On His Watch (Vengeance Is Mine Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

  “I’d hoped to give you a few days to acclimatize yourself before talking about the case, but the doctor tells me you’ve asked about it. I know about the amnesia, so I’m going to be as specific as I can. Dr. Marion says a word could trigger a memory, and God knows we need all the information we can get on this. We have a lot more questions than answers.”

  Nikki furrowed her brow. “Why is the FBI involved in this? Wouldn’t the California State Police be in charge of the case or have there been other incidents like it?” Using the doctor’s term made her feel more comfortable. She could disassociate herself from an incident, and it would make what she was about to hear easier to bear.

  “My brother is the sheriff in Larosa. I was on leave and agreed to help out while he was on his honeymoon. I answered the 9 1 1 call.”

  “What 9 1 1 call?”

  “The one you made. The one that probably saved your daughter’s life.”

  “Oh my God! She was in the house?” The thought of a child seeing her father and brother killed made her stomach roil.

  “Yes. The deputy found her asleep upstairs. Don’t worry. She didn’t see anything. Buck took her out of the house before she could.”

  “I see.” She relaxed. “You said you were covering for your brother, but that doesn’t explain why the case is yours.”

  “Whenever there’s a violent crime like this one, the FBI is called in to assist the local authorities with the investigation. Since I found you, I asked to be assigned to the case. At the moment, we’re looking at new evidence, and I hope to have information for you tomorrow.”

  “What new evidence?”

  “We think we may know who committed the crime.”

  “Then you’ll arrest them, right? Make them pay for what they’ve done?”

  “It’s not as simple as that. This particular man has been eluding police for years. He disappears once he fulfills his contract, and he covers his tracks well.”

  “Contract? Are you telling me someone was hired to do this?

  “Let me explain what we know happened. Stop me if you remember anything or have any questions.”

  “You’ll tell me everything, no matter how bad it is?”

  Jason nodded.

  “Before the crime occurred, you put Mandy to bed in a sleeping bag under the guest room bed.”

  “Under the bed?” Her disbelief came across clearly. “What on Earth for?”

  “We asked her that. Apparently, she’s afraid of the dark. She was practicing for a sleepover.”

  Nikki recalled her discomfort when she’d awakened in the dark room last night. Poor kid. What a thing to inherit.

  “Go on, please.”

  “We don’t know a lot about what happened between that time and when you made the 9 1 1 call. What we do know, is that your husband’s clinic stayed open late and that’s where the suspects caught up with him. They stole the money and drugs on premises, killed his nurse, beat your husband, and eventually put him in the back seat of the car. He was killed in your garage after giving up information about the safe in the den.”

  “So this was about money and drugs?” Tears brimmed her eyes. What a terrible waste. Why hadn’t Sam just given them what they wanted?

  “Not entirely. I found you and your son on the kitchen floor.”

  Jason described the crime scene in detail, but while she could picture it vividly in her mind, nothing he said triggered any memories. The words on the wall chilled her. At least the boy and the nurse, unlike her husband, had died quickly. Agent Spark had been rather vague about her beating, but she didn’t want to hear those details. Irene had explained the damage she’d suffered. Knowing how it had occurred served no useful purpose. Tears ran unheeded down her cheeks.

  “There were two dozen red roses in that crystal vase.”

  “I don’t like roses,” Nikki stated with conviction, her distress increased by the overpowering image of red petals turning to drops of blood. “Their scent nauseates me. I see red roses in my nightmares.”

  “Your husband ordered them and had them delivered earlier in the day. You might not like roses now, but you must have before ... Do you see anything else in those nightmares?” Jason asked, and she could hear the eager curiosity in his voice. He’d avoided looking at her while he’d described the crime scene, but now his intense gaze pierced her, and that annoyed her. If she knew anything, did he really think she’d hold out on him?

  “No, Agent Spark, I don’t. In fact, until just now, I didn’t remember even seeing roses.” The last thing she was going to do was mention the disjointed images she got of angels and demons.

