His New Nanny

by Carla Cassidy

  Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Outside? In the middle of the night?”

  “It wasn’t exactly the middle of the night,” Sawyer replied. “And I needed to clear my head.”

  “So Amanda didn’t know where you were when she got hit over the head.” Lucas’s voice was flat, emotionless.

  Sawyer narrowed his eyes. “Are you implying something?” Was it possible Lucas thought he was the swamp monster? That he’d sneaked up behind Amanda and smashed her in the back of the head?

  “I’ll tell you what’s odd, that the attacker ran past Melanie without apparent concern that she might identify him. I find it damned odd that Amanda was attacked and Melanie was left untouched.”

  “What do you think, Lucas? That I pretended to go outside for a walk, but instead waited for Amanda to get hungry, then attacked her?” His voice sounded uneven, stressed, even to his own ears. “Melanie was standing there, but of course I didn’t want to hurt my daughter, so I ran past her in the dark. Then I called you so that you could be here to investigate. Does that make sense to you?”

  “None of this makes sense,” Lucas replied. His gaze remained intent on Sawyer. “All I know for sure is that the women beneath your roof don’t seem to fare too well.”

  MELANIE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP in her lap. Amanda remained seated, stroking her hair and fighting the worst headache she’d ever had in her life.

  Somebody had attacked her. Somebody had hit her over the head with enough force to knock her unconscious. Who had been in the house and why had she been a target?

  What frightened her more than anything were the what-ifs that played in her mind. What if Melanie hadn’t awakened at that moment and shown up in the kitchen when she had? Would the attacker have struck Amanda again?

  And again?

  Until there was no more life in her?

  Had Melanie inadvertently stopped a murder? Despite the warmth of the house, a cold chill stalked up her spine. Why would anyone want her dead? There was nothing to be gained by her death. She closed her eyes, fighting the pain in her head, the fear in her soul.

  Her eyes flew open as she heard the sound of the front door opening, then closing. A moment later Sawyer came in, his features taut with stress.

  “Did you find anything?” she asked softly.

  “No, nothing. The ground is too hard to show any footsteps, and whoever it was left nothing behind. Of course, Lucas thinks I might be responsible.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “For hitting me? That’s utterly ridiculous,” she scoffed.

  He sat in one of the chairs opposite the sofa. “He thinks it’s odd that Melanie wasn’t hurt.”

  Amanda stroked Melanie’s hair once again. “I think she saved my life. I think whoever attacked me didn’t intend to stop with that one blow, and if Melanie hadn’t shown up in the kitchen and screamed, I wouldn’t be here to talk to you now.”

  He stood and gestured toward the sleeping child. “I’ll carry her up to bed, then we can talk.” He walked over and lifted Melanie as if she weighed no more than a feather. She didn’t stir from her sleep as he gathered her in his arms and headed for the stairs.

  Remembering the broken platter and ham still on the floor in the kitchen, she got up from the sofa, intent on cleaning up the mess that had been made. After the mess was cleaned up she definitely needed to find a couple of aspirins and see she if could get a handle on the pounding in her head.

  She was bent over picking up the last of the pieces of the platter when Sawyer returned. “You don’t have to do that,” he protested.

  “I made the mess, I’ll clean it up. At least the platter didn’t shatter, but I’m afraid the ham is a total loss.” Tears burned in her eyes as suppressed emotions suddenly rose up in her chest.

  “Amanda.”

  His gentle voice made the tears burn hotter. He grabbed her to him and wrapped his arms around her. She stood in the embrace, shivering as tears raced down her cheeks.

  “You’re all right now,” he said softly. “You’re safe and we’ll make sure that you stay safe.”

  She laughed self-consciously and swiped at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.” She made no move to step away from him, needed the warmth and strength of his strong arms surrounding her as the full realization of what had just happened swept through her. She buried her face in the front of his shirt, smelling the mixture of his cologne and the wild scent of night that clung to him.

