by B. J Daniels
Georgia recoiled at the sight of the scar that ran for a good four inches down Nicci’s side.
“This is why he thought I was dead the last nine years.” Her eyes glittered. “He did tell you that, didn’t he? He left me to die, bleeding in a shark-filled sea. If I hadn’t been picked up by a fishing boat…” She dropped her shirt back over the scar, tears welling in her green eyes. “You don’t know him as well as you think you do.”
This time when Nicci turned, she kept going right out the door, leaving Georgia in shock. Dalton couldn’t have done that to her. Nicci had to be lying. Lying and carrying a gun.
Georgia jumped at the touch of a cold hand on her arm. She’d forgotten Agnes was still in the room. As she turned, she saw that the elderly woman’s face was sheet-white.
“You have to get her out of your house before she does any more harm,” Agnes said in a small, scared voice as she clutched Georgia’s arm. “But you can’t let her know that you’re on to her.”
Chapter Ten
Georgia felt goose bumps rise on her skin at the impact of Agnes’s words. Before she could say anything, the back door of the shop swung open.
She knew by the expression on Agnes’s face who she’d find standing in the doorway even before she turned to see Nicci.
“Everything all right?” Nicci asked into the deathly silence.
“Fine.” Georgia’s voice cracked.
Nicci’s gaze swung to Agnes and a small smile curled her lips. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I left some papers that I need. I don’t know where my mind is today.”
Agnes’s fingers bit into Georgia’s arm.
“Oh, there they are,” Nicci said, pointing to a manila envelope on the edge of a small display table near the back of the shop. Georgia hadn’t seen Nicci put it there earlier. She was thinking of the last time Nicci had eavesdropped on her. That time Nicci said she’d forgotten her purse.
As Nicci stepped over to the table to pick up the envelope, Agnes let go of Georgia’s arm and snatching up her knitting bag, took off out the front door.
Nicci glanced in Georgia’s direction, her gaze veering off to follow Agnes to her car. When she looked at Georgia again, she smiled, but those green eyes were like ice. “Agnes seemed upset, didn’t you think?”
“The birds,” she said quickly. “She’s still upset over those dead birds.”
Nicci lifted a brow. “Still upset over dead trash birds? I probably should have mentioned this before. The other day when I walked Agnes out to get her knitting, she was talking crazy. I hate to say it, but I think the poor dear might be getting dementia.”
Agnes was as sharp as anyone Georgia knew, and she was tempted to say as much but bit her tongue. “I’ll keep a close eye on her. Just in case you’re right.”
That didn’t seem to please Nicci. “I can tell you are very fond of her. You two seemed very close when I came in.”
“She’s just a nice elderly woman who likes to knit,” Georgia said.
“Hmm.” Nicci chuckled. “She’s a lot more than that. I just don’t want her upsetting you with her crazy stories about cupcakes and dead birds. I can tell you’re not yourself.”
“I’m just worried about Rory.”
“Rory and the baby are fine, you said. Have you talked to her since?”
“No, I’ve been too busy.”
Nicci glanced at the now empty shop. “I guess this is your chance.”
Georgia saw that Nicci meant to stick around until she called Rory. “Actually, her husband said she was going to rest. I’ll call her later.”
“Give her my regards.”
Georgia stepped to the counter as Nicci left and leaned against it for support. She was shaking, heart racing. Both the front and back doors of the shop were open to let in the still cool morning air.
She went to the back door, closed and locked it. Nicci had a key, but at least this way Georgia would have a few seconds of warning before the woman appeared. She closed the front door, locked it and put up the Closed sign. She’d been planning on closing anyway and going to the fair.
Picking up the phone, she dialed Rory’s number and, with a start, noticed that Nicci’s rental car was parked across the street. Georgia felt her pulse quicken. Nicci had gone out the back door even though her car was parked out front?
She’d come back the same way, saying she’d forgotten the envelope. But Georgia had a feeling Nicci had seen her and Agnes from the front of the store and come in the back hoping to catch what Agnes was saying to her.
So where was Nicci now?
“GEORGIA?” Rory said on the other end of the line. “What’s going on?”
Georgia hadn’t even realized that Rory had answered the phone, she’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts. “I’m going to call you right back.” She hung up before Rory could question her further.
For a moment, she stared across the street at the rental car. Sun glinted off the windows. Was Nicci sitting behind the wheel watching the shop?
Georgia turned and walked as casually as she could manage to the back of the shop, picked up her purse and hurried upstairs to her apartment. She didn’t feel safe until she’d locked her apartment door behind her. Nicci didn’t have a key to this door, but she did all the rest.
Pulling out her cell phone, she called Rory.
“What is going?” Rory demanded.
Georgia had moved to the window. She parted the curtains so she could look down on the main street. The rental car was still parked across the street.
“I was just waiting for Nicci to leave,” Georgia said. “All this is making me so paranoid. You can’t really think she cut your pickup’s brake line.”
“Can’t I? Think about it. She disappeared for a long time last night during the movie,” Rory said.
“That doesn’t prove she went outside and cut your brake line.”
