He pulled out in front of a truck onto West Paces Ferry road, the driver hitting his horn.
She was nowhere in sight, so Nicholas stepped on the gas, not letting himself consider what he was doing or why.
Half a minute later, he spotted her two cars ahead.
He hit the brake and hung back. At the light she went right onto Filmore.
He was three cars behind now. A catering service van crawled along in front of him, blocking his view. A mile or so later, the van took a left. He waited behind it with increasing impatience.
With the van out of the way, he had a clear view now. But she was nowhere in sight. He drove on another couple of minutes, not spotting her.
He did a U-turn and headed in the other direction down Filmore. He glanced back and forth between the buildings on either side of the road. He was just about to give up when he spotted the BMW in a parking lot. He hit his blinker and pulled into a space a few rows down from her car.
The sign on the building read Buckhead Trace-Matherson Library.
So what? Had he thought she might be driving to the nearest women’s shelter, proving that he was right?
Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe her life was that normal. Returning overdue books for her son.
And he was following her.
He was starting to scare himself.
He circled the lot, found the exit and drove back to the office.
AUDREY TOOK the elevator to the second floor, walked quickly to the computer section, taking a station on one end. She logged on, accessed her e-mail account and sat for a few moments, heart pounding, until the screen popped up.
You have new mail.
A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip. She clicked on the icon.
We have identified a secure location for you and your son. I have attached a schedule with the details of your destination. You should arrive at Atlanta Hartsfield International on February 7th. Go to the Triple Scoop on Concourse A. At 9:00 a.m., order your son a chocolate ice cream. Ask the server to make sure there are no nuts because he’s allergic. That will be the server’s cue to give you your tickets. Once you’ve received those, go to the British Airways terminal. Your flight will depart at 12:00 p.m. The envelope will contain train tickets as well as instructions for the remainder of your journey.
Good luck.
Kathryn Millborn
Audrey sat completely still, stunned. So simple. It sounded so simple. Could it possibly be?
A flutter of hope took wing inside her. And for the first time in so long, it felt real.
NICHOLAS DREAMED about Sherry again that night. But this time she wasn’t alone. Audrey was with her. He saw the two of them walking together. He tried to call out to them, but they couldn’t hear him.
He started to run after them, as fast as he could, his lungs screaming for relief. But he couldn’t catch up. They stayed the same distance ahead of him, no matter how fast he ran. He finally stopped, gasping for air and still trying to call out to them. Stop! Wait! But his voice had grown weaker, and he knew there was no chance they would hear him now.
Nicholas sat straight up in bed. He was soaked in sweat, his heart racing as if he had actually been running.
As she had the night before, the dog came to the open doorway of the room, her ears perked.
Nicholas swung out of bed and got in the shower, standing under the pounding spray until the dream receded, and his heart rate slowed to normal.
When he came back out to get dressed, the dog lay curled up on the pillow next to his bed. She raised her head once to look at him, her expression accepting, as if she had finally decided to trust him.
When Sherry had been six or seven years old, she’d wanted a dog more than anything in the world. His parents had told her she wasn’t yet old enough, so she made up an imaginary one. Set up water bowls in the kitchen and upstairs bathroom. Played in the backyard with a pet no one else could see but her.
Nicholas heard her voice in his head then, clear as yesterday, calling her imaginary dog in for dinner.
“Lola,” he said, reaching down to pat the dog stretched out on the pillow beside him. “That name okay with you?”
The dog licked the back of his hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.
NICHOLAS DIDN’T NEED to be told that it would be wise to follow Audrey’s wishes and leave her alone.
But he could focus on nothing else. It was as if he’d been injected with a drug so addictive that all he could think about was getting the next fix.
At six o’clock that evening, the office had nearly cleared out. He got up from his desk and closed his door. He dialed Kyle’s direct number. Kyle never left work before seven. He answered on the second ring.
“Hey,” Nicholas said.
“Let me guess. You want your job back.”
“I haven’t thrown in the corporate towel just yet.”
“Can’t deny I’m disappointed. I’m beginning to realize what a load you carried around here.”
“Thanks, Kyle.”
“This isn’t a social call, is it?”
“No. A favor, actually. I need to know if you’ve got anything in the computer on Jonathan Colby.”
HIS PHONE RANG just over an hour later.
“I found a couple of things for you,” Kyle said. “Buy me dinner, and I’ll tell you about it.”
“Ernesto’s?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“I’ll see you there,” he said and hung up.
ERNESTO’S WAS a quiet little Italian place in the heart of downtown Atlanta. Not so big on atmosphere, but the food was unbeatable.
Kyle sat at a table by the window. Nicholas took the chair across from him. “Hey, thanks for meeting me.”
“Anything for a free meal.”
The waiter came and took their orders. As soon as they were alone, Kyle picked up his briefcase and pulled out a file. He handed it over.
Nicholas opened it and scanned the pages inside, then looked up. “Two incidents?”
“Neighbors called in one. An emergency-room doctor the other.”
