Safe Harbor

by Hope White

  Until the Feds showed up.

  “There are extra pillows and blankets in the armoire,” Mrs. C. whispered as she crossed Nicole’s bedroom to the door.

  Alex wouldn’t need them. There was no way he was going to sleep while Nicole was in his custody.

  “What else can I do for you, Alex?” she said, looking up at him with concern in her blue-gray eyes.

  “You’ve done enough. Thank you.”

  With a nod, she shut the door and Alex flipped the dead bolt. He wandered into the sitting area without glancing at Nicole. Seeing her fatigued body bundled up in the blankets would stir anger in his gut, especially now that he knew what kind of childhood she’d endured. Nicole Harris didn’t deserve to be hunted and threatened because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  As he studied the harbor lights in the distance, Alex considered moving Nicole to a different location. But for now they would stay put so she could get a good night’s sleep and be ready to face the challenges of tomorrow.

  * * *

  Nicole awakened with a start. She gasped, sucked in a shallow breath and whipped her head around, trying to figure out where she was, what just happened. A dream. No, another nightmare.

  Shouting. Men shouting.

  Only, she wasn’t hiding in the closet at Mr. Lange’s lake house. She was...

  “The inn,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, even to her own ears.

  Clutching the comforter to her chest she remembered the detective bringing her to the inn, Mrs. Cavendish making her a sandwich and sitting with Alex by the fire. After everything she’d been through she’d somehow managed to enjoy a few minutes of peace in front of the fire with the detective. It had been a surprisingly pleasant moment.

  She glanced around the room at the charming knickknacks, antique furniture and lace curtains framing the windows. It was still dark outside so what had awakened her? Was it the anxiety humming through her body from everything that had happened? She seemed to be safe. The detective had said he’d protect her.

  Nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m close, and I’m not going anywhere....

  “Detective?” she called out, although her voice didn’t carry far. She climbed out of bed, hugging herself against the chill of leaving the down comforter behind, and wandered to an open door adjacent to her room. She flipped on the light. It was a sitting room. Empty.

  The rumbling sound of angry voices echoed from the main floor below.

  She wouldn’t be afraid this time. The rhythmic pounding of footsteps vibrated against the wooden floorboards.

  She thought she heard Alex’s voice, so she cracked open the door.

  He marched toward her room wearing an angry frown that looked so unlike him.

  “Donovan!” A tall, broad-shouldered man bounded up the stairs and charged Alex from behind.

  He grabbed Alex’s arm, spun him around and slugged him in the gut.

  Alex hit the floor, gasping for breath.

  FOUR

  When Alex glanced up, the flash of vulnerability in his eyes shot anger through Nicole’s chest. She grabbed a walking stick from the decorative cane stand just inside her room and pointed it at the intruder.

  “Get away from him!”

  “Put that down!” the guy demanded.

  She started swinging, cutting through the air between them, forcing him to back away from Alex who was struggling to stand.

  Luckily, she didn’t have to make physical contact with the man. The threat of being smacked with a walking stick was enough to make him back off.

  “Mrs. Cavendish!” she cried. “Call the police!”

  “I am the police, lady,” the attacker said.

  She glanced at Alex, who straightened and nodded affirmative. “Special Agent Trotter, FBI,” Alex confirmed.

  She lowered the walking stick and glared at the agent. “But you hit Detective Donovan.”

  “And you nearly hit me. Which means, I’m taking you in for attempted assault of a federal agent.” He took a step toward her.

  She raised the walking stick, just as Alex stepped between them.

  “You can slug me as many times as you want, but the answer’s still the same,” Alex said to the agent. “She’s in my custody and she stays in my custody.”

  “She attacked a federal agent.”

  “You didn’t identify yourself to her—as far as she knew, she was defending me against an intruder.”

  “Aw, isn’t that sweet,” the agent mocked.

  Alex lunged and slammed him against the wall. Heart racing, Nic clutched the walking stick like it was a ninja weapon and she knew how to use it.

  The federal officer struggled but Alex pinned him with a forearm to the throat. “She’s not going with you no matter what bogus charges you dream up.”

  “That’s up to our bosses.”

  Alex stepped back but Nic sensed his body was humming with tension. His fists clenched by his sides, his arm muscles twitched as he glared at the agent.

  The front door slammed, and more footsteps pounded up the stairs.

  “Our case is bigger than a random murder,” Agent Trotter said. “Our previous investigation and Lange’s murder are most likely connected, therefore we take priority and the witness should come with me.”

  Nic darted behind Alex. The agent took a step forward and Alex shoved at Trotter’s shoulders.

  “Enough!” a gray-haired man ordered, marching up to them. “As police chief of Waverly Harbor, I order you to stand down.”

  The agent took a step back but still looked determined to take Nicole away.

