He went out the front, waving to Lolly as he passed, and took a squad car. He spent the drive across town not thinking about Emma Reid, or the way her laughter warmed him—or how the hell he was going to avoid someone who’d moved in next door to him. He just would. There was no other choice.
When he pulled up in front of old Lou Jessup’s place, he could hear the dog over the car’s engine. Terriers had shrill barks, and Bitsy’s was shriller than most. Nick got out and headed for the house. The dog grew louder with every step, and when he reached the front door he heard scratching sounds behind it.
He rang the doorbell. After a minute, the door opened—and the little dog tore outside, yapping her head off until she skidded to a halt in the yard and lifted a leg.
Mr. Jessup stood in the doorway and glanced from Nick to Bitsy. They both watched as the dog let loose the longest stream ever to come out of an animal that small. When she finished, she wiped her paws on the grass and trotted back inside, tail wagging and barking silenced.
Nick shook his head. There wasn’t much the sheriff’s department could do here, because the town ordinance was for disruptive noises after ten PM. He’d planned to warn Mr. Jessup about that, and tell him to make sure Bitsy stayed quiet at night so he wouldn’t be fined. “Just stopped by to let you know we had a complaint about your dog, sir. Again.”
“Well, someone ought to tell my neighbor to get his own dog,” Mr. Jessup said, sending a rueful glance at the house next door. “Maybe then he wouldn’t spend so much time obsessing about Bitsy.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t, sir. But in the meantime, you should probably let Bitsy out when she starts barking like that.”
“She’d just gone out. I swear, it was ten minutes ago.” Mr. Jessup reached down and scratched the little dog’s head as she sat between his feet, panting happily. “Sorry to bring you all the way out here, Nick.”
“That’s all right.”
“How’s your father doing?”
“Much better, sir.” He glanced up the street toward his parents’ place at the top of the rise—and a jolt went through him when he noticed a black town car with heavily tinted windows parked in front of the house. The vehicle wasn’t familiar, and it made him uneasy. “Matter of fact, I’m heading over to check on them now,” he said.
“Well, tell them hello for me.”
“I will,” he said absently, his mind already churning through possibilities. A surprise visit from Bethie seemed unlikely. That car looked government. Or wealthy criminal, bordering on the mob. Like Ankles Martello.
Nick bolted for the squad car, the warning he was going to give Mr. Jessup about remembering the night noise ordinances forgotten. He sped the short distance with his heart in his throat, parked behind the town car and left the engine running as he raced onto the porch and pushed the doorbell.
Not bothering to wait for an answer, he opened the door and walked in. “Mom? Dad?”
“Is that you, Nicky?” his mother called from the kitchen. “We’re in here.”
His heart rate slowed to a gallop. Viola Donovan sounded like her normal, cheerful self, so whoever was here must not be threatening—yet. But he couldn’t let himself relax. This felt wrong.
When he reached the kitchen, his suspicions were confirmed.
Ankles and Pinky were sitting at the table with his parents. Having coffee. The fury that filled him was cold and absolute, but he managed to contain it as his mother stood and came over to hug him. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “What a nice surprise! Your father and I were just talking with your friend Mr. Martello—”
“Please,” Ankles interrupted smoothly. “Call me Theodore.”
“Theodore, then.” Viola smiled. “Anyway, I didn’t know you’d joined a gym in Greenway, Nicky. Theodore says you’ve kept him inspired to work out and lose weight, with the group you set up. I think that’s wonderful.”
“Yes. The gym.” Nick waited until his father looked away to direct a searing glare at Ankles. He could almost understand his mother being suckered in by this bastard’s story, since she always wanted to see the best in people, but his father should have been at least suspicious.
“Oh, and Theodore is such a fan of your father’s,” Viola said. “He has a signed glossy from twenty-five years ago, and Charlie looks incredible. Has he shown it to you?”
