by Rebecca Deel
“Is everything all right?”
Her soft voice soothed his agitated spirit, like a healing balm on wind-burned lips. “Nothing I can’t handle, Madison.” Nick turned and stared. The sun’s last rays touched her face and highlighted the burnished gold of her hair. He didn’t think she had ever looked more beautiful. He nudged her toward the safety of the house.
Her gaze searched his face. Nick kept his expression placid, but shifted his position to cocoon Madison between his body and the house.
“Are you sure?” Her voice betrayed uncertainty and suspicion.
He opened the door and pushed her inside. “You have my word.” He would handle whatever happened. He made a promise to protect Madison and he’d keep it—no matter what the cost.
Ethan slid out of his truck and walked to his waiting partner. “Run it down.”
“Keys in the ignition, scattered belongings, map. No wallet, identification or registration.” Rod motioned him around to the trunk. “Take a look at this.” He flipped on his flashlight and shined the beam into the dark interior.
Ice water poured through Ethan’s veins. He donned rubber gloves Rod handed him and pushed aside the dark cover. The black barrel gleamed in the artificial light. “You know what type of rifle this is?”
“Never seen one like that. Looks too high-powered for local hunters.”
He yanked off the gloves and shoved them in his pocket. “It’s a hunting rifle, but the prey targeted through the scope is of the two-legged variety. That’s a Marine M40A3 sniper rifle.”
Rod whistled. “Wonder if Bates is out here hunting game or people.”
“With a 1,000-yard kill range, doesn’t matter which one he’s hunting.” Ethan grabbed a flashlight from his vehicle. “If he’s any good as a marksman, his target’s dead.” He aimed the beam of light on the terrain near the car. “Run the prints and ballistics on the rifle. Let’s see if we get a hit. And I want a BOLO out on Bates within the hour.”
“I’ll take care of the BOLO, then have the car towed to the impound lot.”
Ethan scanned the area around the car in a grid pattern, his irritation growing. A sea of scuffed and overlapping shoe prints, hoof prints and three or four kinds of tire tread blurred any readable tracks.
“I’ll stop by the station and contact Knoxville PD before I return to the Cahill’s.” Ethan opened the door of his truck. “We might need the reports from Nick’s shooting.”
Madison covered her jaw-popping yawn with her hand. She needed to go home soon or she’d fall asleep on her mother’s couch. She caught Nick watching her, laughter dancing in his eyes. Guess she hadn’t managed to hide her exhaustion after all.
Megan rose and stretched. “I have to get up early and help J.J. print the Gazette tomorrow morning, Maddie. You ready to go?”
Before she could answer, Nick leaned close. “I have some new hymn arrangements to play for you. Can I take you home in a few minutes?”
How could any woman resist the temptation of dark, intense eyes and fingers of musical magic? Madison smiled at her sister. “Sorry, Meg, I’ll pass on your thrill ride. I just got a better offer.”
“Since you have a seat vacant in your car, would you mind dropping me off at my house?” Ruth picked up her purse. “I want to write before I slip off to bed.”
“Your life insurance policy better be up-to-date before you get in her car, Ruth.” Liz laughed as she rose from the love seat. “Meg’s known around the county for being kin to the roadrunner.”
“Spine-tingling danger gives me more adventures for my books.”
“What books?” Nick retrieved his guitar from beside the couch.
“Ethan’s aunt is our resident author,” Serena said. “She writes the Olivia Tutweiler murder mystery series.”
Madison grinned at the expression on Nick’s face. “You told my secret, sis. I convinced Nick I stood in line for hours at book signings all over the country to get autographed copies of Ruth Rollinowski’s murder mysteries for him.”
“I can’t believe you bought that story, Nick.” Serena uncurled her legs from the recliner and glanced at her watch. “I’ll help Mom clean the kitchen. Ethan should be back soon.”
Nick lifted his Simon Marty guitar from the black case. Though a beautiful instrument with its spruce top and highly figured Brazilian rosewood arched back, Madison had a feeling Nick could play on any type of guitar and create incredible music.