  Mrs. Cavendish came up behind the police chief. The chief narrowed his eyes at Agent Trotter. “My detective’s been on high alert protecting a witness to murder who’s been threatened multiple times since the crime. I get why Detective Donovan’s on edge. What’s your excuse?”

  The agent glared at the chief.

  “Just got off the phone with your supervisor,” the chief said. “He’s on his way.”

  Nic stepped out from behind Alex. “He attacked Detective Donovan.”

  The chief raised an eyebrow at Alex as if surprised that the agent got the upper hand.

  “I made the mistake of turning my back to him because I thought he understood the word no, that this is our case,” Alex said, his voice more calm, his hands no longer clenched. “First you guys try to take her from the medical center, now here at the inn.”

  “We didn’t send anybody to the medical center.”

  Nicole and Alex shared a look.

  “Chief, Dr. Wendell should be able to give you a description of the man claiming to be an FBI agent who tried to take her from the medical center,” Alex said.

  “Got it.”

  “She belongs in our custody,” Agent Trotter demanded. “You can’t protect her. She’s been compromised twice since the murder while in your so-called protective custody.”

  Alex didn’t defend himself but she sensed his body stiffen.

  “That’s not fair,” Nic argued. “I ran off the first time.”

  “You ran off?” the agent questioned. “Why, because you’ve got something to hide? Have you considered that, Detective Donovan? That you’re being played?”

  The chief got in Agent Trotter’s face. “Get downstairs and wait for your boss. Mrs. C., can we commandeer your kitchen for an hour?”

  “Sure thing, Chief. I’ll make a pot of coffee.” She scurried down the stairs.

  The agent didn’t move. He glared over the chief’s shoulder at Alex. Nic held her breath, afraid the men were going to exchange more blows.

  The low buzz of the agent’s vibrating cell phone broke the intensity of the standoff.

  Agent Trotter ri
pped the phone off his belt. “Trotter.” He turned and took a few steps toward the stairs. “But...yes, sir. I understand.” With his back to them, Agent Trotter said, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  He disappeared around the corner, and once she was sure he’d gone downstairs, Nic took a relieved breath.

  “What a jerk,” she said.

  Chief Roth extended his hand to Nicole. “Nice to meet you, Miss Harris. I’m Chief Roth. Please know that we’re doing everything in our power to protect you.”

  There was a kindness in his eyes, and she sensed a father-son dynamic between him and Alex.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Detective, you stay up here with Miss Harris. I’ll deal with the suits.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alex motioned Nic back into her room without making eye contact. She hesitated, studying him. Was he upset with her for coming to his defense?

  “Please,” he said, his eyes downcast.

  Stepping over the threshold, she wandered to the window, heard the door close and sensed him cross the room to her.

  “I would have done it again so you can save the lecture,” she said.

  “What lecture?”

  His voice was close. He was standing right behind her.

  “The one where you tell me how I shouldn’t have tried to help you,” she said.

  “Is that what you think is bothering me?”

  She snapped her attention to him. “Well, isn’t it?”

  With a sigh he wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist and raised her hand that still gripped the cane. He tried easing it from her grasp. She didn’t let go. She couldn’t.

  “This is what upsets me,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “That I used this to defend myself?”

  “That you had to defend yourself at all. That’s my job. I’m supposed to protect you, yet you were forced to take up a weapon and charge into a potentially dangerous situation.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Agent Trotter started the fight.”

  “That’s irrelevant.” His gaze drifted from her hand, clenching the stick, up to her eyes. “After everything you’ve been through you deserve to feel safe, not threatened.”

  “I feel safe now,” she croaked, as a knot formed in her chest.

  “Uh-huh,” he said, a slight curl to his lips. “Then let go of the cane.”

  She glanced at her hand clinging to the weapon and willed her fingers to open.

  “I...I’m trying.”

  “Nicole?”

  She glanced into his warm blue eyes.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “You said that before. But you left.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were asleep and I wanted to intercept Trotter before he woke you. I’m here now. I’m not leaving.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  His pledge to protect her eased the knot in her chest and she found herself drowning in the sincerity of his eyes. Then she thought she saw something else in the rich blue depths, something she couldn’t quite define. So she kept searching for what was behind the curtain, the secret he kept hidden away.

  “Look,” he said, holding the cane in his hand. “You let go.”

  He sounded proud, yet all she felt was embarrassment. She was so broken inside that she couldn’t let go of a weapon without being coerced. Turning, she hugged herself and glanced out the window.

  “Want to try sleeping again?” he offered.

  “I doubt that’s gonna happen.”

  “I could read you a story,” he joked.

  She felt herself smile. “Thanks, but I’m too hyped up. Can we just talk for a little while?”

  “Sure.”

