by Gina Conroy
“She’s finally resting.” Trudy put her finger to her lips and looked at the skeleton-thin woman in the hospital bed in the living room. She motioned to the couch, but before they sat, Johnny barreled through the door, halting when he saw Nick. “What do you want?”
“Hi, Johnny.” Nick glanced at Johnny’s mom who didn’t stir, then eyed him. “Had a couple of questions about work.”
Trudy wrung her hands. “Johnny’d never do anything wrong.”
“Never said he did.”
Trudy brightened. “He works hard. He gets medication from the clinic.”
“Mom’d get better if I could get us out of this dump. I’ll get money for more chemo, you’ll see.”
Nick didn’t doubt that. “I just need a minute.”
Johnny checked his text. “I’ve got a meeting.” Johnny glanced at his aunt and exited.
“Like I said. Johnny’s a hard worker.”
“I’m sure he is.” Nick handed Samantha his keys. “I’m following Johnny. Drive my Jeep to your house. I’ll pick it up later.”
His suspects were multiplying like cockroaches.
Chapter 7
Nick tailed Johnny from the Metro to an Italian neighborhood Nick hadn’t visited in years. Memories flooded. Stuffing his face with cannolis as a kid with Uncle Vince, romantic dinners with Angie, and his last run-in with the Marascano family.
Johnny ducked into Bellina Cucina, home and operation of the Capolinis. Years earlier, Nick worked the scene of a mass hit. Marascanos’ retaliation on the Capolinis for stepping into their territory.
Now he was stepping into the Capolinis’ territory. When Johnny shot past the hostess, it confirmed Nick’s suspicions. Johnny wasn’t craving their ravioli. Nick followed, his stomach growling at the nostalgic aromas. Johnny slipped through a door marked La Famiglia.
Nick entered the bathroom next door. “Luck Be a Lady Tonight” played through the speakers as he climbed on the toilet. Here’s hoping, Blue Eyes! He put his ear to the vent.
“I’m good for it.” Johnny came through shaky and clear.
“Oh, I believe you.” Sarcasm laced the Italian-American voice. “But people are worried. They need assurance.”
“I gave you it all.”
“An acquaintance is in the market for really old silverware.”
“I almost got caught last time.”
“Then I guess we’re done.” A chair squeaked. “The terms of our agreement are simple. If you don’t pay, we’re gonna collect. It’s up to you, Johnny.”
A door closed. Nick stepped down and answered his vibrating phone.
“Carole, slow down,” he whispered.
“Washington’s penknife is missing. It’s not in the boxes in the mansion.” Carole coughed. “I can’t keep this quiet any longer. My shoulders are killing me from the stress. And I really need a smoke.”
Nick’s chest tightened. “Take a couple of aspirin, but let me follow a lead. One more day.”
Silence. “Monday morning I’m telling Dale, and you’re paying for a massage.”
“Deal.”
A door closed. Nick exited the restroom. So Johnny stole antiques for the Capolinis. He probably swiped the knife, but why not leave a replica?
Garlic bread tempted his taste buds as he hustled after Johnny, but he’d lost his appetite. Johnny was playing stickball with the big kids. And Nick hoped the Capolinis didn’t use his head as the ball.
The fragrance from the cherry blossoms in the courtyard called Samantha home as she walked toward her condo, clutching Nick’s car keys. Though Cherry Blossom Estates didn’t compare to her Missouri farm, it was a safe place where she could watch the kids play from her window.
At least it used to be.
Samantha found Tara and the children under the tree in the middle of the garden. Callie read, while Alex whittled. Her heart tripped. That knife? He must’ve taken it before her purse was stolen.
Her cell rang. Cody. “Hello.”
“Mom!” Alex ran, knife pointed.
“Alex, stop.” To Samantha’s surprise, he listened. She covered the phone. “Give me that knife—you’ll hurt yourself.”
Alex obeyed. “Dad’d let me keep it.”
Alex’s words stung as he bolted.
“Sorry, Cody.”
“Can’t wait to show you Christ Church tomorrow.” Cody’s Southern twang dulled the ache Alex had left.
