Necessary Detour (13 page)

“Where are they now?”

“Sandy’s.”

What were they doing at Sandy’s Bait Shop? The crusty owner of the marina store would never spill the beans even if she knew Nikki was in town, which she didn’t. The old shopkeeper hardly ever spoke to anyone, unless it was about fishing. In seven years, Nikki had only ever had one small conversation about lures, and it had been painful to draw any words out of her. “Any suggestions, Harold?”

“Well, the way I see it, we need to send those leeches back to Hollywood and let you get on with your privacy.”

Nikki agreed.

“So, I could head over there, see what they know already and try to steer them away from the lake. Maybe I could suggest I heard you had a place down Spokane way.”

“It’s worth a try.” Moving on to another location seemed like a possibility even though she’d hoped for a few more weeks, at the very least. There really was no way to hide away without being found if the searcher was good enough.

“Will do,” Harold said.

Out the window, Pete Bayer slammed the door of his pickup and walked toward the log house with a black briefcase under his arm. He bounded up the steps, looked around the grounds as he made a complete circle and then disappeared inside. He always seemed to do that spin. He was either a very cautious software designer/writer or the FBI agent. The latter made more sense.

Grabbing the binoculars, Nikki ran upstairs to the bedroom window to do her own check on the surroundings. The way the sun was hitting the log house, she was able to see a woman at the sink doing dishes. Was it Connie? Yes, but she now had a blonde ponytail, not the curly brown hair Nikki had seen before. Her real hair was long, blonde, and very similar to Goldy’s platinum hair color. Connie wore the blue sweater and as she stood at the sink, Nikki saw her lips moving like she was singing or talking to someone.

Connie’s head sank forward and she laughed, doubled over on the sink edge in her hilarity. Tony moved into view and appeared to be laughing too. His small arms hugged his mother from the side. Looking closer, Nikki realized they weren’t laughing at all. The mother and son were crying. Sobbing.

Pete moved in beside them, but they didn’t notice him. Strange that he didn’t kiss Connie’s cheek, put his arm around her waist, or try to comfort her. Instead, he gently pushed her away from the window and reached to shut the curtains.

Nikki sank to her unmade bed, binoculars on her lap. She shouldn’t be spying on the family next door. One thing was clear. Pete and Connie were not FBI agents watching over her. They had their own agenda, and it wasn’t pretty over there. What misery would make a mother sob like that in front of her child, knowing how it would affect him to see her that way? The weight in Nikki’s heart sat like a boulder on her chest, but what could she do?

It was none of her business.

The phone rang, and Nikki’s first thought was that it might be Connie Bayer to say she needed help.

“Hello,” she said tentatively.

“Harold here.”

“What have you got?”

“They’re photographers from L.A. and got a tip that you were here on Louisa.”

“Oh, God.” It was all over.

“Sandy tried to tell them she didn’t know you, but they’re convinced you’re here.” He cleared his throat nervously and used a cop voice that Nikki didn’t recognize. “I’m going to follow them around a bit. See if I can get them to leave, but they’re not breaking the law yet.”

“No, and they won’t. Photographers from L.A. are very clear on boundaries and laws,” Nikki said.

“Well, if they come down your driveway, they’re on private property then, aren’t they, and I’d have to run them off.” He paused. “But you don’t want them knowin’ which house is yours.”

“No.”

“It looks like they’re at the marina now. Oh, fudge.”

“What?”

“They’re renting a boat. I guess I can’t do much about that.”

“No, you can’t, Harold.” He couldn’t follow them in a boat and wait for them to do something illegal. She’d have to think of something fast before two photographers were at her dock looking for Goldy. She needed a plan. The fat suit was close by. She spun around searching for an answer, her mind racing. If they got here and thought the woman at the house wasn’t her, she might be safe. She would put on her suit and the bucket hat wig, except that Us Magazine had published a photo of her recently in that very wig. Maybe she could run next door to borrow Connie Bayer’s curly brown wig.

An idea came to her.