Well, that explained his father. He could never resist a fan. “No, he hasn’t,” Nick said evenly, making his way to the table. He put an arm around his father’s shoulders and squeezed. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “Back to the old glory days, huh?”
“Right at the peak.” Charlie Donovan smiled. “So what brings you down here, Nicky? You must be working, since you’re in uniform. Big case in the old neighborhood?”
Nick managed a laugh he didn’t feel, ignoring the way Pinky was looking at him—like a dog eyeing a cut of meat he couldn’t quite reach. “No, just a disturbance,” he said.
Ankles flashed a chilling smile. “It must’ve been that dog down the street,” he said. “Yapping away like that. Disturbing the neighbors.”
“Yes, Lou Jessup’s terrier.” Charlie smirked and shook his head. “Did they send you out for that, Nicky? Seems like a waste of time.”
Nick almost didn’t answer. His gaze locked with Ankles, and he understood what happened. The bastard had called in the complaint himself, to make him come out here so he could see this. So he’d know how easy it would be for Ankles Martello to do whatever he wanted with his parents.
He shook himself and forced a mild expression. “They wouldn’t have, but it’s the third complaint about Bitsy,” he said. “And I do have to get back to work. If you’re through here, I’ll see my friends out.”
“Well, I suppose Kurtis and I should get back. We have business in the city.” Ankles stood, and Pinky followed suit slowly. “It was a real pleasure meeting you folks,” he said. “Thanks ever so much for the coffee, and your time.”
“Any friend of our Nicky’s,” Viola said.
Nick waited until the two thugs were moving out of the kitchen, and then hugged his parents. “Sorry to cut things short,” he said. “I’ll drop by later after work, okay?”
“All right. See you then, sweetheart.”
“Have a good day, son,” his father added.
“Always. You, too.”
Ankles and Pinky were almost to the door when Nick caught up. He stepped in front of them and yanked the door open. “I’d appreciate a word, at your car,” he growled under his breath.
“Of course, Nicholas. We’ve always got time for a friend.”
Pinky just grunted.
He followed them out, exercising every bit of restraint he possessed not to pull his gun and arrest them right here. Even if he wanted to, he had nothing on them—and if they went down, so did he. Ankles had made sure of that.
They reached the car, and Nick spat, “What the hell are you doing?”
“We just wanted to meet the legendary Hammerhead Donovan.” Ankles was all exaggerated, wide-eyed innocence. “Didn’t we, Pinky?”
“Don’t bullshit me. You called in the dog. You wanted me down here.”
“So I did.” Ankles pulled out a cigarette and lit up. “Your parents are good folks. I can see why you went to such…extraordinary lengths for them.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. “Tell me why you’re doing this. Now.”
“Pinky.”
The massive man stepped forward, a low and chilling sound rising from his throat. He grabbed Nick’s wrist and twisted savagely.
A bright jolt of pain shot through his arm.
“I could have him break it,” Ankles said casually. “Even you can’t win a one-armed fight, and you’d default on your loan. But I won’t do that. Because I have principles.”
Pinky let go, and Nick stifled a gasp.
“Now, don’t you worry about what I’m doing here.” Ankles dragged slowly on the cigarette, and blew a sour wave of smoke in his face. “You’ll find out Frida
y night at the gym.” He grinned. “We’ll see you then, Nicholas.”
Nick could only watch as they got in the town car and drove away.
Chapter 4
Emma’s opinion of Nick Donovan had gone through some serious shifts in the few hours since she’d met him. He’d been endearing and infuriating, breathtaking and baffling, a little scary and a lot funny. The interview had her smiling and laughing more than she had in years. He had a dry, low-key sense of humor, and she could see why someone like Dean would mistake that for something less than intelligence. The Dean Wesleys of the world didn’t actually listen to what other people said—they just waited for their turn to talk.
And now, she was thoroughly confused. She didn’t know what to think about Nick, or even whether she should try to figure it out.
