“You may look at the letters, one at a time, but I won’t allow you to take any with you, not even one.” She stood poised for a second. “If you try to take anything, I’ll bring the bank employees running and blow this whole thing sky high.”
“Anything else?” This was turning into nothing less than a stage show.
She inclined her head in silence and did not answer. Not immediately. Instead she looked somewhat lost for a moment before responding. “If I think of another condition, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Glad to hear it,” he returned dryly, walking past her to the sliding glass door. Deftly he slid it open. “Ladies first.”
Judi turned a pensive glance to the lake waters before stepping around him and inside. Nathan wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he heard a whisper of what could have been a prayer. Good for her, he thought; she’s going to need all the prayers she can get if this is all a lie.
“Hello, Judi,” greeted the smiling bank clerk when Judi stepped up to the teller window. “How’s your day going?”
“Just fine,” Judi answered with a fixed smile, curling her hair behind one ear. After exchanging what she felt to be necessary pleasantries, she cleared her throat. “I’d like to get into my safety deposit box.”
“Certainly!” The young clerk first glanced at Nathan before nodding toward another counter to the left near the large gated door guarding the bank vault. “Meet me over by the sign-in sheet.” The woman grabbed a large dangling set of mismatched keys that jingled noisily as she slid down from her chair.
Judi smoothed down her full skirt as she walked to the brown-paneled counter, well aware that Nathan was right beside her. He was being unusually quiet and that concerned her. The ride over did nothing to calm the nerves plaguing her since his arrival, and she wondered again if showing Nathan the letters was wise. If she was right, and she was, Nathan knew exactly what each note said. But she was safe in the bank. The safety deposit boxes were kept in a barred but partially open room. One shout was all it would take.
Still, she hoped she was doing the sensible thing. A tight little cord knotted in her throat as she reached inside her purse. The tiny manila envelope felt smooth between her fingers as she withdrew it from the inside pocket. Slowly, she tipped the envelope and let the key slide out into her other hand then laid it in front of the clerk.
“Number 243,” she told the waiting teller in low tones, tilting the numbered key for her to verify.
Again, the smartly dressed young woman gave Nathan another perusal. “Let me find your card.”
Judi scrutinized the clerk as she opened a large box and speculated that this woman was already falling under Nathan’s spell—without him even saying a word. How could the man not know how much he affected women?
Several three-by-five cards were flipped forward until the clerk plucked one out and gave it a close look. “This is your first time accessing the box.” There was a note of surprise in her statement, but she shrugged and placed the card in front of Judi. “Just sign your name and date it on the first line.”
Judi did as instructed and slid the card back across the counter.
“Come on back,” the clerk directed, swinging open the half door attached to the counter. “The gentleman will be accompanying you?” she asked politely.
Judi looked up at Nathan’s solemn face and gave the clerk a reassuring smile she didn’t feel. “Yes.”
The clerk turned around, popped a large skeleton key into the lock, and the bolt slid back with a loud clang. The heavy barred door creaked open, and Judi followed the bank teller to the boxes. Finding the numbered box, the clerk stopped to inspect the ring of bank keys, trying three before finding the right match.
“Got it!” the clerk proclaimed in triumph. She took Judi’s key and twisted both sets until the little metal door released. “These can be tricky at times.” She paused. “Will there be anything else?”
Feeling slightly dazed, Judi just shook her head.
“That will be all for now,” Nathan spoke for the first time, picking up the slack. His mouth suddenly softened. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome.” The clerk flashed him a curious smile before turning back to Judi. “The door will automatically lock behind me. Buzz the doorbell when you’re finished and one of us will come to let you out.”
Judi watched as the heavy door banged shut behind the clerk and the security device clicked loudly.
Alone!
Judi blinked nervously, feeling the silence envelop her like a sealed tomb. The room suddenly felt chilly.
Nathan’s voice cut through the quiet. “Do you want me to lift the box?”
“No.” She threw him a swift glance and took a steadying breath. “I can reach it.”
