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Authors: Susan Crandall

Seeing Red (39 page)

BOOK: Seeing Red
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“You think he did them himself?”

“It’s possible. The bigger question is, where has he had them stashed all these years?”

She realized what he was saying. “If we can link him to the hiding place . . . ” She stopped herself. “It won’t matter. He’s already gone to jail for Laura’s attack.”

“Unless there are things that can link him to other crimes; the man likes to keep his memories fresh with photos. Maybe there’ll be something to link him to Kimberly Potter’s murder.”

“Dear God, you think he took pictures?” She shivered in disgust.

“I think if he has these, he has more.” After sliding the pictures into the envelope and the envelope back into the plastic bag, he said, “I want you to take these to the police tomorrow morning.”

She sighed, her stomach curling in on itself. After a moment, she asked, “What about Greg?”

“I don’t think Alexander will physically attack him, not when the mental assault is so much more devastating. Remember, this is about revenge, punishment. He wouldn’t have risked delivering the photos if he wanted Greg dead.”

“What if Greg went after
him
?” she asked.

“I don’t want to take Charlie or Ben off your parents. I can’t leave you alone here tonight. Odds are, with as much alcohol as it appears he’s consumed, Greg’s not going to be much of a threat to anyone for quite a while.”

Ellis lowered her face into her hands. “Why can’t this end?” She rubbed her eyes. “I just want this to be over.”

Nate took her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “Let’s get some sleep so we can hit it fresh in the morning. I hate to say it, but I think our time’s running out.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-EIGHT

 

E
llis lay in the darkness next to Nate. Her initial fear had been that she would panic when he blew out the candles and shut off the flashlight. Terrified she’d humiliate herself and insist he close the French doors and the windows.

But that hadn’t been an issue at all. She’d curled up next to Nate without the slightest edge of panic, wrapped in a warm calm unlike any she could recall.

He’d made love to her so tenderly, so reverently, her heart ached.

And now she lay here, longing strangling her and keeping sleep utterly unattainable. She had to admit, she held slight resentment for the slow, even rhythm of Nate’s breathing. Sleep didn’t seem to be evading him.

It had finally stopped raining. There was a steady
tinktink-tink
as the last of the water rolled from the roof and into the gutters. This empty house, those open windows, should be unsettling. But her fears had been quelled by the safe and comfortable feeling of lying next to Nate, isolated from the rest of the world.

She thought about the boy who’d stood alone all of his life and realized he’d become a man who did the same. Was he lonely? Did his heart yearn for a family? The fact that he’d purchased this place said he wanted something steady in his life.

She longed to reach across the narrow space between them. To tell him he didn’t have to be alone. But there was no reason to torture them both any more tonight.

A short while later, she heard another thunderstorm rolling closer. The breeze waxed and waned through the French doors, moving across her body like feathers in the dark. There was something extremely erotic about it. She hadn’t slept with an open window for sixteen years. She could hardly believe she was lying here now with the doors open to the blackness of the low-country night.

And she wasn’t afraid.

Nate shifted and his breathing changed.

“You awake?” she whispered softly enough that she wouldn’t wake him if he wasn’t.

He turned on his side, facing her, tucking his arm under his head. “You too?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Too spooked to sleep?” There was a teasing tone in his voice.

“No. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You. Your life. Where did you go when you left here?”

She heard him sigh and felt the bed shake as he changed position.

“I joined the marines.”

“You were only seventeen.”

“Mom signed the papers.”

“How could she have done it? You were so close to graduation.”

“I think she was glad to see me go. Everything that had happened affected her too. She wasn’t a strong woman.”

Ellis snorted. “Parenthood isn’t supposed to be easy.”

“It worked out.” There was no bitterness in his voice, no regret.

“Is that where you met Charlie and Ben, the marines?”

“Yeah.”

“And after that you started doing the security thing?”

“Pretty much.”

After a moment, she asked, “Do you like it? Your work, living like you do?”

“I used to. But now . . . ” He let the statement hang in the darkness between them. “I never minded being alone, not having anyone close. But I think that’s all changing.”

A little spark of hope ignited in her soul. Was she the reason for that change?

She heard the rasp as he ran his hand over his beard-stubbled face. She got the impression that those words might not have been uttered in the light of day. But here in the darkness, isolated from the world, perhaps he was pretending as much as she that nothing else existed outside these aged walls.

They fell silent for a few minutes. The wind kicked up, and rain began to patter against the veranda. Ellis thought of the people who’d lain in this bedroom before them listening the rain. What kind of lives had they had? Had there been happy memories made here?

She waited, hoping Nate would open up further. When the silence drew on too long, she whispered, “If he goes back to jail tomorrow, will you leave right away?”

Nate was quiet long enough that she thought he might be asleep. Then he said, “I’ll have to.” The words were heavy, regretful. “I have responsibilities, people who count on me.”

“But you don’t
want
to?” The barenaked hope in her voice made her ears burn with embarrassment.

“This isn’t a job you just turn in your two weeks’ notice and walk away.”

“Please tell me.” She laid her hand on his chest. “I want you to trust me, like I trust you.”

He drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Ellis felt the rise and fall of his chest. Then he laid his hand over hers. “No one can know. No one outside of my task force knows.”

“Task force? As in government?”

“Yes. I do covert work for Homeland Security. The shipping company job is just my cover. The records your uncle found are there to appeal to the bad guys. The reason that kid could find them is because I want them to be discovered, but not too easily. It pays to have a suspicious profile—lends credibility in certain circles.”