  “I’d say you deserve a good cry,” he replied. “You’ve just been through a terrifying experience.”

  She raised her face to look at him. “Why would somebody want to hurt me?”

  He dropped his arms from around her and motioned to the chairs at the table. “I don’t know.” His voice radiated with his frustration. “Maybe we stirred somebody up by going to those motels and asking questions.”

  “But we didn’t get any answers,” she replied. “How could we have made somebody nervous? And that still doesn’t answer why somebody would want to get to me.”

  “It’s all my fault.” He gazed at her intently. “Dammit, it’s all my fault. I walked out of here without locking the doors, without setting the security alarm.” He muttered a curse.

  “Sawyer, you can’t blame yourself,” she protested. “Who would have thought that somebody would have the nerve to creep into a house where we were all home?”

  “I don’t know. All I do know is that from now on the doors are locked at all times and the security system is on. We both have to be vigilant whenever we leave the house and when we’re here.”

  She leaned back in the chair. “You don’t have any old girlfriends who might have whacked me over the head because of some jealousy issue, do you?”

  “Absolutely not. Unlike Erica, I took my marriage vows very seriously. There’re no old girlfriends in my past.”

  “What about Helen?”

  He sat back in surprise. “I sure haven’t ever entertained any romantic thoughts about Helen.”

  She couldn’t help the brief burst of laughter that left her lips. He looked so appalled at the very thought. The laughter was short-lived. “I mean, what about Helen as a murder suspect?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said with more than a touch of disbelief.

  She leaned forward and tried to ignore the pounding of her head. “Think about it, Sawyer. She hasn’t hidden the fact that she hated Erica, that she thought Erica was all wrong for you and Melanie.

  “But she’s an old woman. Surely she couldn’t have overwhelmed Erica with her physical strength,” he protested.

  “Have you seen her rolling out bread dough or hacking up a chicken? She has more strength in her arms than I’ll ever have, especially if she was driven by hate.”

  Sawyer rubbed two fingers in the center of his forehead, as if he could feel the pounding of her head in his own. “Then why would Helen want to hurt you? I thought the two of you were getting along just fine.”

  “I thought we were, too. But that would certainly explain why Melanie wasn’t hurt. I think Helen loves her more than anything or anyone else on earth.”

  “Helen has worked for me and my family for years and I’ve never seen any indication that she’s capable of violence.” He sighed wearily. “We’re not going to solve this tonight.” He eyed her sympathetically. “How’s your head?”

  “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain I’ve ever had, this is about a twenty.” She reached up and touched the back of her head where dried blood caked her hair. The paramedics had washed out the wound with peroxide but hadn’t removed all the blood. “I guess I’m due a hair washing before I call it a night. I don’t want to get into bed with this blood in my hair.”

  “Why don’t you let me help? We could wash it right here in the kitchen sink.”

  She had never considered allowing a man to help her wash her hair, but she’d never been hit in the head from behind, either. At the moment his offer sounded incredibly appealing.
“I’ll go get a towel and my shampoo.”

  As she climbed each step to her bedroom, her head pounded and the questions that had plagued her since she’d regained consciousness stabbed in her brain.

  Had the attacker watched the house and when Sawyer went for his walk saw an opportunity to strike? But why her? What would anyone have to gain by killing her?

  Who was Melanie’s swamp monster? And how many victims would the monster claim before finally being caught?

  Chapter Eleven

  Amanda awoke late the next morning. She knew it was late by the bright sunshine that poured through her window. She rolled over on her side and gazed at the clock on her nightstand. Ten o’clock! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d overslept like this.

  She shot straight up, and the dull throb in her head sent all the events of the previous night back. Although her head ached, it wasn’t the sharp, nauseating pain of the night before. She slid from the bed and checked Melanie’s room, not surprised to find it empty.

  If she were to guess, there had been a conspiracy between Sawyer and Melanie to let her sleep in. She was thankful. After the horror of the night before, she’d needed the extra rest.

