Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3)

by Suzanne Halliday

  Stan said she’d been wearing a Yankees hoodie, and now, here was a Yankees wall calendar.

  A little farther along the wall, his heart seized, and goddammit if tears didn’t sting his eyes and make the damn contacts swim. It was the Tintagel picture. He thought he’d never see it again, and this time, when he did, his fingers stroked the shabby chic wood frame. He remembered his recent conversations with Hadley. The presence of Merlin’s cave in Summer’s life was no fluke.

  Neither was the Yankees paraphernalia.

  Clearing the kitchen, he found himself in the living room. Instead of the gargantuan Brady Bunch couch he expected, Arnie found a discreet, functional, and very plain gray sofa set. It reeked of IKEA.

  Beneath the big window were a table and chairs. Beyond the window and clearly visible was the backyard space and a pool. He scowled anew at the flimsy doors leading to the private yard. An entry door with a frosted glass top offered little safety or security.

  Good god.

  Lynda and Stan caught up with him. He joined them mid-conversation.

  “Check this out,” Lynda crowed. “The bathroom has the same footprint as the kitchen. They’re back-to-back.”

  Arnie’s bushy eyebrows rose. From a practical standpoint, it was a clever concept.

  Right inside the bathroom door were a large closet and a built-in cabinet. Beyond was a long counter with a bowl sink. The room was long and narrow, so every inch of space was put to maximum use. On the other side of the sink was a linen closet next to the tile enclosure for the toilet. A walk-in shower dominated the back wall.

  Stan asked a bunch of questions about the built-ins and plumbing while Arnie studied the long blank wall. There was a window for ventilation and, once again, no additional security.

  His eyes skimmed a basket of stuff on the back of the toilet. Nothing stood out, and he was about to turn away when a laughing snort shook him. Nestled amidst a bunch of hair ties, hand sanitizers, and hand cream samples sat two bottles of Poo Pourri. The very same stuff Dottie tucked inside everyone’s NIGHTWIND Christmas stocking along with a note begging them to use it.

  Every time he found or felt another thread connecting his life to Summer’s, he took it as compounding proof of their destiny.

  Leaving the bathroom, he went back to the main part of the guesthouse to continue formulating a strong mental visual of the layout. In the living room, he looked to the right. The back door and another window made up the back wall. An archway and a visible door must lead to the bedroom.

  A solid rectangle with too many access points.

  Peering into the backyard, he noted the configuration of the pool and the block wall. Without asking for permission, he marched through the back door and nearly shit himself. Yes, there was a block wall, but it ended next to a private patio for the main house. A tall, long-established hedge provided the only buffer to the house next door, and the iron gate where it came to an end was a security joke. Even if the gate had a massive lock, it was still possible to access the yard through the hedge.

  Fuck.

  Before slipping back inside, he looked at the corner of the pool area where several loungers sat. It was where Summer had been dancing as he hung over the wall trying to get close to her.

  Stan and Lynda were standing in the archway when he went inside.

  “Bud loves Spanish architecture, so this archway was his idea. The bedroom is through that door. It’s small and has a window. You can see it on the addition plans.”

  He was relieved to hear they wouldn’t be invading Summer’s bedroom.

  Stan and Lynda wandered around here and there, leaving Arnie to continue his exploration. While he was absently poking in the living room, he stumbled upon a shadow box filled with the treasure memories she collected the day they went hiking.

  Glancing sideways, he saw Stan and Lynda at the table, ignoring him while poring over the paper plans for the addition.

  Quickly so as not to get caught, he lifted the top of the shadow box and stroked a small, smooth rock with his finger. He felt her energy. She’d recently touched the objects. One by one, he added his energy to hers and then closed the box. When he looked at the glass top, he saw a pulsing rainbow.

  As he straightened and looked around, something curious hit him. Except for the shadow box, the framed picture, and a wall calendar, he found no personal things like pictures. No pictures of the baby, which he thought was odd.