“And why were the charges dropped?”
“Because Mrs. Colby refused to go through with it.” Kyle hesitated, and then said, “The woman you mentioned at the club. She’s the one, isn’t she?”
Nicholas didn’t say anything.
Kyle reached for a roll. “Cape’s back out of the closet, huh?”
“It’s not like that,” he denied.
“Right.”
“I don’t know,” Nicholas said, running a hand over his face. “I can’t get her out of my head.”
“Man, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Kyle said, his voice laced with genuine concern.
“I didn’t go looking for it.”
“Didn’t say you did.”
They were both quiet for a few moments.
“Are you interested in this woman?” Kyle finally asked, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.
“She’s married.”
“Glad you noticed.” Kyle sighed, took a few sips from his water glass. “You know, you’re not the ugliest guy in the world. There are single women out there who would probably say yes to a dinner invitation. Trouble is you don’t ask any of them.”
Nicholas frowned. “You make it sound like I’ve never been out on a date.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you take women out. But dating usually involves a succession of evenings—emphasis on the word succession—spent together, the result something sometimes known as commitment. That I’ve never seen you do.”
“Maybe I’ve never met the right woman,” he said.
“What?” Kyle said. “You don’t like being under my microscope?”
“As a matter of fact, no.”
“Okay, Nick, so look, you don’t talk about it much, but I know you’ve had some bad stuff in your life. Losing a sister the way you did…there aren’t any words for it.”
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“Kyle—”
“Hear me out,” he said. “I think that was the fire inside you as a prosecutor. And somewhere along the line, you stopped believing you were making a difference. That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve never worked with anyone who made more of a difference than you did.”
Nicholas looked away, swallowing hard. “Thanks.”
“Is that what you’re doing with this woman?” Kyle asked in a soft voice.
He met his friend’s gaze, started to deny it, then stopped. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Maybe that’s something you ought to figure out before you go any further with this.”
“Yeah,” he said, wishing he could deny it.
CHAPTER NINE
ON THURSDAY MORNING, Audrey dropped Sammy off at school, then drove downtown to the City Gardener, parking in the lot next to the shop.
She got out of her car and opened the trunk, breathing a sigh of relief. She’d wrapped each of the pots in newspaper and bubble wrap, but a sharp turn could still have caused them to move enough to chip an edge. She pulled the paper back from one of the larger pots and smoothed a finger across the rim.
This last dozen contained some of what she thought were her best pots so far. She’d given up her painting early in her marriage. Jonathan had thought it a waste of time when she could be doing something active like tennis.
One day, she’d decided to spruce up an old flower pot, covering it with a coat of paint and then, on a whim, thinning another color and streaking it over the base. After letting it dry, she had smudged on some burnt umber for antiquing. When she was done, she sat staring at the pot, loving the muted colors, the layered finish.
It was the first thing in so long that had made her remember the person she had once wanted to be. Jonathan had seen her early efforts, declared them not bad if they never left the storage room of their basement. From that point, she had hidden her work from him, putting a pot out somewhere in the house occasionally just so he wouldn’t get suspicious about her hobby as he had defined it.
“Audrey?”
She swung around and found Nicholas Wakefield standing just behind her, holding an oversize briefcase. She touched a hand to her chest, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Actually, I’m meeting with a client a couple of blocks away. I saw you from across the street.”
She stared at him for a moment, searching for words. “It’s beginning to feel like you’re stalking me.”
“I would hope I’d be a little more subtle if that were the case,” he said, unruffled.
She quickly lowered the trunk lid.
Just then, Arthur Hughes came out of the store and trotted down the sidewalk, waving wildly, his lime-green shirt waging a color assault with his neon-orange pants. “Audrey, you princess! I just sold the last of your pots yesterday. Your timing could not be better!”
“Hi, Arthur,” she said, anxious now for Nicholas to leave.
“I saw you pull up. I was on the phone, or I’d have been out sooner to give you a hand. Um, hello,” he said, looking at Nicholas with ill-concealed appreciation.
Nicholas nodded politely.
“Since Audrey’s not going to bother with introductions—” Arthur aimed a playful swat her way “—I’ll be so bold. Arthur Hughes. I’m the proprietor. City Gardener,” he said, pointing back at the store. “Incidentally selling the hound out of Audrey’s lovely pots. Maybe I could interest you in one?”
“Ah, no,” Audrey said. “Mr. Wakefield really has to go.”
“Actually, I have a few minutes,” Nicholas said, glancing at his watch and then meeting Audrey’s gaze. “I’d love to take a look.”
“Well, let’s get those pots out, Audrey,” Arthur said. “We might have a sale on the spot.”
“I really don’t think—” she began.
“Don’t be silly,” Arthur argued, stepping in between her and the car. “Modesty won’t get us new customers.”
Before she could think of a single reasonable protest, Arthur had pulled one of the pots from the trunk and torn off the newspaper. “Oh, Audrey,” he said. “This one is lovely. Maybe your best yet. What do you think, Mr. Wakefield? Doesn’t she have a divine sense of color?”
