If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (30 page)

Ezra wasn’t too happy with that suggestion, but the Inn was one big place that was rarely empty, especially in June. So it wasn’t bad middle ground—Lena wasn’t with him, wasn’t with Reilly, but she wasn’t alone, either.

As she turned to face him, she had a brittle smile on her face. “Are you happy now, Daddy? I’ve got my babysitter lined up.”

“Yeah, I’m happy.” Then, trying to lighten her mood a little, he reached and slid an arm around her waist. “But if you’re going to call me Daddy, can you put on a short skirt or something?”

She snorted. “No. Pervert.” But some of the tension seeped out of her. “I hate this, you know.”

“I know. But it won’t last forever.”
Just until I find a killer … and it may take awhile …

His gut said otherwise, though. This guy wasn’t going to wait much longer to make a move. Most likely toward Nia. Ezra wasn’t taking chances, not with his wife.

Turning his head, he pressed his lips to her brow. “Come on. Let’s get you over to the Inn.”

Focused on Nia, worrying about Nia, Law barely heard it when the phone rang.

The drink in his hand was sweating and he set it aside, shoved a hand through his hair.

“What …?”

“Huh?” He glanced up, saw Roz on the phone. She was frowning, staring off in the distance. She glanced at him and shook her head. Then, abruptly, she left the office. He could hear the sound of her heels clicking down the hardwood floor.

As the sound grew more and more distant, he stood up and moved to the bathroom door. He almost knocked. Decided not to. He turned the handle, a little surprised when it opened for him.

Nia stood at the sink, head bent, eyes closed. She shook. From head to toe, she shook.

“Nia?”

She slid him a quick look and then, just as quickly, her gaze bounced away. “I …” She stopped, licked her lips. “Where’s Roz?”

“Slipped out. Somebody called.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She shook her head. “We need to go,” she whispered, her voice thready and weak.

“Okay. We can talk to her about the cabin later.”

Nia laughed. The harsh, hysterical sound of it made him hurt—it was like a dagger scraping over the exposed flesh of his heart. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, ask her what had scared her so badly in the past few minutes.

But now wasn’t the time.

Here wasn’t the place.

Stepping aside, he said, “After you.”

She gave him a wobbly smile, shuffled out past him. Lingering by the desk, she shot it a look. He watched as her gaze fastened on something. But he couldn’t tell what.

Her shoulders stiffened, her breathing hitched.

“Nia …”

She swallowed. “Can you go ask Roz when would be a good time for me to call?” she blurted out.

He narrowed his eyes.

The smile on her face took a decided turn for the pathetic and although he knew, he
knew
she was up to something, he nodded. Hell, he couldn’t figure out what she was up to if he didn’t let her do it, right?

He headed out of the office, keeping his steps light … and his gaze focused on a narrow ornamental mirror that hung over a table just outside Roz’s office. Nia barely waited until he’d turned the corner before she reached out and pocketed something off Roz’s desk.

If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the silvery bracelet Roz had been fiddling with.

It was almost two hours later than normal when Ezra got into the office, but he didn’t give a damn. He’d been here until almost midnight last night and he knew he’d be spending far too much time in this place for the foreseeable future, as well.

So when he caught Ms. Tuttle’s dark look, he scowled at her. “Damn it, don’t lay into me. Did you hear the hell I had to deal with yesterday?”

To his surprise, she gave him a faint smile. “Actually, I did. And that look wasn’t for you.” She sighed and looked away, shaking her head. “It’s for all the vultures who’ve been in here, demanding to know what’s going on … you wouldn’t believe the questions I’ve had to deal with.”

“Don’t bet on it,” he muttered.

He headed toward his office but paused, looked back at her. “It’s probably going to get worse, once word gets out, Miz T. You up for it?”

“Please.” She adjusted her glasses and gave him an arch look. “Don’t be insulting, Sheriff. It doesn’t become you.”

He smiled at her and headed into the office, leaving the door open. She’d be in shortly with the messages
he’d missed for the morning, along with any news that had turned up. It was only 9:30, but in small-town America, that was pretty damn late, he knew.

