Читать книгу Safe Harbor - Hope White - Страница 12

THREE

Talk about stepping into quicksand. Alex blew it in there, questioning Nicole to the point where she’d broken down, confessing her brutal childhood. He was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to reveal so much about herself in one breath.

Could Alex have been any more insensitive? Probably not. But he was trying to get her to open up so he could assess how to protect her.

Alex’s cell phone vibrated with a call from Chief Roth.

“Hi, Chief,” Alex answered.

“I heard you went chest-to-chest with the FBI.”

“He was bullying a witness.”

“How’s she doing?”

“It’s been a rough night. She was hiding in the closet when I found her.”

“Too traumatized to talk to the Feds?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mark said she gave you the slip?”

“And nearly drowned. She was running from someone. The killer could have still been on the property when we left.”

“Not a smart move on his part. What’s your current location?”

“Medical center, then Harbor Lights Inn. I have to wake her every few hours due to a mild concussion. Do we still have jurisdiction on this one?”

“Absolutely. The Feds aren’t here for the murder case. They’ve got their own agenda. You did good tonight, Alex.”

“I nearly lost the witness.”

“But you got her back. Let’s focus on PA.”

Productive Action was a term the chief had coined to keep his staff focused on solving problems, not feeding them.

“Keep the witness safe. We owe it to Edward to find his killer,” Chief Roth said. “I’ll call when I know more.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll send a cruiser to sit outside the inn. Never hurts to have someone watching your back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Alex shoved the phone into his pocket and pulled a couple of Decker’s Lakeside Resort sweatshirts from the truck. His brother never missed an opportunity to promote one of his properties by giving away free sweatshirts with his logo emblazoned across the chest. He’d given Alex a few to hand out to friends, not that Alex had much of a social life since he moved back to Waverly Harbor. At least the sweatshirts would come in handy.

Alex scanned the lot, then pulled off his shirt and undershirt, and yanked the thick cotton sweatshirt over his head. He sensed Nicole needed a moment alone after exposing her past to Alex. He reached into his gym bag for a pair of sweatpants.

“Detective Donovan!” Dr. Wendell waved frantically from the building. “Hurry!”

He slammed the door and took off, panic spiraling in his chest. Had something happened to Nicole? Did she pass out again? Stop breathing?

“What—”

“He claimed he was FBI,” she interrupted. “He took her out the back door.”

Alex tossed the spare sweatshirt and pants on a chair as he rushed down the hall. What was the agent thinking, dragging her out against her will? Because Alex was pretty sure she wouldn’t have gone willingly without checking with him first.

He shoved open the back door and spotted Nicole struggling against a tall, bald man who was trying to shove her into an SUV. Alex had made a promise not to let anything happen to her and he’d blown it. Again.

“Hey!” Alex shouted.

The guy let go of Nicole with such force that she stumbled and lost her balance. Alex tried getting to her before she hit the ground but failed.

The agent used his temporary distraction to jump in the SUV. He peeled out of the parking lot as Alex kneeled beside Nicole. He touched her shoulder but she fought him, swinging her fisted hands against his chest. Or maybe it was somebody else she fought. Her eyes were pinched shut; guttural sounds vibrated against her throat as if she were reliving what just happened.

Or something worse.

My father beat us....

“Nicole, open your eyes,” Alex said, removing his hand from her shoulder. Maybe touching her kept her imprisoned in the nightmare. “It’s me, Detective Donovan, remember? You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Breathing heavy, hands fisted against his chest, she blinked a few times and looked into his eyes with a confused and lost expression. He tried to crack a slight smile to let her know she was okay, that the danger was gone.

That she was safe.

Suddenly she whipped her head around, scanning the parking lot as if remembering what happened. When she finally refocused on Alex, he put up his hands and nodded, silently asking permission to touch her again.

She collapsed against his chest and gripped his sweatshirt with trembling fingers. This time they were not trembling from exposure to the frigid lake, but from the trauma of nearly being taken against her will.

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close as she coughed and sobbed for a few painfully long minutes. The adrenaline rush alone of what happened to this woman in the past two hours would crack the toughest of men.

“It’s okay.” He stroked her still damp hair, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

An FBI agent just tried to take her out of the medical center against her will? What, to earn gold stars with his boss? Then again, maybe he wasn’t FBI.

If not FBI then who was he? If it was the killer how did he know where to find her, and why risk exposing his identity? Nicole and the doctor had seen his face and could give a description.

Alex had another thought: if the guy wanted to silence Nicole why not just kill her in the parking lot?

Something was off here. Seriously off.

“We need to get out of here,” he whispered against her ear. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah.”

He stood slowly, helping her to her feet. She clung to his sweatshirt as he led her back into the medical center.

“Is she okay?” Dr. Wendell asked.

“I think so.” Alex shut the back door to the clinic. “Can you give Nicole another once-over? She may have hit her head on the pavement.”