When Nathan stepped back to allow her room, she slid the box from the compartment and carried it to the waiting table, her instantly cold fingers resting on the lid. A frigid shiver of apprehension feathered across her skin. She hadn’t seen or touched the letters since placing them in the box two years ago. The thought of resurrecting this appalling segment of her past weighed heavily on her mind.
She had hoped to never face the nasty accusations and threats again, but here she was, conscious of the growing and searing pain around her fearful heart. Even the deposit box repulsed and burned at her very being, and her fingers impulsively recoiled in agitation and disgust.
“Are you all right?” demanded Nathan, his hand tightly gripping her arm as he guided her less than a foot away to sit in the worn, straight-backed chair to which she sank like a lead-based bottle. Instantly, he was looking down at her with concern, his anger momentarily postponed. “You’re beyond pale and completely white.”
“Nathan—” Avoiding his narrow, probing glance, she turned her head and made an effort to move her arm out of reach. “I can’t do this.” When he slackened his hold, she slumped back in the chair. How she hated the contents of the box that sat before her like an uncommuted death sentence. How she hated her weakness showing in front of Nathan. But rattled or not, she would not be fooled by his contrived concern. She couldn’t!
“Judi, what’s going on here?” he asked, obviously altering his position to look at her more fully. Suddenly there was realization in his smoky gray eyes. “You really do have some kind of horrible letters in this box.”
Judi stiffened. “You know it’s true.”
He didn’t answer right away. He seemed to consider the matter. Without waiting, he lifted the flat lid, ignoring her halfhearted attempt to block his hands, and snatched the folded brown note on top. Quickly, he spread out the wrinkled sheet between his fingers.
Judi watched as he paced the room, his eyes flitting across the page he held at arm’s length, his brows creased deeply in concentration. He stopped and leaned his back against the flat wall of deposit boxes before looking back at her.
“I don’t understand.” Nathan was frowning heavily. “What does the note mean?” He began to read the note aloud. “ ‘I smell a rat. A dirty rat. Have you caught the smell of this rodent in the air? Remember The Olde Village Inn.’ ” He paused a moment to look at her questioningly before reading on. “ ‘Move on before this rat’s demise is your own.’ ”
She felt numb, yet her throat ached fiercely and her eyes pricked with threatening tears. That menacing note had been particularly bad. It had come right before Christmas, expertly gift-wrapped with expensive decorative foil paper. Figuring Nathan had left her an early present, she’d eagerly torn off the paper and opened the equally decorative box.
What greeted her when she lifted the lid sent her reeling. A swollen, dead rat, crawling with maggots, lay exposed. The sender had carefully wrapped the rodent in a sealed bag meant to burst open with the box lid, immediately spewing all its filthy, revolting sights and smells.
“Judi?” Nathan’s voice drew her back. “What’s this letter about? What does the writer mean regarding the Olde Village Inn and a rat?”
; Judi drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes as tiny tears squeezed through her already damp lashes. “A dead… rat accompanied the note.”
When she looked up, he was leaning over her, both hands on the table, his face a mixture of shock and puzzlement. She knew he was waiting for further explanation. When she remained wordless, his mouth opened to speak, but he slowly retreated instead, tapping the letter against his hand. Finally he shook his head and exchanged the note for another in the box.
Once again he paced and studied the letter, thrusting one hand into his pocket. “ ‘Sugar and spice isn’t always so nice—is it?’ ” he read aloud. “ ‘Especially when a good Amish girl, her head full of curls, has her hand caught in the till. What a beautiful mug shot!’ ” Again his brow lifted in bewilderment when he turned to her.
“That was the first letter to come,” Judy struggled to explain, her lips trembling, “right after the person filled the gas tank of the Volkswagen with sugar.”
“What!” Nathan’s glance clung to her like hot oil. “You never said anything about this letter when that happened.”
“I tried to tell you it was more than a prank,” she reasoned, endeavoring to ignore the confusion and anger battling in his voice.