Connie or Pete could pretend they lived at Birch House. They owed her one after the squirrel incident. At the very least, she had fifteen minutes before the boat arrived in her bay, and that was if they knew where they were going. Nikki would need all of those minutes to explain to Pete or Connie how to get rid of the press, and why.

She flew out the back door and ran down the lane to the Dickerson’s house. If an FBI agent was watching her, he’d be confused right now. Flip flops made the run challenging and the possibility of twisting her ankle occurred late, as she took the bottom step sideways and fell on the stairs.

She grabbed her foot in pain, but it was the yelling from inside the house that stopped her. Tony’s voice sounded very unlike the sweet boy she’d seen at her house.

“You aren’t my dad, you can’t tell me what to do!” His voice was higher than usual and full of strained emotion. “You don’t even care about me and my mom.”

Nikki pulled herself up to grab the deck railing and tried to put some weight on her foot. The pain was subsiding slightly, which was a good sign.

“Tony. It’s all right. I’m fine. Look, I’m done crying now.” Connie’s muffled voice was calm, but the words clear. Nikki stood frozen, waiting to hear if she could possibly ask these people to involve themselves in her predicament when they were struggling themselves. Or would the Bayers welcome the interruption?

“Tony, I care about your mother,” Pete said, like Tony had left the room.

There was a silence, and as Nikki crossed the deck to the house, a beeping sounded from inside.

Without warning, the door flew open to reveal Pete Bayer pointing a nine-millimeter handgun at Nikki.

She instinctively threw her hands in front of her, waiting to be shot. “It’s me. It’s only me.” When Nikki didn’t hear or feel anything, she opened one eye to see Pete had lowered the gun to his side.

“Don’t shoot. Please.”

“Shit, Nikki. What are you doing sneaking up like that?” Pete put the safety on and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. Maybe he was FBI, after all.

Connie and Tony were nowhere to be seen.

Nikki sank to the deck, her head in her hands, and let out the breath she’d been holding. “Who did you think I was?” Her heart raced. She looked at him, standing there in the doorway.

At least the expression on his face was appropriate. Not horrified, like hers, but close. Pete opened his mouth to speak then Nikki heard a noise. At first, it sounded like a bumblebee humming its way closer. A motor. The rental boat was out there, cruising along the shoreline, minutes from her house. She stood up.

“What’s wrong?” Pete asked.

“Besides you pointing a gun at me?” She proceeded. “I need to ask a favor. There are reporters coming, and I don’t want them to know I’m here. Would you pretend that you live at my place?” She looked at him pleadingly then thought of something. “No! Wait! Say you rented the house for a month and don’t know who owns it.”

Pete looked confused, but she continued.

“That boat you hear right now…” She paused. “…is on its way to my dock.” She spoke quickly and gestured to the mouth of the bay. “You don’t have to help me, but...” Her voice warbled. “You kind of owe me.”

Pete looked like he was considering the possibility.

“If you just pretend you don’t know who they’re looking for...” Pete had his own problems. “It would be a huge favor. I could even stay here with Connie.” Was he worried about his wife?

The sound of the boat got louder, and if Pete wanted to look like he wasn’t running from next door, he had to get going. “Payment for almost shooting me.” She gestured to where he’d tucked the gun.

“Anything else?” Pete looked ready to head over.

The small aluminum boat snaked its way toward the bay’s head. “Don’t use your gun on them.”

Pete turned toward the log house. “Connie!”

She appeared at the side of the door.

“Lock the door with you, Tony, and Nikki inside and set the alarm, like I showed you.” He looked at Nikki. “You are going to owe me big-time for this. Now get inside and don’t show your faces.”

When she nodded, Pete took off running to Birch House.

Nikki’s ankle was sore, but she took a few steps into the kitchen.

“Hi. Sorry.” Nikki looked apologetically at Connie and noticed her puffy eyes. “Bad time to come by for a visit?”

Connie broke away, locked the door, set the alarm, and blew her nose. “I’m fine. What happened to your leg?”

“Twisted my ankle running over here.” Nikki rolled her eyes. “I need Pete to get rid of some people for me, so he’s gone to my place.”

“Yeah, I heard.” She wiped her nose with a tissue.