  She dressed quickly, and as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and brushed her hair she remembered the tenderness of Sawyer as he’d washed her hair in the kitchen sink.

  She’d never known a man like him before, a man who exhibited such inner strength, such a command of the air around him and yet enough tenderness to bring tears to her eyes.

  He’d combed out her hair, found her a couple of aspirins, then had walked her to her bedroom door and sent her off to bed with a kiss on the forehead.

  She turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see in her eyes what she knew was in her heart for Sawyer. Despite all her desire to the contrary, she was more than half in love with the man, a man who might not have a future.

  As she went down the stairs, the only sound, a rattling of dishes, came from the kitchen. She walked in to see Helen unloading the dishwasher.

  For a moment Helen seemed unaware of her presence, and Amanda took the opportunity to watch her. Sawyer had pooh-poohed Amanda’s suspicions of the older woman, but Amanda still wondered if she’d harbored enough hatred in her heart to kill Erica.

  Of course, that didn’t answer the question of why Helen might have attacked Amanda. Unless Helen wanted to be the only woman in the Bennett home, unless Helen wanted to be the only woman in Melanie’s life.

  “You going to stand there staring all morning or are you going to come in and sit down?” Helen said without turning around to look at her.

  A blush warmed Amanda’s cheeks. “I’m going to come in and sit down.” She walked over to the countertop that held the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup, then sat at the table. “Where are Melanie and Sawyer?”

  “He had some errands to run this morning and so he and Melanie left early.” Helen put the last plate in the cabinet then turned to face Amanda. “And I heard you had some excitement here last night.”

  Amanda tried to read something in Helen’s eyes, on her face, anything that would give her an indication of whether Helen had been responsible for the attack. But she was impossible to read, her eyes, her features revealing nothing of her thoughts.

  “I’m sure I can go the rest of my life without experiencing that kind of excitement again,” Amanda said drily, and touched the back of her head.

  Helen poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Amanda at the table. “These are dark days,” she said. She wrapped her gnarled fingers around her mug, as if attempting to warm an inner chill. “I feel evil closing in around us all, an evil that nothing can stop.”

  Amanda laughed uneasily and rubbed her arms. “You’re giving me goose bumps,” she exclaimed. She didn’t know whether to be afraid of Helen or afraid for her, afraid for them all.

  “I can’t figure out what anyone would hope to gain by hurting me,” she finally said.

  “Maybe nothing.” Helen shrugged. “Maybe the person who killed Erica just has a blood lust.”

  “A thrill killer? From everything I’ve heard or read, those kind of murderers are the hardest to identify.” Amanda frowned thoughtfully. “But if it is some kind of thrill killer then why go after two people in the same household? Why haven’t there been other murders in the area?” Amanda shook her head. “No, my gut tells me that Erica was murdered by somebody she somehow threatened, by somebody she knew intimately.”

  “That doesn’t explain what happened to you last night,” Helen said. “Unless you’ve been busier on your days off than I think you’ve been. You been sleeping with married men? Going places you shouldn’t be going?”

  Amanda shook her head, finding the whole conversation rather surreal. For all she knew Helen was the person who had killed Erica for going places she shouldn’t have gone, for not being the kind of mother that Melanie had needed. For all she knew Helen was the person who had crept back into the house last night to attack her. And they were sharing coffee together this morning.

  She finished her coffee and stood, needing to distance herself, wanting to halt the frenzy of her mind trying to make sense of what appeared to be senseless.

  “I think I’ll go back upstairs and write a couple of letters,” she said.

  “You’d better take advantage of the peace and quiet, because now that Melanie has found her voice again there won’t be much quiet time around her,” Helen observed.

  “She was talking this morning?”

  “Chattering like a magpie,” Helen replied, and all her features softened as she spoke of Melanie. “Music to my ears, it was, after all those days of silence.”

