His New Nanny

by Carla Cassidy

  “Less traumatic? How can any of this be less traumatic?” she replied.

  “It beats being led away from my home in handcuffs,” he replied drily.

  The vision of him in handcuffs shot a rivulet of pain through her. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said angrily, bitterly. “The guilty person should be going to jail, not you.”

  “Took the words right out of my mouth.” He smiled, but it was a forced, empty gesture. “The bad news is I won’t be arraigned until Monday morning. The good news is Jackson feels confident I’ll be able to bail out.”

  “On a murder charge?”

  “I have long-standing ties to the community. I’m a respected businessman and I have a daughter without a parent. Jackson seems to think all of that will work in my favor when it comes to the judge setting bail.”

  “If he’s right, then you could be home Monday afternoon.”

  He nodded and for a moment gazed at a spot just over her shoulder. She knew what he was thinking, the same thing she was thinking. If Jackson was wrong, then it was possible he might never come home again.

  SAWYER WATCHED MELANIE running in the front yard with her new puppy. Amanda sat next to him on the porch steps. He’d told her he wanted to spend the day with her and Melanie, doing ordinary things and just enjoying the sunshine and whatever laughter they could find.

  “I’m not making any permanent arrangements for Melanie or anything else at the moment,” he said, breaking the silence that had descended between him and Amanda. “If the worst happens and I’m not home on Monday, I can figure things out then. But no matter what, I’d like you to consider staying on.” Her soft-blue eyes gazed at him in surprise. “I’ll double your salary,” he exclaimed. “I’ll triple it if you want me to.”

  She smiled, a sad gesture that deepened the blue of her eyes. “The money isn’t important.” She looked back at Melanie. “I just want to do whatever is best for her.”

  “And that’s why I want you here.” He reached for her hand and took it in his. “She loves you, Amanda. More importantly, she trusts you.”

  She squeezed his hand. “And I love her.”

  “If I don’t come home, if the worst thing happens, then I’ve already set up a trust. You and Melanie could remain in the house and you could raise her like she’s your own.”

  Her pained expression made him realize how preposterous the idea was. Why would a pretty young woman with her whole life ahead of her want to bind herself to such an arrangement? “Never mind, it was a stupid idea.”

  “No, it’s not, it’s just that there are things you need to know about me, about what brought me here.” The darkness of her eyes grew more intense and she pulled her hand from his.

  “Amanda, there’s nothing I need to know other than that you love my daughter. When I think of her sick and crying, if I can’t be here to comfort her, then you’re my next choice. I know you have a beautiful heart and soul, and that’s all I care about.”

  She started to say something but at that moment Melanie came running toward them, Buddy wiggling in her arms. “He told me he’s tired of running,” she said, half out of breath.

  As he looked at his daughter, Sawyer’s heart swelled up in his chest, and for a moment the emotion was so thick he couldn’t speak, he could scarcely breathe.

  “Maybe what Buddy needs is a big drink of water and a short nap,” Amanda said. “Why don’t we take him inside.”

  “You two go ahead,” Sawyer managed to say.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Amanda said to Melanie. “I think I could use something cold to drink, too.”

  As they disappeared into the house, Sawyer drew in a deep breath, wanting, needing to gain control of his emotions.

  Melanie was only eight. If things went badly she’d be a middle-aged woman when he eventually got out of prison. For all intents and purposes he would miss the most important years of her life.

  As he stared out across the expanse of lawn, the trees became nothing more than watery green-blues. He hadn’t shed a tear when Erica had died. He hadn’t even cried when Melanie had gone mute. But the idea of losing Melanie’s childhood, of being absent for her first date and prom and all the other experiences she’d have, crushed his soul and he couldn’t stanch the tears that trekked down his cheeks.

  He closed his eyes and focused on the items he’d turned over to Lucas. Erica’s souvenirs. The gold lighter belonged to Adam. Adam was an unfaithful husband, a friend who’d betrayed, but according to Lucas, Adam wasn’t a killer. The night Erica had been murdered, Adam and his wife had attended a dinner party with several other couples.

  He thought of the picture frame with the embossed roses and hearts. He’d seen it someplace before, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where. The other items he was relatively sure he’d never seen before.

  He still wasn’t sure about Lucas’s culpability, and his uncertainty about his friend ripped the very guts out of him. He and Lucas had always been close, but this case and suspicion of each other had fractured their friendship.

  Standing up from the steps, he realized he needed to go back inside. He wanted to spend every moment that he could with Melanie. Thank God he wasn’t arrested before she’d found her voice again. At least he’d be able to hear her little voice in his head as the sound of the jail cell door clanged shut behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  You have to tell him. The little voice inside Amanda’s head whispered those words throughout the rest of the day, as they ate dinner and now as she stood in Melanie’s doorway and watched Sawyer kiss his daughter good-night.

  He has a right to know. She couldn’t agree to being here permanently with Melanie without telling Sawyer about the tragic events that had brought her here.

