by Rita Herron
The look Nina exchanged with Hood made apprehension knot Slade’s belly. He’d insisted Nina be honest with him, but apparently she hadn’t shared everything.
“After Nina lost the baby, she did things like this. She bought a rag doll like this one, then claimed that someone stuck a knife in its heart and left it on her doorstep.”
Slade stood ramrod still, forcing himself not to react.
Hood continued, “She also said that she packed up the baby things and stored them in the attic, but then insisted she came home one night and found them scattered across her bedroom.”
“I didn’t scatter those baby things around,” Nina argued. “They were packed away in my closet.”
“That’s not what the psychiatrist reported,” William said, then turned back to Slade. “Nina also swore that someone put a CD of lullabies in her car and that sometimes she’d wake up at night and one would be playing but that she hadn’t started it.”
Nina started to speak, but Hood was on a roll and sneered down at her. “Oh, and did she tell you about the voices? She swears she hears her little girl singing to her at night. A Mary Poppins song, right, Nina?”
“Stop it!” Nina turned and ran from the condo, her sob echoing in the air behind her.
Slade didn’t know what to believe. But he didn’t like Hood and refused to let him bait him, so he gave him a steely look. “If I discover you had anything to do with your child’s disappearance or those things happening to Nina, you’ll pay.” He jabbed a finger at Hood’s chest. “And no amount of money will save you.”
NINA SLAMMED THE SUV door, and leaned her head into her hands. This couldn’t be happening again.
Yes, she heard the voices. Her daughter singing. But that was real.
Only everyone had made her doubt herself. And then all those creepy things had started happening…and she’d finally broken down.
Heat warmed her cheeks, and she suddenly felt nauseated. The sound of the driver’s door opening rent the air, and Slade’s masculine scent filled the close confines. This morning she’d felt as if she might have found an ally. Maybe even a friend.
But his anger permeated the tension-filled air as he climbed inside, and she found she’d lost that ally now.
God help her. She had to make him believe her. “Slade—”
He threw up a hand, silently ordering her not to speak. “I warned you yesterday when I took this case that you had to be honest with me.”
“But—”
“Stop, Nina,” Slade said in a harsh voice. “Don’t lie to me now or ever again.” He started the engine. “I’m going to talk to your father, and if I discover that you made up the story about this doll to get attention, we’re finished.”
Chapter Six
Hurt knifed through Nina, and she folded her arms and stared out the window as Slade drove toward Raleigh.
Her father would probably verify William’s story, paint her as a sad, demented freak just as William had.
She should be used to people’s reactions to her breakdown, but she didn’t know if she’d ever totally become immune.
She had not stabbed the doll and put it on her porch the night before, just as she hadn’t years ago. She also hadn’t strewn baby paraphernalia all over the house or put those CDs in her car and house.
Not that she remembered anyway…
No. She wasn’t going to doubt herself again. The doctors and therapists had almost convinced her that she was delusional with grief and stress and the effects of the antidepressants. But she wasn’t taking antidepressants now, and she had recovered from the breakdown.
Not to mention that the person tormenting her had driven her over the edge.
And now the taunts were starting all over…
Because she’d hired a private investigator.
Couldn’t Slade see that that meant someone didn’t want her learning the truth?
She opened her mouth to argue, but quickly clamped it shut. Hadn’t she learned from experience that protesting and trying to explain only made things worse? Made her sound more pathetic and desperate?
She hated to look pathetic in his eyes.
But how could she explain the voices she heard at night? The little girl’s voice singing to her? The sense that she was singing so Nina would come for her…
The words to the song, her soft soprano voice, was like an angel’s, the voice mesmerizing her just as the Pied Piper’s flute had enthralled the children.
The silence became painful during the drive, Slade’s withdrawal hurting more than she could imagine.
“Tell me about Mitzi,” he finally said quietly.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Mitzi had married William…and made a fool of her.
She licked her dry lips and sucked up her pride. If she wanted his help, and she did, she had to be honest. Pride be damned.
“She was Miss Popular in high school and came from a prestigious family. Her father worked abroad so she traveled and studied in prep schools all over the world before they moved back to Raleigh her senior year.”
“She seemed to be jealous of you,” Slade commented.
Nina gave a sardonic little laugh. “Jealous? Why would she be jealous of me?”
“Because you slept with William and had his baby.”
Nina chewed her bottom lip. “Jealousy isn’t the word I’d use. She hated me.”
Memories flooded her. “Mitzi was one of the it girls. Plastic, if you know what I mean. She served on every school committee, led the dance squad and was voted prom queen.” She sighed. “All the boys wanted Mitzi.”
“And Mitzi?”
“She wanted William.” Nina picked at a piece of lint on her shirt. It was so long ago, it shouldn’t still hurt. But she’d been young and foolish and naive.
“So you fought over him?”’
Nina laughed. “Not really. In fact, William never showed any interest in me until after Mitzi broke up with him.”
“She broke up with him?”
“They had some kind of stupid fight a week before prom, and so he asked me. I realize now he only wanted to get back at her.”
