On His Watch

by Susanne Matthews

  She turned her attention away from the fireplace. “When Ivan provided the information about my father, did he mention anything about that tacky ring?”

  Jason chuckled. “Few women would refer to an expensive red diamond ring as tacky, but I agree with you. It wasn’t the right style for your finger.” He picked up her right hand. “You’ve got small hands. Any ring you wear shouldn’t overpower them.” He felt his face heat. “That’s what I think anyway. My brother took months to find the perfect ring for his wife.”

  He stood, the sudden need for space overwhelming him. To cover his unexpected movement, he grabbed the plaid blanket from the easy chair and brought it back to spread in over her.

  “I don’t want you to catch cold.”

  Moving over to the fireplace, he leaned against the mantel, blocking the oil painting from her view, but giving him the distance he needed.

  “Ivan hasn’t tracked down the ring yet, but he did get an update on Scarletti, the man we think may have issued the contract. We’re still trying to figure out who your husband was.”

  “I guess knowing that will make it easier to figure out a motive for this whole damn thing. The one thing I can’t understand was why they didn’t kill me when they heard the police sirens. If it was a contract execution, why not finish the job?”

  Jason had wondered the same thing. He’d mentioned it to Ivan and Brad, and none of them had a definitive answer. It was just one more aspect of the case that made no sense.

  “I don’t know. The man on the tape said you had to suffer. Maybe that’s why, or maybe The Butcher thought you were already dead. We can ask the bastard when we catch him.” Images of her with her throat slit like her son and the nurse made his blood run cold.

  “Every crime has to have a motive,” Jason said, running his hand through his hair. “That’s what’s missing here. Once we know the reason behind the murders, we’ll have the answers we need. As far as Scarletti goes, Ivan’s Interpol sources are still looking into him.”

  “What do they know about the man and his crime family?”

  “From what Ivan told me, Scarletti’s aged substantially in the last decade. Apparently, the man’s dying. He’s got pancreatic cancer. For a man so close to meeting his maker, you’d think he’d hesitate before making a deal with the devil. His only child’s a daughter who was badly burned in a suspicious house fire about twenty years ago. The place was probably torched by one of his competitors. Three others in the house, including her husband, were so badly burned they couldn’t be identified. It’s a miracle she survived.”

  Nikki cringed. “I can’t imagine living through something like that. I know how much I hurt, and I don’t remember it. Her pain must have been incredible.”

  “I’ll bet there were days when she’d have been happy not to have survived. There’s going to be a hell of a battle for control of the family business when he dies. Since Scarletti has no heir apparent, it’s anyone’s guess who’s going to take his place. Ivan and the BAU expert on the unit are convinced it’s a revenge hit. The place to start looking for answers is Sicily, and that’s what Ivan’s guys are doing.”

  “Could the man who offered the contract be someone else?”

  “It’s possible. The Butcher’s the prime suspect in more than fifty murders in the last ten years, so obviously he did work for others. Interpol’s reviewing all those hits, looking specifically for mutilations.”

  Nikki worried her lower lip, the action drawing his gaze to her mouth—to the lips he’d thought of kissing before. He turned away and gazed into the fire.

  “Have they made any progress in identifying Sam or whoever he is?”

  He pushed away from the fireplace, drawn to her side.

  “No, even dental records were a dead end. He had implants. The FBI’s forensic coroner has the body in San Francisco. He’ll be able to tell us more when he’s through with the remains, but like everything else in this case, it takes time. We’re waiting on the DNA analysis from the real Sam Hart’s sister, too.”

  She moved over slightly. “So we wait. I don’t like waiting.”

  He smiled. “Neither do I. Have you had enough or do you feel like watching a movie? There’s quite a collection here.”

  “How about something funny? Even if I’ve seen it before, it’ll all be new this time.”

  “One comedy coming up.”

