Nick looked at the mess, grimaced and then gazed at her. “Let’s get all this cleaned up.” He set his hoodie down on one of the living room chairs.
She got a broom and dustpan from the utility room just off the kitchen and then returned to the living room where Nick had righted the floor lamp.
“This isn’t who we are,” he said as they worked on the cleanup. “We’ve both been under some stress and this was the first time something like this has ever happened between us.”
His words made her feel somewhat better, but they did nothing to staunch a faint, simmering fear that had been inside her since she’d regained consciousness in the ambulance.
She knew instinctively the fear didn’t come from being around Nick. Rather, strangely, he was a comfort, a solid anchor in a sea that had become alien.
They worked silently until all of the glass had been cleaned up. “I think I need to check out the whole house to orient myself,” she said as she dumped the last of the glass into the trash bin.
“That sounds like a good idea,” he replied. “I’ll come with you.”
She smiled gratefully. “I appreciate it.”
Thankfully the downstairs was exactly as she remembered it to be. Her hand slid up the oak banister and with each step she wished Nick would just hold her for a moment and tell her everything was going to be all right.
She groaned faintly as she climbed upward.
“Are you okay?” he asked from behind her.
“I’m fine, just sore. I have to admit I feel like I was run over by a truck.” Muscles she hadn’t known she possessed now protested her movements.
“The doctor warned us that you would probably be sore for the next couple of days,” he replied.
“I just hope everything up here is the same as I remember it,” she said when they reached the landing. “I’d feel more centered if there aren’t any more surprises.”
“I hope so, too,” he replied.
She breathed a quick sigh of relief as she walked straight down the hall and entered her bedroom. The coral-colored bedspread with turquoise throw pillows was achingly familiar. The knickknacks, the artwork on the wall, and the nightstands and dresser were just as she remembered them.
“You good?” he asked.
She turned and flashed him another smile. “So far, so good.”
A quick glance in the other two bedrooms further assured her that at least here, in her house, nothing had changed. The room she used as her home office still had paperwork strewed across the top of the desk and the other bedroom was an attractive and clean guest room.
Even as relief winged through her, an overwhelming exhaustion struck her. Her body was sore and her brain was working too hard to remember something—anything—from the past year.
She stepped closer to Nick and wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned into him. “Just hold me a minute, please.” There was a moment of hesitation and then his arms surrounded her. Was the faint scent of his spicy cologne familiar? She wasn’t sure, but it was definitely appealing.
“I’m scared, Nick,” she whispered into the hollow of his throat. “I feel so lost right now. Could you stay here with me for a couple of days?”
Again, there was a small hesitation. “Of course,” he replied. “But I’ll need to go home and get some things.” He dropped his arms to his sides and reluctantly she stepped away from him.
“I’m sorry to be a pain.” She released a deep sigh. “I’m hoping my memories will return in the next day or so and then I won’t be so anxious.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just head to my house and pack up some clothes.”
They walked back downstairs and it wasn’t until they reached the living room again that she realized Nick didn’t have his car.
“I’ll need to drive you home,” she said.
“No,” he said sharply. He smiled then, as if aware his tone had been curt. “In case you forgot, your car is now in the shop, and besides, what you need to do is rest. It won’t take me long to get to my place and get back here.” He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. Maybe you should try to nap while I’m gone. I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I am exhausted,” she admitted. She was definitely feeling the past night of too little sleep.
“Then get upstairs in that nice, comfortable bed and get some rest.”
“You’ll wake me when you get back?” she asked.
“I promise. I’ll have to wake you because I don’t have a key.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I’ve never given you a key?”
“You told me you’d give me a key on the day we got married.”
“Do I have a key to your house?” she asked.
“You did. I gave you one, but you lost it a couple of weeks ago. We hadn’t gotten around to having another one made for you.” He inched toward the front door. “Stop overthinking things and get some rest, Julie.” With those words, he walked out the front door.
Immediately she felt bereft and vulnerable. For the next few minutes she wandered around the living room, touching familiar items in an effort to calm the anxiety and the crazy simmer of fear that coursed through her.
Surely these emotions were normal for somebody suffering from amnesia. Her mind wasn’t her own right now. She was just grateful Nick had agreed to stay with her for the next few days. There had been comfort in his arms. That must speak to the strength of their relationship...of their love for each other.
How she wished she could remember the excitement of dating him and the joy of falling in love with him. She did remember being ready for love, wanting to get married and start a family of her own. It didn’t seem fair that she remembered wanting these things but had no memory of actually finding love with the very hot physical education teacher.
She’d sensed his hesitation to touch her, to hold her, and she understood it. He was in as awkward a position as she was. He knew she didn’t remember him, that he was basically a stranger to her. She was certain he didn’t know exactly how to treat her.