  Then it hit him. Summer wasn’t nesting. She didn’t see this as a forever move or anything other than a temporary landing zone.

  He’d seen enough. Signaling to Stan, Arnie quickly let himself out and returned to the house next door. He called King and caught him doing a kid taxi thing—ferrying Jack and Nic to after-school activities.

  “The physical layout is a security nightmare. It’s stripped down minimum. A fifth grader could break in.”

  “Suburban hell,” King drawled. “I didn’t just put in security at the new house. I installed layers. Dawn questioned my sense until Milo explained the genius of it.”

  “Layers, huh,” Arnie grunted. “I like it, but alas, what she has going on is as opaque as fishnet.”

  They were still discussing the issue when he stepped through the sliders into the backyard. All it took was a few seconds to freeze in place.

  “Holy fuck. King! I see a drone. For real, man. It’s up high but definitely hovering.”

  King reacted immediately. “Text Stan. Tell him to take cover. A hat, anything. If it’s your evil stepmother, she’s gonna recognize her own kid.”

  “On it.” He disconnected the call and texted Stan.

  Drone alert. Stay inside, away from windows. If you go out, wear a baseball cap and carry something

  A thumbs-up emoji came back.

  He didn’t move and simply tracked the moving object, never losing sight. What the hell was the purpose of a drone? Checking for what?

  He texted King. Really need the identity of the lookers.

  The reply was one word. Working.

  The drone vanished, but it took another hour for Stan to return. He went off the minute he came through the door.

  “A drone? What’s happening, Arnie?”

  “Your mother is better at this than I imagined. She or someone she hired is doing reconnaissance. Probably layout and daily habits. I’m going to fucking kill her when this thing goes down. You realize this, right?”

  “You’re gonna have to get in line.” The seething anger in Stan’s voice was impressive.

  They looked at each other. The wheels in Arnie’s brain were working overtime.

  “Get a work crew here stat. We need activity. I want lots of coming, going, and deliveries.”

  “I see where this is going. Don’t worry. I’ll cover this place with worker bees.”

  “And let’s get some furniture. Right now. Throw money around and get us a table and chairs. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “In the interest of keeping our shit together, let’s agree on a food plan, and I’ll order Postmates.”

  Stan’s practical bent came as a surprise. Arnie supposed alcohol obscured the character trait for many years.

  While Stan worked the phone, Arnie went into overdrive—an easy thing, considering the adrenaline racing through his system. He checked in at NIGHTWIND central with a status update. Next, he sent a message to his father. Composing the right words took some time. In the end, his plea was simple and direct.

  Can you come to California? We need you.

  He thought long and hard about using “we” instead of “I.” When his father opened up and shared memories of Arnie’s mother, the Connecticut house and Darnell Senior’s special relationship with the daughter-in-law he adored to this day, the hand of the universe wasn’t difficult to see. Not everything was only about him. There were other people, and their emotions were also on the line.

  Going it alone only wasted months of time—time he didn’t know was going to prove so precious. He’d miss
ed the birth of his daughter, subjected Summer to God only knew what, and gave Giselle a foothold.

  Lesson learned. Discovering he was a mere human was made tolerable by the knowledge he wasn’t alone. He had his NIGHTWIND compadres, and for real, they were a steely-eyed squad of superheroes disguised as regular people. New York people, but still.

  But the light bulb moment hitting him square in the heart was when he, his dad, and Stan aligned perfectly to form an immovable, unified force. They were a team—Team McGee. He wasn’t alone about needing Dad in the game. Stan was part of this—a big part. Asking for paternal support and backup at this crucial moment was a no-brainer.

  I thought you’d never ask, but just in case you did, Dottie already has me on a cross-country flight. Wheels up in a few hours. Have coffee ready.

  Oh, thank god. He did some calculations, and with the time zone changes, he figured nine or ten in the morning for Dad’s arrival. All they had to do was get through tonight and wait for tomorrow’s reinforcements.