  He nodded. “Last night, an FBI agent in Sacramento confirmed bodies found in Auburn National Park are those of two of our suspects. We thought it might have been a disagreement that turned ugly, but now we have a different theory to pursue. This afternoon, I met with the FBI task force specifically assigned to this case. We’ve been joined by an Interpol agent who may have provided us with our first real lead. If what he says is true, then the man who orchestrated all this hasn’t finished his job. He’ll keep at it until it’s over. Thanks to the news, he knows you’re here, and he’ll come after you. We’ve placed Mandy in protective custody, and I want to move you to a safer location tomorrow.”

  Nikki sat up straighter, stiffening her spine, ignoring the twinge of pain the action caused. She didn’t like his bossy tone. No one was going to tell her what to do. “Whoa! I agree with placing Mandy in custody, but I’m not going anywhere. Dr. Marion explained the extent of my injuries earlier. Hell, I’m not even eating solid food, so I’m damned sure I’m not ready to leave the hospital. I understand there are security guards here. I’m sure I’ll be safe enough until I’m ready to be released.”

  “Mrs. Hart, be reasonable.” She heard the exasperation in his voice, saw the muscle jump in his tense jaw. “This man is a cunning, vicious assassin with over fifty notches on his belt.”

  “Then you’d better make sure nothing happens to my daughter or I’ll hold you personally responsible.” She watched the color leach from his face. “You said you need to confirm information. Until you do, I’m not leaving. Now, I’d like you to go. I’m tired. Post fifty men outside tonight if you need to, but I’m staying put.”

  “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, hopefully with the proof you need. For tonight, we’ll increase security. I knew I’d have to fight your father on this. I didn’t expect I’d have to fight you, too.”

  “What did you think? That I’d meekly go along with some cock and bull plan for my supposed safety when you didn’t even have any proof that I was in danger from that individual? Hell, you haven’t even given me a motive for this contract. The only thing I’ve learned from you is that Sam was a doctor and how he and Danny died. You said they took money, drugs, all of my jewelry—cut my damn finger off to get a ring I think is gaudy and ugly as sin, but you haven’t told me why. What was the motive? Every crime has a motive. Why come after us? Answer those questions, Agent Spark, and I’ll consider your request. Goodnight.”

  She turned away and looked out the window. She saw him stand and walk out of the room. Moments later, a large bald-headed man entered the room.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Hart. I’m Troy McDerban.”

  She recognized his voice. This was the man she’d mistaken for an angel or the night nurse.

  “Can you call the nurse, please? I want to go to bed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nikki swallowed her tears and sipped the warm milk the nurse had brought her. She was an emotional mess—weepy one moment, angry the next. She wanted to be left alone to mourn her losses, but Troy, the bodyguard who’d been with her last night, had been adamant that he was staying inside the room with her. He’d set his chair at the end of the bed with his back to her, but she still felt on display. She’d asked for pain medication and waited for it to kick in. She was ashamed of her angry outburst with Agent Spark, but the minute he’d started issuing orders, she’
d balked. She’d lost her husband, her son, and a baby in the most horrendous fashion. Her memory was gone. She was damn sure she wasn’t ready to consign free will and independence to the pile. Putting Mandy in protective custody made sense on one level, but only if the threat was real.

  She sniffled and looked over at her jailor. It wasn’t right to be upset with him, but he was the target of her frustration at the moment. He appeared to be engrossed in the novel he was reading on the tablet, but she had no doubt, from the way he held himself, that he was alert to every sound she made. He’d informed her additional security personnel were on the floor, so she’d be safe tonight. How could she relax when they were all acting as if the world’s most feared killer was on her trail? And nobody was even sure he was. Agent Spark had no proof, just a half-baked theory from an Interpol agent who’d supposedly been chasing this guy for years. A similar MO? Didn’t these guys watch television? It was probably just some sociopathic copycat getting his kicks out of pain, brutality, and confounding the police.

