Say You Need Me (3 page)

Kiana’s stomach was a ball of mangled nerves.
Even though she was exhausted and hadn’t slept a wink last night, there was no way she’d get any sleep this morning. First, she’d been wired after Cecil’s arrest, both happy that the slime ball was where he belonged, and worried that he might never tell Serena where the necklace was. After dropping Serena off at her apartment last night, Kiana had rushed home to call her ex-boyfriend Geoff. Geoff was a cop in the city of Miami, and if anyone could help her and Serena where Cecil was concerned, or at least give them some advice, Geoff could.

While Kiana still cared deeply for Geoff and wanted a close friendship with him, she hadn’t spoken to him in at least three weeks, mostly because whenever they spoke, he pressured her about getting back together. He hadn’t stopped trying for a reconciliation in the four months since their breakup. However, Kiana didn’t want that. For
one thing, her constant worry that he’d get hurt at work had been a major issue in the downfall of their relationship. But aside from her concerns about his safety, there had been other problems. Like the fact that Geoff had hidden his emotions behind humor. All cops did, he’d told her, but Kiana couldn’t relate to that. She’d seen her parents openly express how they felt about each other all the time. Kiana was the same way. If she was upset, she showed that. If she was happy, she expressed that, too. And if she was in love…

A wave of sadness passed over her, remembering. Whenever she had told Geoff that she loved him, he’d merely smiled and said something corny like, “I love me, too.” At first it had been cute, but then it had started to bother her. Why hadn’t he been able to express his feelings? And the times he did tell her he loved her—after she’d press him about how he felt—he never seemed quite serious.

However, Geoff had done a total one-eighty after she’d ended their eight-month relationship. According to him, he did love her, but just had a hard time expressing in words how he felt. But by then, Kiana hadn’t wanted to go backward, mostly because despite the fact that he might love her, she’d realized there was no point in continuing a relationship that had no future. She simply couldn’t deal with the reality of what it would mean to be a cop’s wife.

Still, Kiana treasured his friendship and valued his opinion. Which was why she had called him the moment she’d stepped into her apartment last night. She’d gotten his answering machine and assumed he was at work. Then, as she’d prepared for bed, she’d caught a rebroadcast of Channel Seven’s nightly news, and had been horri
fied to learn that a Miami police officer had been killed at a domestic call.

No name had been given, pending notification of next of kin, and as always happened when Kiana heard bad news like this, she had become sick with fear. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t worry, but that promise had been broken the moment she’d called Geoff again and found that he still wasn’t home. She’d left him one message, then another, telling him it was urgent that he get back to her as soon as possible, but still he hadn’t returned her call.

All night, Kiana had tossed and turned, waiting for him to get back to her. And now, as the sun began to rise, Kiana was doing everything in her power to keep it together. She’d picked up the phone to call Serena several times during the night, but had decided against it. Serena had enough on her plate. Besides, Serena would tell her that she was giving herself high blood pressure for no reason, that until she heard definite bad news, she shouldn’t cause herself unnecessary grief.

She knew Geoff would tell her the same thing—provided he wasn’t in a morgue somewhere!

It didn’t matter how often Geoff told her that he could just as easily drown on his day off as get shot in the line of duty. He always expressed a casual attitude toward the dangers in his job, and after a while, Kiana found that it annoyed her. She’d loved him dearly, and had actually thought Geoff would be the one she’d marry. But she’d come to realize she couldn’t handle being a cop’s wife, wondering every night
if
, not when, her husband was coming home.

Kiana rolled over onto her stomach, hugging the pil
low. Her eye caught the digital clock. Six fifty-eight
A.M
. Fear spread through her blood, making her shiver. If Geoff had been working last night when she’d called him, he should have phoned her back by now.

A small sigh escaped her, and Kiana sat up. The bad thing was, she
wasn’t
his wife, and if anything happened to him, she’d hear about it secondhand—from a friend or on the news. After a quick glance at the phone, she couldn’t stand the suspense a moment longer. She reached for the clock radio. It was always set to a news station, and Kiana turned it on, then adjusted the volume.

