Placing the phone on the floor, she took two steps to her left, gripped the edge of the counter and slipped around the side.
She caught motion to her right. The moon’s light filtered through the blinds and now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could pick out shapes and shadows.
Which meant the intruder probably could, too.
Demi moved again. The shadow moved with her.
She ducked behind a bookcase and heard two more footsteps.
How was she going to get help?
Click.
What was that?
She didn’t have time to dwell on that question as she could hear him coming closer.
Silently, she sidestepped around another bookcase, bumped her shin on a small table and sent it crashing to the floor.
It sounded like a sonic boom in the utter stillness of the store.
Breath hitching, Demi moved around the table to seek refuge behind another shelf.
She thought she heard a curse, muttering.
Then bright light filled the store through one of the windows and she saw the man standing next to one of the cushioned chairs. He froze like a deer caught in the headlights.
But she couldn’t see his face.
He had his hoodie pulled up and she could only make out his profile.
Then he spun on his heel and headed for the back door of the store. Relief pounded through her. Anger followed swiftly behind. She was so tired of being a victim.
Should she try to stop him?
Her eyes darted, wondering how she could do it without getting hurt. By the time she decided she couldn’t, he was gone anyway, out the back. The same way he’d probably come in.
But how had he gotten through a locked door?
* * *
Charles followed Owen as far as his brother would allow. “Stay here until I give the all clear, you understand?”
“Yeah, yeah, go.”
Charles watched Owen place a hand on his weapon as he approached the front door to The Reading Nook. Everything in him itched to head in after Owen. Fighting in Iraq had prepared him to be in the thick of things. He’d willingly taken a backseat to the investigation into Olivia’s death, letting his brothers do the job they’d been trained to do, but not knowing if Demi was all right was killing him.
He crept closer, watching as Owen drew his gun and stepped inside. A cold sweat broke over Charles as flashes from his days in the military, going house to house, searching for the wounded in the midst of the rebels and terrorists popped through his mind. Not knowing if you were going to be offered a drink or a bullet had kept his nerves on edge, his senses honed.
This was how he felt now. Would Demi be all right? Or not? Following a hunch, Charles did a one-eighty on his good leg and hoofed it around the side of the building.
Just in time to see a figure bolt through the back door of Fiona’s bookstore.
“Hey! Stop!”
The person never paused, just kept pounding the pavement until he disappeared within seconds around the side of the building. Owen burst from the store, racing after the fleeing man.
Charles gave the brief thought to joining the chase, but knew with his injured leg, he didn’t have a chance. Humiliation swept over him, but he managed to push it aside. Just because he didn’t run as well as he used to, didn’t make him less of a man. Besides, he needed to check on Demi. Her well-being was more important than chasing the man down.
Taking note in the direction the intruder fled, Charles turned back to the store and pulled open the door.
Stepping inside, he called out, “Demi?”
“In here.”
Charles made his way through the darkened store toward Demi’s voice. It sounded like it came from the small café area.
The lights came on and he blinked at the sudden brightness. “Whoa.”
As his eyes focused, he took in Demi’s frightened features. But she’d managed to find the fuse box and get the lights back on in spite of her fear. He went to her side and took her hands, feeling them tremble. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, eyes wide. “Someone was in here.”
“I know,” Charles said. “I saw him run out the back door and down the alley. Owen went after him. What happened?”
Pulling her hands from his grasp, she crossed her arms in front of her and rubbed them like she was cold. “I came down to get a book and heard something. The lights were out and didn’t work. Then I heard…something. And he was there. Being quiet and watching… .” She shivered and swallowed hard. Charles felt his heart clench at her distress.
The back door slammed and they both jumped. Charles’s hand went to his weapon, his pulse spiking.
Owen called out, “It’s just me.” When Owen joined them in the kitchen, he shook his head in disgust and said, “I lost him.”
Charles asked, “Do you think this has anything to do with the message left in the church?”
“I don’t know.” Owen narrowed his eyes. “You and I haven’t really talked much about that. You think it was meant for you?”
“And I think it was meant for me,” Demi said before Charles had a chance to answer.
“Why would you think that?” Owen looked confused.
Demi bit her lip then motioned for them to follow her.
Charles frowned as she and Owen walked up the steps to her apartment. She opened the door.
“You didn’t lock the door?” Charles asked.
She paused then looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t think I needed to. I was just going down to get a book and then come right back up. I thought the back door was secured and…” Demi fiddled with her keys. “I should have locked it, huh?”
“Yeah.” Charles nodded.
He drew his weapon, glad he’d decided to start carrying it again. At Owen’s sharp look, he shrugged. He had an up-to-date concealed weapons permit. Might as well exercise caution.
Owen nodded and took the lead, Charles providing backup. Demi stepped aside, her fear in full expression on her beautiful pale face. Behind her glasses, her eyes looked huge.