“Judi,” he went on, “don’t you think I would have taken it more seriously if you would have shown me the letter? Vandals out for kicks don’t leave mysterious notes behind, especially ones sounding like personal vendettas.” He quirked an eyebrow knowingly. “So that leaves me to assume that you wouldn’t, or couldn’t, show me these notes for two possible reasons. Either you suspected—why, I don’t know—that I was threatening you, or the author knew something and was holding this information over you—a blackmail of sorts.”
Judi couldn’t avoid his direct gaze. His quick perception of the situation petrified her. He was right, of course—except in opposite order. She didn’t suspect Nathan until later. She closed her eyes in a supreme effort to calm the wild fluttering of nerves racing through her.
“I can see that at least one, or possibly both, of my assumptions are on target,” Nathan assessed with annoying self-confidence.
“I tried to make you see, Nathan….” Her voice trailed off nervously. “Then I had proof that you were the one sending the letters.”
He stared at her in amazement. “What could possibly make you think I’d sent you these types of threatening notes along with vandalizing your car and presenting you with a dead, vile rat?” He tossed an agitated hand into the air. “First off, the handwriting is nothing more than cursive scrawl. I have flawless print!” Then as if carefully weighing an opening statement in front of a jury, he cocked his head thoughtfully in her direction. “I may not be a poet, but the grammar and hacked prose could be improved upon by a five-year-old. At least give me more credit than that.”
Judi struggled to keep a flush from creeping up into her cheeks as he threw a frustrated glance to the ceiling.
“Another thing,” he went on, landing his gaze back on her. “If I’m as compulsive about every detail as you’ve always claimed, I can assure you that I wouldn’t be able to create such a cheap product.”
A hot protest rose in her throat. “You would if you were trying to disguise your handwriting. So not everything you’ve said is quite true. You don’t always print, Nathan.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are times when you write in cursive,” Judi continued, “and no matter what you claim, your script writing is worse than scrawl. That’s why you prefer to print.” She lifted her chin. “And the cursive writing matches closely enough to raise a valid question.”
“The only time I write in cursive is to sign my name,” he argued. “How could you match the writing with only a signature?”
Squaring her shoulders, she shifted uneasily under his scrutiny. “Not true! When you paid bills, you wrote the entire check in cursive. Remember? You always said the checks should look uniform and that meant they couldn’t be done in print and cursive.”
Nathan’s lips twitched in contemplation, and he leaned back to sit on the edge of the table. He gave a low grunt at the idea. “I suppose you’re right! I’d forgotten. I used to write the checks that way.” The tightness of his mouth twisted into a firm line. “With the age of electronic transactions, it’s no longer necessary to write checks, and it seems like ages ago. Guess I just didn’t remember.”
“So we’re right back to the beginning,” Judi pointed out. “The handwriting in those notes does look like yours.”
“Now wait a minute,” Nathan quickly protested, lifting himself from the edge of the table. He scooped up another letter from the box and scanned it intently. “It’s really been a long time since I’ve written in longhand, but still, I still don’t see the similarity. I mean, this writing is absolutely terrible.”
Judi couldn’t prevent the wry smile from forming at the corners of her mouth. “So is yours.”
“This bad?” His question seemed genuine.
Her mouth pulled knowingly to the side and she nodded. “Yes.”
Nathan made a face and she could tell he was fighting the idea. His fingers fidgeted with the paper in his hand and he glanced at it again. Something in the boyish confusion marking his features moved her. A dangerous spark of feeling she thought was well hidden in the depths of her contempt for the man who was her husband was beginning to surface.
Was she crazy?
Nathan gave a sigh. “I still don’t see it.”
“Look at each R and S. Look at the swoops on the Ls and slant of each sentence.” She watched him closely examine the style. “Trust me, Nathan. I compared the actual letters and it’s close enough to be scary.”
“I didn’t write these notes.”
She drew a deep breath, unable to take her eyes off his lean, attractive face. The cleft in his chin seemed to deepen. He looked truly perplexed.
