by Rita Herron
Encouraged, Nathan went on. “Her name is Veronica Miller.”
A twitch in the doctor’s left eye was his only reaction. “I heard she moved back to town.”
“Yes, and ever since she has, she’s had some strange things happening to her. Someone broke in and attacked her, left several threatening messages.”
“Oh, my,” Dr. Sandler said, shaking his head. “It was bad enough what the poor child went through years ago, but now someone is trying to hurt her.”
“I’m afraid so,” Nathan said, realizing the man truly seemed concerned. “And I need to know as much as you can tell me about her condition after her parents were killed.”
“Haven’t you read her files? I gave an in-depth statement to the police years ago.”
“I did. But I wondered if she gave you any clue, no matter how small, about who might have killed her parents.”
“No.” Sandler’s word was emphatic.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain.” Dr. Sandler’s gray eyes narrowed. “I hated all the gossip about the child and would have done anything to have saved her from the ordeal she went through.”
“Do you remember anything strange, anybody who showed up to visit her at the hospital that seemed odd?”
The doctor scratched his chin in thought. “Not that I recollect. Her grandmother came immediately, Dr. Baits, Daryl Scroggins, the police chief back then, and the Jones family. Eli came every day, practically kept a vigil till she came out of shock. Even missed a debate, everyone thought that was real decent of him. And his mother was here almost as much.”
“How did you diagnose Veronica’s condition?”
“It was a classic case of childhood trauma. I told her grandmother I wasn’t sure she’d ever remember what happened. Her grandmother seemed to think it was a blessing.”
“And you?”
“I’ve always been of the theory that the mind remembers things when the person is ready to accept it. However, I do think a loss such as this can have devastating effects on a person.”
“How so?” Nathan started to scribble in his notepad.
“There are all kinds of latent effects. Schizophrenia, multiple personality disorder, paranoia, to name a few. In some cases if the person isn’t treated, they may become delusional. There’re a variety of psychotic behaviors a traumatized child may show later in life.”
“Is it possible the person might actually do things to harm themselves?”
“It’s possible.” Dr. Sandler unfolded his long legs. “The conscious mind has its own way of taking care of repressed issues. It’s unpredictable. Varies with each case.”
Nathan didn’t like what he was hearing.
“Do you really think someone’s trying to hurt Ms. Miller now, after all these years?” Dr. Sandler asked.
“As a child, Veronica witnessed the murder. If the murderer is still in town, he may be afraid her memory will return.”
“I see. Well, I hope you find the person, then, before he hurts Ms. Miller any more than she’s already been hurt.”
Nathan shook Dr. Sandler’s hand and left. The doctor had confirmed two of his theories. One, it was possible Veronica could be doing these things herself. And two, if her parents’ case wasn’t a murder-suicide, but a double homicide, the threats to Veronica could be very real. He wasn’t sure which one frightened him more. He was still concerned about her former boyfriend, too, who was supposed to be in Savannah.
Things seemed to be growing more complicated. And he was determined to find the answers—before Veronica was hurt again.
AFTER WADING through her morning paperwork and talking with the retirement community about the problems the elderly people had complained about, Veronica had a major headache nagging at her temple. She was ready for a nap, not lunch with Tessa Jones. She hadn’t talked with Eli since his last visit, since he’d subtly suggested she not date his son, the future senator. Her feelings were still hurt, and all morning she’d wondered what Tessa had in store for her. Did she want to warn her to get out of Dodge, too?
“I’m taking the afternoon off,” Louise said, poking her head in Veronica’s office. “I made some fresh tea if you want some.”
“Thanks.” She shuffled a few papers and remembered about having the locks changed. “Did you get that new locksmith on the phone?”
“Yep. He said he’d meet you at your place at five.”
“Great, thanks.”
“And Ms. Jones called and said she’ll see you at that little French café around the corner.”
