Shadow of Doubt Omnibus

by Lisa Jackson

  “How?” Nikki asked.

  “The man has a gambling problem. Connected to the wrong circles, owes a lot of money. I know, because I used to deal with him those few weeks when I worked for Crowley. Jimbo’s slipping. He could’ve bought himself a better story, but he didn’t have a lot of time. He didn’t know you’d be at the house or that you’d recognize Rodriguez as the man who’d tossed you over the cliff on Salvaje.

  “Besides, Jim thought you wouldn’t escape this time. He wanted it to look like an accident, just like before.” Turning, he gazed deep into her eyes. “We’ll nail them, Nikki. Together. You’ve got yourself the story of a lifetime.”

  The story of a lifetime. Proof that she could be “one of the boys” at the Observer. Why did it seem so little? “And you. What did you get?”

  “I’ve got a monkey off my back. At first when I worked for Crowley, I thought he was honest and upright and the best man to represent the people of this state. But I found out he was dirty and crooked and I’ve spent the last few years determined to bring him down.”

  “So now your life’s quest is over,” she said, attempting to sound lighthearted when her insides felt weighted with stones.

  “Yep. Suppose so.” He stepped on the throttle and twisted the ignition. The Jeep’s engine caught, and within a few minutes they had merged into the slow stream of traffic heading away from the center of the city.

  Through the night, Trent drove to her apartment. He parked, and without asking, helped her up the stairs and inside. “Why did you come back to see me?” he asked as she slid out of her jacket.

  “I thought we needed to have it out.”

  “It?”

  “Everything.” She snapped on the lights, trying to break the intimacy, the spell of being with him. She looked into his eyes and wished that things were different between them. “You lied to me.”

  “And you’ll never forgive me.”

  Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. “I don’t think I can.”

  He looked about to say something, changed his mind and turned toward the door. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I loved you, Nikki. And I’ve never been so damned scared in my life. When I saw you on the cliff…” He leaned back against the door and his face turned the color of chalk.

  Her heart turned over. Love him! Trust him! Forgive him! He did it for you!

  “When I figured out that you were on Salvaje digging up dirt on Crowley I thought I should try to protect you. I didn’t lie when I said that I took one look at you in Seattle and lost all perspective. Seeing you on the island only reinforced my feelings. That’s why I came up with the cock-and-bull story about being married. I just wanted to get you safe and hustle you off the island as quickly as I could. I thought that if we traveled together, posed as husband and wife, Crowley and his men wouldn’t be so suspicious. It might have worked, too, if it hadn’t been for the storm.” His mouth twisted into a sad smile.

  “What if I hadn’t lost my memory?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I don’t know. I would have come up with something else.”

  “You took one helluva chance.”

  He stared at her. And the words, I did it for you didn’t come to his lips. Instead, he read the censure in her eyes, slid one final look down her body and said, “You know how I feel and you know where I live. Oh, by the way, it’s not really my house.”

  Another lie.

  “I rent it from a friend.”

  Well, not so bad.

  He opened the door. “Goodbye, Nikki.” With a quick glance over his shoulder, he was gone, the door shut behind him, and giving into the exhaustion that overcame her, she slid to the floor, dropped her head in her hands and cried.

  * * *

  Nikki sipped a cup of coffee and stared at the small television on Frank Pianzani’s desk. It had been nearly a week since her story broke, and in that time she’d become Frank’s new star reporter. Max, having been exposed for tipping off the senator, had been fired.

  Frank was pleased with himself. Thanks to Nikki, the Observer had scooped all the competition, and now the outcome of her incredible work was on the evening news.

  Nikki stared at the screen and watched as Senator Crowley’s face, showing signs of strain, appeared. His voice, however, still rang like an orator’s. “I categorically deny the charges. They are absolutely false and all the constituents of the state of Washington who have voted for me over the years know that I’ve never accepted a bribe, nor have I accepted gifts from special interest groups.”

  “What about the man in the hospital? Felipe Rodriguez?”

  “I don’t know much about him. He’s only been on my payroll a month or two. But the man is obviously suffering from delusions. His story is too bizarre to be believed. Why, just look at my record—”

  “Rodriguez claims that you met on Salvaje, that you were recently there and that you paid him to kill an American citizen, Nicole Carrothers, a reporter for the Observer.”

  “As I said—delusions. His story is preposterous. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have no further comment.”

  Frank snapped off the set. “Looks like old Diamond Jim isn’t going to seek reelection.”

  “Good.”

  “And the senate ethics committee will look into your allegations.”

  “More good news.”

  “It just keeps coming and coming,” Frank said, standing and stretching. His white shirt was wrinkled, and he snapped his suspenders happily. “You know, I don’t think I ever gave you enough credit around here.”

  “You didn’t,” Nikki said.

  Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Too late.”

  “What?”

  Nikki offered him her most ingratiating smile. “I quit.”