What he didn’t understand was that she took it on complete faith that he was her soul mate, otherwise she wouldn’t have been working on wedding plans with him. She wouldn’t be his fiancée without first knowing with utter certainty that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Before her accident, she’d obviously decided he was that man.
A clenched hand of anxiety continued to grip both her heart and her brain. It had been there when she’d realized she had no memories of so much time and it hadn’t eased up since.
If she thought it might help to beat her fists against her skull, she’d do it. Hopefully, the doctor was right and now that she was home her memory would return quickly.
Sleep. She definitely needed to get some sleep and to stop thinking so much. Deciding to stretch out on the sofa instead of going all the way upstairs to her room, she was detoured by a flashing red light on the answering machine on one of the end tables.
Three new messages awaited her. She punched the play button.
“Hey, girly, where are you? You were supposed to open up shop this morning. Call me.” It was as if she’d just heard her father’s voice yesterday. Thank goodness he sounded strong and healthy.
“Where the hell are you?” The next voice spoke. “It’s bad enough I usually have to cover Casey’s shifts, but now you’re going to be a flake, too?” The message had been left by her older brother, Max. Some things never changed and the irritation in his voice was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.
She needed to call her family and tell them about her accident. Max should know her well enough to know she’d never shirk her responsibility at the pawn shop for no reason. She wasn’t like their younger sister who often called in to get out of working. Or was she? She had no
idea who she’d become over the past year.
“Don’t tell.”
She reeled back at the gravelly, unrecognizable voice that hissed over the machine. An icy chill instantly gripped her soul.
“You’d better not tell a soul or I promise I’ll kill you.”
The answering machine clicked off. Still, she remained unmoving, staring at the phone that had suddenly become an instrument of evil malevolence.
Was the call a joke? She instantly dismissed the idea. She knew instinctively that nobody she knew would think that kind of thing funny.
Oh, God, what did she know? What had she forgotten that was so important somebody would threaten to kill her to keep it a secret? Who had made that call? The Caller ID read “Anonymous.”
There was no way she was going to nap, not with that horrendous voice and threat ringing in her ears. Her legs trembled beneath her as she hurried to the front door and made sure it was locked. She then returned to the family room and sank down onto the sofa.
She needed Nick. Maybe he knew what this was all about. She hoped he hurried back because she’d never been so scared in her entire life.
Chapter Three
Nick ran out of the cul-de-sac, his brain on overload. All he wanted to do at the moment was move his car off the neighborhood street where he’d parked it last night. Had it only been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago.
His nerves were totally shot. It wasn’t just a lack of sleep that had him on edge. It was a combination of murder and lies that ricocheted around in his brain, leaving him with a nauseating anxiety.
First things first, he told himself. Get the car. He slowed his pace to a brisk walk as he reached the street where he’d parked the night before.
Relief washed over him as he saw in the distance that the car was still where he’d left it. The relief was short-lived as he drew closer and saw a man in the front yard next to where he’d parked.
His stomach knotted and his mouth dried. He’d hoped to get his car and get out of there without anyone seeing him. Hopefully, when the body was found, the police wouldn’t question people this far away from the scene. Would they?
The man was an older gentleman and he held a garden hose that spewed a small stream of water on a bed of red and purple petunias. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully as Nick approached the car.
“It’s a fine one,” Nick replied, grateful his voice held nothing of his apprehension.
“It’s going to be a hot one. Stay cool and have a good day,” the old man said.
“You, too,” Nick replied and quickly got into the car. He set the gun with the ski mask and the gloves all wrapped in his hoodie on the passenger seat, started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
Thank God there was no parking ticket under his wiper. And thank God none of the neighbors had gotten suspicious of a strange car parked on their street and had called the cops.
He headed for home, his heart thundering as he glanced at the hoodie. He wouldn’t feel better until he got rid of the gun. Even though it couldn’t be traced to Brian McDowell’s murder, Nick had no idea what other crime it might be traced to.
He had been instructed to throw it into the bushes at the crime scene, but when he’d seen Brian’s body, rational thought had fled his brain. Also the very last thing he wanted to do now was to toss it in a place where a kid might find it.
For the first time in twelve hours he felt relatively safe as he pulled into the driveway of his brick three-bedroom ranch house. He got out of the car with the hoodie in his arms, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The air smelled clean...like furniture polish and bathroom cleanser. Although by no means a clean freak, he’d spent the day before cleaning the house in a frenzy to occupy his mind before heading out to murder a man.
He’d known the risks, that he might be arrested or killed himself. He’d supposed that if either of those things had happened, he’d at least be at peace that the police would find that he kept a clean house.
