Touched by Lightning [Dreams of You] (Romantic Suspense)

by Tina Wainscott

  He grabbed his keys off the table and started to turn toward the door when the note caught his eye. A heaviness settled in his chest as he pulled it from beneath one of Nikki’s pictures. When he read the note, the heaviness crushed him. She was gone. That’s why she’d looked so sad when she met him for lunch. He slammed his fist on the table, sending the frame popping up in the air. He jumped into his car and headed back to the city where he had first found Nikki.

  Adrian didn’t know why, but he had a bad feeling about this whole situation. Logically, she should be as safe as she had always been. That didn’t exactly comfort him. Nothing about his and Nikki’s relationship had been logical.

  CHAPTER 15

  Adrian had played his part perfectly, if unwittingly. And he’d buried himself. Sometimes people got in the way, like Blossom Madsen that Sunday afternoon three years ago. After all this time, he had Nikki within his grasp again. He wouldn’t let her get away.

  He cracked his knuckles while he waited for her to come out of the house, then tailed her as she drove out of the city. If she had noticed him following, she’d given no indication of it. Finally, she pulled into an alcove between shopping centers and turned off the van.

  Finding Nikki had been an unexpected surprise. He’d hardly had time to pull something together. No mistakes this time. He guessed that she’d been hiding out among the homeless. Probably thought she was clever. He’d hardly recognized her, what with all that drab clothing and her hair tucked beneath that god-awful hooded coat. But, son of a cocked gun, it was her.

  The black clouds had long ago obliterated the sun, making it look like midnight instead of five. The sky shuddered with light and sound before the sudden onslaught of rain dumped from the heavens. Forty-five minutes since Nikki had parked. With the pouring rain, she wouldn’t be going anywhere. Good. He had some things to take care of, and he couldn’t afford to lose her in the meantime.

  An hour later he returned, breathing a sigh of relief to find the van still in place. The thumping of his heartbeat, loud and steady in his ears, annoyed the hell out of him. Her being in the van would certainly pose a challenge, but the storm would keep any potential witnesses from straying by, as well as cover any noise he made.

  Holding the twenty-three pound pipe inside his black raincoat, he walked across the street and around the back of the shopping center. A couple of bums huddled in a store’s entrance, but he knew they’d never recognize some guy hunkered down in the rain.

  He peered cautiously around the corner where the van would be faced. The driver’s area looked dark. Only a dim light showed through the black curtain that separated the front from the body of the van. He could hear the faint sound of music but nothing else. Thunder ripped the sky apart, but he was too focused to hardly notice. The lightning bothered him only because it showcased his presence for all to see.

  He slid the metal bar beneath the hood latch, listening for the telltale click indicating he’d popped it. Just as he heard it, another sound sent him to his knees in front of the van. The sound of the side door sliding open. Why the heck was she going out in this weather? It wasn’t safe. He grinned at the irony of that thought, but waited for her to walk around and find him hunched there. Then he’d have to kill her face to face, and he didn’t want to watch her die. He much preferred to miss the bloodshed and have death happen without witnessing it.

  He heard the door slam shut, then footsteps splashing through the puddles. Nikki dashed across the street to the diner, her coat pulled tight around her. The torrent of rain obliterated her before she even reached the sidewalk.

  This little task had just gotten much easier. He could do this from the inside, where it would be right next to the driver. After all, he didn’t want her to suffer. Nikki would be blown to bits before even realizing what happened. He broke into the van, stuffed the pipe inside the console between the two front seats, and hooked it up to the ignition.

  He whistled as he slipped through the rain back to his car, then headed toward West Palm Beach. He congratulated himself. Yes, it was a bit early, but he felt confident. This time everything was all worked out, most importantly with the one thing he’d left out last time: a patsy.

  The rain had been pounding for two hours now. Nikki sat in a small diner on the north end of town, sipping her third cup of coffee, absently missing the hazelnut brew Maryanna had made for her family every morning. Before the explosion. She had finally dried off, but the chill hadn’t left her heart yet. Maybe it never would.