“No, I’m okay.” Nicole looked up with pleading eyes. “Can we go? Please?”

He glanced at the doctor.

“It’s okay. But watch her.”

“I plan to.” Alex guided her through the medical center, ignoring the stares of curious staff members and patients. Luckily it was a slow night so there weren’t a lot of witnesses to the near abduction, but that wouldn’t stop the gossip mill from buzzing.

“Here,” Lacy Dunne, the receptionist, handed Alex the spare sweatshirt and pants he’d grabbed from the truck. He didn’t even remember dropping them.

“Thanks.” He took the sweatshirt and turned to Nicole. “Let’s get this on you.”

She stared at her hand, gripping his sweatshirt, but didn’t unclench her fingers. He sensed that residual fear paralyzed her.

The medical center went oddly quiet and although he knew they had an audience he didn’t care. Alex placed his hand over Nicole’s and slowly uncurled her death grip.

“You’re okay,” he assured.

“You said that before,” she whispered.

Guilt tore through him. He should have been there for Nicole.

Just like he should have been there for Jessica.

“You’re right,” he said. “But I’m here now. Nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m close and I’m not going anywhere. Arms up.”

Staring blindly at his chest she raised her arms. He slipped on the sweatshirt and reached around to lift her hair out of the back.

“I can do it,” she said.

He lowered his hands and waited until she freed her hair from the sweatshirt. She nodded that she was ready to go just as Dr. Wendell brought over Nicole’s messenger bag. “Thanks,” Nicole said.

Cupping her elbow he led her out the front of the medical center hoping that he could be true to his word and keep her safe.

* * *

The minute Alex and Nicole set foot inside the inn, the nurturing Mrs. Cavendish made them feel welcome, offering food and warm beverages. Since Nicole felt comfortable around the older woman, Alex took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom and change out of his wet jeans into the dry sweatpants. He returned quickly to the kitchen, afraid to leave Nicole’s side for long.

Alex suspected Mrs. Cavendish had heard about Nicole’s situation, but you couldn’t tell by the way the innkeeper was acting. She casually brewed Nicole a cup of decaffeinated tea, served it with a chicken salad sandwich and cookies, and sat at the table chatting with Nicole about the breakfast schedule, the locked door policy and afternoon chocolate tasting on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Mrs. C. was doing her best to act as if Nicole was her average guest yet Alex was sure Chief Roth had called ahead to let her know she had someone special staying at her inn.

Special. Yep, that’s the word Alex would use to describe Nicole, and not only because she was a witness to murder. There were many things that made her special, none of which Alex would allow himself to fully appreciate. That would be inappropriate on so many levels.

As Nicole nibbled on her sandwich, Alex leaned against the counter and eyed the window. The Feds would probably show up soon and demand to take her into custody. Their main motive wouldn’t be to protect her as much as to get information out of her.

Alex glanced at Nicole, thankful that she seemed comfortable at the inn. It was a warm and welcoming refuge. He’d realized that last year when he’d investigated the break-in of Mrs. C.’s garage that turned out to be kids getting into mischief.

She’d been so grateful to have her boxes of collectibles returned that she started dropping off baked goods at the P.D. every morning. Alex had to politely ask her to stop, joking that he’d already moved his belt over one notch thanks to her culinary talent. She’d backed off, but every week she’d still deliver a tin of muffins or scones to the office. One time she’d sent her niece, Amanda, to make the delivery. That’s when Alex figured out he’d shot up to the top of Waverly Harbor’s most eligible bachelor list.

Not that he’d encouraged the status. He’d been clear with anyone who’d listen that he wasn’t interested in romance. When he’d first returned to town he’d been too busy taking care of Dad to have a social life. After Dad’s passing, the pain of losing Jessica resurfaced with a vengeance, still too raw, too fresh for Alex to risk getting involved. He couldn’t truly love another woman until he’d healed from his grief.

Nicole yawned. “Excuse me.”

“Looks like you could use a week of sleep, young lady,” Mrs. C. said.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.” Nicole bit back another yawn.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” Alex offered his hand. Nicole pushed back from the table and placed her hand in his.

Her skin was still cold and her fingers felt so delicate against his palm. He nearly picked her up again, but thought better of it.

“Is there anything else you need?” Mrs. C. asked.

“No, just sleep. Thank you for the sandwich and cookies,” Nicole said.

As Alex led her through the front room, she gazed longingly at the fireplace.

“You want to relax in here for a while?” he offered. “Warm up?”

She blinked hopeful amber eyes at him. “Could I?”

“Sure.”

“That would be great. I just can’t seem to get the chill out of my bones.”

He knew he should take her statement, but not in her fragile state.

“Let’s get you close to the fire.” He shifted a thick-cushioned chair in front of the fireplace and grabbed a green-and-yellow afghan.

“How’s this?” he said, draping it over her shoulders.

