by Rita Herron
“Mother, that’s enough!” Eli yelled.
“Don’t you talk to me that way, Eli Jones,” Alma snapped. “I’m your mother!”
The air in the room grew hot and heavy. Veronica tugged at the neckline of her blouse, unable to breathe. Darkness descended around her, and a haze covered the room, blocking out all the faces. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the anger and fury as the people in the room fought and cursed.
But she still heard their voices. The ugly names. The people talking about her as if she wasn’t there, blaming her, telling her she wasn’t a part of the family, arguing about her. Then, in her mind she saw the distant image of a man’s face, etched with grief and anger. The man stretched his arms toward her, but his face was distorted, his hair hardly visible in the dim light. Then music began to play “Somewhere over the Rainbow,” and the face moved closer, his eyes a gray mist in the glow of the bedroom lamp.
It was Eli.
Her mother screamed, her father cried out in agony, Eli called her name. Blood dripped down her mother’s face and arms and collected in a pool on the floor.
“No!” Veronica screamed. She wrenched herself free from the memory and stared at the people around her. Apparently her outburst had silenced them all, because they hushed and stared at her, shocked at her emotional display.
“Veronica?” Nathan reached for her, but she pulled away and ran toward the door.
“Veronica, wait!” Nathan called.
Her feet pounded the concrete steps, and she flew across the grass, panting and heaving for air. She had to escape. She had to get away from Eli.
Suddenly someone’s arms caught her, jerking her to a stop. Thinking it was Eli, she struggled against him.
“Stop running.”
She struggled, but the person’s arms tightened.
“Veronica, it’s me, Nathan. Stop fighting me.”
His calm, soothing voice penetrated her panic, and she fell limp in his arms. “Let’s get in the car. Then we’ll talk.”
Veronica sensed the others watching. She heard Eli’s concerned voice as he asked Nathan about her. Nathan promised he’d call him later, then he climbed in and started the car. His breathing sounded erratic and she noticed a scratch on his face. Had she done that?
“Are you okay?” he asked, once he’d pulled away from the house.
Veronica nodded.
“You want to tell me what happened in there?”
Her jaw clenched, she twisted her fingers in her lap. She was shaking all over.
“Sweetheart, come on, I’m trying to help you. Trust me.”
Veronica took a deep breath. She’d come there to find out who her parents’ killer was, and now she thought she knew. Only it was too hard to believe. She didn’t want to believe it.
“You remembered something, didn’t you?” Nathan’s warm hand covered hers, and he massaged her fingers. “Take your time and tell me about it.”
Veronica waited until the house disappeared from sight. Finally she closed her eyes, hoping the image would disappear, too. She had to be wrong. But the vivid image of Eli remained.
“Tell me what you saw,” Nathan prodded.
“Eli.” Veronica almost choked on the word.
“What do you mean, Eli?”
“He was there. At my parents’ house the night they died.” She stifled a sob. “I heard them arguing. My mother screaming. My dad. The blood.” Veronica covered her face with her hands, and Nathan pulled her to him. She was trembling so hard she felt like she was going to come apart in a million ragged pieces.
“Veronica, Eli was at your house a lot since he was friends with your parents. Could you possibly have things mixed up? Could he have been there another night and you’re confusing the nights?”
Veronica shook her head. “I know what I saw. It was the vision in my dreams. Only this time I saw his face.”
Nathan stroked her back. “Honey, I have a hard time believing Eli would have killed your parents. He has an impeccable reputation, was a great senator. Besides, he wasn’t in town that night.”
Veronica tried to listen to logic. “But I know what I saw,” she said quietly. “The image was fuzzy, but I’m certain Eli was there. Maybe you should bring him in for questioning.”
Nathan’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I can’t bring Eli in without some proof. He’s a powerful and important man. And don’t forget, he helped take care of you. I’d have to have some strong evidence for anyone to believe him guilty of wrongdoing.”
Nathan didn’t believe her. Veronica’s heart squeezed.