Slowly, Nathan leaned over, imprisoning her hand under his. His face drew close and she had the instinctive feeling he was fighting between anger and some other deep emotion. “You never had anything to fear from me, Judi.” There was a pause. “I loved you!”
Judi didn’t miss the past tense condition of his words. He had loved her. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally replied, trying desperately to keep her voice level. It was the truth. There were no words to describe the barrenness of her heart and feelings she had at that moment.
“I say we should get to the bottom of these letters,” Nathan demanded, his voice becoming steely hard. “To do that, you’ll have to tell me everything—and I mean everything—you know about these letters and what this person is holding over you.”
five
Nathan studied the uneven edges of the creased paper in front on him. This was the last of the threatening letters to be copied. Not a single note made sense—at least not to him. Only Judi knew the implications of the innuendos and the power these words held over her. He rested his gold-plated pen a moment.
For some unexplained reason he believed Judi was telling the truth—as she understood it. Maybe it was the fear in her eyes or the poorly hidden grip of panic lashing out against the contents of the cold metal box. Whatever it was, the woman feared for her life. Now what? He was having a difficult time defusing the fury and resentment he’d spent the last few days building.
If only she had come to him.
Yes, he had been enormously busy with the campaign, almost numb from the frenzied pace of speeches, debates, interviews, and television commercials. But he would have dropped everything if he’d known the gravity of Judi’s dilemma. She should have known that! She should have trusted him.
It would be hard to calculate the emotional, legal, and even criminal consequences of Judi faking her own death. His own inattentiveness was partially to blame. Even now, he knew the enormity of the situation was beyond his own comprehension.
“We’d better hurry, Nathan,” Judi whispered across the table. “That bank teller keeps looking in. I th
ink someone else is waiting to get to their box.”
With an effort, Nathan dragged his mind back to the present. “I’m almost done.” Pushing down his previously troublesome thoughts, he briefly glanced at the doorway before giving her a reassuring look. “There’s no one waiting on us. Your teller buddy is just keeping an eye on you. Bay Island must be like any other small town where everyone knows everyone—and their business.” It pleased him when Judi managed a tiny smile of agreement, lightening the tension. “So, what’s a bank teller inclined to do if a regular customer comes into the bank with a perfect stranger and this customer wants to get into her safety deposit box for the first time in two years? The teller is suspicious—as well she should be.”
Judi seemed to think this over. “You’re probably right.”
“Actually,” Nathan said with a small smile of his own, “I think the entire employee pool has waltzed by that door in the past half hour to make sure I haven’t absconded with all your jewels and worldly possessions.”
“If only they knew,” came her reply with a quiet but impish laugh. Her coloring was beginning to improve dramatically.
“But all the same,” Nathan continued, smoothing down his tie, “I’ll finish copying this last letter so we can get out of here.”
Diligently he printed the last few lines and sat back in the uncomfortable chair to appraise his work. The words needed to be exact if he was to make any sense of these letters and the possible motive behind them. Carefully, he twisted the tip of the pen until the point retreated inside and then leisurely secured it into the pocket of his shirt.
He glanced at Judi, who sat solemnly across from him, and wondered if he dared risk the fragile truce they’d developed. “Judi, I know you said that you wanted all of these letters to remain in the safety deposit box, but I’d like to keep one of them.”
“But why?” Alarm spread across her face.
Nathan hesitated, rubbing his thumb across the sharp edge of his jaw. “I came here believing you had deserted me for one selfish reason or another—all of which I couldn’t understand.” He rested a hand on the metal box. “You believed me to be the author of these notes.” Leaning forward, he caught the gaze of her guarded look, her eyes unabashedly veiled in wariness. “Can I assume we’ve come to some point of agreement where you might consider another explanation as a plausible alternative? We need to take a closer look at this whole thing, including the wording and handwriting. To do that, an actual sample of the letter will be necessary.”
Bay Hideaway Page 5