  “I’m glad. I was afraid that she’d only talked last night because of the dramatic circumstances.” Amanda’s heart rejoiced at the news that Melanie was finally really talking.

  She was just about to head up the stairs to her bedroom when she heard a knock on the front door. “I’ll get it,” she called to Helen, then peered through the peephole in the door to see James standing on the front porch.

  She opened the door. “Hi, James,” she greeted him as she gestured him into the entry.

  “Amanda.” He offered her a friendly smile as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and swiped at his gleaming forehead. “Not even noon yet and already it’s hot as Hades.”

  “It is warm. If you’re here looking for Sawyer, I’m afraid he’s not home,” she said.

  “Actually, I’m looking for my lovely wife. Her car was at home but I couldn’t find her anywhere on the premises. I thought maybe she’d walked over here to have coffee with you.”

  “No, I’m sorry but I haven’t seen her this morning.”

  “Ah, well it was worth a try. You know she thinks a lot of you.”

  “I like her, too,” Amanda replied. “She’s really the only woman I know here in town.”

  He smiled. “She’ll run you ragged if you let her. Shopping and lunch with her friends, that’s what my Lilly loves. I guess I’ll head back home and hunt some more. She can’t have gone too far.” He stepped back out the front door. “Nice seeing you again, Amanda.” With a wave he walked off the porch and back toward his car.

  Amanda closed the front door and relocked it, then went upstairs to her bedroom. She felt a sudden need to connect with her brother. She’d spoken to him several times since being here, but hadn’t talked to him for a little over a week.

  Unfortunately all she got when she called was his voice mail. She didn’t leave a message, for at that moment she heard the front door open then close.

  “Amanda, come see what Daddy got for me.” Melanie’s voice sailed up the stairs. Unexpected emotion crawled up her throat as she heard the happiness in Melanie’s sweet voice. She’d heard it tinged with desperation on the night Sawyer had told Amanda to leave. Last night she’d heard it filled with terror as she’d talked about the swamp monster. But now Melanie’s voice sang the way little-girl voices were
supposed to, with excitement and joy.

  “Come on, Amanda. Hurry!” Melanie squealed and giggled and Sawyer’s deep laughter added appealing contrast. Amanda hurried down the stairs to the living room, where Sawyer sat on the sofa and Melanie was in the middle of the floor being licked half to death by a black-and-white furball of a puppy.

  “Oh my,” Amanda said in surprise.

  “His name is Buddy ’cause Daddy said I needed a snuggle buddy for when I’m scared or sad,” Melanie exclaimed.

  “I know dog trainer isn’t exactly in your job description,” Sawyer began.

  Amanda held up a hand to stop him. “Please, I threw out the job description a long time ago.”

  “He has his own crate in the utility room and I’ve explained to Melanie that Buddy will sleep there until he’s old enough to understand the rules,” Sawyer said.

  Melanie picked up the wiggling ball of fur. “He’s gonna learn the rules real fast ’cause I can tell he’s really, really smart.”

  “Why don’t you take him to the utility room to show him where he’s going to stay,” Sawyer suggested.

  She stood and giggled again as Buddy lavished her neck and cheeks with puppy kisses. It was only when she’d left the room that Sawyer looked at Amanda and all trace of laughter fell from his features.

  “I had some paperwork to drop off at Jackson Burdeaux’s this morning,” he said. “And while I was there Lucas called him.”

  She knew the news was bad, knew by the bleakness of his dark green eyes, the deep line that cut across his forehead as he frowned. She steeled herself for what he was about to tell her. “And what did Lucas want?” she asked.

  “To tell Jackson that an arrest warrant has been issued for me.”

  She gasped and closed her eyes against the bitter disappointment and fear his words invoked. They had both known that this was a possibility, but she’d hoped for a break in the case that would keep this from happening. She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “So, what happens now?”

  “Lucas has extended me the courtesy of turning myself in at the station with Jackson first thing tomorrow morning. He thought it would be less traumatic for everyone involved.”