  The whole idea of a contract assassin seemed far-fetched. What Agent Spark had described to her was a grisly murder scene, straight out of the scariest film imaginable. It was gruesome and messy, and didn’t sound to her like the work of any professional killer, but what did she know? She would put her money on doped up sadistic druggies desperate for another fix. He’d mentioned finding two of the men dead—obviously the third guy didn’t like to share.

  She sighed. Any man who could commit the terrible crimes he had was a man to fear. Maybe she should reconsider her stance here. Making your own decisions was one thing; being pig-headed and mulish was another. The FBI had a lot of experience protecting people. If they thought she should be moved, then she should be cooperating, not putting her back up and hissing like an angry alley cat. But the guilt Jason Spark had tried to hide confused her. Did he feel badly because it was taking so long to solve the case? Or was there something else bothering him? Had he botched a part of the investigation? She imagined solving a crime like this one took time, but it had been almost seven weeks. He didn’t seem to have a lot to go on other than two more bodies and the possibility of an international assassin.

  Dr. Marion had come in shortly after he’d left to tell her that Mandy and her parents would be in to see her tomorrow afternoon, further depressing her. While she definitely wanted to meet her daughter, she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet her father, a man she disliked intently based only on his picture. Since Jason had said the child was in protective custody, no doubt she’d be accompanied by all the necessary bells and whistles an FBI security team would provide.

  She finished the warm drink, calmer now. Her tears had stopped. She placed the empty mug on the bedside table and yawned as the sedative took effect.

  “Can you turn down the lights?” she asked sleepily.

  “Sure thing.” Troy stood immediately and walked over to the switch. The room plunged into darkness. Nikki shuddered.

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Hart. Don’t worry. We’ve got your back.” His voice reassured her as it had last night, and she relaxed.

  “Goodnight.”

  * * *

  They sit across from one another at a small café, one of her favorite places in San Francisco, and she’s happy, happier than she’s been in a long time. Her angel’s back. He’s going to take her away from the ugliness. He’s dressed in white, his clothing so bright it’s luminous. His wings are furled but everyone walking by stares at him in awe. His halo glows, and she can’t make out his features. She wants to see his eyes. She senses something’s wrong. She needs to know what he’s hiding from her. He reaches for her hand. His large hand always comforts her, but this time, instead of bringing warmth, it chills her.

  “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” he says, but his voice is different, dictatorial. It’s a voice she remembers, but instead of consoling her, it frightens her.

  Feathers start to fly around them as he slips a heavy ring on her finger. She glances down and sees shackles around her ankles and wrists.

  “You’re mine. We were destined for one another. I’ve always known it.” She still can’t see the face of the angel across from her, but he’s no longer dressed in pristine white. His garments are dirty, covered in blood, even his wings, and he reminds her of a giant bird. He grips her left hand painfully and instead of removing the ring, his talon holds a bloody scalpel. The pain blinds her.

  She begins to fall and spirals through an unfamiliar darkness, Like Alice she’s falling into nothingness. Objects float by her—an easel, a baby carriage, a puppy, a large bouquet of red roses. Flowers from him are a punishment. She hates them, but he insists on sending them. They become an extension of his displeasure. She sees a baby doll dressed in a light blue romper. She wants it, but a little blond girl reaches for the doll as well, so she pulls back her hand. When she looks again, the child holds an infant girl. She lands heavily on her stomach on a sticky surface. She needs to keep her weight off her belly. She tries to stand, but she can’t get up. There’s something on the floor just ahead of her. She reaches for it, but her arm shrinks.

  The floor vanishes, and she’s standing in Chinatown amidst firecrackers and smoke. She’s alone and frightened. A huge blue and gray dragon materializes in front of her. The color is soothing, the creature playful. It opens and closes its wings to the beat of the music. The dragon’s face is bisected—one side fierce, the other benevolent. The dragon reaches out its claw and pulls her close to him. She feels safe, protected. She looks up at his large face, both sides blend together, recognizable for a second, and then not. The dragon dissipates.

  “Get rid of it or I will,” the two-headed demon yells at her from inside the swirling vortex in which they’re caught.