He scooted to the sectional’s edge and adjusted the guitar on his lap. “I’m scheduled to record another CD in Nashville in December. These hymn arrangements are for that project.” He smiled. “I’m still working out the kinks.”
His fingers moved over the nylon strings, coaxing new life into an old hymn. She relaxed against the cushions as Nick’s arrangement of “Be Thou My Vision” washed over her. He’d chosen one of her favorite hymns. When he finished, he played “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.”
He moved from one hymn to another, all of them hymns she loved. A late night phone conversation from about six months ago drifted through her thoughts. She smiled, content, the earlier fears gone. He’d weaseled a list of her favorite hymns and used it to plan his next recording. She may have to buy two copies when the hymn CD came out, one for The Bare Ewe, and one for home. Better make that three copies. The Jeep had a CD player, too.
What an amazing gift of his time and talent. She watched him play and wondered. Was Nick trying to tell her his feelings for her went deeper than friendship? Madison wished she could read him better. She didn’t want to lose his friendship over a misunderstanding.
In all those middle-of-the-night phone calls, cards and flowers, he never hinted at emotional involvement. She didn’t want to hurt him or mess up their friendship. She wasn’t even sure she was ready for a new relationship. She had to admit, though, if she were ready, he’d be her first choice.
She smiled when he lifted his head to gauge her reaction. “No kinks in those hymns.”
The kitchen door flew open and smacked against the wall. Before Madison could react, Nick dropped his guitar on the couch and leaped to stand in front of her, his gun drawn, ready.
The tall dark shape froze in the shadows at the edge of the living room. “Nick, it’s Ethan. There’s a storm blowing in; the wind caught the door.” A rumble of thunder sounded outside as if bearing testimony to his statement. His pulse pounding, Nick relaxed his stance and holstered his weapon.
Ethan moved into the circle of lamplight, his expression wary. “Have a permit for that?”
Nick pulled out his wallet and handed over his credit-card sized weapon permit.
“I knew it.” Madison smacked the couch cushion with her hand. “Something is going on. You lied to me, Nick.”
He swung around. “I evaded your question. I would never lie to you.”
“Ethan?” Serena stepped into the room. She looked from her fiancé to Nick. “What’s wrong?”
“Where are your parents, honey?”
“Mom’s helping Dad pack. He’s attending a Tennessee Bankers Association conference in Nashville tomorrow. Why?”
“Get them.” He glanced at the permit and handed it to Nick with a nod.
Nick reseated himself beside Madison. He could almost see the anger rolling off her rigid body in waves. He sighed. Great. Regaining her trust would involve riding down a long, hard road. He knew better than anyone how Madison hated being kept in the dark.
The Cahills rushed downstairs. “Ethan, what’s going on?” Liz tightened her grip on her husband’s hand.
“Please, sit down, Mrs. Cahill.” Ethan motioned them toward the couch beside Nick. “I wanted to make you aware of a possible threat to Madison.”
Serena stood beside Madison, her hand resting on her sister’s shoulder. “Quit worrying about diplomacy, Ethan. Spill it.”
“Rod checked an abandoned car outside of town at the Lawrence place.” Ethan’s attention focused on Madison. “It belongs to Scott Bates.”
&nb
sp; Nick felt Madison jerk. He slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and pressed his warm fingers over her icy ones.
“Have you arrested him?” Aaron scooted to the edge of the cushion.
Ethan shook his head. “I don’t have any reason to arrest him at this time, sir. There are no warrants on him and, as far as we know, he’s done nothing wrong.”
“But he killed Luke,” Liz said.
“There’s no proof of that, Mrs. Cahill,” Nick said. “I chased down leads for months but couldn’t find any solid evidence.” His gaze locked with Ethan’s. “You located him yet?”
“No.”
“Why do you think Madison’s in danger?” Aaron scanned his daughter’s face. “What does Bates have to do with her?”