Veronica had a cup of tea to calm herself, then checked to make certain her hair was in place as she headed to meet Tessa. After she’d left the hospital, she’d tucked the windblown mass into a topknot and added a jacket to look more professional for her meeting. Visiting with Tessa was intimidating and she wanted to look her best. A few minutes later she found Tessa waiting at a corner table.
Tessa beamed as Veronica walked over to greet her. She was wearing a stunning green silk dress and green suede heels. Her gold bracelets jangled as she shook Veronica’s hand.
“Hi. Great café.” Veronica indicated the simple French decor of the restaurant.
“I love this place,” Tessa said, settling down in her seat again. “The wines are fabulous. And they have a divine French onion soup.” She nodded toward an already-filled glass. “I took the liberty to order us a glass of wine.”
She normally skipped the wine for lunch, but Veronica didn’t want to offend Tessa, so she simply smiled and sipped the Chablis. “The food smells heavenly,” Veronica said.
“It is.” After they ordered quiche and salad, Tessa unfolded her napkin and toyed with the long gold loop dangling from her ear. “I thought we should get to know each other.”
“Really?” Veronica couldn’t hide her surprise.
“Yes, Daddy’s talked about you for years. And Gerald mentioned he took you to lunch the other day.”
Oh, boy—here it comes.
Instead Tessa gave her a sugary smile. “Since you’re Father’s goddaughter, I figured that makes us kind of like sisters.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Although once upon a time, I wanted it to be that way. Veronica stiffened, wondering where that thought had come from.
“Dad said when you were small, your parents brought you to one of his fund-raisers and you followed me around all day.”
“I did?”
“Yes, isn’t that cute?”
“I…I suppose so.” Veronica took a mental count. When she was seven, Tessa would have been nineteen. She could see how she must have been drawn to her.
“Anyway, I’d forgotten all about that,” Tessa said in a chatty voice. “Dad said you wanted me to tie bows in your hair.”
Veronica laughed softly. “I must have been a pest.”
“Not really. So, after the party the other night, Dad told me what a tough time you had after your parents died, when you went to live with your grandmother.” Tessa’s eyes teared, and Veronica couldn’t help but feel she was being sincere. “I can’t imagine losing my father.”
Veronica swallowed several sips of water, hoping to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.
Tessa gave her a sympathetic look. “What made you decide to move back here after all those years?”
Veronica had expected subtlety. Instead this woman had no qualms about asking what she wanted to know. “I wanted to work for myself instead of a large firm,” Veronica said, sipping her wine.
“Yes, but you could have done that anywhere. Why come back to this town? You must have bad memories.” She brought her hand to her cheek in a dramatic gesture. “I just can’t imagine.”
“That’s just it,” Veronica said, meeting Tessa’s curious gaze head-on. “I don’t have any memories of this town at all.”
“None?” Tessa asked sympathetically.
“None,” Veronica said matter-of-factly.
“So when those doctors said you have amn
esia, it was true. I thought they were just making it up.”
“It’s true,” Veronica said, suddenly losing her appetite. “I’ve tried everything to remember. Even hypnosis. But nothing worked.”
“That must be horrible.”
“Yes.” Tessa’s smile radiated warmth and sincerity, but Veronica’s head was starting to throb even more, and she felt nauseated.
“But I see you’ve already found a man. You’re seeing that handsome detective?”
Veronica took a sip of water. “He’s a—Tessa, I’m not feeling well,” Veronica said, massaging her temple as a wave of pain rocked through her. “It seems I’m getting a migraine.”
“Oh, dear, do you want to take something?”
“No, I have something at home. I think I need to lie down.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tessa seemed concerned, and Veronica felt even worse for skipping out on their lunch. Perhaps she and Tessa could be friends, after all. “I hope I didn’t upset you by bringing up your parents,” Tessa finished.
“No, no, lunch was a lovely idea. Actually I woke up this morning not feeling well.” Veronica rubbed the base of her neck. “Must be a bug or something.”