“Me, either.” They chatted until the pink tree blossoms blended into the sunset, reminding her of the late hour. Samantha said good-bye, her gut swirling like a tornado kicking up emotional debris. How could she be attracted to two very different men at the same time?
After visiting suspects’ homes and learning they had more motive for stealing than Cody, she felt certain he wasn’t involved. Maybe spending time with him tomorrow would help her sort her feelings. So would a good night’s sleep, but sleep would wait until Nick picked up his Jeep.
Maybe she should make dinner for four.
Darkness delayed morning as Nick stumbled to the kitchen for java to chase away the regrets. Last night, he’d intended to head toward Samantha’s and share the latest on Johnny until she invited him for dinner. Then he remembered The Knave of Hearts and lost his appetite. After ditching Samantha, he tossed all night, reviewing the case, but always came full circle to Samantha, his attraction to her, and facing her Monday.
Waiting for his coffee, he flipped on the television. A beautiful brunette lounged on a couch, enticing viewers to call the singles’ line. You’re killing me.
Nick switched the station. A church service aired. Though the robed man wasn’t his style, Nick listened. It was Sunday after all.
“Power is perfected in weakness.”
Yeah, right!
“Most times God chooses not to take you out of the trial, but to give you strength to endure it.” The man spoke as if he’d lived the words. As if he’d wrestled with his weakness and won. Nick retrieved his brew and sat.
“Therefore I am well content with weakness, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.”
What? Nick rewound the last few seconds, thankful for DVR. Didn’t the scripture say, “When I am weak, he is strong”? That made sense. God takes over when we can’t. He got that, but Nick had never been weak before. He listened again. “When I am weak, I am strong.” Impossible. He switched it off. Psychoanalysis wasn’t on his to-do list.
Samantha soaked in the tranquility of Christ Church as Cody’s musky scent competed with the blossoming flowers for her attention. He looked dashing in his tan Dockers and oxford shirt. A contrast to his rugged cowboy look, but equally pleasing. Seeing him this morning almost made her forget about Nick.
But it was the old brick archway with 1773 on top that transported her from her troubles. The ones that kept her awake with nightmares about an escaped mobster with Nick’s face, who stole a telescope and was apprehended by falling into a pot of mac and cheese. She chuckled at the absurdity. But Nick had better have a good excuse for standing her up last night.
“Let’s walk through the churchyard before services.” Cody inched closer. They strolled the brick walkway past the parish house while the children skipped ahead.
The churchyard, scattered with graves that were centuries old, sobered her mood. Samantha paused before a gravestone and read. “In memory of Sarah, the wife of John Wrenn, August 13, 1792, aged 28 years.” Her age. “All you who come my grave to see, as I am now you soon will be. Prepare and turn to God in time, for I was taken in my prime.” She paused. “I read in 1986, Alexandria Archaeology excavated here and found more graves than headstones.”
“You don’t say.” Cody tugged her sleeve. “Come see where they’re excavating now.”
They viewed the site, then rested on a stone bench while the children picked dandelions.
Her body relaxed.
“Since we’re at church, I should conf
ess.” Cody took her hand. “My motives weren’t entirely pure.”
Samantha’s heart stuttered. “Oh.”
“I wanted to spend time with you before I become your boss.”
Warmth climbed Samantha’s cheeks despite the shade of the tree.
Cody scooted closer. “I hope you don’t mind me pulling the wool over your eyes?”
Samantha stood. “We should go. Service is starting soon.” Maybe the sermon would quiet her romantic thoughts, or she could review suspects. “Come on, kids.” They headed toward the church.
Something about Althea bothered her. According to the pharmacy, the prescription hadn’t been filled in a year. An online search showed haloperidol was prescribed for delusional disorder. How could she act normal without her meds? Maybe Nick would know.
“Everything okay?” Cody halted and faced her. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” He stroked her cheek.
Her face tingled, the humidity growing thicker by the second.
“I realize we just met, but I feel this connection between us.” He caressed her hands, gazed deep. “I think you feel it, too.” He moved closer, his breath on her nose.