“Maybe he showed up after the murder. I still think it’s Gerald or Alma Jones,” Nathan continued. “Did you notice the animosity radiating from that woman?”
Veronica nodded. “From his wife, too.”
“And I managed to get Gerald and Alma Jones’s fingerprints,” Nathan said with a smile. “I’m going to drop them off at the lab. Alma is a diabetic and Gerald owns part of a pharmaceutical company. Either one had access to a syringe.”
“Yes, but Mrs. Jones isn’t that strong. I don’t think she could have attacked me.”
“Maybe not,” Nathan said. “But Gerald could have.” Nathan rounded the curve and glanced in the rearview mirror for the first time. He’d been so worried about Veronica, then so caught up in the case he hadn’t realized the dark car was on his tail.
“Hold on. I think we’re being followed.”
She glanced back. “The black car again. Who is it?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Veronica cringed. Nathan swerved and sped up, turned onto a side road and screeched the car to a stop, then spun it around in the other direction. He was headed back down the small road when the dark car came barreling around the curve. Nathan raced toward it, but the car swerved to the right. Then it passed them at rip-roaring speed and a gunshot exploded through the windshield. Veronica screamed. Nathan winced and grabbed his shoulder as a bullet pierced the area right above his heart.
HELL. HE’D BEEN HIT. Nathan moaned and tried to steer the car, but the blood seeped from his chest, and his vision blurred. The gun fired again, and he floored the car and sped down the road and onto the main highway. Feeling dizzy, he blinked and reached for Veronica. She had her hand pressed to his chest, trying to stop the bleeding, but her hand was soaked. She ripped off the end of her skirt and pressed it to his chest. He felt weak and light-headed.
“Pull over. I’ll drive,” Veronica said, taking control. Her face looked white as milk.
“Is the car still behind us?”
“No, it went the other way,” Veronica said.
He stopped the car and crawled to the passenger side. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was Veronica planting a heavenly kiss on his mouth.
SHE PEELED into the hospital parking lot and jumped out at the emergency room exit. “He’s been shot, someone help me!” Nurses and doctors rushed to her aid. They eased Nathan onto a stretcher and wheeled him into the examination room, firmly pushing Veronica aside.
Please let him live. Veronica prayed the same prayer over and over while she paced the faded floor of the waiting room. The odor of antiseptic and alcohol permeated her nostrils, and she willed herself not to be sick. At least until she found out if Nathan would be all right. And if he wasn’t…she closed her eyes, driving away the awful images of his blood-soaked clothes. He had to be okay…he had to.
“Excuse me, miss? Did you bring Detective Dawson in?”
Veronica swirled around to see a dark-haired young doctor who looked as if he’d just finished med school. She forced her voice to work. “Yes, how is he?”
“I’m Dr. Byrne. We’re taking the detective to surgery to remove the bullet.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Veronica asked. Her heart was pounding so hard the blood roared in her ears. She leaned against the dingy wall for support.
“He should be. The bullet missed his heart, but we need
to remove it. I’ll let you know when the procedure’s over.”
A nurse approached her. “We’re required to report all gunshot wounds. Is there someone you want me to call?”
Veronica thought about the car that had been following them and wanted to kick herself for not getting the license plate number. She’d been too frightened to even think about it.
“Yes, Lieutenant Stevens.”
The nurse smiled sympathetically. “I’ll phone him right away.” She handed Veronica a foam cup. “Go in the lounge and pour yourself a cup of coffee. It’s not much better than the machine’s but it’ll take the edge off.”
Veronica tried to sip the dark, rich coffee, but it tasted bitter to her mouth. The cup warmed her hands, though, and gave her something to hold on to while she sat and stared at the lines on the floor. Lieutenant Stevens rushed in several long minutes later and went straight to the nurses’ station. “Where is Dawson? How bad is he hurt?”
The nurse explained his condition. Veronica glared at the man. When she’d first gone to him complaining of the threats to her life, he’d laughed her right out of his office. She’d wanted him to believe her, but not at Nathan’s expense.