She sat down, folding her legs beneath her. With a sigh, she said, “I may never get up.”

“There’s no rush.”

“I’m sure you have better things to do than play babysitter.”

“Not really.” He shifted onto the arm of the couch where he had a good view of both Nicole and the street through the front window.

“What about your wife...kids?” she said, staring into the fire.

“No wife, no kids.”

“Huh.”

“Why, ‘huh’?”

“You seem like...never mind.”

“I seem like what?” He crossed his arms over his chest in a mock offended gesture and smiled.

She glanced up, but wasn’t smiling back. “You seem nice.”

The vulnerability in her eyes, in her voice, made him want to look away. But he couldn’t. Nor did he know what to do with the compliment or the awkward silence hanging between them.

“I’ve offended you,” she said.

He shrugged, trying to keep it light. “Some guys think the description, ‘nice’ is the kiss of death.”

“Oh, you mean like ‘you’re nice enough to have as a friend, but nothing more’?”

“Something like that.”

She cracked a half smile, gazing into the flames. He lowered his hands toward the fireplace to warm them.

“You know what I don’t get?” she said.

“What’s that?”

“How you seem to know what I need.”

“Excuse me?” He glanced at her.

“Just now, you knew I wanted to sit by the fire.”

“You were eyeing it like you needed a sugar fix and it was a hot fudge sundae.”

“But you didn’t have to set me up here. You paid attention to what I wanted. No one has ever done that for me.”

The tormented sound of her voice made him crazy on so many levels.

“Not even your cat?” he joked, trying to cheer her up.

She snapped her attention to him.

“Sorry.” He put up his hand. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that when I don’t know what to say to make somebody feel better, I say something stupid.”

“How did you know I had a cat?”

He shrugged. “You seem the cat type.”

“Meaning what?”

“You have a demanding job managing other people’s lives, so I figured a cat is low maintenance. Plus, there’s that whole warm-and-cuddly-in-your-lap thing that women like.”

“You have a lot of experience with women, do you?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve had my share.” He glanced into the fire, not wanting to wander down that dark path. Not tonight, not with her.

She gazed into the fire, as well, and they shared a few minutes of companionable silence. He liked the quiet, the peace it always brought him. Sometimes he’d even drift into silent prayer, surrendering his guilt and remorse, asking God to ease his burden. Alex always felt a little better after prayer. The ache wasn’t totally gone, but it was tempered with hope.

As the fire crackled and hissed, Alex realized he’d rarely enjoyed the peace of a quiet moment with a woman. Jessica was always chatting and moving. She wasn’t the type to let one unproductive minute slip by. She sometimes criticized Alex for needing time to chill out in front of the TV watching a Seahawks game. Not that he minded her criticism. She was kinder about it than others had been.

Alex knew he had faults, probably more than most, according to his stepmother, which she drove home on a daily basis growing up.

How did he end up thinking about her? He shook it off.

“So, what’s the cat’s name?” he asked.

When Nicole didn’t answer, he glanced sideways. Her eyes were closed and her cheek pressed against the side cushion of the chair.

He shifted off the arm of the sofa and kneeled beside her. “Nicole?”

Completely out, she looked so content that he didn’t want to wake her. Instead, he watched her sleep and thought about the challenges in store for this woman who, it seemed, had already dealt with her share of violence.

“I was going to put another log—”

Alex put up his hand to quiet Mrs. C. She wandered closer to the fire and eyed Nicole, then glanced at Alex with a worried frown.

“She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Help me get her to her room?”

Alex scooped Nicole up yet again, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, careful not to jostle her too much and wake her, although he guessed she was completely out from exhaustion.

Mrs. C. motored down the hallway to a room at the end, opened the door and pulled down the covers. Alex shifted Nicole gently into the bed and stepped back as Mrs. C. took off Nicole’s shoes and pulled the sheets and comforter across her body. She reached over to turn off a lamp in the corner.

“Leave it on,” Alex whispered. “If she wakes up in the middle of the night she’ll be disoriented. The light will help her remember where she is.”

“There’s a sitting room in here,” Mrs. C. said, leading him across the room and opening an oak door. “Or would you rather stay in the room with her?”

“The sitting room is great, thanks.” He didn’t want Nicole waking up with a strange man hovering beside her bed. Even though he’d saved her life more than once, they were technically still strangers.

The sitting room was an ideal spot with a clear view of town and unexpected visitors from its bay windows. A new round of concern arced through him.

“Has anyone called, asking about her?” He pulled back the lace curtain with his forefinger.

“No, why?”

“Do me a favor? If anyone calls asking about Nicole—”

“It’s our policy not to share information about our guests with the general public,” she interrupted him.

“Good. The fewer people who know she’s here the safer she’ll be. Is your new security system fully functional?”

“Absolutely. We only have one other guest, Lacy Dunne’s cousin, Grace, from Portland. It should be pretty quiet.”

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.