“Someone forged the telescope in Washington’s study.”
Cody stepped back. Obviously, he hadn’t expected that. Her pulse settled. For the next few minutes, she relayed the entire story except Nick suspecting Cody.
His eyes narrowed. “Who else knows?”
“Carole Huntington, a few neighbors—and Professor Timmons.”
“Don’t tell anyone else.”
“I’ll be discreet in my investigation.”
“Whoa there. That’s not a good idea.”
“How else will I catch the thief?”
“You could get your pretty head in a heap of trouble.”
“I need to prove I’m good enough.”
Cody cupped Samantha’s chin, his eyes burning through hers. “You don’t need to prove anything. Promise you’ll quit snooping.” Passion stirred in his expression.
She pulled away. “I can’t, but I’ll be careful.”
The children scampered over. Cody grabbed Alex and twirled him like a helicopter. When Cody set Alex down, he stumbled to Samantha’s side. Maybe it was too soon for another man in his life.
“Excuse me, my phone’s buzzing.” He walked off and soon returned. “I’ve got to go. That was Graceful Living Nursing Home. They couldn’t rouse my grandmother to take her meds.”
“Go. Don’t worry about us.”
As Cody jogged off, Samantha hoped his grandmother was okay, but she couldn’t help her smile. The invoice on Timmons’s desk proved Cody wasn’t guilty.
Samantha thought her Sunday afternoon jaunt through downtown DC would work off lunch, but it only left her exhausted. She pushed open her door and tripped over a toy.
“Alex, Callie, pick up your toys.”
“But my show is on,” Alex whined.
“Not until you clean. I’m taking a nap. Keep the TV low.”
Halting at the toppled plant in the hall, she set it up, too exhausted to clean or ask who made the mess. Right now her inner child begged for a nap. After changing into shorts and a T-shirt, she slipped into bed.
Noises from the children’s room startled her before sleep took hold. She held the pillow over her head and drifted. Several more bangs, then a scream. Samantha jolted awake and sprinted to the kids’ room. Callie blocked the bedroom door. Inside a masked man held Alex. Samantha screamed. “Callie, run!”
A phone rang.
Callie bolted. Alex kicked the man and ran to Samantha. The intruder gave chase. Samantha pulled Alex into her bedroom, locked the door. With each bang, the door rattled. She ran to the window, unlatched the lock, pushed. It wouldn’t budge. She tried again. The pounding grew louder, more desperate. She glanced at Alex, then the window. No use. It was stuck. The man grunted, his blows more forceful.
“Alex, under the bed. Stay.” She grabbed her cell. Dialed 911. It rang once. Twice. “Answer.” A call beeped in.
“Where is it?” the man outside her door growled. “All I want is the knife.”
Nick exited the bus and dialed again. “Where are you?” Samantha hadn’t answered her home phone or cell. He should’ve confirmed she was home before he bought a pizza, but if she was out, he could leave it on the porch with an apology note and get his Jeep with his spare key. His apprehension faded. Sounded like a plan, until Samantha answered.
Locked room… Alex… “Slow down. I can’t understand you.”
“He’s back. I’m locked in my bedroom.” Samantha sucked in a breath. “Alex is with me. I’m scared.”
Adrenaline spiked. “I’m on my way.” Nick jogged toward Samantha’s complex. Something thudded over the phone. Samantha screamed.
“Call nine-one-one.”
“Nick, don’t hang up.” Her voice, desperate.
“I’m almost there.”
“Wait, it’s quiet. Maybe he left. I should che—“
“Don’t open the door. Call nine-one-one.”
Darkness shrouded Nick as he ended the call and uttered an awkward plea to God. The last time he prayed, his family was murdered. Nick chucked the pizza and sprinted. Samantha’s door, wide open. Nick grabbed his Glock and slinked into the house. Living room, kitchen, empty. More banging. He approached the bedrooms slowly, senses heightened.
Back hugging the wall, he rounded the corner. Perp in a ski mask kicked the bedroom door. “Stop! Police!” He aimed.
The guy spun, caught Nick’s stare, then bolted for the room across the hall. Exactly what he hoped wouldn’t happen.
