She’d been terrified by the fury rolling off him, and when he’d struck her, she’d been too surprised to even cry out. As soon as he’d done it, he’d apologized, but the pattern had been set and had repeated itself for the next four months, until the day she’d run away. Two days later, he was dead, killed in a gun battle with the police, a clash she’d inadvertently orchestrated. The dream intensified making each detail as vivid as it had been that day.
Their bright yellow kitchen was her favorite room. She hadn’t changed anything in it; nothing in here screamed Kevin the way the other rooms in the house did. As far as she was concerned, he could keep all that brass, glass, and leather. It left her cold.
Having just returned home from a prenatal doctor’s visit, Misty removed her shoes, padded around the kitchen to put on the kettle, and leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. The sound of an argument and sudden banging in the basement startled her, and she moved cautiously into the hall toward the basement door.
The first thing to hit her was the smell of cigarette smoke. Damn them. They’re smoking down there, she thought. The second thing was the dialogue. She listened in frozen, fascinated horror as they discussed robbing the Diamond Exchange and killing the security guards. The more she heard, the more disturbed she became.
Chapter Six
A frequent lucid dreamer, Misty realized what she was experiencing wasn’t real, but this time, she was unable to take control of the dream. Everything had a surreal quality to it. The colors were brighter, the textures grittier, and her movements sluggish as if her feet were stuck to the floor. She told herself to wake up, but instead of resurfacing from the nightmare as she’d hoped, she plunged more deeply into it, reliving the events of that fateful day.
I can’t stay here anymore, not with a man who joked so callously about ending another man’s life, she thought. She’d seen the barely suppressed violence in Kevin. She shivered. If he knew she was aware of what he was planning, he’d kill her.
Realizing how vulnerable she was, she backed up the step, closed the door a bit, and returned to the kitchen as quickly and quietly as she could.
She’d just turned off the kettle when the outside door opened, and she gasped, startled by the size of the man entering the house as if he had every reason and right to do so.
“Who the hell are you?” he yelled, grabbing her and pulling her to him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Shannon. I live here,” she stammered. “This is my home.” Tears pooled in her eyes, both from fear and the pain his fingers inflicted on her arm.
“We’ll just see what the boss has to say about that. Shannon, was it?” He had a heavy brogue, much heavier than Kevin’s, and there was nothing sweet or romantic about the words he spat at her.
He dragged her to the basement door and shoved her roughly ahead of him. “Look what I found snooping around the kitchen,” he crowed, manhandling her down the steps.
“Ryan, let go of her. She’s my wife!” Kevin shouted, anger and authority unmistakable in his voice.
“Wife is it?” Ryan laughed, but there was an underlying ugliness to the sound. “We’ve another name for that in Ireland. She’s a scrawny little thing, isn’t she? Does Kerry know about your wife and the bun in the oven? Somehow, I think not.”
“Shut up, Ryan.” Kevin turned and started up the stairs, stopping one step below her. “Mind your own business. I’ll tell Kerry when I’ve a mind to and not before.” He glared at the man behind her. Turning to Misty, he snapped, “What are you doing home so early? The daycare doesn’t close for another two hours.” The rage lacing his voice and the fury in his icy blue eyes turned her blood cold.
“I told you this morning I had a doctor’s appointment,” she stammered, cowed by his hostility.
He reached for her and propelled her forcefully up the stairs and back to the kitchen. His fingers dug painfully into the tender flesh of her upper arm. She’d never seen him this enraged. She trembled.
“What did you see and hear?” he snarled, pushing her roughly away from him. Her hip struck the edge of the table, the sharp pain nauseating in its intensity. She grabbed the table to stop from falling and cradled her abdomen in an effort to protect the child from its father.
“Nothing, I didn’t hear anything,” she lied, terrified by the increasing violence she saw in him. He slapped her, harder than he ever had. The blow stunned her. She tasted the metallic tang of blood.
“Don’t lie to me! I’m not stupid! What did you hear?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently.
Tears ran down her cheeks, and her face burned from the sting of his hand. “Stop it Kevin, please. You’ll hurt the baby,” she pleaded.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your brat. What the hell did you hear?” He struck her again, knocking her to the floor.
“Nothing, I swear. I didn’t hear anything, Kevin.” She repeated, her voice choked by her tears and the panic building within her. He was going to kill her. Like a she-bear protecting her cub, the danger to the child gave her the courage she needed. Enough was enough. Using the table, she pulled herself up and stared into his eyes.
“I told you. I had a doctor’s appointment today. I got in a little while ago and put the kettle on. I was making tea. The water’s scarcely had time to boil. I went to the bathroom and took some acetaminophen. That’s all.” She put her hand up to wipe the blood from her mouth.
Suddenly, the old Kevin, the one who’d charmed her, returned and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Shannon. You couldn’t have picked a worse day to come home early. You startled me. Why don’t you take your tea and go lie down? The guys will be leaving soon, and I’ll be off to work.”
“Who are they?” She busied herself at the stove acting as if nothing had happened. It’s what he expected — forgiveness no matter how badly he’d behaved — but this time there would be no forgiveness, no second chance.