He should have been here before the crack of dawn, but he wasn’t forsaking his wife’s safety for the job, and getting here at dawn wasn’t going to get him answers any sooner, he knew.

Weary, he slid into his chair and rubbed his eyes. Coffee. Damn it. Should have gotten coffee before he sat down.

Too late now. He was going to make some headway on the messages he knew would be waiting for him before he got the damn coffee. The coffee would be the reward.

He opened his eyes and sure enough, there were messages.

Reports. One preliminary report—his eyes narrowed on that one and he grabbed it, but before he could start reading, a shadow fell across his desk.

He looked up, expecting Ms. Tuttle.

He found Carter Jennings. Roz’s husband—Lena’s sort-of boss. Sort-of because he did own half of the Inn, although Roz had more of a hand in running things.

“Hi, Carter,” he said, leaning back.

“Hey, Sheriff.” He gave him a tired smile, leaned against the doorjamb. “You look worn out.”

Ezra shrugged. “Late night.”

“So I’ve heard.” Carter’s grin flashed wider now. “You’ve figured out the small-town grapevine, right? You know how many tongues are wagging right now?”

“Probably all of them,” he said mildly. “Now ask me if I give a damn?”

Carter chuckled. “Oh, I don’t need to. You don’t give a damn. But I’m hoping you can tell me something,
anything
to set Roz’s nerves at ease. She’s stressing something awful.”

“About Lena?” He shrugged. “Look, it’s more to put my mind at ease than anything.”

Carter looked down, sighed. “No. Not about Lena. Just about … well. Whatever’s going on.” He looked up, his blue eyes intent on Ezra’s face. “So much weird shit going on around here lately. And after last night … well, she’s just worried sick. She was after me to go talk to Hank, but I don’t want to do that, ya know?”

“It’s not like he can tell you anything,” Ezra said, shaking his head. “Right now, there’s nothing to tell. Just let me do my job. So I have something I can tell you.”

Carter continued to stare at him. Then he sighed, and nodded. “Okay.”

As he turned away, Ezra leaned back, scowling.

Not a damn thing out of either of them.

Carter wanted to hit something, smash something. Break something.

He couldn’t indulge, though. No, all he could do was head out to his workshop, get some work done on his projects—he had some pots that needed to be glazed today and Roz was on his ass to get some new designs in for the summer.

He couldn’t change anything about his behavior. Even as that thought circled through his mind, he laughed shortly. Not a damn thing. Not when he was surrounded by nosy cunts, cops who were too busy listening to nosy cunts, and bastards like Law.

Sweat trickled out from under the hairpiece he wore, to run down his neck to his spine. A cool breeze drifted across the square, one that would have felt sweet if he could have fully let himself enjoy it.

But he couldn’t do that—couldn’t relax his guard. Climbing into his car, he shot another look at Ezra’s window. He jolted when he saw the sheriff standing there.

Watching him.

He waved. And absently, he wondered why the sheriff had mentioned Lena at all.

Carter hardly ever even thought about Lena …

Law waited until they pulled out of the driveway before he asked.

“So what did you take?”

Nia stiffened. Her face turned a dusky shade of pink. Her eyes, still too wide and too unfocused, went glassy. “Huh?”

“What did you take from Roz’s desk?”

“I didn’t take anything,” she snapped, her voice just a little too harsh, a little too defensive. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and if she hunched in any farther on herself, she might just disappear inside the seat.

Sighing, Law said, “Bullshit. I saw you in the mirror hanging outside Roz’s office.”

“What … you … I …” She ran out of steam and snapped her mouth closed. Thunking her head back against the seat, she sighed. In a quiet, almost desolate voice, she murmured, “It’s a bracelet.”

“Okay.” His gut went icy and his hands went slick with sweat, but he kept his tone cool. So she’d taken a bracelet. He almost wished he could tell himself this was some latent klepto streak she’d developed under stress. But he knew better. “You want to tell me the significance of the bracelet, beautiful?”

She licked her lips and shifted, reached inside her pocket.

When she pulled it out, sunlight shining in through the windshield hit the diamonds and made it gleam. Somehow, Law suspected that wasn’t some JCPenney purchase. “Nice sparkly there,” he said, keeping his tone light.