“You know she could have gone out and come back without anyone noticing. Patty was sitting a few rows behind us watching the movie. There wasn’t anyone out front because she’d already closed down the concessions.”
The street where Rory had parked her pickup was dark. There were no businesses that would have been opened last night during that time. Nicci could have left and come back in without anyone noticing.
Georgia watched the street. Still no Nicci. With a chill, she realized that Nicci could have come in the back door by now and made her way up to her apartment.
“Why would she want to hurt you and the baby?” Georgia asked, lowering her voice.
“Are you kidding? Look what happened with my Lamaze class. Without me around, she could get total control over you.”
“Excuse me? I do have a mind of my own,” Georgia argued, even though she knew she had let Nicci manipulate her. She’d gone along with things because it had been easier than arguing with Nicci, disappointing Nicci, making Nicci angry.
“Come on, this woman is a master manipulator. Anyone could fall under her powers.”
“Not you and Agnes.”
“Agnes?” Rory sounded scared.
“Agnes just warned me about Nicci.”
“Georgia, if Nicci cut my brake lines, then what will she do to Agnes if she thinks she’s saying something against her?”
“Nicci told me she thinks Agnes is suffering from dementia.”
“That could be Agnes’s saving grace. I hope you didn’t argue that Agnes was sharp as a tack.”
“I didn’t.” Georgia was scared. She didn’t want to believe this. If she did, then that made her renter far worse than even Dalton thought.
“She would have needed something to cut your brake line,” Georgia said.
“The toolbox was on the back of the pickup,” Rory said. “Devlin checked. A pair of bolt cutters had been used. There was brake fluid on the bolt cutters—and on a pair of old gloves.”
Georgia felt like crying. “But what about her clothing? If she’d crawled under your truck—”
“I’ve had nothing b
ut time to think about this. She was gone long enough that she could have had time to cut the brake line, go to the apartment a block away and change, and come back before the movie ended.”
“The first night we went to the movie,” Georgia said almost to herself. “Nicci left and didn’t come back for a long time.”
Rory let out a curse. “You think she made a dry run that night to see if it was possible?”
Georgia shuddered at the thought, remembering how nice Nicci had been to Rory. If they were right, Nicci was a potential cold-blooded murderer. “We have to call the sheriff.”
“Georgia, all we have are suspicions. We need proof.”
Georgia caught movement on the street below. “Nicci.”
“What?”
“Nicci is coming down the street from the coffee shop,” Georgia said, relieved she wasn’t in her apartment just across the hall.
“I know all this sounds crazy,” Rory said. “That’s why we have to find the proof. What is she doing now?”
“She’s going over to one of the benches along the sidewalk. It looks like she’s going to make a call on her cell phone.”
FROM THE FRONT WINDOW of her apartment, Georgia watched Nicci take a seat on the park bench.
“She still there?” Rory asked in a hushed whisper from the other end of the line.
“She’s calling someone. I hope it isn’t me. No, she’s talking to someone now. That’s funny.”
“What?”
“Since Nicci moved in, she hasn’t gotten any calls when I was around—or made anyway. Except for that one the other night after the movie. And the one now.”
“So who do you think she’s talking to?”
“I don’t know. Dalton told me she might have a male friend with her that she’s keeping under wraps. Could be him. She’s really acting animated, laughing and smiling.”
“She’s talking to a man,” Rory said positively.
“She just disconnected and is headed for her car. She looks pretty self-satisfied,” Georgia reported.
“Now’s your chance to search her apartment. If you can find the clothes she wore last night with some brake fluid on them…”
“Rory, what if she catches me? Who knows how long she’ll be gone?”
“This might be your only chance before she has an opportunity to get rid of the clothing.”
Georgia knew her friend was right. If there was any chance of getting proof…
As Nicci reached the car, she stopped and turned suddenly to look back. Her gaze shot straight to the second apartment window as if she had sensed Georgia watching her.
“Yikes,” she cried, quickly stepping away from the window, horrified that Nicci had seen her spying.
“What?”
“She turned and looked right in this direction.”
“Did she see you?”
“I don’t think so.” Georgia carefully peeked out the window, afraid Nicci would be headed across the street to the apartment. “No, she’s leaving.” Georgia let out a shaky sigh of relief.
“Just do this quickly, Georgia.”
Even the idea turned her stomach. But Rory was right. This might be her only opportunity to find out the truth about the woman living across the hall from her.
GEORGIA OPENED her apartment door, listened to make sure there was no sound of anyone on the stairs, and quickly stepped across the hall to unlock the adjacent apartment door.
She hated what she was about to do. But if Rory was right, if Nicci had caused her accident, there might be some evidence in the apartment that would prove she’d cut the brake lines on the pickup.
Or it could prove that all of her concerns about Nicci were unwarranted. Georgia knew that wasn’t likely to happen. She just didn’t want to believe that Nicci was capable of such a horrible act. But hadn’t she drugged Dalton to get him to marry her? And who knew what had happened on their honeymoon?
