night. And she’d called them Monday morning. If her intruder had come in on Friday, he’d had two whole days to wreak havoc with her credit.

She laid the sheet of paper on the table and sat back in her chair. She’d have to call Chase and cancel the request. This was what she’d feared the moment she saw her information spread across the table. One week had passed, and it was already starting.

The doorbell sounded, and her tension ratcheted up several notches. Who would be ringing her bell at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning? She looked through the peephole, and the tension dissipated. When she swung open the door, Tyler stood on her front porch.

He wasn’t smiling. In fact, his jaw was tight, and vertical creases of concern marked the space between his eyebrows. When he spoke, the concern in his features came out in his tone. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, other than the fact that someone just applied for credit in my name.”

Of course, Tyler wouldn’t have known about her identity theft concerns. Something else must have put those creases of worry on his face. “What’s going on?”

He held out a folded sheet of paper, which she hadn’t noticed until that moment, and a chill passed through her. “What is it?”

“Whoever has been harassing you has apparently decided to carry it next door. I don’t think this is aimed at my brother, even though he’s the one who retrieved it from the front door a few minutes ago. It wasn’t there when I walked Sasha this morning.”

She took what he held and unfolded it. Like the other note, it was written in all caps with bold, angry strokes that could belong to almost anyone.

WATCH THE COMPANY YOU KEEP. IT CAN GET YOU KILLED.

Her blood turned to ice and her heart almost stopped.

She looked up at Tyler, her jaw slack. Her heart had resumed a frantic pace, and moisture coated her palms. “He was watching us. He saw us leave for Home Depot together.” She took a step back, shaking her head. “You have to stay away from me.”

He moved closer until he was standing at the threshold. “Do you really think I’m intimidated by this creep who’s too much of a coward to show his face?”

“Maybe you’re not intimidated, but I am. I’m not willing to risk you getting hurt. This is my battle, not yours.” Although she had no idea what she’d done to get drawn into it.

He took a step closer and put both hands on her shoulders. Now he was inside her entry area. “It’s our battle. Friends stick together. Or have you forgotten that?”

She dropped her gaze. No, she hadn’t forgotten. When some of the snooty rich girls at school had given her a hard time about being adopted, he’d gone to bat for her. And she’d returned the favor when those same girls and their boyfriends had egged the principal’s house and tried to pin it on Tyler.

He laid a finger against the underside of her chin, encouraging her to look at him. His eyes held a warmth that had never been there before. Or maybe it had and she’d been too young and naive to recognize it.

When he finally spoke, his tone was low, the words heavy with meaning. “I never run from danger. Especially when it involves someone I care about.”

She swallowed hard, unable to look away. His words suggested more than simple friendship. So did his tone.

The thought scared her more than anything had as yet.

* * *

Tyler moved through the darkness at a brisk walk, the beam of his flashlight illuminating the road ahead of him. It was 1:00 a.m. on a Monday morning, and Hodges was deserted, all the houses dark except for the soft glow of porch lights shining from a few of them. Gulf Boulevard didn’t show any more signs of life than Hodges had. According to Andy, a lot of his neighbors escaped the heat and humidity and spent summers up north. In the wee hours of the morning, that sense of isolation was even more acute. Most sensible people were in bed.

He’d tried. For almost two hours, he’d chased sleep. Finally he’d grown tired of tossing and turning and had slipped out into the quiet night.

He should have been tired. Actually, he was. Physically, anyway. He’d worked hard all afternoon and evening, pushing to get Nicki’s new sink and vanity installed and the plumbing hooked back up. He’d even started on the shelves in the master bedroom closet. But when he’d dropped into bed at eleven, his brain had gone into overdrive.

The note Andy had pulled off the front door that morning was in the hands of the police. But they probably wouldn’t be any more successful lifting the intruder’s prints from it than they had been from the first one. Or from Nicki’s house, for that matter. All the viable prints belonged to her. Her intruder had apparently worn gloves.

Tyler slowed his pace to catch his breath and cross to the other side of the road. He’d walked about a mile and a half. Maybe by the time he got back, he would be ready to sleep.

But the tension that had coiled through him as he lay staring into the darkness was still very much there. The second note had disturbed him as much as the first. Not because of what it meant for him. He wasn’t afraid for his own life. The note was likely an empty threat. But he understood the purpose behind the words. Whoever wrote them was trying to isolate Nicki from her friends. To weaken her and make her a better target.

It wasn’t going to work. It would take more than a written threat to tear him from Nicki’s side. It would take mortars, RPGs and a couple of Abrams tanks. And even that wouldn’t stop him if he could help it.

As he neared her house, he cast a glance in that direction. Light trickled through the trees that bordered her yard. She would be sound asleep inside, Callie nearby. The dog’s presence brought him a measure of relief. Otherwise, he would insist on loaning her Sasha to stand guard. Or move in himself.

He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his mind. The nightmares were too frequent. Too real. He’d gotten pretty good at waking himself up before the scream building in his throat escaped. But sometimes the terror refused to release its grip until it was too late. Though it hadn’t happened yet, it was only a matter of time until he jarred Andy and Joan from a sound sleep. That was going to be embarrassing enough. He wasn’t about to show Nicki how messed up he was.

He rolled his shoulders, then ran his hands through his hair. When he reached her property line, he again shifted his gaze toward the house. To the right of the front door, a rattan rocker sat bathed in soft yellow light. A short distance away, an American flag hung from a short pole attached to the corner post. Further to the right, her Ram sat in the carport.

In total darkness.

He drew his brows together. When he’d headed out thirty minutes ago, both the porch light and the carport light were on. Had she gotten up and turned the second one off? Or had someone else extinguished it, not wanting to be seen?

He clicked off the flashlight and squinted into the night, worry coiling in his gut. But beyond the glow of the porch light, everything was black. Clouds obscured most of the stars, and the sliver of moon he’d seen early yesterday morning wouldn’t be visible until just before daylight.

He retraced his steps, then slipped into the trees bordering her yard. A twig snapped beneath his foot, the sound amplified in the silence. He hesitated. He had a gun. It just wasn’t with him. With his flashbacks and nightmares, he’d figured it was best to leave his weapon with a friend for safekeeping. Only a week and a half had passed, and he was already rethinking that decision.

Staying within the tree line, he continued to move away from the road, eyes on the carport. Once he was even with her truck, he stopped, listening. The skin on his arms prickled. Someone was there, or had just been there.

Dropping to his hands and knees, he clicked on the light and shone it under the truck, then swept the beam side to side in an expanding arc. Seeing no one, he sprinted to the back of the truck, then crept around it.

When he shone the light on the door of her house, he heaved a sigh of relief. It was undisturbed. He shook the tension from his shoulders. Of course it was undisturbed. No one was getting past the lock he’d installed. At least not without an ax or sledgehammer.

So maybe no one had been there. Maybe the light had burned out. He reached into the fixture. The bulb was still hot. It was also loose. He rotated it a quarter turn and light flooded the carport.

His stomach tightened as he stepped back from the door. His first instinct had been right. Someone had been prowling around her house in the dark. He scanned the side of the house. The laundry room window was the only jalousie left. According to Nicki, the prior owner had changed all the others to single-hungs.

Icy fingers traced a path down the back of his neck. Two of the four-inch by three-foot panes of glass stood against the house. The metal tracks that had held them were warped and bent outward. And the intruder had started on a third. Another thirty minutes and someone would have been inside, in spite of the locks he’d installed.

A sense of protectiveness surged through him, and he clenched his fists. Whoever wanted a piece of his longtime friend was going to have to go through him first. He stalked toward the front door, pulling out his phone as he walked.





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