  Rain always made her feel isolated, the ratatat on the steel roof closing her off from the world. But storms like this scared her. She always pictured her van tumbling with the river of rain, filling up with water. Fire was her first fear, but drowning drew a close second. Nikki shivered at the thought. This place would do fine, with its bright lights and activity, until the rain stopped. It had to stop sometime.

  The thought pushed into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to keep it away. She could be in Adrian’s arms right now, cuddled against that solid chest of his. Safe and warm. Nikki closed her eyes, willing the impending tears away. By now he had read her note. Would he just give up on her and go home? Or would he look for her? She hadn’t gone as far away as she’d planned because of the impending storm. She doubted that Adrian would be driving around in this weather. When the rain stopped, Nikki would scoot out of there and disappear.

  A flash of red hair caught Nikki’s eye as it tore past the front window. Nikki ran to the door and opened it, a gust of wind pulling her hood back and whipping her hair free.

  “Maudine!” she screamed into the wind, seeing her friend dash away.

  The woman stopped, the relief in her eyes evident as she saw Nikki. “They’re chasing me!”

  “Who?”

  “The police! They think I was hooking.” Maudine clawed at Nikki’s sweater. “I can’t go back to jail. Last time I went there, they did terrible things to me.”

  Nikki saw the raw fear in her eyes. “Okay, come inside with me. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

  Maudine’s red hair was plastered to her head, and her whole body shook. As Nikki ushered her inside the diner, she saw a police cruiser approaching. Just as they reached the table, a short, balding man walked up to them, a dishrag in his hands. He pointed at Maudine.

  “I want you out of here.”

  Nikki tried to intercede. “Why? She hasn’t done anything.”

  “Only because she hasn’t been in here long enough. Last time, she took food off people’s plates and scrounged the leftovers before the busboy could clear the tables. I want her out of here.”

  Maudine looked like a child as she appealed with her large eyes. “Those people were wasting that food. It’s a shame to waste food when some of us need it.”

  Nikki glanced at the front window. The police car drove slowly by. Maudine’s body went rigid.

  “Can’t she stay if I keep her at our table?”

  “No. Get her out of here, or I’ll kick you both out.”

  Nikki tossed a few dollars on her table, grabbed her coat and walked outside with her friend in tow. “I know how to help you, Maudine.”

  Adrian combed the city, though he figured she wouldn’t be there. Still, Nikki was good at being where you least expected her to be, so he searched the familiar areas before branching out in a grid-like system. If he had to explore the whole damn east coast, or all of Florida, he’d do it. The feeling of doom grew inside him just as ominous as the thunderhead that rocked the sky. The sense of urgency inside him built, but he had to believe Nikki was safe, wherever she was.

  He knew she faced storms like this all the time, that she was used to being on her own, but he grabbed at a small thread of hope that maybe she had returned to the house, or at least called. First he dialed the number and left a message on the answering machine.

  “Nikki, if you’re there, pick up the phone.” He waited but no one answered.

  The rain was making the search a lot harder.
He could be driving right past the van and not see it. He drove down alleys and behind buildings, especially abandoned ones, to make sure.

  The rain was finally lessening, making the all night drive more feasible. A brightly lit diner on the left beckoned him with thoughts of hot coffee, and he pulled over to get a cup to go. The cool air inside the diner raised goose bumps on his wet skin. A couple of minutes later, coffee in hand, he headed out the door. The lower level of gray clouds scudded beneath the black above it.

  The flash of brake lights across the street caught his eye. A beige van was parked in an alley. His heart jumped, but he was already running across the street, his cup of coffee dropping into the gutter.

  The sound of an engine starting made him run faster, but in that split second, there was another sound: an explosion. The van rocked. A fireball shattered the windows and split the metal of the roof before spewing to the sky. He saw all this in an instant, not even realizing that he’d been blown backward by the force. He struggled to get up. A sharp pain across his forehead forced him back down again. Get to Nikki, his mind uttered. Pain throbbed through his head, pushing him further and further into the blackness that overtook him. He heard sirens. The roar of flames. Sirens getting louder. Before darkness took him, he saw what the van had looked like. Especially the driver’s side. Gutted. Flames pouring out. No one could have survived that.