“Just a few of the guys from work. We’re having a union meeting. Nothing to concern that pretty little head of yours. This babe’s given you a difficult time; I doubt we’ll have another.”
He walked over to the stove, turned her around, and pulled her into his arms. He crushed her swollen mouth with his in a cruel, painful, punishing kiss. When he released her, there was smug satisfaction on his face, but the frost in his eyes remained.
“We’ll talk about this later. For your own good, and the good of the child you want so badly, don’t remember anything you think you may have seen or heard. Speaking of it could get you killed. I’ve protected you this time, but if you’re found snooping again, you’ll be leaving the house in a pine box.” He turned, walked out of the kitchen, and returned to the basement, slamming the door shut behind him.
She ran to the bathroom, vomited, and sat on the floor beside the toilet, tears running down her cheeks. She had to leave, and she had to leave tonight. She started to shake.
• • •
“Misty, wake up.” She heard a familiar, disembodied voice and felt herself being shaken and torn out of the nightmare. She opened her eyes, unable to focus on the person looming above her and thought it was Ryan or Kevin. She fought and pushed at the hands restraining her. Her heart pounded. Her lungs were unable to pull in the life-giving oxygen she needed.
“Come on, girl. Give it up and come back to me.” Owl-like, Misty blinked her eyes.
“That must be some nightmare. Talk to me. What’s happening?”
“Talk about what?” Misty asked confused, still half in the throes of the dream. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I don’t know anything. Honestly, I don’t.” She pushed ineffectively at the person, her muscles weak in the aftermath of the trauma.
“Calm down, Misty.” She finally recognized Laura’s voice and stopped fighting. Misty felt the blood pressure cuff tighten on her arm. “H
i there. Welcome back. Now, relax; your heart rate is through the roof, as is your blood pressure. That dream must have been a doozie. I don’t think we have to look too much further for the cause of Debbie’s night terrors. Do you remember any of it?” Laura sat on the side of the bed and pushed Misty’s sweat-dampened hair off her face.
Misty shook her head, denying the truth. She remembered it only too well, but she’d never speak of it or what had followed.
“I’m glad I came in when I did. I feel responsible for this. I should have asked you if you’d ever taken diazepam before. Some people don’t react well to it, and I guess you’re one of them. It’s been known to cause very realistic nightmares. Since you’re awake now, you might as well come out into the lounge and hear what Micah has to say. Quietly now, we don’t want to wake the others.”
Groggy from the aftermath of her nightmare, Misty got out of bed and checked on Debbie. She caressed her daughter’s dark hair, only a shade lighter than Kevin’s had been. She hadn’t realized how much Debbie looked like the man who’d fathered her. She had his clear blue eyes, too.
Misty turned and followed Laura out to the lounge. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright, white, fluorescent lights. Momentarily forgetting that Nick couldn’t see her, she was embarrassed by her tousled hair, mascara-ringed eyes, wrinkled scrubs, and bare feet. She vaguely remembered that Laura had said Micah was driving him home and wondered why he hadn’t.
She walked toward the men seated on the vinyl-covered sofa. Nick stood up and moved quickly and unerringly in her direction, getting to her in three steps. He opened his arms and reached for her. She went into them, and immediately felt the warmth ease the coldness in her blood.
“What’s wrong, Misty? Is something wrong with Debbie?” His brow furrowed with concern. “I can tell you’re upset.”
“Why are you here? How did you know it was me? How can you tell I’m upset?” The questions tumbled from Misty’s mouth faster than they could be answered. Disconcerted, she stared at him. For a blind man, he seemed to see quite a lot.
“I came back with Micah to make sure you were okay. I heard your footsteps. You’re barefoot; I imagine the staff members wear shoes. I pay attention to the little things. As for being upset, your pulse is fast, and your breathing rapid and shallow. I’ve always had excellent hearing, and since the accident, I’ve learned to listen better. I tend to hear things most people don’t notice. Your body temperature is up, but your hands are frozen. And I recognized your scent. I don’t mean you smell or anything uncomplimentary like that,” he chuckled. “When the body’s warm, perfume diffuses on the skin, and the scent becomes a little bit stronger.”
Misty giggled nervously. “Since I don’t wear perfume — it’s against the school rules — it must be me you smell, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Myra had to tell Kelly Duncan that this morning.” She stopped. She was babbling like she always did when she was nervous.
“No perfume?” he asked surprised, tilting his head to the left. “You smell slightly spicy, and it’s an aroma I’ve associated with you since we met. It’s nice; I like it.”
“You smell my shower gel and lotion? I’ve been using the patchouli stuff Amber gave me for Christmas.”
Misty was embarrassed. She hadn’t realized others might notice the earthy, spicy-sweet scent. She’d been using it for weeks. She found the aroma relaxing and soothing. She turned bright red remembering Amber had said some people thought it was an aphrodisiac.
“Nick, you never cease to amaze me.” Laura put her nose against Misty’s skin and inhaled. “Even with my nose stuck to her arm I can’t smell a thing.” She looked at Nick and then at Misty. The knowing look that crossed the doctor’s face made Misty blush even more.
“If your daughter is fine, what upset you?” Nick repeated his earlier question.