“…Weather and sports coming up in the next ten minutes. But first, our top story. Last night, a city of Miami police officer was shot and killed in Coconut Grove when he responded to a domestic call. The suspect, Fredrick Baker, who was under the influence of cocaine at the time of the killing, immediately fled the scene but was apprehended without incident a short time later. He has been charged with second-degree murder and is being held at the Dade County detention center until a bail hearing on Monday morning. The name of the officer has still not been released, pending notification of next of kin, who are believed to be out of town on vacation.”
Pause.
“Also this morning, all lanes of I-95 are still closed north of Hallandale Boulevard, after a truck carrying…”

Her heart sinking to her knees, Kiana turned off the radio. Geoff worked in Coconut Grove. He hadn’t called her back. Lord God almighty, it really could be Geoff who was killed!

Kiana let out a shaky breath, her eyes once again going to the phone.
Please ring,
she thought.
Oh, Geoff. Please be okay.

Serena listened to the rhythmic
tick tock
of her wall clock, counting the seconds as they went by. She hoped that counting the seconds would be much like counting sheep, allowing her mind to drift away to nothingness so sleep could finally claim her. But after a full two minutes of miming along to the incessant
tick tocking
, Serena groaned, then dragged a pillow over her head to block out the sun, all the while knowing that wouldn’t help her to get any sleep.

She hadn’t slept more than a few hours last night. Her nerves were on end, both from excitement and from fear, knowing she was as close as she would come to getting her family heirloom back. Normally she cherished sleeping in on the weekends, but this Saturday morning, she didn’t allow herself the luxury. She wanted to head out to the police station where Cecil was in custody, and the sooner, the better.

If Cecil was released on bail after appearing before a judge, she might never see him again—and she might never get her property back. That was a chance she wasn’t willing to take. As much as she didn’t like the thought of seeing him again, it was something she had to do. And she’d do whatever necessary to retrieve what was hers, even if she had to beg.

Serena showered, dressed, then made her way to her Mitsubishi Mirage. She was both nervous and excited as she started her car. Quite frankly, after she’d realized that Cecil had scammed her, she hadn’t expected to see him again. For the past three weeks, she’d been angry with herself for trusting him, and depressed over losing both her family’s heirloom and ten thousand dollars. The check had cleared, and she’d thought she’d seen the last
of him. A bitter ending to something she’d mistakenly believed had held a lot of promise.

So, while seeing him again yesterday was far from a pleasant experience, it was actually a good thing. Because now that she’d had him arrested, she was one step closer to retrieving her family’s heirloom and her money.

The reality that she might have a happy ending in this situation made her excited. But she was also nervous because she didn’t know if Cecil’s arrest meant she’d necessarily get her property back.

Sure, he might spend some time in jail for what he’d done, but maybe he’d remain tight-lipped about her property and sell it once he was released. She’d heard stories of that sort of thing, where thieves who robbed banks or jewelry stores went to prison, but when they came out, they still had what they’d stolen and went on to enjoy a life of luxury.

The necklace had been appraised at over a quarter of a million dollars, enough to make someone very comfortable. And fool that she was, Serena had told Cecil how much it was worth. She would never forgive herself for that colossal error in judgment.

But more disturbing than the thought of Cecil hawking the necklace once out of prison was the reality that she had no clue what he’d done with it now. What if he’d already sold it and had the money in an offshore bank account?

As Serena drove out of her apartment complex and toward the turnpike, she whispered a silent prayer that that was not the case.

The heirloom, an antique diamond and ruby necklace, had been passed down in her family from mothers to their first-born daughters for over a hundred years. Ulti
mately, the line went back to Serena’s great-great-great grandmother. Tilly Hancock, who’d been born into slavery, had been given the necklace by a man from Morocco, whose family had been royalty. The necklace had been his present to her upon their wedding. In Serena’s case, the necklace had been passed down to her by her paternal grandmother, because Grandma Louisa May had never had a daughter.