She didn’t respond, just flipped it over and studied the underside of it.

“Pull over.”

He shot her a glance. One look at her face had him arrowing the car for the side of the road and slamming on the brakes so hard, the car behind him laid on the horn. She barely got out the door before she started to puke.

For my angel
.

For my angel
.

For my angel …

The words seemed to shriek inside her mind, danced around like a horrendous, speed-induced hallucination. They had teeth, nipping and tearing at her flesh.

For my angel …
And that tiny little flash of blue.

She moaned and leaned forward, retching.

A gentle hand came around, supported her brow. “Easy, Nia,” Law murmured. “Just breathe. Whatever it is … we’ll get through it. Just breathe.”

She focused on his voice—on him. So much easier than thinking about the words that mocked her and taunted her.

That bracelet. Oh,
fuck
. She’d been sleeping yards away from the man who’d kidnapped, raped, and tortured her cousin—renting a
bed
from him …

Another spasm of nausea hit her, doubled her over.

It seemed like ages before it passed, before it ended.

Her face stung and burned, and tears soaked her flesh.

But when she went to straighten, the nausea, while it lingered, didn’t pounce on her anew. Something hard and round was pushed into her hand. Looking down, she saw a bottle of water. Puzzled, she glanced at Law. He shrugged. “Maybe I should have been a Boy Scout. I keep water in the back.”

She nodded and twisted the top off. It helped, rinsing her mouth. She didn’t trust her belly enough to drink
anything. Spitting it on the ground, she closed the bottle and then eased herself down to sit on the car’s seat, her feet still outside.

“We need to go into town,” she said quietly. “Talk to Ezra.”

Looking down, she stared at the bracelet she still held clutched in her hand.

“Okay.” He knelt next to her, touched one fingertip to the glimmering piece of jewelry. “Mind telling me what this has to do with anything?”

Sympathy glinted in his eyes as he looked up at her. “Was it Joely’s?”

Nia shook her head. “No. I think it belonged to the woman he killed in Chicago a few months ago. Her name was Kathleen Hughes.”

He tugged on it gently, staring at it. Then he looked at her. “Baby, this looks like it could have been bought at just about any decent jeweler’s. It looks expensive, but …”

With a shaking hand, she reached over and turned it, exposing the inscription. And the little sapphire. “Yeah. It could have been bought at just about any decent jeweler’s. But the odds of Roz having the exact same inscription, and the exact same stone set on the inside?” Her voice shook, both with fury and fear. “No.”

“Shit.”

H
E COULDN
’
T CONCENTRATE
.

Something was niggling him in the back of his mind and Ezra couldn’t focus on his work to save his life.

Swearing, he threw his pen down and leaned back in the chair, blanking his mind. Once he did that, a face settled there. A man.

Familiar. But … not. Something off.

He’d seen him before—

He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to remember.

Courthouse.

At the courthouse when Nia had been going through records. Something about him had struck him as familiar. But not.

The eyes …

The answer hovered just
there
, just right outside his reach. He could
almost
feel it forming, almost feel the pieces settling into place. Almost. Not quite.

Voices intruded on his thoughts, Ms. Tuttle’s firm, insistent tones, then a low, softer voice—although no less firm, no less insistent. Accompanied by another voice, one that made Ezra scowl as he kicked his feet off the desk.

Concentration shattered, he stood up as Law Reilly appeared in the doorway.

“You know, the point of having a cell phone is so people can call you,” he drawled.

Law frowned, patted his pocket. “Shit. I guess I left it home. Sorry.” Then he nudged Nia inside, shutting the door in Ms. Tuttle’s surprised—and furious—face.

Oh, he was going to get it later, Ezra thought. Really get it—and he’d be sure to take it out on Law. When he had a chance.

Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face. “Law, I don’t have time for this. I’m exhausted, I’ve got too much work to do, and I have to get back out to the site today.”

“This is more important,” Law said, his voice flat.

“More important.” Smirking, Ezra hooked his thumbs in his pockets. Absently, he shifted his weight to his right leg, taking the strain off his bad one. “Just what is more important than finding whatever clues we can that will lead us to finding a killer?”