  God, please let her be alive. Those were Adrian’s first thoughts as he rose from a black, dreamless sleep to consciousness. Had he been hit by lightning again, and lived through the memory of the explosion? Could he hope for that much?

  He was in the hospital. The antiseptic smells and the pinch of an IV in the back of his hand told him that much. He fought to open his eyes, but the light closed with the force of an iron box. He tried again, desperate to come fully awake. Someone in the room closed the blinds. He opened his eyes again, expecting to see a nurse. The man in a tan suit and tie didn’t look like a nurse.

  “Adrian Wilde?”

  He nodded slowly, feeling as though his head weighed seventy pounds. The movement brought back the throbbing ache that penetrated every nook and cranny in his brain. He ran his fingers across his forehead, where it was most tender, encountering a thick bandage.

  “I’m Detective Ted Sloan, Palm Beach County Police. I’m the investigating officer for the explosion down in West Palm Beach day before yesterday. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you’re up to it.”

  Then it had been real, Adrian thought, that last bit of hope sliding through his fingers. Hell, he’d been in the hospital for more than a day.

  “Nikki?” he asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Is she all right?”

  Detective Sloan’s gray eyes narrowed. “She was killed in the explosion.”

  “No,” Adrian groaned, closing his eyes and dropping his head back on the pillow. Nikki, dead. It couldn’t be. Not when he was on the verge of freeing her. Not when he loved her. His heart burst from the pressure inside it. But no, wait. Why had he been having nightmares about her drowning when she’d died in a fire? “You’re sure?”

  “Sure enough.”

  Adrian's agony had only a second to take hold when Sloan spoke again in a tone lacking sympathy.

  “Your plan didn’t work completely, though, Mr. Wilde. You’re a suspect in her murder.”

  His senses sharpened through the haze. “Pardon?”

  “Several people came forward when the news hit and gave statements that you were seeking Nicole Madsen out.”

  Reality was sinking in. Nikki was dead. He pushed away the feelings that threatened to bombard him at that thought. The police thought he’d killed her. No, it couldn’t be possible.

  Adrian sat up again, this time fighting the dizziness. “I didn’t kill her. I love her.” The words came out, unbidden.

  “Loved her? Maybe you were obsessed with her, Mr. Wilde. Was that it? We found photos of her all over your kitchen table. Care to explain that? She spurned you, and you decided to get even?”

  Adrian almost laughed. Yeah, he had been obsessed with her. “She didn’t spurn me.”

  “According to a letter we found in the home, she left.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, but it wasn’t like that. What would I gain by killing her?”

  “We haven’t figured out yet, but we will, Mr. Wilde. Or you could make it easier on yourself and tell me. At this very moment, I’ve got people searching the house you were renting in Palm Beach.”

  “I’m not admitting to anything I didn’t do. Shouldn’t you be looking into the first bombing? Surely you’ve made the connection.”

  “I don’t think there is a connection, except that’s where you got the idea from. Not very original, Wilde. It’s the coward’s weapon.”

  “I’ve never been a coward, Sloan. Nor a murderer. But I have an idea of who did kill her.” His head pounded as he spoke, but he continued. “Devlin Madsen. He’ll inherit Nikki’s half of the inheritance. Jack Barton is his business partner in LandCorp, and they both desperately want to bail out of a bad investment. You’ve talked to them, I presume?”

  “I have. The brother had no idea where his sister’s been all these years. And he has an airtight alibi.” The detective jotted down something in his note pad. “We had a talk with Barton as well, though he has no clear motive for killing her. But funny thing is, they said you approached them about loaning them the money for the project, for some uncle. You gave them a false name.”