  Frank looked as if she’d beaned him with a bowling ball. “Quit? You can’t quit!”

  Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a long, white envelope. “Just watch me.”

  “This has something to do with that husband of yours, doesn’t it? Just because things aren’t working out between you two…” Realizing he’d overstepped his bounds, Frank grabbed his reading glasses off his desk and shoved them onto his nose. “Don’t tell me, the Times offered you more money.”

  She grinned, but the deep-seated satisfaction she hoped to feel didn’t surface. How could she explain that she’d proved her point, made her statement, and now had to move on? Her life had been turned upside down and inside out in the last week and never once had she seen Trent.

  Everyone else, but not Trent. Her father, mother and sisters had rallied around her in her time of need. Calling and visiting, sick at the thought that she’d nearly lost her life. There had been many questions about her husband, and Nikki had ducked them all, saying only that the marriage wasn’t yet on stable ground and after the events of the past few weeks, they’d both decided they needed some space.

  Her family had thought the reaction odd, but she’d muddled through, dealing with the police, other reporters, interviews and her job. Through it all, she’d felt lonely and empty inside.

  Well, today her life was going to change. One way or the other. Grabbing her coat, she took the elevator to the parking garage and climbed into her little convertible. The back seat was filled with the clutter that had been her desk: notes, pens, paper, recorder, Rolodex file, books and general paraphernalia that she’d accumulated in her years with the Observer.

  It was time to move on. Crossing her fingers, she put her car into gear and hoped that she would be moving in the direction she hoped to.

  You know where I live.

  Nerves strung tight, she eased her way through traffic, flipped on the radio and hummed along to an old Bruce Springsteen hit. But her thoughts weren’t on the lyrics or even the melody; her thoughts were with Trent and what she had to say to him.

  She turned into the drive of the house on Lake Washington and her heart sank. His Jeep was missing and the hous
e looked empty and cold, as if no one lived there. The police tape, denoting a crime scene, had been stripped away, but there was no sign of Trent.

  She knocked loudly on the front door and waited.

  Nothing. Not one sign of life. A few dry leaves rattled in the old oak trees before floating downward and being caught in a tiny gust to dance for a few seconds before landing on the ground. Just like us, Nikki thought, watching with sadness. She and Trent had danced for a few weeks and drifted apart.

  Wrong. You pushed him away. She walked around the house and an uneasy feeling wrapped around her, a feeling that she was stepping on her own grave. Rubbing her arms, she followed the path she’d taken on the day she’d been attacked, saw the broken branches in the forest, noticed the footprints, observed the dark stain on the grass and dry leaves where the blood of her attacker had pooled.

  Trent had risked his life to save her.

  Shivering, she told herself she was lucky and she stared across the lake, past the steel-colored water to the opposite shore where houses were tucked in the evergreen forest.

  “Nikki?” Trent’s voice whispered on the wind. She turned and found him approaching, his hair ruffling in the breeze, his familiar leather jacket open at the throat. “What’re you doing here? I saw your car and…” His voice drifted away as his gaze caught and held in hers.

  “I thought we had some unfinished business,” she said, feeling the ridiculous urge to break down and cry. Lord, she seemed to fall to pieces whenever she was around him. Blinking against that sudden rush of tears, she walked to him and linked her arm through his. “Come on, let’s not stay here.”

  They followed the path to a point that had been unspoiled by the evil and malevolence that had trailed them from Salvaje to Seattle. “I, um, I’ve been thinking,” she said, still holding his arm as she turned to face him. The wind caught her hair, blowing it over her face, brushing it against her cheeks.

  “When have you had time?”

  So he’d seen her on the news. Kept track of her busy life. “Things have been hectic,” she admitted, “but I’ve had a lot of hours to do some heavy soul-searching.”

  “Have you?” He wasn’t buying her story, obviously. “I heard you got a commendation and a promotion.”

  She shrugged. “I quit.”

  He didn’t say a word, just stood there woodenly, not taking her into his arms, even when she was silently begging him to.

  “It was time to change.”

  “Got another job?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Seems to me you could have your pick.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She felt his hand stiffen and held his fingers more tightly in her own. “I don’t want a new job, Trent. I just want you.” When he didn’t respond, she took his face between her palms and forced him to stare into her eyes. “Those hours I spent soul-searching I was alone. In my bed, crying my eyes out. I decided if I wasn’t going to wallow in my own misery any longer, I had to face the truth and that is—” she took in a shuddering breath, ready to bare her soul “—I love you, Trent McKenzie, and I want to marry you.” His jaw clenched tight. “If you’ll have me.”

  Swallowing the lump of pride that filled her throat, she reached into her purse and withdrew a packet. “Tickets to Salvaje,” she said. “For you and me.”

  His lips cracked into a small, skeptical smile. “You want to go back there?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “When?”

  “Right after we stop down at the courthouse and tie the knot.”

  His smile kicked up a little higher. “What if I don’t want to get married?”