It was that very exquisite necklace, and its history as her grandmother had relayed it to her, that had spawned Serena’s interest in antiques from the time she was a young child. Quilts that told stories of family histories, carvings, books, jewelry—if it was antique, Serena was interested in it.

She’d thought Cecil had shared her passion for antiques. The day she’d met him at the library, he’d commented on how much he liked the earrings she was wearing and had surprised her by asking if they were Victorian. Yes, she’d told him. When Cecil had asked to take a closer look at one earring, she’d slipped it off her ear and passed it to him. Again he’d surprised her with his knowledge that the rose-colored stones were garnets; and she was impressed that he knew the diamonds were diamonds, and not the less expensive marcasite, which was commonly used in jewelry of the early twentieth century. He also recognized the platinum ring she wore as Edwardian. Except at antique shows, Serena had never met anyone who knew one era of jewelry from another just by looking at the various precious metals, stones, and intricate designs.

The garnets in her earrings were set in silver with tiny rose-cut diamonds and had a one-and-a-half-inch drop.
Serena was particularly pleased with the set; she’d gotten them for a steal at a garage sale, and later learned they were worth nearly a thousand dollars. She had enthusiastically relayed that fact to Cecil when he’d asked her where she found them, and it warmed her heart that his eyes didn’t roll into the back of his head—much the way others’ eyes did when she got to talking about antiques—when she told him how much she enjoyed going to flea markets and garage sales to search for great finds. From there, she and Cecil had begun discussing all things old. Like her, Cecil loved antiques, but had an avid interest in antique jewelry.

His interest in what she was most passionate about had sparked her attraction to him. But she’d also found him very charming, humorous, and easy to talk to. She’d definitely liked him, and when he asked her out for dinner a couple weeks later, she’d accepted. One dinner had led to another, then another. The more time they spent together, the more Serena realized how much they had in common, and the more she liked him.

He had a way of making her feel like she was the only woman in the room when they were out, which was something she wasn’t used to. Most of the men she dated had wandering eyes when beautiful women crossed their paths, and it was nice that Cecil wasn’t like them—especially when she knew she wasn’t the most attractive woman in the world. So, when Cecil had lowered his lips and kissed her after an evening of dinner and dancing on South Beach, Serena had been flattered. No one as attractive as Cecil had ever kissed her before. And the kiss had been…nice. Not too long, not too short. Enough to let her know he was definitely interested but wasn’t going to be pushy
about it. And just like that, their relationship had gone to another level.

All her life, Serena had been waiting to meet Mr. Right, and Cecil Montford had finally seemed like he could be The One. He’d never pressured her for sex like some of the other men she’d dated, which was a definite plus. He’d been patient, expressing a desire to get to know her first instead of getting down and dirty. Serena appreciated that about him, because she’d been saving her virginity for the man she would marry.

Serena still remembered fondly first learning about her parents’ love affair one summer night when she and her mother had sat on their back porch. Her mother, Edith, had told her how she believed she and her father had been destined to meet. Both in their late teens, her parents had met at a train station in Buffalo. Her father, Maurice Junior, or M. J., as her mother called him, had been waiting for his uncle to arrive from Baltimore. Edith had arrived home from a trip to visit relatives in Chicago. Edith’s ride had been late; a traffic accident had kept her father from getting to the train station on time. The train carrying M. J.’s uncle had been late. As a result, both Edith and M. J. had ended up at the train station together, waiting. When Edith had turned in M. J.’s direction, their gazes had met, and something wonderful had sparked in M. J.’s eyes—according to Serena’s mother. Her father had been immediately smitten—at least, that’s the way Edith told the story; but Serena suspected her mother had been just as smitten by her father.

Weeks later, they were madly in love, and months after that, they married. Her parents had been virgins when they married, something they’d been proud of, and their
love remained deep and true until the day they’d both tragically died. To Serena, there was something uniquely special about the idea that they’d shared the intimate act of sex only with each other.