Tessa patted her hand. “I hope you feel better. Let’s do it again sometime soon.”
“Sure.” Veronica clutched her purse and avoided looking at the quiche as she hurried out. She certainly couldn’t stomach any food.
Once outside, she blinked to ward off the dizziness. Hoping the fresh air would do her good, she walked back to her office, breathing deeply and trying to suppress the throbbing at her temple. She clutched the stair rail and slowly climbed the steps, then shuffled into her office by sheer willpower. Two painkillers later, she stretched out on the sofa in her office and fell sound asleep.
WHY WASN’T VERONICA answering the phone?
The hairs at the back of Nathan’s neck stood on end. He was too damn worried about her to even think. First, the threatening message last night. Now, she wasn’t answering her phone. What if something had happened to her?
“They found Barrett,” Ford said, leaning against his desk. “In some little hotel downtown. All holed up with a new mistress.”
“Right under our noses. How the hell did they trace him there?”
“His wife. She had a PI on him the whole time.”
“So, he’s been there since the day Barrett Pharmaceuticals called?”
Ford nodded. “Looks that way. Means he’s probably not responsible for that little Miller gal and her wolf cries.”
Nathan let out several curse words and grabbed his jacket. “Maybe, maybe not. He could have orchestrated the whole thing from the hotel. Besides, I don’t think she is crying wolf, Ford.”
“You’re a sucker,” Ford said.
Nathan ignored him and rushed to his car. He might be a sucker, but his gut said something was wrong. He had to listen to his instincts. Veronica was in danger. He knew it; he just didn’t know who was after her.
VERONICA WOKE with a start, her vision cloudy, the sound of a tree limb scraping against the windowpane drawing her gaze to the darkening sky. Her heart was pounding, her breathing erratic. She covered her face with her hands and took several deep breaths to remind herself that the dream was over. And it was just a dream—just like she’d had thousands of times before.
The shadow had been pursuing her again, chasing her through the forest, and as she ran through the safety of the woods, the branches had snatched at her hands and legs and tried to grab her. She’d seen a bright light up ahead and heard music playing, the soft lyrics of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” fading in and out. She tried to run faster, but suddenly teetered on the edge of a deep hole. She dove for a tree branch to swing across it, but her hands slipped and her fingers scraped the bark, the prickly wood splinters digging into her palms. She felt herself falling, falling, swirling through the air, sinking into nothingness, then slowly waking up.
She shook off the exhaustion and fear that came with the dream and stared at the clock, groaning as she noticed the time. Ten minutes before five. She had to meet the new locksmith in a few minutes.
She padded into the bathroom and washed her face, then retrieved her keys and purse and a few files to work on at home. Switching off the lights, she made her way down the stairs. The remnants of fatigue and her earlier headache weighed on her body, and her muscles felt heavy and achy.
Stepping outside, she wrapped her coat around her and scanned the grassy area. Empty. The gray sky was cold and dark, signifying possible snow, and a chill crept up her spine as the wind howled and whistled through the bare trees. She shivered and glanced around for other people, but the parking lot was amazingly vacant for so early on Friday, and the sunset had diminished with the impending bad weather. She should have listened to the weather forecast. It hardly ever snowed in Georgia, but occasionally an ice storm or light snow would blow through, immobilizing the city. No one was prepared for icy roads, and snowplows were reserved for the major expressways.
Hurrying home would be best, so she opened the car door and climbed in, fighting with the wind as it caught a few strands of her hair and swiped them from her topknot. Something white caught her eye. A towel lay in the passenger seat, all wrapped up. Odd. She hadn’t put it there.
Reaching across the seat, she slowly unfolded the edges of the towel, her heart thumping as a red stain came into view. The ends of the towel flopped open and she saw the shiny glint of metal. Blood trickled onto the soft leather of her car seat, and a scream locked in her throat. It was one of her own kitchen knives, covered in blood.
Someone grabbed her arm and a male voice penetrated the eerie silence, calling her name.