  Pain sliced through her heart, but she tilted her chin upward defiantly. “Then come with me as my lover.”

  He barked out a short laugh and stepped away from her. “You’re too much,” he said, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head.

  Disappointment curdled her insides.

  “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

  “I had a change of heart.” When he didn’t respond, she tossed her hair out of her face. “Damn it, Trent, this wasn’t easy for me, you know. I’ve swallowed my pride, told you that I love you, nearly begged you to marry me and you don’t have a thing to say?”

  “Oh, sure I do.”

  Here it comes. “And what’s that?” she demanded, feeling fire leap in her eyes.

  He slid a finger into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew the slim gold band, the very band that had been her wedding ring on Salvaje. “I just wondered what took you so long.”

  She let out a long, agonized breath. “You’ve been waiting for me to come back here. You knew I would, didn’t you?”

  “Thought you might.”

  “You arrogant, self-important—”

  He cut off her insults with a kiss that caused her blood to turn to liquid fire. “Will you shut up a minute?” he asked as he slipped the ring that he’d sized to fit perfectly onto her finger. “I need to get this right this time.” He looked down into her eyes and cradled her face in his hands. “Marry me, Nikki,” he whispered, feeling the tremor of her body as it molded to his.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed anxious lips to hers and knew that now and forever Nikki would be his special woman.

  * * * * *

  Undeniable Proof

  B.J. Daniels

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER ONE

  He’d waited too long. They knew. The realization turned his blood to ice water. If they knew that he had the disk, then they also knew what he planned to do with it.

  He felt the full weight of the disk in his breast pocket. In the right hands, the disk was gold. In the wrong hands, it was a death warrant.

  Simon didn’t look back but he knew they were behind him, following him. Two of them. He could hear them. Feel them working their way along the dark street.

  All he could guess is that they weren’t sure where he was headed. They would want to know who he’d planned to give the disk to. He had a pretty good idea that they knew exactly who he worked for—but just wanted proof.

  He’d changed course the moment he’d heard them behind and now found himself headed for the beach. Ahead was the artsy part of St. Pete Beach, the small southern Florida town at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. Art galleries, studios, little shops. All closed this time of the night.

  No place to hide.

  He had to ditch the disk. It was his only chance. He was probably a dead man either way, but he might be able to talk his way out of this if the disk wasn’t found on him.

  Ahead Simon spotted a light burning in one of the art studios. Was it possible it was still open? Could he be that lucky?

  He could hear the quickening of the men’s steps behind him as he neared the shop entrance. Inside, the light silhouetted a figure at the back of the shop apparently working late. His good luck. That person’s bad fortune.

  It took everything in him not to run. But that would make him look guilty. That would get him killed before he could hide the disk.

  Simon reached the front door of the shop and grasped the knob. He could see a woman working in the studio at the back. The men behind him were so close he thought he could feel their collective breaths on his neck. As he tried the door, he expected to feel a hand drop to his shoulder and a cold steel barrel press against his backbone.

  Locked! He couldn’t catch his breath. He jiggled the doorknob. His heart pounded so hard, all he could hear was the blood buzzing in his ears.

 
; The woman who’d been working at the back looked up. Obviously she hadn’t been expecting anyone.

  Simon waved and called to her in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own, “Sorry I’m late.”

  Surprise registered in her eyes, but she stopped what she was doing and walked toward the door.

  He thought he heard the two men slide back into the darker shadows as the woman opened the door.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late,” he said, stepping in, forcing her to step aside as he pushed past and into the shop. “I was afraid you’d already gone home. I called about one of your—” he glanced to see what kind of work the woman did “—paintings,” he said, and stuffed his hands into his pockets so she didn’t see how badly they were shaking as he turned to look at her.

  He’d thought her twenty-something but she could have been younger. It was hard to tell her age with such pale skin sprinkled with golden freckles and blond hair that she had pulled back in a single long braid that trailed down her back. She wore a sleeveless T-shirt, peach-colored, and a pair of denim cropped pants. He caught the scent of vanilla.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking confused. “Are you sure you have the right gallery?” Simon could see that she was scared. If she only knew. But she closed the door behind her, failing, he noted, to lock it, though. Would the two men come in here after him? He couldn’t be sure.

  But if they did, the woman was as good as dead.

  “Yes, this is the shop,” he said, improvising as he moved to look at one of the Florida landscapes done in pastels. “My wife said she was told someone would be here late.” A man with a wife would make her feel safer, he hoped, as he saw that she hadn’t moved. In fact, she seemed to hover by the phone on the desk by the door.

  He thought of the real wife he’d had. She’d left him because she couldn’t take the line of work he was in. Low pay, ridiculous hours and always the chance that tonight might be the night he didn’t come home. Tonight might be the night she got the phone call. Or worse, opened the door in the wee hours of the morning to see one of his buddies at the door bearing the bad news.