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.
After calling 911, he lifted his hand to ring the bell, then hesitated. That probably wasn’t the best option. He’d startle her out of a sound sleep, and she’d be terrified, not knowing what threat stood at her front door.
He dialed her number, and she answered on the second ring.
“Tyler? What’s going on?” Her tone held hesitancy.
“Come to the front door. I’m right outside.”
A light went on some distance to his left, filtering through the slats in her miniblinds. A minute later, the front door swung inward.
And his breath caught in his throat.
Nicki stood just inside, auburn hair framing her face in wild disarray. Her eyes were wide, fear swimming in their green depths, and it shot straight to his gut. She stepped back to allow him entrance, then stood motionless, her silk robe fluttering with every jagged breath. She looked so vulnerable.
And so beautiful.
As he stepped inside, he lifted a hand to reach for her, then mentally shook himself. She was his friend, nothing more. It was all she’d been back then, and there was even more reason to keep it that way now. In less than two months, he’d be finished with his business in Cedar Key and once again hit the road. In the meantime, he wouldn’t lead her on with promises he couldn’t keep.
“What are you doing here?”
He shut and locked the door. “I caught someone trying to get in your laundry room window. He already had two panes of glass out and was working on the third.”
Blood leached from her face, leaving it with as little color as the pale ivory robe. She took a faltering step backward, shaking her head. “I didn’t hear anything. Callie apparently didn’t, either.”
He closed the gap between them and took her hand. “The police are on their way. Let’s sit.” He led her to the couch, then eased down next to her. When he draped an arm across her shoulders, she leaned into him. A faint floral scent teased his senses. He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus.
“You need to think about moving in with Andy and Joan.”
“I don’t want to impose.” She leaned away to look over at him. “Will you stay for a while, though? Just tonight?”
He pulled her against him again. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to try to get some sleep after the police leave, I’ll be right here on your couch. Come daylight, I’m picking you up a more secure window.”
In some areas, changing windows required a permit. If that was the case in Cedar Key, he’d beg forgiveness later.
Because nothing was going to stop him from doing what he needed to do. Come nightfall, the house would be secure. Nicki would be safe.
And that was all that mattered.
* * *
Nicki shut off her computer monitor and pulled her purse from the bottom desk drawer. It had been a hectic day. But she wasn’t complaining. Busy days went faster. And she was thankful for the job. The week she’d moved to Cedar Key, the receptionist at city hall had moved away, leaving the position open. With Nicki’s five years in management, she was overqualified. But the pleasant people and the laid-back environment were just what she needed.
Now that the day was finished, fatigue was creeping over her. She’d barely been asleep two hours when Tyler called. Though she’d been back in bed less than two hours later, sleep had been a long time coming.
She hated to even speculate about what would have happened if Tyler hadn’t walked by when he had. She never did ask him what he was doing outside at that time. That should have raised her suspicions, but it didn’t. Something told her she wasn’t the only one with nightmares—memories kept at bay in the daylight, waiting to invade the subconscious in the wee hours of the morning.
She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and moved toward the double glass door, but before she could get there, a female voice stopped her.
“Nicki, can you come into my office for a moment?”
She stopped midstride to face her boss, Miranda Ja
cobs. Nicki’s chest tightened, and she tried to shake off the uneasiness. There was no reason to be nervous. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Not that she knew of, anyway. But there was something in her boss’s tone, a cool professionalism, hinting that there might be a reprimand coming.
“Have a seat.” Miranda motioned toward one of two chairs, then settled herself behind her desk. “I’ve been very happy with your work performance. You’re catching on to everything quickly.”
Nicki nodded, waiting for Miranda to continue. Why did she sense an imminent but?
“I received a complaint this afternoon, though.”
Nicki frowned. “What kind of complaint?”
“A woman called, a Jane Wilson. Do you remember helping her this morning?”
“No, I don’t. But I’d have to look back through my notes to be sure. Did I do something wrong?”