Audrey couldn’t bring herself to look at Nicholas. She pressed her lips together and folded her arms across her chest, hearing Jonathan’s derisive tone in a reply that had not yet been given.
“Did you paint this?” Nicholas asked.
“Yes,” she said, groping for some way, any way to make him change his mind and leave.
“It’s beautiful.”
She looked up at him then and saw the respectful appreciation in his eyes. She tried to respond, but couldn’t find her voice.
“So you’re an artist?”
No one had ever called her that. She’d never thought of herself that way. It seemed like a word for someone who had plans and ambitions, and all of hers had long ago ceased to exist. “No,” she said. “It’s just a hobby.”
“Well, if it is, it’s becoming a profitable one,” Arthur interjected. “I have orders for at least six of the pots you brought today.”
Unsettled, Audrey reached inside the trunk and lifted one out. “We’d better get these unloaded. I have somewhere else to be.”
Nicholas glanced at his watch. “And I have to go. Nice to meet you, Arthur. Bye, Audrey.”
She raised a hand, then turned her back as he walked away.
“Lucky thing, you,” Arthur said, staring after Nicholas. He gave himself a shake, then picked up a pot. “Ah, well. So what’s your connection with that lovely man?”
Audrey shook her head. “There isn’t one.”
Arthur put a hand on his hip. “Hah. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things in my life. Trust me. I’m not wrong about the current zinging back and forth between you two. Now come inside before some customer runs off with the contents of my register. Are we doing cash today, same as usual?”
“Please,” Audrey said. “Cash would be great.”
THE MEETING was a waste of time.
Nicholas sat at a large round table with the board of directors from one of the city’s largest banks and tried to focus on what they were saying. But his thoughts were elsewhere. Questions filled his mind with little hope of any answers.
He thought about what Kyle had said the night before. Did he know what he was getting into?
He kept seeing Audrey’s face, that pleased look in her eyes when he had complimented her work.
The gratitude that someone had noticed, quickly replaced by alarm, as if he had discovered a secret she did not wish to share.
He was beginning to think Audrey Colby had more than a few secrets.
ONCE AUDREY LEFT the City Gardener, she drove to a mall at the north end of Atlanta and repeated her shopping spree with different credit cards.
She arrived home at just after one o’clock, and the phone was ringing when she walked in the door. Caller ID flashed Blocked Call. Jonathan’s cell number was blocked. She picked it up, said hello, trying not to sound as if she’d just run in the house.
“Audrey. It’s Nicholas. Please, don’t hang up.”
She stood for a moment, too startled by the sound of his voice to respond.
“Audrey?”
“Yes?” she said, attempting to instill something remotely close to composure in her voice.
“Can you meet me somewhere?”
Again, surprise robbed her of an immediate answer. She drew in a deep breath, curling her fingers into a fist to keep her hands from shaking. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“That I can’t disagree with. But all the same, will you meet me?”
“I can’t.”
“Then I’ll come there.”
“No! No.”
“If you won’t agree to see me somewhere else, I won’t have a choice.”
His tone left little doubt that he meant it. She could not risk him coming to the house again. Not
today. Tomorrow, her whole life was going to change. She couldn’t do anything to risk this plan. It felt too much like her last chance. “All right,” she said. “All right. Where?”
“Nolan Park. Take exit 260 off the Interstate. Right at the light and then two miles down. There’ll be a sign on your left. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”
And before she could say another word, he hung up.
IT WAS ONE OF those midwinter afternoons warm enough to imply that spring lurked just around the corner. Fifty-five degrees and sunny. Birds held an early celebration of choral joy for the change in weather.
Nicholas sat on a bench near the park entrance, Lola at his feet. He had driven his own car farther in and walked back to wait for Audrey. His right knee shook up and down in a telltale show of nerves. He looked down at Lola. “She’s right,” he said. “This is insane. What exactly am I going to say to her?”
Lola put her head on her paws and looked the other way.
He hardly needed a dog to confirm his audacity. But throughout the morning, the words from the reports Kyle had shown him banged back and forth in his thoughts like a warning bell growing louder and louder until he could think of nothing else.
Once he’d left the building and made that call to Audrey, the noise in his head quieted.
Out on the main road, a black BMW turned into the park. Nicholas stood, his heart kicking hard against his chest. Lola followed him, staying close to his side.
Audrey spotted him and stopped. He crossed the road. She lowered her window, and at the sight of her, a growing web of attraction caught and held him. “Park here, and we’ll walk?”
Without acknowledging his words, she pulled into a space and cut the engine. She got out quickly, walking fast and furious down a concrete path marked with a sign that said Nature Trail.
Nicholas followed her.
She went straight into the woods, not slowing until they were well away from the road with nothing around them but trees.
She stopped suddenly and whirled on him. “Is this what you do for fun? Target married women who are absolutely no threat to your bachelorhood?” Her voice wavered with anger.
A Year and a Day (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 10