  Like magic, furniture right off the showroom floor was delivered, and work crews got started under Stan’s direction. By dinnertime, the house was ripped apart, and one disorganized mess morphed into another.

  There was a landscaping team working in the front yard, and in the driveway, a crew of tile guys was cleaning up for the day. Movement on the street picked up. People were coming home from work. Bud pulled into his driveway and continued into the garage, leaving an open spot for Summer.

  Arnie anxiously awaited her return and turned surly when the sun went down, the evening arrived, and she still wasn’t home.

  He and Stan were seated at a round pedestal dining table in the middle of the ripped-up living room. A meal of Italian delights took up most of the family-sized table.

  “Papa Leo’s Sicilian Eatery,” Stan informed him for the second time. “Great Yelp reviews. The Postmates gal said it’s the best eye-tally-ano in the Valley. Try the gnocchi.”

  Shoveling garlic knots dipped in chunky meat sauce into his mouth, Arnie merely grunted. It wasn’t a case of not giving a shit. His nerves were stretched so taut that he was worried about snapping.

  The tile guy stuck his head in the door. “We’re all packed up, Stan. Eight o’clock okay tomorrow? Ordinarily, we start earlier, but my son has a school field trip, and it’s up to me to drop him off on time.”

  “And who doesn’t enjoy a good school trip? Where’s he off to? Someplace cool, I hope,” Stan answered in a jovial tone.

  “La Brea Tar Pits and Museum. It’s kind of standard for LA school kids.”

  The two men worked out the details after Stan got up from the table and went to the door. As the guy left, Stan walked after him.

  “Whoa, Stan. Don’t go out there,” he barked.

  His brother stumbled to a halt and looked at him. “But the landscaper is signaling he wants a convo.”

  Arnie pushed back from the table and stood. “I’ll do it. You’re too noticeable. If Giselle catches sight of your ugly mug, she’ll know we’re on to her.”

  He brushed past and gave Stan a stern scowl. “And don’t press your face against the windows.”

  It only took a few short hours to rip out the brown rectangle making up the uninspiring front yard. Now there was a walkway mapped out and beds outlined with stone accents. Once the flowers and plants were added, it would look amazing.

  The landscape foreman was a burly Latino man with a wide smile and a mustache rivaling Arnie’s fake ’stache. There was a small problem with the present lamppost—a relic of another era. They were running through the pros and cons of keeping it, trying to relocate it, or just tearing it out when Arnie noticed an individual standing on the porch of the house on the other side of the Gerry’s.

  There was nothing remarkable or noteworthy about the man except for his energy field. A dirty brown aura with speckles of angry red denoted one very miserable and unhappy camper.

  He was about to glance away when something else caught his eye. Although he was alone on the porch, someone else was on the other side of the screen door. Arnie knew this because they were talking—and the guy was staring at the Gerry’s driveway.

  Despite looking innocent, it didn’t feel right.

  Lights on a car moving through the neighborhood came slowly closer and then turned into the Gerry driveway. Panic seized him until he remembered he was fully disguised.

  Summer’s car pulled all the way forward to the privacy fence and stopped.

  Arnie moved around the yard with the foreman. He was good at this. Dottie called it dynamic multitasking. His quirky talents enabled him to channel his unconventional abilities plus keep up the pretense of a separate conversation.

  Questioning the foreman about lamppost power lines versus solar options, he continued to interpret extrasensory input. The guy on the porch was one hundred percent focused on Summer.

  Was he a threat?

  He desperately wanted to watch her get out of the car, and his hands fisted from the effort required to remain focused. He’d have the rest of his life to watch her after the danger was vanquished, and his woman and daughter were safe.

  The sound of a screen door slamming announced the retreat of the porch guy. He was back inside his house.

  Arnie’s eyes swung to Summer. Once again, all he really saw was her head bobbing along as she walked and then disappeared behind the fence.