  She focused on Sawyer, seated on the edge of Melanie’s bed. He’d be gone tomorrow, and none of them knew what the future held. Her heart squeezed painfully at the very thought of his absence.

  They’d spent some time this evening going over things while Melanie was playing with Buddy. It would just be Amanda and Melanie in the house for the next couple of days. Knowing that everyone was a potential suspect, he’d given Helen and George two weeks off. He’d reminded Amanda to be sure and use the security system and had done everything he possibly could to ensure their safety while he was gone.

  They both were functioning on the premise that he would be home on Monday. Any other scenario was impossible to imagine.

  As Sawyer kissed Melanie’s forehead, Amanda’s heart constricted anew. He’d told his daughter that he was going away for a couple of days, but Amanda knew he had to be wondering if the kiss he’d just placed on Melanie’s forehead would be his last.

  When he rose from the bed no emotion rode his features. It was as if he’d taken himself to a place where nothing could reach him, nothing could hurt him.

  He motioned her to follow him out to the hall. “How about a drink?”

  “I’ll be down in just a minute,” she said. “And then we need to talk.”

  He nodded and headed for the stairs as Amanda went to her bedroom. Once there she went to the closet and pulled out her suitcase. She’d unpacked everything when she’d first arrived, everything but one item. She opened the case and withdrew the newspaper that was inside.

  Sitting on the side of her bed, she opened it, and as always the headline punched her in the gut with a blow strong enough to make her sick. School Counselor or Girlfriend? Did Inappropriate Personal Relationship Drive Student to Suicide?

  She closed her eyes, but the words had long ago been burned into her brain. That headline had been the beginning of the worst three weeks of her life she’d believed she would ever endure. And now she needed to share that agonizing event with Sawyer.

  Her feet felt leaden as she walked down the stairs and headed for his office where she knew he’d be seated behind his desk, a glass of Scotch in hand.

  He smiled as she entered the room, a tired smile that hinted at the emotion
al exhaustion he obviously felt. She wished she could make it better for him, but she was afraid what she was going to tell him would only make things worse. She realized her timing was terrible, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “Now what was it that you wanted to tell me?” he asked.

  In answer she handed him the newspaper and watched his eyes widen slightly as he saw the headline. As he read the accompanying article, she tried to read his features, but his face was expressionless.

  The article was the worst kind of journalism, slanted with veiled accusations for the maximum exploitative punch. “Okay, I’ve read it, now you want to tell me what happened?” He tossed the paper aside as if it were no more than a piece of trash.

  She sank onto the chair opposite him and floundered as to where to begin. “His name was Bobby Miller. He was a troubled fourteen-year-old. I was meeting with him once a week at school to talk about things…you know, his class work, his attitude toward school and his fellow students. He had a bad temper, was moody and unpredictable. He needed more help than I could give him. I’d met with his parents several times and begged them to get him professional help, but they refused to accept that there was a problem.”

  He said nothing and she was grateful, for now that the words were coming, she thought she couldn’t stop them if she tried.

  “I never crossed the lines of propriety with Bobby. I was his counselor, nothing more.” Her voice was more vehement than she intended. “Anyway, one day he went home from school and shot himself.” Her throat closed up for a moment, making it difficult for her to breathe.

  A frown of sympathy cut across Sawyer’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  She gave him a curt nod, fighting tears for the young boy who had died so tragically. “I was so saddened by his death. But I was stunned when a week later the police showed up on my doorstep.”

  “Why were they there?”

  This was the most difficult part to tell, the most difficult part to comprehend. She stared over Sawyer’s shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. “It seems Bobby kept a detailed diary on his computer. In the investigation into his death the police had found it and in it Bobby had chronicled a steamy, intimate affair with me.”

  “But it wasn’t true.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She finally looked at him. “No, it wasn’t true. But it was convincing. He’d detailed times and dates, places where we’d had sex. It took almost two weeks for the police to compare my schedule and what I’d really been doing at the times and on the dates Bobby had listed, but by then I’d been tarred and feathered by my friends and coworkers.”

  “People do love to think the worst,” he said softly. She knew he spoke from intimate experience.

  “As my coworkers turned away I thought at least I had Scott, the man I’d been dating at the time.” She released a small, bitter laugh. “When he asked me if it were true, I knew I didn’t want him in my life. The fact that he had to ask made me realize how little he thought of me.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, tears for Bobby, for herself. “Anyway, even though I was innocent, I was forced to resign and here I am.”

  “This explains it.” Sawyer got up from his desk and rounded the corner to stand in front of her.

  She looked up at him. “Explains what?”

  He held out his hand to her and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her. “Did you think I wouldn’t believe you? Did you think that I wouldn’t want you to be here with my daughter, with me?”

  She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, nodded her head and buried her face in his fresh-scented shirt. “Amanda, you have nothing to be ashamed of, you did nothing wrong.”

  “I had to tell you,” she said and looked up at him. “You had a right to know. I’ll never understand why he wrote those things. He never gave any indication to me that he entertained inappropriate thoughts like that.”