She felt his eyes boring into her face, but she couldn’t quite look at him. “It’s really such a cliché. Shy girl goes to prom with the big guy on campus. Gets pregnant. He goes back to the girl he really loves.”
Slade muttered an obscenity. “But Mitzi didn’t take the pregnancy so well?”
She laughed again. It was either laugh or cry. And she would never cry again over Mitzi or William Hood. “No. She spread the word at school that I was a whore. That I’d thrown myself at William and promised him sex if he’d take me to the prom.”
In spite of her resolve to overcome the bitterness, it resonated in her voice. “That’s when my father moved me out of town.”
Another dark, seething look passed over his face, settling into his deep brown eyes. Eyes that looked permanently angry at the world.
And now angry at her.
She stiffened her spine. She didn’t give a damn if he was angry with her or not. She’d hired him to do a job.
And she’d put up with anything he threw at her, even his ridicule, his pity, his disbelief, as long as he followed through.
Finding out the truth about Peyton was the only thing that mattered.
SLADE CONTEMPLATED WHAT he’d learned about Nina, William Hood and his wife, as they wound up the mile-long drive to Nina’s father’s estate.
Hood was a first-class bastard, his wife a major bitch.
But that didn’t necessarily mean they were lying, just that they’d been young, selfish, immature and relieved to be free of an unwanted child.
He tried to put himself in their places, but empathy wasn’t his style, not for spoiled rich kids whose priorities were majorly skewed.
And not when they were so callous toward an innocent baby.
Especially Hood, who’d shared the child’s blood.
Slade surveyed Nash’s house as he pulled in f
ront of the circular drive. Pristine gardens, sculpted bushes, ornately carved molding and granite lion statues adorned the front of the mansion, a massive white antebellum reproduction set in the midst of ancient oaks and a pond complete with ducks, as well as a massive outdoor patio obviously designed for entertaining.
“Your father must be doing quite well.”
“I suppose,” Nina said in an oddly distant voice.
“You don’t know?”
“He’s in banking, finance, stocks. He did well in the past, but I haven’t kept up with him in a few years.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t see each other regularly?”
A sad look flickered in her eyes. “No. As a matter of fact, we haven’t talked in…months.”
Slade’s opinion of the man slipped another notch. “Then he’s going to be surprised to see us,” he said.
Nina opened her car door and climbed out before he could reach it, but the shudder that coursed up her body confirmed that she dreaded this confrontation.
After the ordeal with Hood, he understood her anxiety.
He’d been rough on her in the car, as well. But dammit, he didn’t want to be made a fool of or go on a wild chase.
Instincts urged him to pursue the case anyway, to find out the truth for Nina once and for all.
Then he could walk away with a clear conscience.
NINA WILLED HERSELF to be strong as they walked up the immaculate drive to the steps to her father’s house. This place had never been her home.
Her home was the bungalow in Sanctuary where she’d hoped to raise her little girl.
Slade punched the doorbell, and she breathed deeply, desperately relying on the relaxation exercises she’d learned in therapy. But her palms were sweating, her heart racing, painful memories assaulting her like a knife digging into her heart.
Just like the knife in the doll’s chest…
The door opened, and Miss Mosey, the housekeeper her father had kept for the past twelve years, looked shocked as she spotted Nina.
“Miss Nash, we…had no idea you were coming.”
“I know, Miss Mosey,” Nina said softly. “Is Father here?”
The woman’s brows pinched together. Nina had once had affection for the older woman, and thought she might be an ally when she’d discovered her pregnancy, but her father’s money had obviously meant more to her than Nina’s feelings.
“I’m afraid he just left for the office. He had a luncheon at two and wanted to tie up some things there first.”
“Thanks,” Nina said. “We’ll stop there then.” She started to turn to leave, then paused and touched the woman’s hand. One of her therapists had suggested that forgiveness would help her heal. “It’s good to see you again. I hope you’re doing well.”
Tears suddenly glittered in the woman’s eyes, and she surprised Nina by pulling her into a hug. “I hope you are, too, dear. You and your father should make peace. He misses you so much.”
Nina’s pulse stuttered, and she hugged the woman back then turned to leave, unable to speak.
By rote, she recited directions to her father’s office, contemplating Miss Mosey’s comment as Slade crossed traffic into town. Did her father really miss her? If so, why hadn’t he tried to contact her?
Slade turned onto Glenwood Avenue, then located Nash’s office, a two-story brick building in the heart of the downtown area. He parked in the adjacent parking lot, and they walked to the entrance in silence. Her father hated to be interrupted during business, and Nina considered turning around, but Slade took her arm as if he sensed her anxiety and they went inside the building.
A pretty red-haired receptionist wearing a short, black pencil skirt greeted them from the counter where she was pouring coffee. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m Nina Nash. I’m here to see my father.”
“Oh, you’re Mr. Nash’s daughter,” the young woman said with a startled look. “I’m Rochelle. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Nina wondered faintly if her father was sleeping with the young woman but dismissed the thought. She didn’t really care about his personal life. He’d dated dozens of women since her mother’s death, but never committed to anyone.