  • • •

  Nikki stared at the ceiling. The room wasn’t completely dark. She’d asked Jason to leave the bathroom light on when he’d carried her to bed. She’d thoroughly enjoyed The Great Outdoors, the classic John Candy movie which had ended as Troy and Angie came downstairs to start their shift. She’d felt relaxed and contented, but the sight of the semi-automatic rifle Nathan handed Troy reminded her how deadly serious the situation was.

  Tonight had been an emotional roller coaster for her that had started long before Jason had carried her to the table to look at the computer images of her father. After her nap, she’d spent some time practicing with her walker and coloring with Mandy. The Halloween pictures her daughter insisted they draw, the more gruesome the better, had disquieted her. Many of the ghouls, goblins, zombies, and demons she’d sketched reminded her of the figures she saw in her dreams.

  Mandy had been upset when she’d realized she wouldn’t be going trick or treating but Jason had soothed her by promising her a Halloween surprise. He’d explained how important it was that nobody realized they were in the area, and eventually, when he’d added some candy corn and red licorice to his bribe, she’d calmed down and accepted his substitute. Mandy then spent the rest of the evening playing Twenty Questions trying to guess what the surprise would be. Curious, Nikki had asked Jason about the treat he had planned, but he’d smiled enigmatically and told her she’d know on October 31.

  The information Jason had found for her had been a wonderful surprise, and she’d have to find a way to thank him for it. He’d given her a precious gift, far more precious than the tacky ring Sam had given her—a ring that had belonged to someone else. Nothing could have made her feel better than knowing her father had loved her. Discovering Thomas Lincoln had wanted her dead had been a bitter blow, but now, there was no pain just anger. She didn’t doubt for a moment the man had stolen from her. She remembered how red he’d gotten when she’d told him she’d be handling her own finances. Of course he’d been upset. She’d cornered him like a rat in a trap. If she took over her financial affairs, his larceny would be discovered. He was probably trying to cover his tracks now.

  She snuggled deeper into the covers and let her thoughts run back to Jason. She knew he’d spent the night entertaining her because it was part of his job, but she enjoyed his company. He had a quick wit and some of his comments during the movie had been more apropos than the actors’ lines. He was also kind and sensitive, even explaining the gory details about her finger with care. She couldn’t wait to see how he’d soothe Mandy’s ruffled feathers on Halloween. Nikki yawned. He was a very nice man, far nicer than the man she’d married. If she could pick a man she’d like in her life, he’d be at the top of the list. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  • • •

  She stares out at the ocean. This is exactly the right place. There’s no one around to mar her solitude or interfere with the landscape she wants to paint. She hasn’t spent a lot of time in L.A., but she couldn’t spend another moment cooped up in the hotel room. He’ll probably be angry, but he’s angry all the time these days, and she never knows what will set him off next.

  The artist in her appreciates the beauty of nature, but a small part of her misses her friends and the life she had before. She loves to paint, but how can she paint if she can’t see the model she wants to reproduce? He doesn’t understand that computer images and photographs don’t work. She needs to be outside, breathing in the scent of the scenery she’ll recreate.

  After she sets up the portable easel, she sits on the stool in front of it and chooses the
charcoal pencil she’ll need to draw the scene. The wind is brisk, and the ocean is in turmoil, much as her life has been lately. The waves lap the shore and then rush out to sea again. The rock cliff over to her far left stands alone, majestic, its granite face laughing at the water that seeks to wash it away.

  The sun is starting to set. She’ll have to work fast to capture the images. She’ll make notes on the canvas to remember the shades and colors of the sky and the clouds decorating it. The sun will be the brightest orange she can find. The other colors will change as she draws, but this moment is seared in her mind.

  She begins to sketch as quickly as she can, moving right to left across her canvas, ignoring a bird here, a small boat there. When she moves her gaze to the far left, she stops. The landscape has changed. A man stands at the edge of the bluff, sentinel-like, the wind blowing at his hair and his clothes. But like the rock itself, he doesn’t move. For a moment she’s angry, wondering if she can capture the bluff and block him out, but something about him calls to her soul. She can feel his pain, his loneliness. He’s suffered and yet, he won’t give up. She’s compelled to draw him.