  “This is why you’ve believed in me,” he whispered in her ear. “Because you know what it’s like to be falsely accused, to be looked on with suspicion by people who should know you better.”

  “That’s part of it,” she agreed. “But it certainly isn’t all of it.” For several long moments they remained in each other’s arms. She leaned into him, wondering who was drawing strength from whom.

  She wanted to weep as she thought of Sawyer in jail. She wanted to take his hand and run with him, far away from Conja Creek and the ordeal he was about to endure.

  “Will you be afraid here, just you and Melanie?” he asked.

  She considered the question. It had only been twenty-four hours since somebody had crept into the house and hit her over the head.

  “No, I won’t be afraid,” she finally answered. “It’s only for a couple of days. You’ll be home Monday.” She said it with conviction, as if there was no other possibility.

  He tightened his arms around her. “I’ve told Lucas that I want frequent patrols by here while I’m gone.”

  She finally moved out of his embrace. “We’ll be fine. I’ve spent part of today trying to figure out why I was attacked last night, and I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe it was an attempted burglary gone bad.”

  He eyed her with skepticism and she continued. “Think about it, Sawyer. Nothing else makes sense. I haven’t made any enemies while I’ve been here. Nobody will ever make me believe that there’s a crazed killer running amok in Conja Creek. Besides, if the person had really wanted to kill me last night I would have been stabbed or shot instead of hit on the head.”

  His eyes darkened. “I agree with you about that, but I don’t want you taking any chances while I’m gone. I want you to be safe.”

  “We will be,” she assured him. “You need to think about yourself now. I’ll take care of Melanie and you take care of business so you can come home as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll tell you, right now I’m feeling like the most selfish man on earth.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because I’m about to ask you something that I have no right to ask. I want you in my arms tonight, Amanda. I’m a man with no future, no promises to give, but what I want more than anything on my last night at home is you in my bed. Will you sleep in my bed? In my arms tonight?”

  He couldn’t want that any more than she did. She stepped closer to him, her heart beating so hard, so fast she was certain he could hear it. “I want that, too.”

  As he took her in his arms and kissed her, Helen’s words came back to her mind. I feel evil closing in around us all, an evil that nothing can stop. Despite the heat of Sawyer’s kiss, a cold chill walked up Amanda’s spine.

  SAWYER STOOD at his bedroom window and watched the sun slowly begin to rise. In the bed behind him Amanda slept, the sound of her slow, easy breathing at odds with the fast pounding of his heart.

  In an hour Jackson would arrive to pick him up and take him to jail. Sawyer had arranged for his transfer at the crack of dawn because he hoped to leave the house without any more goodbyes.

  After he and Amanda had made love, he’d found it impossible to sleep. He’d spent the long hours of the night going over all the details of Erica’s death and the list of potential suspects.

  What had been missed?

  What clue had been overlooked?

  Perfect murders rarely happened, and certainly—contrary to Melanie’s claim—no monster had crawled out of the depths of the swamp to brutally stab Erica to death. Whoever had killed Erica had been a monster, but not the kind of childish nightmares.

  He turned away from the window and looked at Amanda, his heartbeat slowing a bit as he took in her pretty, slumbering features. She’d been a gift to help him through the last couple of weeks of dark days and nights.

  She was the most giving woman he’d ever known. He’d never be able to thank her for her comfort, her courage and support.

  She stirred him with her gentle soul and stunned him with the depths of her passion. Making love
to Erica had always felt as if he was participating in a sports event. Making love to Amanda felt like coming home.

  He’d done everything he could in the short time he’d had to ensure their safety while he was gone. He’d checked and rechecked the security system to make sure everything was functioning properly. He’d also given Amanda his gun, surprised when she’d told him she knew how to use it.

  “That’s one thing Johnny taught me how to do,” she’d told him. “He’d take me out to a shooting range several times a month for practice.” There had been a steely resolve in her blue eyes, a resolve that had eased some of his concern. She knew how to use the gun and would do so to save herself, to save his daughter.

  Forcing his gaze away from her, he grabbed the stack of clean clothes he’d laid out the night before and carried them out of the bedroom. He would shower and dress in the downstairs bathroom so he wouldn’t wake anyone.

  He paused outside of Melanie’s bedroom, wondering how much a heart, his heart, could hurt before it was irrevocably broken? The realization that he would walk out the front door and not know when he might see her again nearly broke him in two. He finally hurried past her door as he realized he couldn’t handle one last look, one last whiff of her sweet, little-girl fragrance.

  At least she was talking again. At least he’d have the sound of her whispered, “I love you, Daddy,” to take with him this morning.

  At precisely six-thirty Sawyer stood at the front door and watched as Jackson’s bright red sports car roared up the driveway. Setting the alarm system, then pulling the door closed behind him, Sawyer wondered if he’d ever walk through his front door again.

  “I’m not sure the retainer you gave me is big enough to get me up and out this early in the morning,” Jackson said as Sawyer opened the passenger door and slid in.

  “That retainer was so big you should not only be up early for me but you should also be singing and performing a soft shoe to entertain me.”