  He motioned to a chair in the corner. She opted to go into the sitting room instead. She slid down the wall and sat on the floor across from the window. Alex reached for the light switch.

  “No, leave it off, please?” Nic said.

  “Sure, okay.” He sat on the floor across the small sitting room and crossed his arms over his chest.

  She wasn’t sure which made her feel more at peace: the blanket of stars lighting the sky or the detective’s presence.

  “So, you want to talk, huh?” he said with a teasing voice.

  “What?”

  “A guy wants to—” he made quotation marks with his

  fingers—“‘talk,’ about as much as a cat likes to be thrown in a tub of water.”

  “Oscar likes to take showers with me.”

  “I’m guessing Oscar is your cat.”

  “Yep.”

  Leaning against the wall, she realized she was relaxing a little too much. She was the key to solving a grisly murder and when the killer figured that out she’d be next on his list, if she weren’t already a target.

  Although she’d accepted that she’d never be safe, just sitting here with Detective Donovan gave her hope.

  Yeah, false hope.

  “Okay, this is your party,” Alex said. “What would you like to talk about, Miss Harris?”

  “Nic.”

  “Nic. Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Nic is a good name for a linebacker for a pro football team, not a beautiful woman.”

  He glanced out the window as if embarrassed that he’d let the compliment slip out.

  “Some days I wish I were a linebacker,” she said.

  Even in the darkened room she could make out his slight smile. How did he do that? How could he enjoy the moment when surrounded by so much chaos?

  She fingered the hem of her sweatshirt. “So, what’s Decker’s?”

  “My brother’s resort.”

  “He’s not a cop?”

  “No, ma’am. He’s an entrepreneur.”

  “Married?”

  “He was. It didn’t work out.”

  “And you?”

  “Yeah, I work out.” He winked.

  “I meant—”

  “I know what you meant. Married? Almost, not quite.”

  “It didn’t work out?”

  “She died a few years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. Every day the pain gets, I don’t know, less painful.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  Silence stretched between them. She tried making out his expression but he’d turned his face slightly as if he were lost in the memory, maybe even ashamed. She was curious about how his girlfriend died, but would never be rude enough to ask.

  “I was supposed to pick her up,” he suddenly offered. “Jessica was volunteering in a rough neighborhood. During the day she could safely take the bus,” he said, then hesitated. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He sighed. “She was waiting for me outside the community center. It was late, not much foot traffic in the area. Two guys approached her, asked for money and grabbed her purse. She fought back probably figuring I’d pull up any minute.”

  Nic waited, not wanting to push him, but feeling honored that he’d shared this much.

  “She got away and ran into the street to flag down help. Instead, she was hit by a car. Banged her head against the pavement and died in the ambulance.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yep. And the odd thing was, no one was charged with her death. Not the guys who attacked her or the driver of the car. No one was responsible. That made me crazy for a long time,” he paused. “Until I accepted the fact that her death wasn’t their fault. It was mine.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I shouldn’t be talking at all. But since I just spilled my g
uts and told you something so personal, it’s your turn to share.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Why did you become a personal assistant?”

  “Well, the pay is decent, the hours are good and...never mind, it’s silly.”

  “What?”

  “I like helping people.”

  “Nothing silly about that. Why do you think I’m a cop?”

  “You mean it’s not because you love the power trip?”

  “Did I look like I was on a power trip when Trotter put me down?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “You, on the other hand, with your ninja moves waving that stick like you were a black belt.” Alex imitated her by motioning with his hands. “I do not want to get on your bad side.”

  They both chuckled.

  “I guess I looked pretty stupid, huh?” she said.

  “No,” he said, his voice serious. “You looked determined. You’re going to need that strength to help you through the court case when we find the killer.”

  She glanced down at her hands. “Who says I’ll be around for the court case?”

  “I’m going to protect you, Nicole. The killer’s not going to find you.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, you mean, if you choose not to be around.”

  She heard the disappointment in his voice.

  “I’ve fought really hard to survive and build a decent life for myself. I’m not sure I want to sacrifice everything I’ve worked for by getting involved in this case. After all, I didn’t even see the guy who killed Mr. Lange.”

  “But you heard him.”

  “I don’t know what I heard. I was freaking out.” She hugged her knees to her chest.

  “Nicole?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Look at me.”

  She glanced across the sitting room, and felt his gaze rest upon her.

  “What did you think about Edward Lange?” Alex asked.

  “You mean as a boss?”

  “In general, as a person.”

  “He was smart and generous. Disorganized, but brilliant. He was dedicated to his work but never took himself too seriously. He knew how to laugh to relieve tension. People thought he was this aloof, uncaring billionaire, but they didn’t know he was genuinely kind.” She suddenly got choked up as grief washed over her.