“I know that I care about you.”
For a second, her looked softened, and then she was angry again. “I think you’re trying to blame me for your failings. If you don’t solve this, it won’t be because of me. It’ll be because you’ve been out drinking late and you’re too hungover to do your job properly. Or because you’re having girlfriend troubles or something. You’ve got that look about you.”
His pulse ratcheted up. That remark hit too close to home.
She turned to go and he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to him. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was kissing her.
* * *
Nicky slammed her palms against Cullen Fraser’s chest and shoved him away. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She glared at him, too shocked to contemplate how her body was reacting to him kissing her and what she felt about it.
A flush crept across Cullen’s cheeks. He looked down, then backed up and stood against the wall of the kitchen next to the window.
Running his hands through his hair, he looked more than a little disheveled. Outrageously good looking, his light blue T-shirt—no logo today—form fitting enough to outline the muscles of his chest and arms. His eyes were on her again. Really, it should be against the law for a man to look like that—and to look at a woman the way he was looking at her, as if he wanted to eat her.
Heat flooded her, sweeping up her neck and into her face. She glanced at the door. Now would be a good time to leave. A strong instinct for self-preservation told her to get out. It was like a warning light at a railroad crossing with a freight train barreling down the tracks.
The kiss had been hard and brutal, like a punishment. Here was a guy who had to have control, and she couldn’t take anybody telling her what to do. Not to mention the girlfriend. She could tell by his reaction to her remark about girlfriend troubles the blond was in the picture.
Yes, it was all so very wrong.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick.
Not saying anything, she turned and walked quickly out of the kitchen, yanked open the back door, and ran across the damp grass to her car. In the car, she turned the key in the ignition and the wipers thumped across the windshield, washing away squiggly lines of rain.
A knuckle knocked on the window. She took in a breath, then another, then reached over and cranked down the window halfway. Stared straight ahead. He was likely wondering how much trouble he was in, whether she would tell his boss. She should. But it would be her word against his, and she knew how that would go.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You already said that.” Glancing at him, she noticed a little scar above his lip, barely visible under his moustache. Realizing there was no future for them, she could regard him with an almost clinical detachment. Even admit he ticked one of her boxes. She liked a man who didn’t hold back and it was clear he was one of those.
He said, “I just wanted you to know I meant that I was sorry and I don’t know why I kissed you.”
Putting the car in reverse, she glared at him in silence for a moment, then said, “I do.”
He waited.
“Because you’re an obnoxious asshole,” she said with grim satisfaction.
CHAPTER NINE
On Monday, Nicky started back at work. Her boss had offered more time off but she’d declined, figuring it would be good to focus on something other than her mother’s murder and her own grief.
The shelter was busy, as Mondays tended to be, with three admissions, an eighteen-year-old boy transferred from an adult shelter and later sixteen-year-old twin sisters who’d been living in a car with their abusive mother. Finding a school close to the shelter willing to take the transfer took a couple of hours. But the day passed quickly and before she knew it, it was time to leave.
Straight after work she drove out to visit her uncle, whose house was six miles farther up the lake road from her father’s place. He’d phoned that morning to invite her for supper with him and his ex-wife. Nola Bosko had moved to a house in Riverdale after the divorce, but they were still friends.
Nola answered the door. In the kitchen, her uncle sat at a granite-topped island reading a magazine. Nola got a soda from the refrigerator for Nicky, then grabbed ingredients to make a salad. They talked for a few minutes about Nicky’s return to work and Nola’s plans to cut back on her hours as a building inspector. Her uncle went outside and fired up the barbecue, but it wasn’t until they were at the dining table and nearly finished eating that they revealed the reason for the invitation.
Nola put her fork on her plate with a clinking sound, then pushed it away. “I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I have a few albums of photos your mother took.”
Nicky nodded encouragement but her aunt was looking off to the side. She had a disconcerting habit of avoiding eye contact when talking to people. It didn’t seem to be shyness, but coupled with her formal manner, it always managed to set Nicky on edge.
A brief glance, then Nola averted her eyes. “She gave them to me many years ago. I was wondering if you would like to have them.”
Smiling, Nicky sat forward. “I’d love to have them. But what about my father and Karina? Did you ask them?”
Nola exchanged a look with her former husband, and it seemed obvious they had discussed this. He said, “Of course, it’s up to you to do with them as you will, but you seemed the obvious choice. It’s just you remind us so much of your mother.”
“I appreciate that.” She smiled at Nola. “Were you close to my mother?”
Her ears turned pink and she turned to her ex-husband, who said, “We were all close at one time, but we sort of drifted apart.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose life just got in the way. Both your father and I got busy at work and of course he started going on relief missions soon after you were born.”
His tight smile suggested there was more to the story. Karina had once said her aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to have children. That might have added strain. It seemed there was so much about her family that was a mystery to her.
Nola stood up. “Well, that’s settled, then. I’m going to clean up. You two stay and chat.” She flicked a brief glance at Nicky. “No matter what happened, we have fond memories of your mother.”