Her father’s question surprised Nick. He studied the woman seated beside him, so pale the scar running down her cheek stood out in stark contrast. He squeezed her fingers. She lifted her head, misery clouding her blue eyes. Madison shook her head. His heart sank. She hadn’t told her family about the stalker.
“After his arrest, Bates’ wife divorced him and moved to California with the kids,” Ethan said. “The jury acquitted him, but his wife refused to see him. Bates blamed your son-in-law and Nick for breaking up his family. A few weeks before Luke was killed, someone began stalking Madison. Luke believed Bates retaliated against him by terrorizing your daughter.”
“Why didn’t you tell us, honey? Why didn’t you come home?” Liz peered around her husband at Madison. “We would have helped you.”
Madison’s laughter sounded brittle. “What more could you and Dad do? I was married to a cop. I felt safer with Luke than anywhere else without him.”
“Luke wanted her to go home while we tracked down leads,” Nick said. “Madison refused.” He and Luke tried to convince her of the wisdom of leaving for a few days, at least. Luke had worried about her safety and that of his son. Regret tore a hole in Nick’s gut. Maybe if he’d worked a little faster or dug deeper, Luke and the baby would still be alive.
“I wish you had told us, sweetheart,” Aaron said.
“Why scare you and Mom?” Madison withdrew her hand from Nick’s grasp. “After Luke died, the harassment stopped. I thought that part of my nightmare ended.”
“So that’s why Madison always had a guard at her hospital door.” Serena sat on the floor by her sister’s feet.
Nick nodded. Most nights, Madison had two guards, one at her door and one inside her room. The Cahills didn’t know how many hours he remained by her bedside after they returned to Madison’s apartment.
“Madison, until we locate Bates, you need to use extreme caution.” Ethan’s soft voice carried hints of steel. “Don’t go anywhere without telling someone. Keep a cell phone with you at all times, including inside the house in case phone lines are cut.”
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
Nick handed her his phone. “Take mine. I’ll get you one tomorrow.”
“If anything looks odd or makes you feel uneasy, call me. Trust your instincts,” Ethan said. “Don’t go anywhere alone.”
“I won’t have a problem with that one.” Madison gave him a faint smile. “My car isn’t running at the moment.”
Nick stiffened. “What’s wrong with it?” She hadn’t mentioned any car problems. Was that what she held back this afternoon or was there something else she hadn’t told him?
Madison shrugged. “Maybe a dead battery. Meg will check it tomorrow.”
Aaron Cahill rose. “I’ll go cancel my reservations.”
“No, Dad.” Madison’s cheeks flushed a dark pink. “You need to go to that conference, and you’ll only be gone a few days.” She slipped her arms around his waist. “Don’t worry. No one will get past Nick and Ethan.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Madison stared out the rain-streaked window into the blackness. A battle raged inside her. The cop’s widow warred with the knitting-shop owner who wanted to dive into the sand headfirst. She dreaded telling Ethan about the flowers, knowing she deserved the upcoming lecture from Otter Creek’s police chief. She nibbled on her lower lip. Finding Bates’ car ripped the decision from her hands.
Nick didn’t know about the delivery, either. Madison sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. He would be furious. Well, it’s not like she deliberately kept the flower delivery a secret. There’d been no chance to tell him without family or customers around, except outside by his car. She intended to tell him, then freaked because of the gun. She knew, however, that bit of logic wouldn’t leash his wrath.
Footsteps echoed behind her on the hardwood floor. Nick handed Madison a cup of hot tea. “By lunchtime tomorrow, everyone in town will know about Bates and have a picture of him in their hands.”
She sniffed the rising steam. Vanilla rooibos tea. Madison sipped the honey-sweetened liquid, enjoying the spreading warmth. The tea must be from Serena. She had tea for every occasion, including a chamomile-mint combination that her sister used to keep her stomach calm while she cooked. With Serena’s tendency to wilt at the sight of blood, no one dreamed she would be a personal chef.
The cup’s warmth seeped into her cold fingers. “Do you have to tell them about his connection to me?” Sympathetic looks and speculation would trail her like a puppy for months. “I feel like I’m putting dirty laundry out for public inspection.”