Hearing no sound other than the pounding of her own pulse, Georgia opened the door and slipped inside.
It was cool and dark in the apartment, the curtains closed. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
“I’m in,” she said into the cell phone.
The apartment was immaculate—just like the other times she’d been inside it visiting Nicci. On the surface, Nicci sure had seemed like the perfect tenant.
Georgia took a step and heard something crunch under her foot. Looking down she saw what appeared to be one half of a cardboard ticket stub like the ones used for a receipt.
“That’s funny,” she said, bending down to pick up the only thing in the apartment that was out of place. “I just found what looks like a receipt stub from the local dry cleaners on the floor by the door.”
“She had something dry cleaned?” Rory cried. “Why didn’t we think of that? Of course she would have taken her dirty clothes from cutting the pickup’s brake line to the cleaners as quickly as possible. But that means she had to go first thing this morning.”
“She did leave early this morning. I didn’t see her take any clothing though.”
“I don’t remember what she wore to the movie, do you?”
Georgia smiled to herself. Rory could have cared less about clothes. Until she met her husband, Devlin, Rory wore oversize Western shirts and jeans and could have easily been mistaken for a cowboy.
“Nicci wore a pair of lime-green capri pants and a long-sleeved white shirt.” Georgia loved clothes, although her own wardrobe couldn’t prove that, given her limited budget. “Might I point out that a long-sleeved white shirt is a ridiculous outfit to wear if you were planning to cut the brake lines on a pickup truck?”
“She could always roll up the sleeves. Wait a minute, I just remembered something. She was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt last night after the show, I’m sure of it.”
“I didn’t notice,” Georgia said. “I would make a terrible detective.”
“But you remembered what she was wearing before that. Now all you have to do is see if the long-sleeved white blouse and lime-green capri pants are in the closet—or at the cleaners. If they have brake fluid on them…”
Georgia hurried to the closet, opened it and stared at all the clothes. Georgia’s dream closet; and to think this was only a few items from Nicci’s summer wardrobe, since she hadn’t planned to stay here long.
Her pulse quickened as she spotted the plastic cleaners bag. Nicci hadn’t taken the time to remove the clothing inside.
Lifting the bag, Georgia spotted the lime-green pants and white shirt and felt her heart drop like a stone.
“The outfit she wore is here, but it’s already been cleaned. She must have had them put a rush on it this morning.”
“Check the slip on the top. Mabel always notes if there are any spots on the clothing. Well?”
The words nearly stuck in her throat as she read, “Grease spot on right leg of pants and right sleeve of blouse.”
“Bingo! This proves it, Georgia.”
Nicci had changed into something so much like what she’d been wearing that Georgia hadn’t noticed—not in a dark theater or on the way back to their apartments.
Georgia felt sick. Here was the proof and yet she knew it wasn’t enough evidence. The spots had been cleaned. There would be no way to prove they were brake fluid. Or that it came from Rory’s pickup.
She said as much to Rory.
“You’re right,” Rory said. “Going to the sheriff will only alert her that we’re on to her. You’ll be safe as long as she thinks you’re her friend…Unless you do something to make her turn on you. Like getting caught in her apartment. Get out of there!”
Georgia closed the closet and turned toward the door, anxious to escape. For all she knew Nicci could be returning at any moment.
Her mind raced. What was she going to do with what she’d discovered?
She heard the door downstairs open and footsteps coming up the stairs. Rushing to the apartment door, she quickly opened it and stepped into the
hall, locking and closing the door quietly behind her.
Hurriedly she ducked into her own apartment, closed the door quietly and locked it. Standing with her back against it, she finally let herself breathe as she heard Nicci top the stairs and walk the few steps to her apartment door.
There was the sound of the key in the lock. As the door swung open, light flickered under Georgia’s feet from across the hall.
Then there was nothing but silence.
“What’s going on?” Rory whispered on the other end of the line.
Georgia shushed her as she listened. Nicci hadn’t moved. Why would she just be standing in the hall? Had Georgia left something out of place in the apartment?
“Oh, no,” Georgia whispered, tiptoeing away from the door. Stepping into the bathroom, she turned on the shower.
“Georgia, is that water running?”
“We messed up,” she said into the phone, thinking of all those old detective movies she and Rory loved to watch. “The cleaners stub. It seemed odd that it was lying on the floor by the door when the rest of the apartment was spotless.”
She heard her friend let out a gasp. “She stuck it between the door and the jamb so she could tell if anyone had been in the apartment.”
Georgia dropped down to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “She knows, Rory. She knows we’re on to her.”
Chapter Eleven
“You have to get out of there,” Rory cried on the other end of the line. “Now!”
Georgia heard Nicci close her apartment door, then open it again. She held her breath, praying she didn’t come across the hall. Nicci’s door closed and her footsteps retreated down the hall. She waited until she thought she heard the back door close before she went to the window.
“I think she just left,” Georgia whispered into the phone. “Her car is parked across the street. I don’t see her yet.”
“What are you going to do?”
Her mind raced. “I’m not going to leave this apartment until I know she isn’t waiting for me downstairs.”