A quick sweep of the small apartment revealed nothing. “Clear,” he said.
“Clear,” Owen echoed.
Demi’s quiet voice cut into the relieved silence. “Do you mind if I show you what I found yesterday morning? I think it’ll explain why I think that message at church was for me.”
“Sure.”
Both men holstered their weapons.
Demi walked into the kitchen, opened the cabinet and pulled a coffee canister from the cupboard. She took off the lid and held the can out for the men to peer into.
Charles read the message on the piece of paper and felt his heart pick up speed.
Owen lifted a brow and looked at the two of them. “You found this yesterday?”
“And you didn’t say anything?” Charles demanded. The words exploded from him. He couldn’t help it.
She flinched and stepped back and Charles felt immediate remorse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. But you really should have told someone about this.”
“I meant to, I just…didn’t. I wanted to think about it and try to figure out why someone would put that there. But all I get is a massive headache when I try to reason through it.” She swallowed and met his eyes. “And I was afraid you’d blame yourself.” Her eyes slid away. “And that you’d ask me to leave.” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to leave.”
“Ah, Demi… .” Charles sighed, guilt exploding through him. She’d been right about that anyway. He did blame himself for putting her in this situation.
Owen shook his head. “Have you touched this?”
“No.” She grimaced. “I just
slapped the top back on and determined to put it out of my mind for the day.”
Owen asked, “Do you have a paper bag I can put this in?”
“I have a plastic grocery bag.”
“It’ll have to do.”
Demi got the bag and held it open.
Charles reached for the salad tongs sitting in the container on the counter, pulled out the note and dropped it in. He looked at Owen. “You really think you can get anything off of that?”
“Thanks to new technology, fingerprints are easier than ever to lift. Matching them up is sometimes the problem. But we’ll give it a shot.” He looked at the can. “Let’s throw that in, too. Has anyone besides you touched it?”
“Not here. Fiona gave it to me. I think she got it from the café, so…”
Owen nodded. “It’s probably a long shot, but we can try. Let’s put it in a separate bag.”
Demi got another bag and placed the can inside.
Owen said, “Charles has told me some details about your past when he had me run a background check on you before hiring you. Of course, there wasn’t anything to learn because it was on the name you were given in the hospital. Can you fill me in a little better?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. Like I said, I don’t remember what happened.” She dropped her eyes then looked back up at him. “I can tell you what I was told.”
“If you don’t mind sharing that. Start from the beginning.”
Demi nodded. “I was found on a street after dark in a back alley in Springfield, Massachusetts. I had several bad head wounds. I had no identification on me and no one had reported me missing.” Reaching up, she pulled the glasses from her face and looked at them. “They found my glasses next to me. One of the officers came to see me in the hospital and said it looked like someone had deliberately crushed them. He wanted to know what I’d done to make someone so angry.” Tears filled her eyes.
Charles wanted to punch his brother for asking her to relive that. But if it helped them find a clue to her past, he supposed it had to be done.
Blinking back tears, she said, “The police put my picture on the news and asked for information about my attack. But again, no one came forward to identify me—or offer any information.”
Charles felt his heart twist once again. “That must have been awful. I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “Beyond awful. I healed pretty fast physically even though I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks. When it came time for me to leave, I just wanted to get away. So I went to the library, did a little research and found Fitzgerald Bay. I got on the bus—” she spread her hands “—and here I am.”
Owen clicked his pen and put his little notebook in his back pocket. “All right. I’ll see if I can find anything in any of what you’ve told me to help track down your identity.” He left with promises to stay in touch with any news.
Charles turned to Demi. “So someone was in your apartment that day.”
“It looks like it.”
In an unexpected move, he pulled her to him for a hug. He was almost surprised that she didn’t resist. Instead, she settled her head on his shoulder with a small sigh.
His hand raised up to give her a comforting pat on the back but then he found himself cupping her chin tilting her head to look up at him.
Questions danced in her eyes along with a look he interpreted as wariness. Immediately, he let her go and cleared his throat. She was right to be wary, to be cautious. She didn’t know who she was or whom she might belong to. The lack of a ring on her left hand didn’t mean there wasn’t a wedding license in some drawer somewhere.
He cleared his throat. “If you’re all right, I think I’ll take off.”
He saw her swallow. But she nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
With one last lingering look, Charles let himself out of the apartment and waited until he heard the lock click into place. Then he leaned against the wall and pulled in a steadying breath.
He decided coming face-to-face with Olivia’s murderer wouldn’t shake him up any more than his growing feelings for the woman behind that door.
NINE
“I’m not seeing him, he’s a murderer.”
Charles Fitzgerald overheard the elderly woman’s comment and closed his fist around the pen he’d just used to sign his name. Not exactly how he wanted to start his Monday morning.