“It’s necessary, Madison.” The stubborn set of his jaw hinted at his determination. “If Ethan hands out Bates’ picture and tells people to be on the lookout, they might not give it a second thought. But this is a small town; they will protect one of their own.”
A lightning flash followed by window-rattling thunder made her cringe. With Bates in the area, she resigned herself to paranoia and a lot of knitting. She wouldn’t sleep much until Ethan arrested Bates or persuaded him to leave town.
Ethan walked into the living room. “I arranged for units to patrol past your house throughout the night.” He slid the phone into his pocket. “Will you be all right tonight, Madison? You could stay at Serena’s or Aunt Ruth’s.”
Ethan had no idea how much she wanted to give in and hide out with someone else. Listening to thunder roll, the air conditioner and refrigerator kick on and off, and the grandfather clock in her living room chime each hour of the night appealed as much as having chicken pox. Madison didn’t want Ruth or Serena involved. If she was too tired tomorrow, she’d lock the store and take a nap on her office floor. “I’ll be fine.”
She glanced at Nick before facing Ethan. “I need to give you something.”
She retrieved her purse from the kitchen and pulled out two sets of keys. Sorting through them, she wiggled a gold key off one of her key rings and handed it to Ethan.
“What’s this?” Ethan’s face remained impassive, but his gaze sharpened with suspicion.
“It’s the key to my shop.” Nick stared at her. She drew in a fortifying breath. “Someone sent me three dead roses. I left the box under the front counter.”
“What were you thinking!”
Madison opened her mouth to respond to the only complete statement she’d understood for the last 10 minutes, then clenched her jaw. How could she respond to that? Anything she said would make matters worse. Her face burned from Nick’s tirade, a strange mixture of English and Spanish. Her mutinous glare sent him off into another spate of mixed languages.
Madison risked a look at Ethan. Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe it. His mouth curved in a broad grin. He thought this was funny? She deserved the scolding, but didn’t find it that amusing. When she recognized a word from Nick, she jerked her attention back to his flushed face. Her own temper simmered. “I’m not stupid.”
He stopped mid-sentence to frown at her. “I didn’t call you stupid. I said your actions were stupid. Ethan might have arrested Bates by now, or at least been on his trail if he’d known about those flowers.”
Resentment, guilt and anger bubbled inside her. “Are you going to extract your
pound of flesh from my hide, too?” Madison asked Ethan.
Still grinning, he said, “My Spanish is a little rusty, but I think Nick said it all.” He pulled a notebook and pen from his back pocket. His expression sober, Ethan’s eyes still glittered with amusement. “When did the delivery arrive at your shop?”
“Before 10:00.”
“Did it include a written threat?”
Madison nodded, refusing to look at Nick. “The card had three words written on it. ‘You can’t run’.”
“On the off chance I can lift some usable prints from the box, who touched it?” Ethan glanced up from his notebook.
“Your aunt and I opened the box.” Madison finished the last of her tea.
“Somehow, I’m not surprised Aunt Ruth’s already sniffed out a story.”
Madison made a face. “Some story. She hoped for a romance novel and got a Dean Koontz thriller instead.” From the corner of her eye, she noticed Nick studying her heated face.
“A romance novel?”
She dropped her gaze to the empty cup and shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the embarrassing subject. Ethan never missed anything. Serena wouldn’t have a chance to throw a surprise party for his birthday or anything else. “She hoped to find out if the flowers came from a friend.”
“Who might send you flowers?”
Nick scowled and folded his arms across his chest.
“Josh, Dad and Nick.” Good thing her mother didn’t use a mirror decorating the room. She didn’t want to see the bright pink glow she suspected colored her face right now.
“No one else?”
Did Ethan have to focus a spotlight on her vanilla pudding personal life? Too bad her mother didn’t use rocks in her living room décor. Madison would love to find a boulder to crawl under right now or toss a few at the two glowering males flanking her. She shook her head.