  Adrian felt a chill wash over him. He had set himself up to take the fall, and Jack and Devlin had pushed him over the edge. How could he tell the police the whole story? They’d never believe him.

  “Why don’t you just confess? It’ll make the whole process a lot easier on you, save the taxpayers money.”

  “I didn’t kill her,” he said through clenched teeth. He needed time alone to sort this all out.

  Sloan looked at his notes. “The story from several of the witnesses is that you were looking for Miss Madsen. Ulyssis Garcia, David Watts, and a few others. Seems that you dressed like a homeless person to find her. Is this true?”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “Not yet. But I’m an optimistic kind of guy.” Sloan looked smug sitting there with one leg crossed over the other, comfortable as could be. He watched Adrian carefully as he spoke. “Here’s what I think happened. You came down here a few years back and met Nikki, a beautiful young heiress. Maybe things got hot, but you had to go home. Or maybe she lost interest. But you kept thinking about her, all that money, so you came back down. It could have been the money that obsessed you, or the woman herself, but you were determined to find her. You figured out where she was hiding, won her trust—enough to get her in your bed.”

  Adrian lunged forward, but Sloan lifted his suit jacket enough to reveal his gun. The last thing Adrian needed was to get shot.

  “You obviously won the girl’s heart, as you intended.” Sloan pulled out a folded note, turning Adrian’s stomach even more than his previous words had. Nikki’s note. “She fell in love with you. Everything was fine for while, or as fine as it could be in your bizarre situation. Then you met Jack Barton and Devlin Madsen. You saw a good deal in the making and wanted to be part of it. I haven’t yet figured out the charade of your uncle D’Aprile, but I’m sure I will.”

  Sloan shifted in his seat. “Maybe you figured you had Nikki in the palm of your hand, and if she married you, the money would soon be available to invest in this project.” Sloan held up the note. “But she figured it out, didn’t she? So she broke things off and left. But you weren’t going to let it go, so you hunted her down. You were probably pissed by then, or maybe you had it out with her. You got mad enough and planted the bomb. I’ll bet you didn’t plan on being there when it went off, did you?” Sloan nodded toward Adrian. “Nearly did yourself in, too. Sound about right?”

  “No, none of that is right. I’d never hurt her.” It looked bad, and Adrian knew it. People were
convicted on less. At the moment, though, he could scarcely think of himself. The emptiness he felt at Nikki’s death overwhelmed him. “You’re sure it was Nikki?” Who else would be in her van?

  Sloan shifted. “A female died in that explosion.” The next words shot through Adrian like the metal shrapnel had. “There wasn’t enough left of her to identify.” He let the words sink in before adding, “Strangely enough, we couldn’t even find any teeth. Ms. Madsen didn’t seem like the kind of person to let someone else drive her van. This was confirmed by the man the van is registered to: Ulyssis Garcia. He also identified a ring that was probably on the victim’s finger when the van exploded, as evidenced by the blood on it. The blood type is the same as Nicole Madsen’s, and what little we found seems to indicate it was her.”

  “Check out Jack Barton. He lied about his past.”

  “So did you, Mr. Wilde.” He smiled. “Mr. Santucci.”

  Adrian was a spider trapped in a web of his own making.

  Sloan said, “He had nothing to gain by killing Ms. Madsen.”

  “No, but Devlin did. With Nikki gone, he inherits the money they need to save this deal. That’s why I pretended to be an investor, to get a sense of how far he’d go. And I did. Devlin was desperate to make a success out of himself.”

  “But he has a solid alibi, unlike you.”

  “Then check out Jack’s alibi.”

  “Telling me how to do my job, Wilde?”

  Adrian heard the venom in the man’s voice. “What did you find out?”

  “He was home working on some numbers for a report he was going to give you in the morning.”

  “So he has no alibi.”

  “Not really, but he wasn’t seen with the victim, wasn’t hunting the victim down. The pipe bomb was triggered when Miss Madsen started the van. It had to be planted after she parked the van in the alley, roughly between four and the time it exploded. And you were in the area, obviously, when it did explode.”