  Time to move along. He looked at the foreman. “A solar lamppost with a heavy planter. Curb appeal.”

  The foreman agreed and informed him he knew a guy who did custom concrete planters.

  Decision made, he hurried as fast as his bruised hip let him, entered the house and pulled out his phone at the same time.

  “Dottie? Listen carefully. Get me everything you can about the people living in the house on the other side of 369. And tell Milo to call me. I have a question.”

  He hung up and looked at Stan. “The neighbors appear far too interested in Summer.”

  “Could it be so simple?” Stan muttered.

  He scowled. “Yes, it could, but believe me, if this is what I think, Giselle’s incredible luck just ran out.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Good question.” Arnie paced the room. He smoothed his fake mustache and went deep in his thoughts.

  He called Dottie back. “Can you put eyes on the house overnight?”

  “The team on call before you arrived has moved out to another assignment. I can get the locals to do a slow drive-by during their overnight rounds. Will that do?”

  “I suppose it has to. It’d look odd if we stayed in an empty house, but I can’t leave her exposed.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Milo’s right here. You want to talk to him?”

  “Yeah, put him on.”

  “Speaker,” Dottie announced. “Go for Crawford.”

  “Milo,” Arnie barked ignoring the niceties. “I need you to drop a GPS pin. I don’t care what you have to do or how many laws you break. Pinpoint the cell locations inside the address Dottie will give you.”

  “How many?” Milo asked.

  “Three.”

  “And what is the endgame, Arnie? What do you need?”

  “I need to know where those phones are at all times. Tomorrow is a workday, so hopefully two of the phones will move and one will stay put.”

  “Understood,” Milo replied. “Leave it to me.”

  Dottie got back on the call. “Just us,” she murmured. “Listen Arnie, be careful, okay? This crazy bitch means business. Jon said he’d never seen so much professional activity done in such an amateurish way. People who think they know shit are dangerous.”

  “Tell me about it,” he growled. “This feels like a first draft Grisham novel—before he edits out the bad writing.”

  “You want any more of this?” Stan asked. He was dropping meatballs on top of a spaghetti tower.

  Arnie ended the phone call, glanced out the window and then at the table of food. The evening
was relatively young. He intended to stay until it got weird. There were several empty hours ahead.

  “Sure,” he answered. “Might as well carb load.”

  Summer couldn’t remember ever being this tired. Working a double shift after a tense, sleepless night left her shaky and drained. It was a wonder she found the strength to unpack the baby’s diaper bag and rinse out the bottles Mrs. Pak managed to get Ari to drink.

  Ari’s sharp wail of annoyance made Summer’s boobs throb and leak. She’d pumped during a break at work, but her breasts were uncomfortably full.

  Finally able to slow down, she nested on the couch, and gazed lovingly at her daughter. Ari’s greedy suckling unleashed waves of oxytocin into her system. The love hormone filled her with emotion, but it wasn’t enough to override her exhaustion.

  With each passing minute, it became more and more likely she’d be napping on the couch as soon as the baby finished and went down for her post-dinner snooze. Catching a few z’s was essential since she had every intention of standing guard again overnight.

  Weary and unsure if her thoughts were straight, Ari’s tugging suckle helped soothe the unruly parade of musings and emotions trampling around inside her.

  Downshifting, Summer sighed heavily and released the tension causing her back to ache. As calm spread throughout her body, she began picking up subtle flashes of energy in the physical world around her.

  Scrutinizing every square inch of her surroundings, she noticed a pad of paper and a pencil in the middle of a table and paused.

  What the …? Oh, wait. She remembered now. Lynda and the contractor guys from next door had been in her apartment. This must account for the vibes she felt.

  Ari grunted. She was satisfied for now and relaxed her mouth’s hold on Summer’s nipple. The baby’s contentment made her smile.

  Lifting her daughter onto her shoulder, she patted her back and waited for a burp. As she did, her eyes drifted across the coffee table and stopped. Her shadow box glimmered. From the inside.