No matter what happened? Nicky tensed. It seemed an odd thing to say, unless she was simply referring to Lisa Bosko’s murder.
Gathering the plates, Nola continued, “She was a free spirit, an independent thinker, artistic.”
Her uncle pushed his chair away from the table, its legs scraping the tile floor. “You remind us a lot of her. We were talking about that earlier.”
Warmth tugged at her heart. “Thank you.” That she’d resembled her mother beyond the physical was something she hadn’t heard before.
Nola said, “In many ways, your mother was the opposite of your father, which I suppose was why they suited each other so well. Not that he isn’t caring, I don’t mean that. But he’s a type A, like me. Your mom was much more relaxed. She made sure you had fun.”
“I do remember having fun,” Nicky said as Nola turned away. She turned to her uncle. “I wanted to ask you something. Do you have any idea who my mother was having an affair with?”
He shook his head.
She said, “Maybe she threatened to leave him and he was angry enough to kill her because of that.”
“It’s possible, but…” He let the sentence trail off.
“How close was she to Allan Spidell? I talked to him at the memorial service, and he mentioned they were friends.”
“I suppose you could say that. They never dated, if that’s what you’re asking. But they were part of a group of us that hung out together in high school.”
“And after? When she came back to Riverton after university?”
Stiffening, he twisted an engineering class ring on his finger. “I don’t think the friendship continued. Your mother married your father soon after she returned. She did go
to work for Allan for a while, but if you’re suggesting she had anything to do with him, I think you’re off the mark.”
She reached out and touched his arm. The question had clearly upset him. “I’m not suggesting anything of the sort. I was just curious.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. I guess we’re all a bit touchy. But Allan was not her type at all. There’s a side to him you don’t want to see.”
“What side?”
He picked up a salt shaker, set it back down. “He had a bit of a reputation back then as something of a lothario. Your mother saw through that. And now he’s got a different reputation. Rumors suggest he’s mixed up in some shady business stuff.”
Nicky mulled this over, wondered how far back the business problems went. Was it possible Allan Spidell had coerced her mother, as his bookkeeper, into doing something she hadn’t wanted to do? Did the police have Spidell on their radar?
Getting up, her uncle walked to the sliding doors. Just off the patio, a large blue tarp covered the in-ground swimming pool in preparation for winter. Hands in his pockets, he turned back to her. “Your father partly blames himself. He thinks maybe your mother wasn’t happy, and he didn’t realize it. He feels guilty about that.”
The sadness in his eyes made her chest ache, not just for her father, who blamed himself when there was no blame to be had, but for her uncle, weighed down by helplessness. Joining him at the window, she stroked his arm and tried to think of something to say but came up short and decided not to say anything.
She glanced behind her. Nola met her eyes for the briefest of moments, then looked away.
* * *
On Wednesday, Nicky met with Emily and her fiancé, Matt, after work at a new pizzeria a couple of blocks from the shelter. They were sitting in a booth at the back when she arrived. Soft pop music played in the background and the lighting was dim.
“Sorry I’m late.” She slid into the booth and put her shoulder bag and another bag on the seat beside her, then looked at each of them in turn. “You two look like the cat that ate the canary. What’s up?”
Matt grinned at Emily. “We’re getting married in November, right before my mother takes off for Europe.”
“Wow.” She stood up, leaned across the table, and kissed them both. They were so much in love it was hard not to be enthusiastic for them. “Wonderful. Am I invited?”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Of course. It will be here, in Riverton.” Emily and Matt were living in Boston, where Matt worked and Emily went to law school. Matt was in Riverton consulting with an architect on a design for houses he hoped to build on infill lots.
Matt said, “We would have done it sooner, but I was waiting for Emily’s hair to grow out.”
This earned a playful punch from Emily. “It’s going to be low-key, although I will need help shopping for a wedding dress.”
Nicky winced. “Not sure I’m the best person. I’m not exactly girly.”
“And I am?” Emily smirked. “Don’t worry. Between the two of us we should be able to come up with something decent, don’t you think?” She turned to her fiancé, her eyes glowing. “What do you think, Matt?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “I was never much one for decent. I’ll be more interested in seeing you out of the dress than in it.”
Emily shook her head in mock horror as the waiter came with their pizzas, setting an oozing mess of smoked mozzarella, pancetta and pureed squash in front of Nicky. She took a bite while Emily related more details about the wedding. It wasn’t hard to see that Emily, who’d been through such a tough time, had her act together.
“Is your mother coming?”
“Oh, yeah. It took some talking, but she’ll come.”
“What was the problem?” Her pizza was savory and sweet, the crust charred to perfection.
“She wanted Frank, her boyfriend, to walk me down the aisle.”
Matt grimaced. “Emily told her mother she didn’t need anybody to walk her down the aisle, and then the shit hit the fan. But we stuck to our guns and she seems okay with it now.”
Nicky kept a poker face. “Ask your mom to help you find a wedding dress. That would really make it up to her.”
Emily did a double-take. “Are you kidding?”