One thing she knew for sure. She was definitely attracted to him on a physical level. Just touching him had excited her in places that hadn’t felt excitement in a long time…but she didn’t know what do to about that, either.
It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell him hey, I have this hang-up about getting attached to guys and I’m not sure how I feel about you, but let’s have sex.
When she got back to the Banner and brought her laptop in to work on the police blotter, the newsroom was empty. She had no idea if that was normal. But she didn’t want to ask Mrs. Eichorn or Mr. Halstead about it and look like an idiot, so she sat down at her new desk and powered up her laptop. Soon she was typing away, trying to put Nick out of her mind even as his voice fed into her ear through the single earbud she’d plugged in from her phone.
“Emma, right?”
The male voice startled a gasp from her. She paused the recording and looked up to find the news and features reporter in front of her desk. He was a striking man, probably on the verge of forty, with perfect teeth and a perfect tan that could’ve only been bought. He looked friendly enough—but most people did, at first.
“Yes,” she said. “And you’re…Harrison?”
He smiled crookedly. “I take it Cheri’s already introduced me,” he said. “I’m not as bad as she says. We used to date.”
“Ah.” Emma was never sure what to say about situations like that. Sorry? Congratulations? “Well, that explains it.”
That probably wasn’t the right thing to say, either.
Harrison laughed, though it sounded a bit forced. “So, you’re new in town,” he said. “Where are you from?”
She gave a careful shrug. Her past was not something she talked about. “I went to Prescott,” she said. “Just graduated a few months ago.”
“So you’re from Greenway?”
“Sure,” she said in a subject-closed tone.
Harrison’s brow furrowed. “Okay, then,” he said. “Well, I just wanted to introduce myself. If you need any help or pointers, just let me know. I’ve been in this business almost twenty years.”
“Thanks.” She smiled through her irritation. “I’m good for now.”
“All right. Nice to meet you, Emma.”
“You too.”
Harrison wandered toward his desk, and she held back a sigh. He did seem a little condescending, but at least he hadn’t asked her out. She reached for her phone to start the recording again—and it rang.
The display said Unknown Caller. Frowning, she unplugged the headphones and answered, “Hello?”
“Emma, where are you?”
“Mom.” She closed her eyes and folded an arm across her stomach. This was not what she needed right now. “I’m busy.”
“Well I’m at your apartment, and the building manager says you’ve moved out.”
She sighed and stood to head somewhere private. The bathroom should work. “I did,” she said. “Why are you there?”
“I wanted to visit my daughter.”
She knew the hurt edge to her mother’s voice was fake. Evangeline Reid loved two things: money and men. If she was trying to find her daughter, she was out of one or the other. “Three years, and suddenly you want to visit,” she said as she entered a stall and locked herself in, then sat on the closed toilet. “What happened to Giorgio?”
“Really, Emma. Just because I want to see you, doesn’t mean something’s happened.”
“Yes, it does.”
Her mother sighed. “I’ve decided to spend a few days away, that’s all. So I thought I’d come and visit my only daughter. But you’re not here.”
Emma’s stomach knotted. “He’s started hitting you, hasn’t he?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and she knew she was right. Evangeline had a knack for picking men with violent streaks. She usually left when things started to get rough. But more than once, it hadn’t been soon enough to keep herself, or her daughter, from getting hurt.
Her mother believed the only way for a woman to get through life was by leaning on a big, strong man. Preferably a rich one. But the bigger and richer they were, the harder they hit. Emma had learned two things early on—she couldn’t change her mother, and she was never going to be like her.
“That’s not fair,” Evangeline finally said. “He got a little too drunk, but he didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“They never mean it, Mom. Just leave him.”
“You’re right. I probably should.” She could almost see her mother chewing on a fingernail, the way she did when she was plotting yet another stupid mistake. “I just really thought Giorgio was the one. So I don’t have anybody else lined up right now, and I was hoping you might know someone…”
A cold splinter lodged in Emma’s heart. “I don’t have a boyfriend you can steal this time,” she said. “Call someone else.”
