“Tell me about the day she disappeared.”
“When she didn’t show up for work that morning, and she hadn’t phoned or arranged for a substitute to cover her class, the principal at her school grew worried. She couldn’t reach Nikki on her cell phone, so she called Wayne. According to her statement, she says he told her Nikki had left for school hours ago. Later he would tell the police that he’d never actually seen her that morning, only that she was gone when he awoke. Her car was found that afternoon abandoned in front of David End Subdivision. Her purse and the keys were inside, but she was gone.”
“Did Peterson even look at Wayne as a suspect?”
“I’m not sure he ever believed it, but he did look at Wayne. He had to. Wayne was the last person to see Nikki the night before, and his prints were found inside her car.”
“Is that so unusual? Did he ever drive Nikki’s car?”
“No way. He treated himself to a brand-new Charger while Nikki drove a ten-year-old Malibu. He never drove Nikki’s car.”
He heard the disgust and anger in her voice and felt a camaraderie. She cared about Nikki; she’d been her friend and recognized Wayne’s vile behavior as such. He liked that she wasn’t fooled by his charm and wit like so many others were. He’d seen men like Wayne before, had even lived with one in his father, a man who could charm the skin off a snake, and he’d learned to recognize real friendliness for the fake mask men like him covered themselves with. Melinda, too, seemed to know the difference, but he’d seen the news and read the touching pieces about the successful businessman whose wife had gone missing, and the press’s attempts to make Wayne Lassiter out to be a victim instead of a perpetrator. Not one article or news story he’d seen had uttered any negative remark about Wayne.
“But when her car was found, the seat was pushed all the way back,” Melinda said.
“Nikki’s only five foot four.”
“That’s right. I rode with her several times, and I know she always had the seat pushed up close to the steering wheel. When I heard that, I knew something was terribly wrong.”
“She wasn’t the one who drove it there and abandoned it.”
Why had she had to go through that? he wondered. But he knew the answer to his own question. It was because he wasn’t there to protect her from it.
His failures continued to compound.
He glanced at Melinda. She’d been a good friend to Nikki, and he appreciated that. Now someone was after her. He had to protect her. He wouldn’t fail again.
* * *
Melinda closed her bedroom door, then got ready for bed. She felt better knowing that Noah was sleeping in the den and she wasn’t alone in the house. She missed Ramey, but she was still glad he wasn’t home. The idea that someone had tried to break into her house had her nerves rattled. She couldn’t have him around while she had a target on her back.
Telling him about Nikki’s pregnancy had brought up a lot of old feelings. She’d understood Nikki’s hesitancy in telling Wayne. She’d felt the same way telling Sean about her pregnancy with Ramey, with similar results. Sean had tried to kill her, and, it seemed, Wayne had succeeded in killing Nikki.
She shuddered at the thought of Sean and Wayne and how similar the two men were...and how different Noah was from them. He was strong without being domineering, and his protectiveness towards both her and his sister was refreshing. She was surprised by how close she’d gotten to Noah in such a short time. She could see herself falling for the handsome former SEAL—so she had to be more careful. She couldn’t afford to put her heart out there like that. Someone like Noah wouldn’t understand what had happened with Sean. She couldn’t believe she’d let it slip that he’d abused her. She hadn’t shared that with anyone except Nikki.
Besides, she doubted she could ever fully trust Noah with her heart. Sean had made sure she would never trust another man again.
Her usual routine at bedtime was to read her Bible then go over casework until late, but tonight she didn’t feel like doing either. She changed into her pajamas then fell into bed and went right asleep, losing herself in the hazy fogginess of dreaming, which started out pleasant enough with her and Noah on a picnic, then morphed into Sean pressing her head under the water and her gasping for air. Terror gripped her. She couldn’t breathe, and the feeling of being held down seemed so real.
She opened her eyes and knew in a moment it wasn’t a dream. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take in any air, and that feeling of something pressing down on her wasn’t imagined.
Terror ripped through her. She reached out and felt strong arms pinning her down, and the bed moved at the weight of someone hovering over her. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but claw and kick at the intruder, though her struggles didn’t seem to make him flinch. He was too strong.
Noah! Where was Noah? She had to do something to alert him.
Panic muddled her thinking, but she knew she had to act or she’d be dead.
She stretched out her hand. If she could reach her nightstand and knock something off, perhaps he would hear it. All she could do was fight and pray that Noah heard her and came running.
She flung her hand several times, reaching farther and farther until it connected with something. She heard the rustle of something hit the floor, and the man above her grunted. He moved, and the weight of whatever was pressing on her released. She pushed it away and gasped for air, her chest and throat aching as she inhaled.
The man moved from the bed. She caught her first glimpse of him from behind. Large, broad shoulders, dark hair poking out from beneath a mask, jeans and boots. The doorknob rattled and he tensed.
“Melinda? Are you okay?” Noah’s voice came through the door. He knocked. “Melinda?” He tried the knob again but it was obviously locked, so he knocked once more, the timbre of his voice rising. “Melinda, open the door.”