Nikki crossed to the window that afforded the best view of her dock. “I want to hear what he’s saying if I can, but first, I want to make sure you and Tony are not in any danger.” There wasn’t time to soft-pedal what she feared. Nikki looked at Connie, who was now gazing out the kitchen window. “Your husband just pulled a gun on me.”

Connie didn’t flinch.

“…and I’m concerned for you and Tony if he’s waving a gun around.”

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned to look at Nikki. “He’s very protective.” She laughed a cold, weary chuckle. “I’m okay.”

“Connie, if Pete is hitting you or holding you here against your will…”

“He isn’t.”

Something occurred to Nikki and her eyes widened. “Where’s Tony?”

“He’s lying down on his bed. Really, Nikki, you are sweet and thank you for caring, but we are fine. Aren’t we, Tony?” She raised her voice for the last part.

“What?” The boy sounded like he was busy.

Aside from the tear streaks on her cheeks, Connie’s face looked normal. No black eyes or red marks. There was nothing she could do to help if Connie didn’t admit she needed it.

The motorboat crossed the head of the bay and swerved toward the Birch House dock. Nikki pulled the curtains apart and opened the window to listen. Connie stayed well back. The man in the bow was dressed in a Louisa Lake sweatshirt, probably just purchased at the store where he got his information. He stood up in the boat, his camera raised, taking photos of the house.

Nikki whispered, “And if Tony is in any danger—I heard them fighting.”

“He’s fine. He’s very…fond…of Pete.”

Nikki sensed she wasn’t going to get anything more, so she quickly took Connie’s finely boned hand and said, “I’m going to give you a code word to use if you’re in trouble. You can say it in front of Pete and it’ll mean you need my help.” The boat slowed down as it approached the dock.

Connie smiled and shook her head. “Not necessary.”

“Just in case.” Nikki looked back to the dock. The reporters would descend on the Goldy story like hungry tigers. “Say something like...like...Goldilocks. Use the word ‘Goldilocks’ if you want me to know you’re in danger.” Nikki’s eyes bored a hole in Connie’s face as she said this next part. “I have friends in very high places that will help you, if you need.”

Connie nodded and half smiled. “I appreciate the gesture.” She patted Nikki’s hand, her warmth lingering after she’d moved away.

The sound of the motor cut out, and Nikki saw Pete sauntering along the dock to meet the photographers.

“Pete will get rid of them for you.” Connie whispered, as if the intruders might hear her. “He’s very persuasive.”

Nikki strained to hear the conversation next door but it was too far away. Pete stood with his arms folded across his chest, and when the men tried to tie up to the dock, he shook his head and casually pushed them off with his foot, causing them to nearly capsize.

Murmurs did not translate into actual words and Nikki turned to see if Connie could hear any better.

Connie stared at the men on the dock for a moment. “I suppose he’s telling them he’s your renter, like you asked him. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Connie. Tell me this much.” Nikki had to know. “Pete is not writing a book about me, is he?”

With that, Connie stifled a grin and covered her mouth. “No, no, he’s not.”

Nikki believed her. “And he hasn’t been assigned by the FBI to watch me?”

“No.”

Pete was crouched at the end of the dock, shaking his head. He gestured to Birch House.

She turned to Connie. If she took the chance and confided in this woman, would she then be able to draw a confidence out of Connie? “These guys in the boat are the press. I’m well known and they want a photo of me. That’s what that is all about.”

Connie nodded, but her thoughts seemed far away.

Pete pointed his finger at the photographers and Nikki hoped he wasn’t getting ready to pull the gun on them. She could see the bulge in the waistband of his jeans, even from across the bay. The reporters were trying to park alongside the dock, their bow rope in the hand of the smaller man. Pete stood, rubbed his face and shook his head again.

Connie whispered. “They’ll be gone soon, and they won’t be back.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I can guess what he’s saying.” Her voice sounded cold.

As Pete pushed them off, they gripped the side of the boat to prevent tipping and started the little motor. It didn’t look like angry words had been exchanged, but when the press motored away at top speed, Nikki’s curiosity piqued at what was said. Would they be back?