When she feared he would stop, would tell her no more, he went on. “I deal with some horrible people, capable of unspeakable things. That’s why I have to leave. Why I can’t contact you after I’m gone. My situation can turn in an instant. Love is a weakness they’re sure to exploit.”

Love? She wanted to ask but was afraid he meant love in general, as in for friends and family, not the sort of life-altering love she was beginning to feel for him.

He sounded so lonely. Without thinking about anything but comforting him, she slid closer and moved her hand to his cheek. “Thank you for telling me.” The words were inadequate for the gift he’d just given, for his utter and complete trust.

He placed his hand over hers and pressed her palm to his lips. Then he held their hands over his heart.

“If I were free to do as I choose . . . if there wouldn’t be such a risk of consequences . . . ” He left the sentence unfinished.

She curled against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. It took a moment, but she realized he’d just given her all that he could, at least for now. The seed of hope buried itself deep in her heart. It would take a long time before it gave up its struggle for life.

He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed the hand he held on his chest.

The storm broke and the wind lashed the ancient oaks that surrounded the house. At last, she slept.

Rory sat outside Ellis’s empty condo, seething. She was with
him;
he could feel it in his gut.

Nate Vance was keeping Ellis from him, from her family. If Vance hadn’t shown up back here, Rory could have gotten things ironed out with her. How could she be so blind when it came to that man?

The greater question was, what was Rory going to do about it?

Nate opened his eyes. The room was graying with the approaching dawn. Ellis was lying on her side, facing him. He studied the curve of her cheek, the sweep of her lashes, the sweet softness of her slightly parted lips. For the first time in days, all the worry was gone from her face; her brow was clear and smooth, her mouth relaxed.

As tempted as he was to kiss that mouth, he didn’t. Once she awakened, he knew the anxiety, the strain, would return.

He slid carefully off the bed. In the bathroom, he flipped the light switch. The power was back on. Grabbing his cell phone and his laptop, he went in and closed the door.

Thirty minutes later, he had a name for the woman Alexander had dined with the other night. Justine Adams. Lived alone. Confined to a wheelchair after an automobile accident some nineteen years ago. What he couldn’t find out was how Alexander was connected to her. But he would—today. Those two were just too odd of a combination to make sense. Alexander was certainly up to something.

When he tiptoed out of the bathroom, Ellis was still sleeping. He went out and stood on the upper veranda, just outside the bedroom’s French doors. He leaned his elbows on the railing and looked toward Belle Creek. Breathing in the stormcleansed air, he took a moment to absorb the peace of this place. Up until now, this plantation was his only weakness, his only point of vulnerability. How quickly that had changed. Risking damage to his beloved plantation was one thing. Risking Ellis’s safety was something he simply could not do. He had to leave as soon as this was finished.

Then he had to stay away. Painful for him. Better for her.

Even so, now—in this fleeting moment in the dawn where light was quickly gaining hold of the day, where the freshness of the early hour gave rise to hope, to imaginings of the impossible—he allowed himself to imagine it wasn’t so.

A car door slammed and he jerked upright.

Walking to the end of the porch, he looked toward the stables. Jake was here early, no doubt to check the horses after the storm.

Nate headed back toward the French doors and heard the television in the bedroom, its volume low.

Ellis sat on the bed, the remote control in her hand and shock on her face.

He looked at the TV. The news was on. Police cars and the coroner’s vehicle were sitting in front of the gatehouse at Ellis’s condo complex.

“Sam’s dead.” Her chin trembled. “Poor, poor Sam.” She blinked away tears. “They found his body back near the fence at the marsh.”

“Damn.” Nate looked back to the newscast. Had Sam come across Alexander last night? Had the man gone after Ellis at her condo?

She put her hand over her mouth, and the tears that had pooled in her eyes flowed. “It’s all because of me.”

Nate sat on the bed next to her. Grasping her upper arms, he made her look him in the eyes. “It’s because of Alexander—and the system that let him free. Not you.”

Tears shone like dew in her moss-green eyes. He wanted to strangle Alexander for putting them there.

She drew a deep breath, let it out. Then she nodded.

“He’s careful, but not perfect. We’ll get him,” Nate said.

Giving him a tremulous smile, she said, “Then I’d better get those photos to the police so they can start processing them.”

He could see the change come over her, the soft sadness give over to hard-edged anger.

He stroked her hair and then kissed her forehead. “I’m going to check on Jake in the barn.” He got up and turned toward the door. “Then I’ll drive you into town.”

“You’re not driving me anywhere—” She stopped suddenly, staring at the TV again.

The anchorman said, “
The police are still looking for the man who murdered a young woman in Belle Island Thursday night. They haven’t ruled out a possible connection with this newest murder in the usually quiet town. They have released this sketch of a suspect.

The pencil sketch was a good one. Nate wondered who had given them his description . . . Ellis’s uncle perhaps?

He looked at Ellis. Her face was so pale; her lips had even lost most of their color.


If anyone sees this man, please contact the Belle Island Police Department at—

Nate stepped over, took the remote from her hand, and clicked off the TV. “Let’s focus on what we can do to stop this madness. I’m going to check on the horses. You get ready to go.”

He wanted to climb in that bed with her and hold her until the color came back to her face and that haunted look left her eyes.

BOOK: Seeing Red
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ads

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