  In the hotel room once more, she paints long into the night, and falls asleep in front of her masterpiece.

  The scene shifts, the painting lies on the floor, brushes and bottles of paint scattered around it. The faceless man yells at her, obscenities she doesn’t want to hear. She covers her ears, but he yanks her hands away.

  “I asked you who he is,” the man yells,

  “I don’t know. He’s nobody.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay here? Why can’t you ever listen?

  “But I was lonely. I wanted something to do.”

  “So you went and found a man.”

  “No. I went to paint. I’m an artist, you know that. Painting is in my soul.”

  “You’re a tramp, hanging around with every unsavory character you find. Get rid of it, or I’ll destroy it. You’re not to paint anything like it again. Do you understand?”

  She nods; tears roll down her cheeks. She moves to clean up the mess, but he grabs her by the hair and pulls her up.

  “Leave it.”

  He drags her away. She doesn’t want to go, but she’s too cowed by his anger to fight him. Someone’s calling her name, pulling her toward him, away from here, from the angry man, from the pain she’s sure will follow.

  • • •

  “Nikki, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.” Jason shook her arm gently. He’d turned on the bedside lamp, hoping the light wouldn’t wake Mandy a few feet away. He’d rushed in at Nikki’s cries to find her moving wildly in the bed as if she were trying to get away from someone.

  “Come on, wake up,” he pleaded. Seeing her suffer like this ripped his heart out.

  “Jason?” She blinked her tear-filled eyes at him. She was confused and then seemed to realize where she was.

  “It’s okay. It was just a bad dream.”

  Nikki shook her head. “No. I’ve had bad dreams before. This was different. I remember it—well, I remember some of it. Your painting. It’s one of mine. I painted it. I saw myself doing it. That stretch of land is just outside the city.”

  “I don’t understand. If you painted it, why didn’t you sign it? Anything with your name sells for twenty times what I paid for it.”

  “I never got to sign it. I fell asleep. He came back and found me in front of the piece. He was so angry that I’d disobeyed him. I’d left the hotel and gone off on my own.”

  “Who was angry?”

  “I don’t know. A man—my father maybe or Sam—I didn’t see a face. He told me to get rid of it or he’d destroy it.”

  Jason sat on the side of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “If you say you painted it, then I believe you. If this was a memory—and since you remember it so clearly it could be—maybe those bad dreams you don’t remember are just that.”

  “Where did you get the painting?”

  “From a small place in Venice Beach—half pawn shop, half who knows what. I went back a couple of times looking for others, but I never found anything.”

  She didn’t comment. Instead, she burrowed into him as if she was afraid he’d vanish if she didn’t hold on tightly.

  He sat there holding her, the beating of his heart loud in his ears. He felt her breathing ease as she relaxed. He hoped that if she were starting to remember events from her past, her mind would spare her some of the gorier details. He’d bet the man in her dreams had been Sam. She’d have been married when Jason bought the painting. It probably hadn’t sat in that shop very long.

  Jason had visited the clinic a few times when he’d arrived in Larosa. Most of the time, the doctor had been open and friendly. When a male patient in the waiting room had tried to chat up the “hot, new nurse” who’d been Nikki, Sam Hart had done an abrupt face. He’d been terse and angry, and everyone in the waiting room had felt it. Maybe the guy had a Jekyll and Hyde personality. Abusers rarely showed their true colors. Some of them could charm the birds out of the trees and then . . . No one at San Francisco General had come right out and said it, but he’d gotten the impression that, while they applauded the doctor’s skills, they didn’t like the man. When a man had no friends, it said a lot about him.

  Jason suppressed his indignation and looked down at the woman in his arms. No one would hurt her again.

  “Do you want to go to the bathroom or anything before I tuck you in for the rest of the night?”

  “No, but please don’t leave me yet. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Your wish is my command. I need to get some shut-eye though—we both do. How about if I stretch out here beside you for a little while until you fall asleep?”