Nicky’s lips curled into a grin. “Of course I am.”
Matt said, “We’re getting her to look after the venue. We figure it’ll keep her happy.”
Nicky’s cell phone, which she had put on the table in front of her, vibrated with an incoming call. She glanced at the number, thought about answering it, and decided to wait.
Emily looked at her expectantly.
“My sister,” she said. “I’ll call her later.”
Matt said, “Are you close to your sister?”
She chose her words carefully. “I wouldn’t describe our relationship as close.”
Emily said, “She’s five years older, right?”
Nicky nodded. “The age difference has something to do with it, sure, but it was mostly my own doing. We had a big rivalry when we were younger. I resented that she was better at everything and was allowed to do things like stay up later. Of course, she was older so it made sense.”
He said, “I had something similar with my sister. Now I can understand it, but at the time it was maddening.”
The waiter cleared their dishes away and they ordered coffee. Nicky got out the three photo albums Nola had given her. She’d been through them the previous night but wanted to show Matt, who was an amateur photographer.
She opened the first album. “I’m not sure what I expected to see. I guess I’d hoped they’d reveal some hidden secret that would unlock this whole mystery, but I don’t think so.”
Matt had flipped through several pages. “They’re stunning, Nicky. Your mother had quite an eye.”
Many of the photographs were architectural. She recognized Riverton’s old library, shot from an angle on a rainy day with gloomy clouds looming in the sky. Matt pointed to a winter shot of an open field with a single leafless tree standing like a skeleton in the background. A single set of boot prints starting from where her mother, the photographer, stood led across virgin snow to the tree about a hundred yards in the distance.
He said, “It’s simple, but that’s what makes it so striking.”
Emily leaned over to examine the photograph. “I agree. It’s got a wistful quality, hasn’t it? But it’s a bit mysterious, too. It makes you wonder who made the boot prints. Your mother obviously didn’t, because you don’t see the return prints.”
Nicky took another look. “That’s odd, now that you mention it. Maybe he or she is hiding behind the tree. It wasn’t me; the boots are too big.” She wondered if the photo held an important clue and hairs stood up on the back of her neck. “I’ll have to ask my father if he has any idea.”
Many of the pictures were of abandoned buildings and rural landscapes. Some were simple, like a decaying house in a field, or a close-up of an abandoned farm with overgrown shrubs, shot through overhanging branches, its windows broken, paint peeling, front door open. Photos of interiors, too, old doors, living rooms, sometimes with couches still in them. In one, three bottles of prescription medication stood on a windowsill; in another, a porcelain doll lay on a bedroom floor, eyes open, missing an arm, its burgundy dress in tatters. None appeared to be from the farmhouse.
Emily pointed to a picture of an old staircase. Nicky’s mother had stood at the bottom of the stairs. A wooden railing drew the eye upward to an open door at the top, providing a glimpse into a green room with a sunlit window.
“It’s eerie,” Emily said. “Kind of creepy with the peeling paint on the walls, but it makes you wonder who lived there, why they left, and what kind of lives they led. You get the feeling their ghosts still live there. Not a place to go alone.”
Nicky shuddered. “I have a feeling I’ve been in some of these places.” She pointed to a photo of a large room in an institutional-style building. “Like this one. It looks l
ike it used to be a hospital. I’ll check online later to see if I can find it.”
Nicky finished her last slice of pizza and wiped her mouth with a napkin. As beautiful as the photos were, they didn’t seem to hold any clues about what had happened to her mother.
Matt left shortly after to meet with the architect, promising to pick Emily up at Nicky’s place, which was a fifteen-minute walk from the pizzeria. Outside, on the sidewalk, Nicky slipped into her cardigan. Dusk was closing in and there was a chill in the air.
They’d walked for a minute in silence when Emily punched her arm playfully. “You’re holding back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The cop, Nicky. I saw him at your mom’s memorial service.” At Nicky’s blank look, Emily said, “You never told me he looked like that.”
“It doesn’t matter what he looks like. He’s a jerk.”
Two teenage boys came up behind them on skateboards, expertly swerving around them. They stopped at a convenience store, tucked the boards under their arms, and went inside.
Emily said, “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
She shrugged. “That’s me, a regular hunk magnet. But, seriously, I have no interest in him.” At Emily’s raised eyebrows, she said, “Something I did want to ask you about though. I saw him talking to Matt. Did they know each other beforehand?”
“They just met recently. Apparently, this cop’s ex-girlfriend introduced them. She works in TV and she interviewed Matt once about something or other.”
“The blond? I thought I recognized her.”
“That’s her. Anyway, Matt was quite impressed with this Cullen Fraser. Said he seemed quite intelligent.”
It was Nicky’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “So?”
Emily smiled. “So, you like the smart ones. And not all men are jerks.”
“He’s just a bit too intense for me.”
“Maybe it’s you that makes him intense.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, he’s not my type.”
“Nobody’d be your type if you had a choice.”
Extreme Pursuit (Chasing Justice #2) Page 8