She struggled to move, to run, to form words, but her body would do nothing but suck in precious air. Words formed on her lips but no sound came. Finally, she moved and the man turned. He picked up the lamp from her bedside and brought it down against her head.
Pain ripped through her for only a moment before everything went black.
* * *
Noah’s heart raced at the sounds from inside Melinda’s bedroom. She hadn’t responded to him, and he wasn’t waiting any longer. He pulled out his gun then kicked in the door. Melinda was lying on the bed, blood pooling on the sheets, and a broken lamp was on the floor beside the bed.
He spun toward the window as movement grabbed his attention. Someone was crawling out, and all he could see was his leg. Noah ran to the window, but the figure was now all the way through. He quickly disappeared around the corner of the house.
Noah hurried to the bed. Melinda was bleeding from the head and was knocked out. He checked for a pulse and found one, thankful for that. He hadn’t been too late.
He pulled out his phone and dialed 911. He needed to get Melinda to a hospital fast. As he spoke, he checked the window. How had the intruder gotten into the house without him hearing? He saw marks where the intruder had jimmied the window and crawled inside.
This guy was serious, and he’d done his homework. Not only had he gotten rid of Melinda’s dog that might have alerted them to an intruder, but he’d also staked out the house and knew which bedroom was hers. He must have known Noah was in the house, as well, because he’d been sure to be quiet.
Noah heard movement at the window again. He turned and spotted the dark figure tossing something. It broke through the window, hit the floor and shattered, sending flames spurting toward the ceiling. Noah shielded his face and eyes from the shattering glass and fuel. The smell of gasoline filled the room, and the heat from the firebomb was hot and biting. Smoke was quickly filling the room.
He grabbed Melinda, swooping her up into his arms. They had to get out of this r
oom. He’d been in situations like this before, most recently during the embassy attack when he’d been inside a burning building trying to locate the ambassador. He knew how quickly the smoke could overtake a person and how the chemicals in the smoke could affect his vision and perception. Not to mention the damage to both their lungs if they didn’t get out of this room and out of the house quickly.
His hands full with her, he pressed his back against the wall and used it as a guide as he moved past the flames. His brain was already feeling the effects. Breathing became harder, and his arms felt like noodles as he struggled to hold on to Melinda.
Smoke flowed through the open door and into the hallway. It was moving fast, and although they were away from the flames, the smoke was still a serious threat. He kept moving until he could see the door ahead of him. He ran for it, then onto the porch and out into the yard. He fell to his knees and placed Melinda gently onto the grass.
His throat burned and his lungs protested as he took in a deep breath, coughing out the smoke and grime he’d just walked through. He touched Melinda’s face. She was still breathing, and he was grateful for that.
The roar of sirens rang in his ears, and he had never been happier that help was on the way.
Melinda’s house was ablaze, smoke billowing out of the open front door. But at least she was alive and safe for the moment.
But the threat wasn’t gone. Someone had already tried to kill her multiple times, and he hadn’t yet succeeded.
He would be back.
THREE
Pain was the first thing Melinda realized as consciousness slowly pulled her back. She hurt all over, felt blinding pain in her head and back, and when she tried to breathe in, her throat was raw and sore. She opened her eyes and saw she was in a hospital bed, her arm hooked up to an IV.
Noah was watching the news coverage of the embassy attack on TV. When he heard her move, he clicked off the television and turned to her. His face broke into a wide, handsome smile. He pulled his chair close to the bed and took her hand. “Welcome back.”
“How long have I been out?”
“A few hours. How do you feel?”
“Sore. What happened?” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper. It was all she could manage past the scorching rawness of her throat.
“Someone broke into the house and attacked you. He hit you with a lamp. Do you remember that?”
“Vaguely.” It hurt to even try to remember, but she recalled waking up to find someone in her room, smothering her with a pillow. She’d fought him off, then he’d attacked her with her own bedside lamp. She grimaced at the memory. She’d never liked that lamp. “Did you catch him?”
“He got away, but not before he set the house on fire. Do you remember that?”
A tear slipped from her eye as the memories came rushing back. All her things, all the years she’d spent making that place a home. “Is it all gone?”
The grim look on his face answered her question. “They tried to contain it, but he used an accelerant. I’m sorry, Melinda.”
She didn’t even try to stop the tears slipping through. Years of memories, photographs, Ramey’s crafts and art projects, gone. Someone must really hate her. “Who is doing this?”
“I didn’t get a good look at him. I take it you didn’t see his face, either?”
“He was wearing one of those ski caps over his face. All I saw were his eyes.” Dark brown eyes, nearly black, and mean. She shuddered at the memory. She hadn’t seen eyes like that since the night Sean had tried to kill her.
She gasped, realizing they had looked like Sean’s eyes. Only that couldn’t be possible. Sean was dead. She had a head wound and she was obviously confused. That was all. It hadn’t been Sean in her house tonight. It couldn’t have been. Someone was after her and it was a real, live person, not a ghost from her past.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out,” Noah said, giving her hand a squeeze.