Nina watched Rochelle disappear up the steps with the coffee, her long legs stretching beneath the skirt. A minute later, she returned with a wary smile. “He says to go on up.”
Slade placed his hand on the small of her back as she climbed the steps, but her stomach fluttered with nerves. Her father’s diplomas, photos of business acquaintances and newspaper clippings about his deals lined the walls.
The door stood ajar, and Nina squared her shoulders, determined not to crumble in front of her father no matter how he reacted to her visit.
SLADE IMMEDIATELY SIZED up Mr. Nash from the edge of his office doorway. A compulsive, anal workaholic. His office was neat and orderly, dominated by a walnut desk and credenza with a stocked bar at one end. Dark leather furniture created a seating arrangement around a fireplace near the bar. Books on finance and business filled a bookshelf on the opposite wall. And Nash was dressed in a three-piece suit that probably cost more than Slade’s monthly salary.
The man was lean and tall with light brown hair, an angular face and hands that had probably never touched dirt in his life. He looked cool and focused.
Except for the slight hint of emotion that flickered in his eyes the moment he saw Nina.
“Daddy?” Nina said softly.
“Nina.” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “This is a surprise.”
“I know,” she said, then glanced quickly at him. “Can we come in?”
“Of course.” Nash gestured toward the seating area, and Slade followed Nina over to the love seat, where she sat down.
“Mr. Nash, my name is Slade Blackburn. I’m with Guardian Angel Investigations.”
“I know who you are.” Disdain edged Nash’s voice, then he turned toward Nina and sympathy softened his expression. “Dr. Emery phoned to tell me you hired another private investigator, Nina.”
Nina clasped her trembling hands in her lap. “Yes. I assume you read the papers and know that GAI discovered that the hospital fire and explosion weren’t accidental.”
Nash gestured to the bar in offering, but Slade shook his head, declining his silent offer of a drink. Still, Nash removed a bottle of water from a small stainless-steel refrigerator and pushed it into Nina’s hands. “Yes, I heard the news. But I don’t see what that has to do with you.”
Nina stiffened but accepted the water bottle and set it on the table. “They uncovered new evidence, proving people were wrong about how the fire started. That means they might be able to find new evidence about Peyton.”
“God, Nina.” Nash scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You have your teaching degree, a job now. I thought you were finally moving on.”
“I’ve tried,” Nina said. “But if there’s a chance that the police missed something, I have to at least look into it.”
Nash angled his head toward Slade. “I don’t know how much my daughter shared with you, Mr. Blackburn, but she can’t go through this again. The baby didn’t survive, end of story. You’re wasting your time and giving her false hope if you continue.”
Slade chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’ve reviewed the details of the case, Mr. Nash. Considering the fact that the baby’s body was never recovered, and the chaos that night, there is a possibility that someone could have kidnapped the baby.” Slade removed the bagged doll and knife.
“And just last night someone left this for Nina. Doesn’t it seem coincidental to you that someone would leave this on her porch only hours after she reopened the investigation?”
“Oh, hell.” Nash gave Nina a worried look, and paced back to his desk. Frowning, he opened a drawer, removed a folder and walked back toward them. Then he shoved the file toward Slade.
“This is the report from the psychiatrist who treated Nina after s
he lost Peyton. Take a look at it and tell me if you really think there’s a case here, or if Nina is just unable to accept the truth.”
“Dad, you can’t show him my medical records.” Nina looked appalled. “They’re private.”
Nina’s father stroked her shoulder. “I just don’t want to see you put yourself through this kind of pain again.” His voice dropped a decibel. “And I certainly don’t want you to have another breakdown, Nina. I want to see you happy and building a new life.”
Slade’s hands tightened around the folder at the sincerity in Nash’s voice. For a moment he debated looking at the file, but he’d vowed to find out the truth, and he’d told Nina she had to be completely honest with him.
So he flipped open the folder and skimmed the report. It corroborated Hood’s story. According to the psychiatrist’s notes, Nina had been in denial, depressed and delusional. The episode with the doll and the knife through its heart symbolized her guilt and grief over not saving her child, and the anguish in her own heart.
Slade’s stomach knotted. Had he been a fool to believe her? Was Hood right—had he fallen for her big, anguished eyes because he wanted to be her hero?
A hero for someone because he’d failed time after time after time…
“I AM NOT DELUSIONAL,” Nina said emphatically. “Yes, I was grieving, sad, even depressed but not delusional.”
“Are you taking antidepressants again?” her father asked.
“No,” Nina said. “I didn’t want to take them years ago, and I don’t intend to ever again.” She jutted up her chin, forcing conviction into her voice. “I’m perfectly rational, and I did not stab that doll and put it on my porch. I heard a noise in the night, then got up and saw a shadow outside.” Her voice grew stronger. “Don’t you care that someone is tormenting me, Dad?”
“This is the way it all started.” Her father gave Slade a disgruntled look, then lowered himself into the chair opposite her and pulled her hands into his. “Please go see the therapist again, Nina.”
She cast a sideways look at Slade, but his dark eyes probed hers as if she were a bug he was trying to dissect.
