by Unknown
Twenty-Six
Nick drove around town looking for Anthony and Cassandra. The two young people had disappeared, and it worried him. He’d located Alexander about an hour before with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, mumbling something about celebrating. Apparently, Abby had already talked him into coming back to the newspaper. All Nick knew was that the man was too drunk to walk a straight line, which meant he’d probably curl up somewhere and sleep it off.
Although Nick had two more days before Abigail would be murdered, he didn’t want to wait that long to prevent the crime. The murderer must be caught now.
What if Nick didn’t save her? No, he couldn’t think that. He couldn’t live without Abby. He prayed he’d already altered history, and he wished for a sign to let him know. Then again, his being in 1912 had already changed history, since he knew things these people had no idea about. Could he stop the stockmarket crash of 1929? Probably not, but if he stayed here, he could prepare for it, and perhaps help others do the same.
He pulled the car to the side of the road near a busy street corner, glancing around the shops in hopes of seeing Anthony and Cassandra. If he could catch them doing something illegal, he’d have them arrested immediately, and they wouldn’t be able to harm Abby.
A familiar figure walked out of the barbershop. Harry. He glanced Nick’s way and waved. Nick groaned, hoping the man wouldn’t ask why he wasn’t at work.
“Mr. Marshal. What a surprise seeing you so far from work.”
Nick climbed out of the car and met Harry on the sidewalk. “I usually don’t venture out this far, but I thought I might find a good lead for a story, even though I’m not technically a reporter.”
“Good man.” Harry nodded. “I see Abigail is letting your borrow Edward’s favorite car.”
“This was Edward’s favorite? I didn’t know that.”
“Yes. He loved that car, even though it gave him problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Oh, he drove it like a mad man,” Harry answered, “and although he loved it because it was fast, there were plenty of times it wouldn’t start for him. Took him several minutes to start the cursed vehicle when it acted up like that.”
“That’s happened to me a few times already.”
“Yes, that man liked his cars fast. Shoot, he liked anything fast.”
“Even women?” Nick cocked his eyebrow.
Harry chuckled. “Even women.”
Perhaps Edward did have an affair with Cassandra after all, Nick thought.
Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “So tell me, will you be returning to work soon?”
“Of course.” Nick didn’t want to stop searching for Anthony and Cassandra, but he didn’t want to raise suspicions with Harry, either. Nick had to make sure he’d be allowed in the newspaper building on the day of Abby’s murder.
“Good. I have some exciting news to share today, and I want everyone to be there to hear it.”
Nick folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, really? You have me curious. Can’t you give me a hint as to your news now?”
“Well, I suppose I can say something.” Harry grinned wide. “By this time next week, I will be the new owner of the Sacramento Journal.”
“So Abby decided to sell it to you after all,” Nick said with a smile.
“Yes, she did.”
“And what about Alexander? Did she talk to you about hiring him?”
Harry nodded. “Next week he’ll begin his new job at the newspaper.”
Nick clapped his hands. “Awesome!”
“‘Awesome’? I don’t think I’ve heard that word used that way before, Nick. What do you mean?”
“It just means it’s great.”
“I see,” Harry said. “Well, then it is awesome, as you put it. I’m very thrilled. This has been my dream for a long time, thanks to Edward.”
“Then I’m happy to see it’s coming true for you.”
“Indeed. And to think I nearly married Abigail for it.”
Nick held his breath. Harry was going to propose to Abby the day before she was murdered, which would be tomorrow. So, with this idea out of Harry’s mind, Nick was definitely altering history. His heart leapt. Maybe Abby wouldn’t be killed after all, even if he couldn’t piece everything together in the next few days.
“So you actually considered asking Abby to marry you just to get the newspaper?”
Harry shook his head. “Oh, it wouldn’t have been like that. I felt I should protect her, because that’s what her father would have wanted. She’s been kept in a glass house all these years, and I feared she wouldn’t know what to do with her life, and especially the newspaper.”