She liked the feel of his strong grip. This man had saved her life once again. She and Ramey owed him big-time.
She gasped, suddenly realizing she had no idea where her child was. Had he been inside the house? And why hadn’t Noah mentioned him?
“Ramey? Where’s Ramey?” She gripped his arm, panic robbing her of logical thought.
“He’s fine. He’s still at the Campbells’. Don’t you remember? You asked to have them take him home yesterday?”
Relief rushed through her as that memory returned. He was safe with the Campbells.
“Susan Campbell phoned a while ago. She heard about the fire and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I want to call him.” He handed her his cell phone and she quickly dialed the number for the Campbells. After assuring Susan she was okay, she spoke with Ramey. She was so happy to hear his voice, and her heart finally returned to a steady beat. Yet she hated the concern she heard in her young son’s voice.
She tried to calm his worries. “I’m fine, honey. I’ll stop by and see you soon. You be good for Mrs. Campbell.”
“How is he holding up?” Noah asked when she disconnected the call and handed the phone back to him.
“He’s worried about me and he wants to come home, but he’s safer there until I know who is behind all of this.” She took a deep, steadying breath. She felt better knowing that Ramey hadn’t been harmed. She tried to sit up, but the pain in her head sent her sinking back onto the pillows. Still, she had questions that needed to be answered. “Do the police have any leads about who did this?”
“Not yet, but Chief Peterson said he would let us know if they found anything.” He pulled a piece of folded paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “He sent over this list of cases you’ve prosecuted since you’ve been in Daytonville. He wants you to go over it and see if there’s anyone on it who gives you pause—anybody who might have threatened you.”
She glanced over the names but couldn’t imagine anyone on this list having a reason to target her. She’d only been with the Daytonville District Attorney’s office for three years. “I can’t imagine anyone on this list who would have a big enough grudge against me to orchestrate something like this.”
In fact, she could think of only two people who might want to harm her—Wayne and Sean. Wayne had to be behind these attacks...but maybe, just maybe, it was time to come clean about Sean, if only to hear someone else tell her it was crazy to even consider him a suspect. His body had never been found, but he’d been legally declared deceased, and in seven years she’d heard nothing from him.
She opened her mouth to tell him, but realized there was someone else she hadn’t heard from, either, since this all began.
“What’s wrong?” Noah asked, seeing her frown.
“I still haven’t heard a word from Dawn, and that’s not like her. She should have contacted me some way by now. She hasn’t come by, has she?”
“No, she hasn’t.”
“If the Campbells heard about the fire, Dawn would have, too. Even if she didn’t contact me after the explosion, she would have now. Something is wrong. I want to go to her apartment and make sure she’s okay.”
“Of course. We’ll go as soon as the doctor releases you.”
“When will that be?”
“I don’t know. Now that you’re no longer unconscious, I’m sure they’ll do an evaluation.”
“I want to go. I need to see my son. Please go find out.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll go and talk to the nurse.”
“Thank you.”
“Be right back.”
He walked out, leaving the door open. Melinda sat up in the bed. She lay back against the pillows, already feeling better having spoken to Ramey and made a plan to go check on Dawn. But she was ready to get out of here. She needed to get up and find her clothes and change. If they saw she was mobile, then it might encourage the docto
r to release her sooner. Either way, she was getting out of here. It broke her heart to have to tell Ramey about the fire and what they’d lost, but she would assure him the most important thing was that they were both safe.
She sat up, her head protesting at the sudden movement. But she pushed through the pain. This was important to her. She pulled the IV from her arm and pulled off the other monitors keeping check on her pulse and blood pressure. She pushed off the bed and stumbled to the chest. Pulling open drawers, she saw they were all empty. She opened the closet, which had several cabinets inside, then opened them and dug through drawers until she found a bag containing her clothes.
She heard someone enter the room and glanced around the curtain. A man in a maintenance uniform was pushing a cleaning cart.
“Just here to collect the trash and sweep up,” he told her.
“That’s fine,” she responded. She pulled out the bag and dumped its contents onto the bed. It only contained her pajamas and they stank of smoke, but they would have to do until she got some more clothes. She supposed she would have to purchase all new clothes due to the fire and smoke damage, which would be extensive. She hated to think of the work wardrobe she would now have to replace—expensive suits for court she’d scrimped and saved to purchase.
Melinda turned to pull the curtain closed so she could change. The maintenance man was gone, but his cart was still there. He must be in the bathroom. She was headed to see when suddenly, he jumped out from behind a partition and grabbed her around the neck. He pulled a knife and pressed it against her throat.
Melinda cried out at the pain. She should have been more alert, aware of him. She hadn’t seen a mask, but his cap had been pulled down low, covering his face. Dumb mistake. Maybe her head injury had clouded her judgment. “What—what do you want?” she asked him.
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