Nick secured his firearm and gave chase, grabbing the dude’s foot as he dove through the window. The shoe released as the perp slipped out. Nick hurried outside and sprinted. The skinny dude glanced behind, then scaled the chain-link fence like a monkey and landed, twisting his shoeless ankle. Nick pursued over the fence, not as nimble as in his rookie days. He tapped his reserves and dove for the punk. They tumbled to the ground.
Nick dropped his knees on the perp’s back and shoulder, torqued his arm up, applying pressure. No cuffs or backup. Guess he’d improvise until the police arrived, but first he’d see the guy’s face.
Chapter 8
Nick removed the ski mask. Johnny? “What were you doing in Samantha’s apartment?” Johnny remained silent, sprawled on the ground.
“I know about your debt with the Capolinis. The stuff you stole from the mansion. Breaking and entering is nothing compared to the other felonies.” Knees digging into Johnny’s back, Nick leaned in. “Right now I don’t care about that, but messing with Samantha and her kids bothers me. Cooperate and maybe I won’t call the police. Lie and I’ll make sure you rot.”
Johnny’s eyes shifted.
Nick yanked him up, slammed him into the brick wall. “Hands over your head.” Johnny shuddered as Nick kicked his legs spread-eagle. Patted him down.
A pocketknife. Nick’s chest tightened. “Why were you at Samantha’s?”
The kid remained silent, but trembling.
“We can do this the easy way”—Nick pulled him into a shoulder lock—“or my way.” He applied pressure to Johnny’s wrist.
Johnny winced. “Looking for the knife.”
“The one you lifted from the mansion?”
“I didn’t take it.”
“Then who?”
“Her kid.”
“Who wants it?”
Johnny stiffened.
“What about the telescope?” Nick tightened his hold.
“I swiped dishes, that’s all.”
“Who sent you?” Nick raised his elbow.
Johnny grimaced. No one would stay quiet unless avoiding a bigger threat.
“We’ll protect you. Put you in a safe house.” Nothing.
Nick’s temperature rose. “Fine, we’ll do it my way.” Nick applied pressure to his wrist and led him toward Samantha’s apartment. “It’s too bad your mom doesn’t have much
time left. A few weeks, maybe.” Johnny cringed.
“It’s a shame she’s going to die knowing her son’s rotting in jail.”
“Leave her out of this.” Johnny struggled.
More pressure. Johnny yelled. Stumbled over his feet.
“I can’t leave her out of this.” Nick shoved him forward. “Too bad you won’t attend her funeral.”
“All right! Just keep me out of jail.”
Officer Mike Daniels plodded between the apartments. “We’ll take it from here.”
Nick handed over Johnny. Great! Right when the kid was ready to spew. Now he would lawyer up.
When Nick reached the apartment, Samantha’s arms enveloped him. He held her trembling body, his anxiety melting. With her in his arms, things felt right.
She sniffled. “You took too long. I thought—“
“I’m fine.” He gazed into her moist eyes. No longer doelike and desperate. Instead, wide with longing, anticipation. Her lips quivered, begging to be comforted. His yearned for the same.
Nick inched closer and stroked Samantha’s cheek as emotions swelled. Fear. Elation. Confusion. Longing. Her heart raced, anticipated. Then he grunted, lurched forward, and knocked his forehead against hers.
“Ow.” Samantha eased from Nick’s arms, head stinging, stifling a laugh.
Alex hugged Nick’s waist. “You saved us.”
Nick scooped him up. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or your mom.”
Samantha willed her pulse to slow, but couldn’t control the thrill coursing through her veins. She wasn’t certain if it was because of the anticipated kiss or Alex in Nick’s arms.
Nick set Alex down and tickled him until he cried for mercy.
“Mom.” Callie barreled through the door and hugged Samantha, then Nick. “I was so scared.”
Warmth soaked into Samantha’s bones.
An officer exited the bedroom. “Someone left the window open.”
Alex shook his head. “Wasn’t me.”
Samantha exhaled. “Go watch TV, you two. We’ll discuss this later.”