Now she wanted him to find the person who had hurt Nathan. “Lieutenant Stevens, I can explain.” To her surprise, he listened patiently while she rambled through her story.
“And you weren’t hit?” he asked, glancing down at her blood-covered shirt and torn skirt.
“No. I think the bullet was meant for me, but it missed.” Veronica bit her lip to hold back the tears burning her eyes. The lieutenant shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself, Ms. Miller,” he said. “Dawson’s a cop. A cop puts his life on the line every day. It’s his job.” Exactly what Nathan had told her before.
His words gave no comfort. Neither did they assuage her conscience. Nathan was more than a cop. He was the man she loved. Stevens ordered a team to check her car for the other bullet, then paced the waiting room. Two hours and three cups of cold stale coffee later, the young doctor finally returned. Veronica’s fingers felt raw from wringing them together.
“He’s lost some blood and he’s weak, but he’s going to make it,” the doctor said.
Veronica said a silent prayer of thanks, then begged the nurse to let her in the recovery room to see Nathan.
He was pale and so still that tears filled her eyes. Nathan had been hurt because of her—the very thing she’d wanted to avoid. She truly was a curse to the people she loved. Moving slowly, she tiptoed to his bedside and held his limp hand in hers, stroking the lines of his fingers. She pressed his hand to her cheek and kissed his palm, her heart breaking at the sight of the bandage across his bare chest and shoulder. The nurses had shaved off part of his sandy blond chest hair, and a dark bruise showed beneath the edges of the bandage.
She glanced down at her own blood-soaked clothes, then closed her eyes and whispered another prayer. But as she prayed, Nathan’s image became blurred, and instead of his handsome face, she saw her parents lying on the floor of her old house, their blood covering her as she prayed for them not to die. The image was so strong she gasped for air and clutched Nathan’s hand more tightly. The shadow hovered above her—Eli’s face. He was upset, calling her name, and her parents were yelling at him. They were all screaming and fighting. Then he was gone.
Pieces of the night jumbled in her mind. Her parents lay on the floor, covered in blood, the knife sticking out of her father’s chest. She heard her own scream, saw herself pull out the knife, saw another shadow hovering in the corner. Sirens wailed, and then she was crying and rocking herself back and forth over and over, begging her parents not to leave her.
“Ms. Miller?”
Veronica started when a hand touched her shoulder. She glanced up, breaking herself out of her memories. “I need to check his vitals now,” an elderly nurse said gently.
Veronica nodded and kissed Nathan’s hand, then slowly laid it down beside him. She’d remembered more of that night. She needed to remember the rest. Eli had been there, but was the other shadow Eli returning or someone else? She had to know.
“He’s going to be fine,” the nurse whispered, giving her a pat on the back.
“Thank you,” Veronica said. She leaned over and kissed Nathan on the cheek. “I love you.” Then she slipped out the door. He had almost died because of her. He’d jeopardized his career and his life for her. She’d blamed herself for her parents’ deaths all her life. Anger and rage stormed inside her. She wouldn’t let him take a bullet for her for nothing.
She was going back to her old house and see if she could remember the rest of the story. His love and support had gotten her this far. She could do the rest on her own. Then she could say goodbye to her past and Nathan. And he would be safe.
NATHAN STRUGGLED to open his eyes, but they felt as if they’d been pressed down by boulders. And the rest of his body felt worse. What the hell had happened?
Then he remembered. The fight at Eli’s. Veronica’s memory. The car following them. The bullet. He groaned and tried to raise his arm, but one side was taped with a bandage, the other secured with an IV. Damn. He couldn’t move. Then the white walls started closing in on him.
He couldn’t just lie here. Not when Veronica was in danger. Where was she, anyway?
He made a feeble attempt to call for help, but his words came out garbled, and his eyes were so heavy he couldn’t keep them open. Medication. He must still be on the anesthetic. God, he needed to wake up and find Veronica. He flailed his arms and legs, but nothing happened and he realized the drugs were so strong he couldn’t fight their effects. A heaviness weighted him down as his eyes drifted shut. His mind screamed for him to get help, to tell someone to watch out for Veronica, but the rest of his body wouldn’t cooperate. He fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed that she was running from someone and calling his name. But he couldn’t find her. And he knew if he didn’t hurry, it would be too late.