“Veronica, what the hell is wrong?”
She turned, wide-eyed, to see Nathan standing beside her car.
“Veronica, what is it?”
A muffled cry escaped her and she pointed with unsteady hands to the seat. Nathan’s jaw tightened as he spotted the bloody knife. He helped her from the car.
“Come on, sit in here.” Without preamble, he gently shoved her into the front of his own car and radioed for a crime unit. “I want this car searched with a fine-tooth comb.”
“I…I got in and it was there,” Veronica mumbled, still shivering uncontrollably.
“This game is getting tiresome,” Nathan said, gritting his teeth. He pulled Veronica into his embrace, and she relaxed against him, grateful for the warmth of his strong arms.
“It’s okay.” He rubbed his hand along the base of her spine, and Veronica felt his calm soothing voice wrap around her like a tender caress. “When the crew gets here, I’m taking you home.”
“I was supposed to meet the locksmith,” Veronica whispered.
“We’ll meet him,” Nathan said. “And I’ll make sure your apartment’s secure this time.”
“Stay with me,” she pleaded, burying her face in his chest.
“Don’t worry.” He threaded his fingers in her hair. “I’m not going to leave you, Veronica.”
Not ever.
Nathan knew the silent vow was a mistake, but he could no more stop himself than he could push Veronica away and let someone else take her case. That would be the smart thing to do. He was definitely too involved. But he would not leave her until he figured out who was trying to hurt her.
And then—he would leave her only if she asked him to.
Her soft body sagged against him, and within minutes he felt the tension drain from her as she relaxed in his arms. She was safe. He knew it now, but he couldn’t erase the heart-pounding fear he’d experienced when she hadn’t answered the phone. Her firm breasts were pressed against his chest, and the whisper of her breath on his neck had him clinging to her. He’d been scared out of his mind on the way over, imagining all sorts of things that could have happened to her. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her sweet scent, oblivious to his vow to remain professional.
He needed the reassurance. He needed to know she was sa
fe. And dammit, he needed to hold her as much as she needed to be held.
The blue-and-white rolled up, and he pulled away from Veronica only long enough to give them orders. “I’m taking her home. Be sure to fingerprint the car and the knife. Check the bloodstains for type and bag it all for evidence.” He lowered his voice. “I’m going to catch this bastard.”
The officers nodded and set to work while he climbed in the car. Veronica looked pale, but she’d composed herself and he glimpsed the courage she’d drawn from all her life. The ride back to her house was silent and filled with tension. He didn’t force her to talk, and he realized he needed the time to gather his own thoughts. He’d been frightened. When he’d seen she was safe, he’d wanted to lavish her with kisses and hugs and tear off her clothes, sate his need for her right there in the parking lot. Damn. He’d never felt this way before.
Gathering his calm, he parked, hopped out and went around to the passenger side. She was already climbing out. The locksmith was waiting. Nathan watched the man work while Veronica excused herself. He heard the shower running and imagined her standing naked under the spray of water. He desperately wished he could join her. But he had to make certain the apartment was secure.
And he needed to give Veronica time. He wanted her to be sure she wanted him, not just a warm, comforting body. Because once he took her, she was going to be his.
Forever.
It couldn’t be any other way. Not with Veronica.
“Finished,” the man said.
Nathan paid him and checked the dead bolts, then called for a pizza and found a bottle of wine in Veronica’s cabinet. Making himself at home, he pulled two glasses from the cabinet and poured them nearly full. When the pizza arrived, he paid for it and put it in the oven to stay warm.
Then he settled on the couch with the wine and sipped, thinking of how he’d have to be patient with Veronica. She was a classy woman, an attorney, not a rough-and-tumble sort of woman. If he took her like some macho, needy jerk, he’d scare her to death. He’d have to go slow, to be tender, to make sure his rough callused hands did nothing but pleasure her. Yes, he would take it slow. He would pleasure her before he found his release. Even if it killed him.