“That makes sense,” Nick replied. “And that’s very thoughtful of you to want to take care of her.”
“But alas, she turned me down.”
Nick’s heart nearly stopped beating. “You asked her already?”
“Oh, yes. Yesterday, in fact.”
“Yesterday?” Nick said.
“Yes, but she turned me down.”
“Oh, no!” Nick put his hands over his face. If Harry proposed yesterday, that meant Abby would be murdered today. Nick ran to the car.
“Nick? What’s wrong?” Harry called.
“Abby is in danger tonight,” he shouted. “Help me find and protect her.”
Harry nodded as Nick yanked open the door and jumped in the car. He started the engine, then stomped on the gas pedal. He still had a few hours before dark, and he had to find Cassandra. She knew who was going to kill Abby.
The wheels squealed when Nick tore off onto the road. He passed cars right and left until he reached the street where Cassandra lived. He raced to her house at the end of the block. As he got out of the car, the door opened and an older woman stepped out. In her arms she held two of Abby’s dresses. It was Lily. When she saw Nick, her face paled.
He marched up the sidewalk toward her. She stood frozen, her mouth agape. Nick grabbed her shoulders, digging his fingers into her skin. “Where is Cassandra?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Who are you really, Lillian?” Nick demanded. “And why are you at Cassandra Brown’s house?”
Tears welled in Lily’s eyes. “Cassandra is . . . my daughter.”
He inhaled sharply. This certainly complicated matters. “And why haven’t you talked about your daughter? Why doesn’t Abby know you have a daughter, Ms. Burnett?”
“Because Edward didn’t want Abigail to know about her half-sister.”
Nick gasped. “Half-sister? Cassandra’s father is Edward?”
“Yes.” Now the tears slid down Lily’s cheeks and her bottom lip quivered.
“I had no idea you were mother and daughter.” Nick raked his fingers through his hair. “Why does your daughter have a different last name than you do?”
“Be–because when Edward put her in the girl’s school, he used the surname Brown for her so nobody would know that I was her mother, and especially that he was her father.”
“Is that where she’s been all these years?”
“Yes, in New York,” Lily replied.
“Why is she here now?”
“Because she graduated. She’s only been in California for a couple of months.”
“Does Cassandra know about her father?”
“I finally told her a month ago. I couldn’t hold the secret in any longer. I felt my daughter needed to know.”
“What was her reaction?” Nick asked.
“She was angry at Edward, and at me.” Lily sniffed. “She vowed revenge against Edward.”
Nick grasped her shoulders again. “Did she kill him? Edward had a heart attack. Do you think your daughter was behind it?”
More tears streamed down Lily’s face and she nodded.
Nick glanced at the dresses. “Why do you have Abby’s dresses? Isn’t that the one she was supposed to have misplaced the other day?”
“Y–yes. Cassandra is stealing from Abiga
il. My daughter was deeply hurt when she realized who her father was, and I know she wants all the things Edward has given Abigail, but it’s just not possible. So I have been searching through my daughter’s house and taking them back to Abigail.”
“Ms. Burnett, you’d better help me find your daughter immediately. I think she’s going to try and kill Abby tonight!”
Lily gasped. “No!”
Nick turned and hurried to the car. He pumped on the gas as he turned the key. The engine grumbled and jerked but didn’t start. He glanced out the window at the sunset. Nighttime was creeping closer, and Abby had been killed after dark.
He turned the key again and pumped the gas pedal, but the car only groaned and sputtered. Nick yelled and pounded on the steering wheel. He was running out of time.
Mumbled words floated to her from far away, voices Abigail couldn’t recognize. A thick haze filled her head. Her eyelids felt like great weights had been placed on them. A dull ache pounded in the back of her head, reminding her how much she had cried before falling asleep. Her head rested on a hard surface, and she didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to wake up and face what she had learned today.