  She nodded and moved out of his arms to shift into the center of the bed. He turned out the light and settled on the mattress beside her, not touching her but close enough to feel the heat of her body.

  “Go to sleep, Nikki. I’m not going anywhere. No one’s going to hurt you as long as I’m around.”

  “I appreciate this. You’re a nice man, Jason. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  And just like that guilt bit him in the ass again.

  • • •

  Jason came back to the house mid-afternoon. He’d gone with Nathan for supplies while Angie and Troy manned the fort, and Cassie took a nap. She and Mandy had worked on the kindergarten curriculum and read a few stories, including the ever popular Drummer Hoff, although The Poky Little Puppy was quickly becoming a favorite.

  He walked to Mandy sitting cross-legged on the bed surrounded by the toy ponies she’d been playing with. “Happy Halloween, munchkin.” Mandy looked at him and scrunched up her face. The round hatbox he held was decorated in orange paper with a black bow. Jason set the box on the bed.

  “Unwrap it carefully. It’s breakable.”

  The concentration on her daughter’s face was almost as intense as the anticipation on Jason’s. Whatever was in this box was important to him. It mattered to him that Mandy like his surprise.

  Mandy undid the ribbon and lifted the lid. Her joyous squeal was ear-piercing. She looked at Jason, her eyes the size of saucers. A few sharp yips erupted from the box.

  “Mommy, it’s a puppy, just like the one I wanted. Is it mine for real?” she asked Jason.

  “Yes, it is.” He turned his pleading eyes on Nikki and she could see him begging her not to shoot him down. How could she? It was the perfect gift. She nodded. She’d thank him later.

  Jason reached out and pulled one of Mandy’s pigtails as he often did.

  “It’s a gift from your mommy and me. Next year, he’ll be big enough to go trick or treating with you. You’ll have to help take care of him. He’s just a baby. He’ll need to be taught the rules, but most of all, he’ll need to be loved. Do you think you can do that?”

  Mandy nodded vigorously.

  Nikki cleared her throat as Mandy reached into the box, and pulled out the tiny Sheltie puppy. She carefully exam
ined her prize.

  “He’s perfect.” Happiness radiated on her face.

  How could her father deny her something that makes her so happy? Why didn’t I fight harder for it, for her? She had no answer to that question, but she knew she’d never let Mandy down again.

  “Does the puppy have a name?” Mandy asked.

  “No, sweetie. You get to choose one for him. Can you think of a good, strong name for the puppy?”

  “Is it a boy puppy or a girl?”

  Nikki chuckled. “I guess we need to know that before we name it.”

  “It’s a boy.” Jason added, “He’s had all his shots, too.”

  The deep concentration on the child’s face made Nikki smile. Her little face was solemn, far more serious than Nicki expected although naming a dog could be a significant moment in her daughter’s life.

  “Can I call him Danny? That way it’ll be like he’s here with me. We were going to share the puppy. I miss him.”

  The lump in Nikki’s throat threatened to choke her. She swiped at her tears and hugged her daughter who held the pup close to her. She didn’t miss the brightness in Jason’s eyes either.

  “I think Danny is the perfect name for him. Your brother would be honored you’d chosen to name your dog after him,” Jason said. Nikki was grateful. She didn’t think she could have managed even that small speech.

  Mandy smiled. “Now Danny can be with Mommy and me all the time.” She turned to Jason. “Thank you, this is the best Halloween ever.”

  “I’m glad you like him. If you go into the kitchen, you’ll find a dog bed, toys, food, and all kinds of other stuff for him.”

  Mandy carefully stepped off the bed, her puppy still cradled in her arms. She motioned to Jason to bend down, and when he did, she gave him a resounding wet smack on the cheek, and then ran off to show Cassie her pet.

  “I probably should have asked you first,” he said sheepishly.

  “No, Jason, it’s perfect, and it was a wonderful surprise for both of us. Come here.”

  He moved over to the chair where she sat. She indicated he should come closer, and when he was within reach, she kissed him on the cheek, not as loudly as Mandy had, but it was definitely a kiss.