“I had a bad reaction to a sedative Laura gave me, a nightmare.”
Misty knew she should move out of Nick’s arms, but it felt so good to be there, and she was unwilling to give up the comfort he provided while the memory of Kevin’s cruelty was still vivid. If she could, she’d stay in these arms forever. That idea had far more appeal than it should have. She pulled away slightly, turned slowly, and faced Micah. Nick refused to relinquish his hold and held her loosely at arm’s length. She steeled herself, grateful for his support. From the look on Micah’s face, the news was not good.
“How bad is it?”
Misty watched as Micah looked at Laura, who nodded, and then shook his head.
“I’m sorry. For some reason the firefighters couldn’t get the gas turned off in time. There won’t be much left once the fire’s out.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “What about Charlotte’s house? Has it been destroyed as well?” Emotion clogged her throat.
“She’s got a lot of damage on your side — blistered paint, soot, warping, the siding will have to be replaced. There’s obviously smoke and water damage, too, but the restoration experts should be able to fix that.”
The sliding doors opened, and Amos hurried into the clinic. Misty uttered a small cry, tore herself out of Nick’s arms, and threw herself at Amos.
“It’s my fault, Amos. I started the fire. I left the light on upstairs,” she wailed.
“You don’t know that; there could have been another reason for the fire.” He patted her back as she cried into his shoulder. “The firefighters are pretty sure it started downstairs and spread from there.”
Panic filled her. “Have they found me again?” she whispered through her tears. “What are we going to do?”
Amos held her close and spoke softly into her hair. “Misty, you have to stay calm. I don’t know anything for sure. The firefighters say the blaze behaved oddly, especially the gas explosion, but that doesn’t mean it was them. It could have been teenagers sneaking smokes and having a drink on that back porch of yours. That house was empty for a while before you bought it. You know someone was hanging out there and had been for a long time.” He pushed her away a bit, but kept his arm draped over her shoulder. He continued to speak as softly as he had before.
“I’ve sent for a friend, a fire investigator with a sixth sense about fire. If it was arson, she’ll know it right away. Alexis McKenzie profiles fires the way I used to profile criminals. She’s the best in the business. Nothing gets past her. By the time she’s finished, we’ll know how the fire started, how it behaved, and who the arsonist might be. If it wasn’t arson, we’ll know everything anyway. It’ll make filing an insurance claim easier. It’ll be a few days before she can get here. If it turns out to be one of ours, Jake’s offered to help me find him. He’s an old friend, and he owes me one.” He smiled, and Misty understood that he trusted these people to figure out exactly what had happened.
“Now, for the time being, let’s assume it was an accident. It might even have been the light. It was an older house, and we’d talked about getting the upstairs rewired.” He turned her slightly so she could look up into his face. He’d never lied to her, and she knew he wouldn’t start now.
“I’ve seen a lot of their work over the years, and this isn’t their style. If it was arson, it was rushed, messy, with no guarantee of success. Whoever set the fire — if it was set — didn’t do their homework. If they were after you, they’d have made sure you were in the house before they torched the place. Let’s wait and see.”
Misty clung to Amos’s arm and allowed the tears to flow unchecked. Despair gripped her. There was no way she could run again, but where would she be safe until they knew the truth? And if it was them, where could she go?
“First things first. Where are you going to stay?” Amos asked, voicing the question that echoed through her mind.
• • •
It was killing him! Standing by helplessly while Misty’s fear and despair swamped her was tearing him apart. N
ick stood between Laura and Micah, focused on the mumbled conversation between Misty and Amos, well aware he was eavesdropping and hoping Misty had forgotten his hearing acuity. He wanted to run to her and pull her back into his arms to absorb some of her distress, but he was powerless to do anything but stand by and listen.
The minute she’d walked into the lounge, he’d sensed her fear. He suspected she had secrets that terrified her. She might have had a nightmare, but that hadn’t been what had caused her near panic.
Based on her reaction, he believed she was afraid someone might have deliberately started the fire, and the discussion she was having with Amos confirmed it. If he were a betting man, he’d bet this wasn’t the first time someone had threatened her. The names Jake and Alexis McKenzie didn’t mean anything to him, but he’d have Roberts check them out. Right now, protecting Misty and Debbie was his priority. He smiled when Amos unconsciously handed him the means to do it.
Nick couldn’t explain the chemistry that was now drawing him to her, but he couldn’t deny it either. It was as if she was the missing part of himself he’d been searching for all his life. He couldn’t let her go now that he’d found her, and he couldn’t let anyone hurt her.
“Misty, Amos,” he interrupted, stopping a couple of yards away from them, nodding his head in the man’s direction and effectively ending their private conversation.
“I realize Micah’s news is a terrible shock. I wanted to make a suggestion before you start thinking about what’s going to happen next. As you may know, I purchased the Taylor estate on the edge of town. I had it renovated to suit my needs before I moved in. Since I only needed the first floor, I created a three-bedroom apartment on the second floor and furnished it. I was just getting ready to put it on the market as a rental.” He prayed Micah wouldn’t say anything to the contrary.
In Plain Sight Page 7