Soon, the voices that had disturbed her sleep disappeared, and she became alert to her surroundings. A clock ticked much too loudly, and Abigail decided that as soon as she had enough ambition to move, she would throw the blasted clock out the window.
The squeak of the door opening startled her again, but she still didn’t dare open her eyes. “Go away,” she muttered. “I want to be alone.”
The door clicked shut, and Abigail sighed. Good, they’ve gone away. Then an eerie sensation rushed over her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Was she really alone? It certainly didn’t feel like it.
With much effort, she opened her eyes and slowly raised her head. Darkness surrounded her, and she blinked several times, wondering if she was dreaming now. Then she heard someone breathing, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Finally, her vision adjusted to the small amount of light peeking through the curtains, but she still couldn’t see anyone.
“I know someone is there,” Abigail said softly. “Who are you and what do you want?”
The rustling of clothes came from the other side of the room, and she turned toward the sound. She narrowed her eyes and thought she saw the outline of a woman.
“Please, tell me what you want. Why are you here?”
“You owe me.”
The feminine voice didn’t sound familiar. “What do I owe you?” Abigail countered.
“Many things.”
The voice grew closer. When the young woman passed in front of the window, Abigail thought she looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her. “Why do you think I owe you many things?”
“Because you have the life I want.” The woman swept her hand over the desk and grabbed Abigail’s locket. Then she walked back to the corner of the room.
Abigail sucked in a breath and reached for her throat. That was the locket her grandmother had given her. How dare this young woman think she could take it! “Just because I have what you want, doesn’t mean—”
The woman spun around. “Yes, it does! Our father loved you more. He wanted me out of his life, and yours. You owe me a life!”
Tears welled in Abigail’s eyes. This must be the half-sister Mrs. Downey and Hudson had told her about. This young woman—her sister—had malice in her harsh voice. What would she do to seek revenge?
“I don’t understand. Why should I owe you a life?”
“Because of you, Abigail Carlisle, my life was taken from me.”
“Forgive me, but I still don’t understand,” Abigail replied. “You say your life was taken from you. Are you trying to tell me you’re a ghost? Are you dead?”
“No.” The cocking of a gun echoed in the room. “But you will be.”
Abigail’s heart dropped. Nick had been right when he’d told her someone was going to kill her. When the gunshot rang out, she fell to the floor.
Twenty-Seven
Nick ran through the darkened, empty halls, heading for Abby’s office. He stumbled into a machine, twisting his ankle. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself to keep going. He was two doors away from her office when the deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the building.
No—he couldn’t be too late! He slammed his shoulder into Abby’s door and it flew open. In the darkness someone moved. He leapt toward the shadowed figure. As he wrestled the person to the floor, the gun exploded again, and a slicing pain pierced Nick’s left side.
In the dark, he fumbled to find the weapon, and when he closed his fingers around the hot steel, he yanked it out of the shooter’s hands. The woman screamed and wrestled under him, but he held her tight.
Warm, sticky blood flowed from Nick’s side, saturating his shirt and vest. Trying to ignore the pain, he threw the gun across the room and pinned the woman’s hands above her head. “Let me go!” she yelled.
“You killed Abby!” His voice broke as he said her name. “Good! That was my intent,” Cassandra snapped. “She
deserves to die. I’m the one who should get our father’s money, since I was the one he ignored all my life.”
Nick grasped her shoulders and shook her until her head knocked hard against the floor. Suddenly, on the other side of the room, he heard footsteps. Within seconds the light in the room flickered on.
Abby stood facing him, her white knuckles pressed against her mouth. “Nick?”
He released Cassandra and scrambled to his feet, feeling lightheaded. As he stumbled toward Abby, she dropped her gaze to his left side. Her eyes went wide and she screamed.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, gathering her in his arms. “It’s just a flesh wound, really.” It hurt unlike anything he’d felt before, but he didn’t want her to worry.