He sank down on his sofa and rubbed a hand across his forehead where a headache threatened. He hadn’t had a chance to breathe since he’d stumbled onto Brian’s dead body.
You could just stay right here, a small voice whispered. Julie doesn’t know your address. She doesn’t even have your phone number.
There was no question the thought was more than a bit appealing.
Then he thought about the hug he’d shared with her. Her slender body had felt so fragile in his arms. He’d felt not only the press of her breasts against him but also the rapid beat of her heart.
How frightening was it to wake up and lose almost a year of your life? How scary would it be to not have a single memory from that length of time? He couldn’t imagine. But he’d love to go to sleep and wake up and magically lose the last three agonizing, lonely years of his life. He’d welcome the amnesia that would wipe away all memories of the brutal murder of the woman he’d loved.
Debbie. She’d been a go-getter. She’d gotten her real-estate license and had landed a job with an upscale real-estate company. She’d been dynamic and a hard worker and, within two years, she’d established herself as one of the top sellers in a four-state area. Nick had always said she could successfully sell the swamps in Florida.
Nick had loved her, but he’d grown to dislike her job, which kept her busy at all hours during the days and late evenings.
That job was what had taken her to an empty mansion to meet a potential buyer. That job was what had led to her murder. Nick shook his head to dispel his train of thoughts.
He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t think about her murder right now. He had bigger decisions to make at the moment. Should he just stay here or should he go back to Julie’s and continue his pretense?
Debbie wouldn’t want him to leave Julie hanging, especially given the fact that Nick had filled her head with a bunch of lies to save his own ass. By claiming her as his fiancée, Nick had given Julie an instant sense of false comfort.
He looked around, the very room where he sat evoking agonizing memories. He and Debbie had bought this house just before her murder. They had painted the master bedroom her favorite shade of light blue and had updated the kitchen. They had also planted a small redbud tree in the backyard. She hadn’t lived long enough to see its first buds.
They had planned for children to fill the spare bedrooms. Dammit, they had planned a life together and some man—some animal—had taken her away from him.
He swallowed the familiar rage and got up from the sofa. He grabbed the hoodie with the gun, ski mask and gloves wrapped inside. He then went into his bedroom and opened the closet door.
On the top shelf were several folded blankets. He shoved the hoodie between them, knowing sooner or later he needed to get rid of that damned gun.
He picked up a duffel bag and placed it on his bed. He’d stay with Julie for a couple of days to help her navigate. Maybe during that time he could manipulate a fight and a breakup. That would be the best way for him to exit her life with no questions.
Still, when her memories returned, he’d have some explaining to do, but he’d face that when it happened. What concerned him more than a little bit was the scene in her living room. What had happened there in the minutes before she’d gotten into her car and hit that tree? It looked like she’d fought with somebody.
He had no idea if she was in danger or not, but that was another reason why, in good conscience, he couldn’t walk away from her yet.
It took him only minutes to pack enough clothing and toiletries for a few days away. He then left his house and got back into his car.
He turned on the radio in an effort to clear his mind from all thoughts. He didn’t want to think about how screwed up everything had become.
He was exhausted. He’d gotten little sleep in the nights leading up to Brian McDowell’s mur
der. Now he feared that any sleep he did manage to get would be haunted by the vision of the bloodbath he’d seen.
Who had committed the crime? The question thundered in his head. If it hadn’t been one of the other men in their murder pact, then who else knew about their plan to get justice that had been denied?
Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, he turned into the cul-de-sac and steeled himself to tell even more lies. He parked and grabbed the duffel, then walked up to the front door and knocked.
The lock clicked, the door opened and Julie launched herself into his arms as deep sobs exploded from her.
“Hey...what’s happened?” It was obvious she hadn’t regained her memory, otherwise she wouldn’t be in his arms right now.
She shook her head, apparently unable to speak around her tears. He dropped his duffel and hesitantly put his arms around her. “Julie, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
What he really needed her to do was to step away from him despite the fact he’d pulled her closer into his arms. Her trembling body against his felt far too warm as he became aware of the faint, attractive floral scent that emanated from her.
As if she read his mind, she took a step backward and instead grabbed his hand and held tight as he picked up his bag once again. She then led him into the living room. She dropped his hand and pointed to the telephone answering machine on the end table.
“What is it?” he asked. A new tension tightened his stomach. What now? As if this whole situation wasn’t complicated enough.
Julie stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “The last message. You need to listen to it.” She made no move to approach the phone, but instead stared at it as unmistakable fear leaped into her eyes.
With a sense of dread, Nick walked over to the machine and punched the appropriate button so he could hear the message. As the rasping voice filled the room, Julie sank down on the sofa and began to quietly cry again.
Desperate Strangers Page 3