“She said you were rude to her.”
Her jaw dropped. “Rude? I haven’t been rude to anybody.”
Miranda gave her a sympathetic smile. “Dealing with people all day long can be stressful. But no matter how annoying someone is, we have to bite our tongues and be pleasant, even if it’s the last thing we feel like doing.”
Nicki shook her head. “I promise you, I wasn’t rude to anybody. What did I supposedly say?”
“She claimed that she asked you some questions and you were short with her, that you cut her off and said you didn’t have time for her.”
Nicki snapped her mouth shut. It had sagged even further during Miranda’s explanation. “That’s not true. She’s making things up.”
“Why would someone do that?” Miranda’s brows were raised in question. Or maybe it was suspicion.
“I don’t know why.” She drew in a shaky breath. Someone was out to get her.
“Have you made any enemies?”
“No.” Well, maybe one. Peter hadn’t taken it very well when she dumped him. He somehow thought it reasonable to expect her to wait for him to do his time, then pick up where they left off.
But it wasn’t Peter who’d made the complaint. It was a woman. Of course, he could have put someone up to it.
She drew in a deep breath. “I apparently have an enemy I don’t know about, because I promise you, I haven’t been rude to anyone. You’ve heard me talk to people who come in, and you’ve listened to my side of phone conversations. Have I ever been at all short with anyone?”
Miranda hesitated before responding. “No, you haven’t.”
“Please believe me when I tell you I wasn’t this time, either.”
“All right.” She gave her a small smile. “I have to admit, when the woman called, what she was describing didn’t sound like you at all, even though she mentioned you by name, first and last.”
“When I’m helping people, I always identify myself by my first name only. This Jane Wilson, if that’s even her real name, apparently knows me outside of work.”
Miranda nodded. Nicki wished her farewell and walked from the office. After climbing into the Ram, she backed from the parking space, mind still spinning. Who would want to get her in trouble and possibly fired from her job? The same person who was leaving threatening notes and had tried to tamper with her credit. Someone had set out to destroy her. But she had no idea who.
She pressed the brake and eased into her turn onto D Street. Over the years, she’d stuck her neck out a few times, provided help to friends who needed a little extra gumption to walk away from good-for-nothing men. Maybe it was coming back to bite her.
Or maybe it was her own good-for-nothing man. Peter had gotten pretty angry the last time she talked to him. He was out on bond, still awaiting trial, and before she left for Miami, he’d called to make one last-ditch effort to talk her into staying with him. His pleas hadn’t worked. But was he that vindictive? Something about the scenario didn’t ring true.
Maybe it wasn’t anger driving him. Maybe the threats and attacks were all part of an elaborate plot to send her running back to him. The notes, the break-in and subsequent attempts, the knife left behind—it was all unsettling. In fact, she was scared. She’d be lying if she said otherwise.
And the attack on her credit and her job were almost as disconcerting. If she ended up unemployed, with her credit destroyed, she’d soon find herself in serious financial trouble, in spite of the little nest egg she’d inherited from her parents.
She squared her shoulders and tightened her grip on the wheel. Peter was underestimating her. She’d been through a lot worse and survived. No matter what happened, she didn’t need a man to take care of her.
She made the final turn on her four-minute commute. Hodges wasn’t in a subdivision. Most of the houses were spaced far apart, some almost hidden in the trees. The secluded setting was what she’d wanted. A month ago, anyway. Now one of those postage-stamp-size lots in the city had a lot of appeal.
But she had good neighbors. Andy and Joan had extended their friendship the day she moved in, with freshly baked cookies, and had made regular visits since. Now Tyler was there, at least for the time being. He and Andy wouldn’t be home yet. But she’d see him tonight. He was determined to have the laundry room window changed out before she went to bed.
And he was equally determined to ignore the threat against him. She pursed her lips. The note had said, “Watch the company you keep. It can get you killed.”