Cassandra jumped to her feet and ran toward the door. Abby tore away from Nick and beat the young woman to the door.
“I think not, dear sister,” Abby growled just before she punched Cassandra in the face.
A crack rent the air, and the woman landed on the floor in a motionless heap.
Nick sighed and leaned against the desk. His head swam, and the dizziness reminded him of how he’d felt just before he traveled through time. Did this mean he was going back? No! He couldn’t. He couldn’t leave the woman he loved.
Abby rushed to him again and grabbed him, holding him up. “Nick, you’re losing a lot of blood. I don’t know what to do.”
“Lay me down,” Nick instructed. She helped him to the floor. “Take off my shirt,” he said. He assisted as much as he could in removing the garment, each movement bringing new agony. “Now wad up the material into a ball and press it hard against the wound. It’ll stop the flow of blood.”
Tears pooled in Abby’s eyes and she nodded. Her arms shook, but she managed to press on the wound. The pain intensified and Nick cringed, praying he wouldn’t pass out.
She looked away from him and glanced around the room, then jumped to her feet and ran to the bookshelf. From between two books, she pulled out a bottle of Bourbon. When she reached his side again, she lifted his head and brought the bottle to his lips.
“This might dull the pain slightly.”
“No, no. I don’t drink, remember? I’ll be fine.”
Abby sighed, then moved the shirt and began to pour the liquid on his wound.
Pain sliced through Nick’s abdomen, and he clenched his teeth. He hoped the old-time remedy worked. If it took away even a fraction of the pain, he would be grateful.
Abby pressed the blood-soaked shirt against the wound once more. She smiled and carefully pushed the hair off Nick’s forehead, then placed her hand there. “You still feel warm, so I think you’ll be okay.”
He forced a smile. “I’m so happy . . . she didn’t kill you. I . . . tried to get here . . . before she could pull the trigger.”
“I remembered you telling me someone was
going to shoot me. So I decided to lower my head to the desk, hoping the bullet would miss me. Then I dropped to the floor, in case she tried to shoot me a second time.” Abby caressed his face. “You saved my life, Nick.”
His vision blurred even more as a dark shadow swept over him. No! He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t go back to his time unless Abby came with him. Or was he going to die in her arms right now?
Nick blinked and tried to focus on her beautiful face, but her image kept getting smaller. “I love you, Abigail Carlisle. I always will.”
“Nick?” She clutched his hands, but he could hardly feel her. “Nick!” she screamed, but the sound faded.
Nick found himself moving through a dark tunnel toward a bright light. If all the near-death experiences he’d heard about were true, he was dying. He didn’t want to die, because Abby was still alive. He had to be with her.
“Nick?”
He concentrated on the voice. “Mom?”
“Nick, it’s all right. I love you, but I know you’ll be happy somewhere else.”
A lump lodged in his throat. Those were the words she’d spoken before Nick’s father took him away from her. Why was he remembering them now? “Mom?”
“Shh. Everything is just as it should be. Follow your heart, and you’ll be fine.”
Tears ran down Nick’s face. His mother was the only good reason for returning home to the twenty-first century. He’d just started getting to know her again, and if he stayed in 1912, that chance would be gone.
“You’ll always be in my heart no matter where you are, Nick.”
His mother’s voice faded, and blackness filled his mind. He couldn’t see or feel or smell; it was if he drifted in a void.
Then, after what seemed like hours, he heard a voice—a still, calm voice—telling him to choose. He wanted to shout, but his mouth wouldn’t move. “Abby,” he called out in his mind. “Help me!”
Abigail paced the hallway in front of Nick’s hospital room. In her hands, she rubbed the locket her grandmother had given her, grateful she was able to retrieve it from Cassandra. Abigail prayed silently, willing Nick to come back into her life. The necklace did have power. It would give her Nick—her heart’s deepest desire. He’d saved her life, and in doing so, he’d almost given up his.