THE POLICE WERE FINISHED with her car, so Veronica slid inside, painfully aware of the bullet hole in the windshield. She drove slowly, checking behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed. So far, so good.
As she drove down the long country road, dread mushroomed inside her. She wanted this to be over, but she realized the answers she found would not be pleasant. Before she went into the house, she paused and grabbed a flashlight and Nathan’s gun from the glove compartment. She stashed them in her purse and walked up the steps. The minute she opened the door, she knew tonight was going to be different.
It was already after midnight, and darkness enveloped the house, so she switched on the flashlight. She almost stumbled over a loose board on the porch as she entered the den. She shone the light around the room and saw the same sparse, dusty furnishings, then proceeded to the bedroom, where it had all happened.
Snatches of memories flashed through her mind—the music, “Somewhere over the Rainbow,” a woman’s soft soprano singing a lullaby, her father’s deep rich voice calling her name. The floor creaked behind her and she turned to look out the window. An opossum skittered across the porch. She passed her room and stopped, appalled as she noticed the bedcovers and curtains had been demolished. Who hated her enough to do such a thing?
She forged ahead, intent on remembering the past no matter what the costs, and knelt beside the place on the floor where her parents had died. Then she heard the creaking of boards again and she smelled a strange smell, something like gardenias. She closed her eyes and remembered it was her mother’s favorite perfume. The curtains fluttered and a cool breeze filtered in through the broken window. The music in her mind suddenly stopped, and a chill swept through the air, the moonlight outside fading as a shadow formed behind Veronica in the doorway. Was it real or a shadow from her memory?
She slowly turned and squinted in the heavy darkness. An outline was framed in the doorway, silhouetted by faint ripples of moonlight so the features looked stark. An image of Eli came to her mind and the a
rgument at his house, then another fight he’d had with her parents the night they’d died. Horrible angry voices, shouting, screaming, her mother crying. Her head pounded with the sounds. Then she saw Eli’s back as he ran out the door.
“It was you,” Veronica said as she looked into the doorway and recognized the shadow, the one from her nightmare. Except this time it was real.
NATHAN PUSHED the nurse away and bellowed for her to remove his IV. Eli rushed in. “Where’s Veronica? Was she hurt? I came as soon as I heard.”
Nathan saw the worry lines on Eli’s face. Veronica had suspected Eli, but he still couldn’t believe her godfather would hurt her. “I don’t know where Veronica is,” Nathan snapped. “But if these nurses would let me out of here, I’d find her.”
“You’ve just had surgery, young man. You’re not going anywhere.” A heavyset nurse folded her arms and glared at him.
Nathan snarled. “I’m a detective, and the woman I love is in danger.”
“You’re in love with Veronica?” Eli asked.
“Of course I am,” he yelled. “Now tell these people to let me out of here. I have to save Veronica.”
“What do you mean?” Eli asked, his eyebrows drawn upward.
“I mean someone tried to kill us after we left your house. And they’re after Veronica.”
Eli dropped his face in his hands. “Why?”
“I have an idea,” Nathan said, trying to control his impatience. “But I need to find her. And we need to do it fast.”
Eli motioned to the nurse. “Why don’t you have one of the doctors give his officer in command a call?”
The nurse nodded and left. “If you help me, I’ll fill you in on the way.” Nathan yanked out the IV, wincing in pain as Eli helped him up. “Get me some damn clothes.”
“This may be a mistake,” Eli said.
“No way,” Nathan said. “You don’t want Veronica to be hurt, do you?”
“No.” Eli’s voice broke. He hurried out and returned seconds later with a surgical scrub suit.
Nathan dressed, then Eli slid his arm under Nathan to give support and opened the door. When they were in the car, Eli paused. “Dawson, you said you love Veronica.”