  One head wears Sam’s face, but the other is constantly changing.

  “I can’t trust you for two seconds. Who is he?”

  “He’s nobody. He’s just a figment of my imagination.” She’s lying, but she’s afraid. If he learns she went to the cliffs alone, he’ll only get angrier. And he’s cruel when he’s angry.

  “She used to be such an angel. I don’t know what’s happened to her. This is your fault.” The other head speaks, the voice unfamiliar, but the blurred face dissolves into her father’s. “She’s become willful and disobedient.”

  “Give her time,” the head with Sam’s face replies. “She’s mine now. She’ll come around, and if she doesn’t, I’ll make her obey.”

  Her father’s face dissolves, and Jason’s visage takes his place. His familiar voice is frustrated, and she watches the muscle jump in his jaw. “Be reasonable,” he says, but there’s iron in his voice, and she shivers. “It’s for your own good.”

  Now, she’s in a small dark place, pounding on the door. “Let me out. Please let me out.” Why has Jason imprisoned her here?

  “I’m sorry.” She hears his voice outside. “You have to fight to stay here. You can do it. You can survive.”

  Light fills the closet and the badly scarred demon with the diamond and finger necklace stands there, sneering at her as another faceless fiend moves closer to her. The door surface is suddenly covered in long, sharp nails that stab into her back, but she can’t pull away from it. She hears the unmistakable crunch of someone eating an apple. The demon raises the knife in his large hand, and advances toward her.

  “Kiss me.”

  “No, stay away from me.” He grips her left hand, and pain fills her. Blood drips from it. He pulls her tightly to him, too tightly. She can’t breathe. He tangles his fingers in her hair and tugs painfully. She can feel his erection. She has to fight. She has to get away. Her mouth fills with bile. She bites down on his lip as hard as she can and raises her knee. He groans and pushes her away.

  “You little bitch. You’ll pay for this.” She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes.

  “It’s okay. It’s just a bad dream,” says a familiar voice.

  Out of the void comes the a
ngel, but he isn’t her angel.

  “Wake up, Mrs. Hart. You’re having a nightmare.”

  She woke suddenly, sweat-soaked, her breathing ragged, and her hand aching.

  “You were thrashing around pretty badly. It took me a while to wake you. I think you hit your cast on the rail.” Troy stood near the bed. He’d turned on the light. “That dream must have been a doozy.” He smiled reassuringly. “I’ve called the nurse for you. She’ll settle you again.”

  “Thank you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. That dream had been far more vivid than any of the others. In the past, she’d recalled bits and pieces, but this time, entire sequences were clear in her mind. She’d seen Jason Spark, and the memory wasn’t a pleasant one.

  * * *

  Jason wiped his mouth with a napkin. Even San Francisco’s best pizza tasted like sawdust tonight. Of course it had probably tasted better a few hours ago. He glanced at his watch. It was after two. He needed to get back to the hotel and catch a few hours’ sleep before he had to face Nikki Hart’s father again.

  When Thomas Lincoln had insisted they pull the plug on Nikki, Jason had threatened him with a court injunction, and the man had backed down. That action had catapulted her father to the top of the pitifully small list of suspects. Covertly, he’d verified Thomas Lincoln’s whereabouts and checked into his known associates. Wanting his daughter dead didn’t qualify him for the “Father of the Year” award, but the last thing Jason wanted was the bastard screaming “harassment” and getting him thrown off the case. The man was powerful, filthy rich, and with friends in high places. Personal and financial information on the Lincoln family was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. The guy might be a jerk, but he’d been on business in Mexico when the attack occurred. An iron-clad alibi. As well, try as he might, he hadn’t been able to link Thomas to any unsavory elements. According to what he could find, the man might as well be the patron saint of the city. Jason wasn’t satisfied. He distrusted the man—it was a gut feeling, one he couldn’t explain, but if his gut said the jerk was bad news, there had to be something there. Gut instinct had saved his life too often to be ignored.