“Emma—”
“I’m busy, Mom.”
“Where are you?”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
She cut the call and put the phone on silent. Shuddering, she hugged her knees to her chest and sat there until she felt like she could breathe again. You can’t save her, she told herself firmly, even as the tears slipped from her eyes and she desperately wished that she could. She’d tried, again and again, to convince her mother to support herself. To just try being independent for once, instead of looking for the next man before she left the current one. But Evangeline wouldn’t.
And Evangeline’s daughter would never let that happen to her.
Emma pulled herself together and grabbed some toilet paper to wipe her face. Her mother would have to take care of herself. This independent woman had a job to do.
* * * *
The day flew by. Emma found out from Cheri that of the town’s two grocery stores, the Stop ‘n Shop was cheaper than Lorraine’s. She swung by on the way home for a couple of TV dinners, a box of cereal and a half-gallon of milk, and some instant hot chocolate. She also grabbed foam cups and plastic silverware. Major grocery shopping would have to wait until her belongings arrived, which she fervently hoped had happened while she was at work. She’d called the moving company three times and gotten vague, noncommittal answers that might have been yes.
But her hopes were dashed when she reached the house and found it still empty.
Her Internet wouldn’t be hooked up until tomorrow, and she had no books, no television, and no music. No microwave, either. She put one of the TV dinners in the oven and fired up the one movie she had on her laptop while she waited. At least she’d never get tired of watching The Breakfast Club.
Sometime between the marginally palatable turkey and the basketball scene in the movie, headlights washed across the bare window behind her and an engine slowed down. She guessed that was her neighbor coming home. The car she’d seen at Nick’s house this morning hadn’t been there when she arrived.
She debated going over there to say hello for a solid twenty minutes before she finally decided not to. Her mother’s call had reminded her why she wasn’t going to get involved with a man—even if he was incredibly sexy and funny and seemed to like her, and she really wanted to sleep with him. If she did that, sh
e’d be using him.
She wouldn’t be that kind of person, either. Which kind of left her out of luck in the sex department. But she’d just have to live with that.
Around eight, with nothing better to do, she decided to make it an early night. A little extra sleep never hurt. She called the moving company again and left a semi-irate message about her stuff, then turned off the lights and tried to get comfortable in her sleeping bag on the floor.
It didn’t work.
She made herself lay still anyway, trying to trick her body into falling asleep. Eventually she got up with a sigh and took a long, hot shower, then dressed in sweats and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. It took a while, since she had to boil water on the stove in the teakettle that came with the house.
Once it was ready, she decided to go outside and sit on the porch steps. She’d never lived in a country-type place. All her mother’s rich men had been city people, so it was condos and gated communities until she’d finally escaped and gone to college, where it was a crappy one-bedroom apartment. She’d always wondered how quiet it really was in the country at night.
Turned out it was very quiet. No engines, no horns, no humming lights or knots of talking people. Quite a few crickets, though, and a gentle breeze that stirred pleasantly through her damp hair.
And when she looked up, more stars than she’d ever thought there could be.
The sky was a tapestry of glittering white points against an inky blackness. There was a wide band of softer black running at a diagonal that almost looked like wispy clouds. She stared at it, fascinated—and soon realized she was seeing the Milky Way. She was looking at a galaxy, unimaginably vast, billions of light years…and still just a tiny fraction of everything there was in the universe. She felt impossibly small and infinitely powerful, all at once.
Maybe this was why people stayed in the country.
As she gazed at the sky, a new sound filtered in gradually through the crickets. A distant, muffled pounding, slow and almost rhythmic. It was like nothing she’d heard before. Frowning, she looked around for movement and listened to see if it got louder.
Deputy's Secret (Welcome to Covendale Book 3) Page 4