Was Peter capable of murder? She hadn’t thought so. But she hadn’t thought he was capable of embezzling a hundred grand from his employer, either. Which proved one thing—she really didn’t know him at all.
She pressed the brakes and made a right turn into her driveway. She’d unwittingly given Peter a reason to go after Tyler in earnest. Late Saturday afternoon, she’d left with Tyler and not come back for three hours. They’d even had dinner out. It had been totally professional. Their date had consisted of roaming the aisles of Home Depot.
But Peter wouldn’t know that. He’d think she’d found someone new, which would make his chances of winning her back zilch. Of course, they’d been nonexistent anyway. But Peter wasn’t one to give up easily.
She drew in a stabilizing breath. As soon as she got inside, she’d call Amber, or maybe Amber’s brother Hunter. He’d been a Cedar Key cop a lot longer. She wasn’t ready to file an official report, because she didn’t have enough evidence to make an accusation. But Hunter would be able to advise her.
As she moved up the drive, she scanned the house’s concrete block face. Everything looked the same as it had when she’d come home at lunchtime to take Callie out. Except...
Dread wrapped around her like a cloak. Something was attached to her front door.
Heart pounding in her chest, she jammed on the brakes, jumped from the truck and hurried to the porch. A sheet of paper was folded in half, its creased edge affixed to the door with a small piece of tape. She extended her arm. She wouldn’t risk destroying prints. Touching only the top edge, she folded it back and scanned the words.
YOUR WORLD UNRAVELING? YOU HAVEN’T SEEN ANYTHING YET.
YOUR HOME, YOUR JOB, YOUR FRIENDS, YOUR LIFE.
I WILL TAKE IT ALL.
Bile rose in her throat, and she stepped back, clutching her stomach. Why would Peter go after her like this? The first note had said, “The party’s over.” But he, better than anyone, knew her life had been anything but a party. She’d told him a little about her childhood and her years in foster care. Not all of it. There were some things she hadn’t told anyone except Tyler.
But Peter knew enough. And he’d been there the night she got the news of her parents’ deaths. She’d had plenty of hardships over her twenty-nine years and fought far too many battles to get where she was.
None of that mattered. She knew that now. Peter was a lover spurned. He was selfish and angry, maybe even a little off.
; It was a combination that could turn out to be deadly.
FOUR
Nicki turned back the cover on her notebook and passed it across the table to Meagan Kingston. “It’s just a rough sketch, but what do you think?”
Meagan studied what she held, then showed it to Hunter next to her. He was dressed in his police uniform, on break during his shift. Besides enjoying dinner with his wife, he’d be dispensing some advice. Nicki had already forewarned him.
Meagan tapped the page with her other hand. “I like it. But I think I want a little more detail on the trees.”
Nicki nodded. She’d treated herself on her birthday with a Meagan Kingston painting, and now Meagan was ordering some Nicki Jackson stained glass to hang in her dining room. The three of them sat on the back deck of the Blue Desert Café, two half-eaten medium pizzas in the center of the table. Usually in July, the deck would have been unbearably hot, even at dusk. But a thunderstorm brewed somewhere off the coast, sending refreshing gusts of cooler air over the water.
After wiping her fingers on a paper napkin, Meagan removed a pencil from her purse, then held it poised over the paper. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. You’re the artist.”
“Looking at what you have displayed at Darci’s and the co-op, I’d say you are, too.” She put the pencil to the paper and sketched some lines, then did some shading.
While Meagan worked, Nicki took a bite of pizza, then lifted her gaze to the dock extending out over the shallow water. Near the shore, palmettos partially obstructed the view. Further out, other greenery broke the horizon. Cedar Key was a series of islands, some connected by bridges, others accessible only by boat.
Meagan handed her back the pad. “Is that doable?”
“Definitely. Now for colors.” She pulled several pages of swatches from the back of the notebook and, after handing them to Meagan, turned her attention to Hunter.
Buried Memories Page 5