Another unhappy patient.
There’d been a lot of them. As a result, the practice had suffered. He’d called in a favor from a med school buddy to come work with him and help keep the practice from going under. It worked, but left Charles with more free time than he liked. And now he had another patient refusing to see him because of this cloud still hanging over his head.
He’d hoped this week would be different. Apparently last week was an aberration. Things had started out wonderful this morning. The minute Demi had stepped into his house, the children laughed and chattered a mile a minute. She’d grinned and waved him on his way.
Arriving at the office with a smile on his face hadn’t happened in a long time. Since Olivia’s death and the string of accusations that had followed.
The smile had faded as the first person in the waiting room realized Charles would be his physician and mumbled he was feeling better. The man couldn’t move fast enough to get out the door.
Things had been heading south ever since.
And now this.
If something didn’t break soon in the investigation into Olivia Henry’s death, his mind might be the first thing to snap.
Being under suspicion of murder for the past four months had gotten old fast. But it sure made clear who his friends were. And weren’t.
“Ma’am.” His secretary, Cecily Cross, couldn’t have been more professional although Charles knew her well enough to hear the underlying thread of steel in her tone. “There’s no evidence that Dr. Fitzgerald had anything to do with it or he’d be sitting in jail. He’s a highly skilled doctor who has an open appointment. If you don’t want to see him, we’ll have to reschedule you with another appointment.”
“I was told Dr. Hansen would see me.”
“And I told you he called in and said he couldn’t be here. He had a family emergency.” Cecily’s exasperation with the woman finally peeked through. Charles caught her eye and waved his understanding. He saw Cecily draw in a deep breath and get her thinly veiled indignation under control. “Fine.” Cecily consulted the computer in front of her. “How about Wednesday morning at nine o’clock?”
The woman gave a disgusted moan, but nodded, “Very well. I suppose it’s not an emergency. Please tell Dr. Hansen I’ll be here at nine sharp and I expect him here, too.” With a nod and a sniff of disdain, Mrs. Bertha Gold turned and toddled out the door.
Cecily eyed him from behind the desk. “You’re too nice to people like that.”
Charles sighed. “I can’t do anything about Mrs. Gold and her attitude. I suppose until it’s proven without a shadow of a doubt that I didn’t have anything to do with Olivia’s death, I’m just going to have to deal with that kind of stuff.” He shrugged. “I’m getting used to it.”
But he wasn’t. The brave face he showed to the world hid his hurt and shame that people he thought were friends would believe him capable of such a thing. And truth be known, the longer this dragged out, the harder it was to keep the faith that the real murderer would be found.
Faith. Sometimes God seemed so far away. But, if Charles were honest, it was because he’d pushed Him away. The initial devastation he’d felt with Kathleen’s abandonment had morphed into an anger that God hadn’t stopped her from leaving. Now that Charles had healed from the hurt of his divorce, he wondered why it was harder to forgive God than it had been to forgive Kathleen.
Because Kathleen was human. She was supposed to make mistakes.
But God was perfect. And He could have stopped it all from happening. Just like He could reveal Olivia’s murderer and end all the anguish Charles was now going through.
“Charles? You okay?”
He jerked, realizing he’d been standing there, staring at the door Mrs. Gold had exited. “Yes, sorry. I’ll be in my office working on the files. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
Cecily shook her head and muttered under her breath something about being innocent until proven guilty. Charles appreciated the woman’s loyalty, but couldn’t help wondering if he wouldn’t feel the same way if the shoe were on the other foot. Would he be so judgmental if it had happened to one of his friends? He hoped not.
Back in his office, Charles picked up the picture of his children. Aaron and Brianne were his world. Thank goodness they weren’t old enough to understand what was going on with their father.
His cell phone buzzed, interrupting his depressing train of thought.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Owen.”
“What’s up?”
“Just wanted to see if we were still on for a fishing trip sometime soon. I think we all need a break.”
Charles shuddered. He didn’t want Owen taking a break. He wanted to know who had killed Olivia. Forcing some levity into his voice, he said, “Sure.” But he couldn’t help asking, “Anything on the case?” No need to specify which one.
When Olivia had been found dead and he’d first been questioned, he’d been sure that the case would be wrapped up quickly and life would return to normal.
But it seemed like Olivia’s murderer had been careful and clever.
Owen’s heavy sigh didn’t lift his spirits. “No. But we’re working on it basically day and night. You know that. I called the lab ten minutes ago, pushing them to get us those DNA results. I feel certain that’s the key in clearing you. Unfortunately, they’re backlogged and we’re waiting our turn in line. But they promised us no more than a week. A week, Charles, and you’ll be cleared, all right? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, we’re going to get the creep who did this.”
The Black Sheep's Redemption Page 8
