On His Watch

by Susanne Matthews

  She shifted in the chair, tired of being in the same position. The guilt she’d seen in Jason’s eyes yesterday had been inadvertently explained. He’d been digging into her family as suspects and was afraid she’d be upset. As well, this whole case was outside his comfort zone and she could certainly empathize with that. The case had more twists and turns than a maze. Quick images of the maze in her dreams popped into her head, but before she could hold onto the idea, it was gone. Her husband wasn’t who he claimed to be. Her father was who he claimed to be, but he wasn’t her father. It was mindboggling.

  Sir Walter Scott’s quote came to mind: Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. She sighed. There was more than enough deception here to last a lifetime.

  She glanced outside. Mother Nature was mimicking the way she felt. Her memories were shrouded in the fog just as surely as the top half of the mountain was. If the fog lifted, everything would be clear again.

  She tried to picture Brad in her mind. The woman’s pleasant voice matched the rest of her. Nikki had admired her efficiency and the way she’d explained the reasoning behind the plan. Now that she knew the woman’s role, everything made sense. She and Jason were obviously very close. My God, the woman had saved his life. Of course they were close. A pang of envy stabbed her, and she forced it away. Why shouldn’t Jason and Brad be more than colleagues? He was an attractive man. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, so she assumed he was single. He was great with kids and dedicated to his job. Brad was a lucky woman.

  A sudden pounding on the window made her jump. Mandy stood on the deck next to Jason. Nikki waved and her daughter waved back. She turned and said something to Jason that made him laugh. Had Sam ever laughed with his daughter? Had her own father been a good dad? She’d like to think so. Nikki had barely been four, younger than Mandy, when he died. Holding the doll as she did comforted her.

  Mandy knocked on the glass and waved once more. Within minutes, Nikki heard her excited chatter coming from an area under the room she was in. Expecting Mandy to come barreling down the hall, she was surprised to see Nathan and Cassie pushing a walker.

  Nathan carried a large cardboard box containing the rubber bands and other torture devices the physiotherapist deemed necessary for her rehabilitation. Nathan anticipated removing the cast next week. She could hardly wait. The damn thing itched like crazy.

  Nathan stood back and smiled. “You look a little down. Rough morning?”

  “You could say that. What’s it like out there?”

  “This is a great house. Once things dry up, maybe you can go out and sit on the deck, but before you can do that, you need to get stronger. Cassie has your new Cadillac, so you can move around a bit on your own, and I’ve got the best workout equipment on the planet right here.”

  Nikki glanced at the walker and stared at the box Nathan held. She gritted her teeth. “Let’s do it.”

  • • •

  An hour later, exhausted from the effort required to pull elastic bands and lift small weights as well as push the walker to move a few feet across the room, Nikki graciously accepted Nathan’s help getting back into bed. Cassie put the pillows behind her to keep her sitting upright.

  “I know you’re beat, but you need to eat before you have a nap. I’ll go and get your lunch.”

  She left the room, and Nikki closed her eyes. The exercises had been torturous, but she’d completed each one successfully.

  The smell of something delicious had her sitting up wide awake.

  “Hi.” She turned on her side and smiled. “I thought you were on duty outside.”

  “Not any more. Cassie made a crockpot stew for lunch. Mandy ate with Angie and Troy while you were busy. Right now, she’s out with Angie collecting leaves and stuff to make a Halloween wreath or something that Cassie found online. Don’t worry. Angie won’t let anything happen to her.” Jason smiled reassuringly, and she nodded.

  “Are you hungry? I brought my lunch, too. I thought we could eat together and maybe get to know one another.”

  “I’d like that. You know everything there is to know about me, and I know nothing about you and very little about me. I’m a blank slate. I can rewrite myself any way I want to.”

  “You know, a lot of people wish they had the chance to start over like that. We can have an hour to talk about whatever you like, but Cassie says you need to rest afterward, and I don’t want to get on her bad side.”

  This was the first time, Nikki realized, that she’d heard her own laughter. The thought was disconcerting.

  “While you’re resting, I’ll see what I can find on Luc Longtain and we can talk about it later.”

  “That would be great. Maybe after Mandy is in bed tonight.”

  Jason set the food down on the table and pushed it over to her, securing the tray across her lap. He adjusted the pillows to help her sit up straighter. When he leaned over her like that, he reminded her of the dream when her angel had kissed her. She thought of the sketch she’d drawn. Now that she saw him as a friend and not a foe, he did have the same build as the angel, but there’s no way Jason would have kissed her. She was being ridiculous.

  He got a straight chair, brought it back to the bedside, flipped it around, and straddled it the way he had in her hospital room. He pulled his bowl of stew closer to himself and smiled.

  “This smells wonderful. I’ll gain weight if all of the meals here are as good as this one.”

  Nikki focused on the creases at the corner of his gray-blue eyes. He had beautiful eyes. They were friendly, reassuring, and if she caught a glimpse of guilt in them from now on, she knew its cause. She watched Jason open a napkin and hand it to her. His fingers brushed hers and a shiver of awareness ran through her.

  “I heard they put you through your paces, and you did well. Your only job is to get better. No one expects you to get back to normal overnight.” He handed her one of the two spoons he held.

  “I don’t think there’s much danger of my overdoing anything. The exercises wore me out. I just hope I don’t fall asleep face first in my stew.”

  His laughter wrapped her in warmth and friendliness. “If you do, I promise to pull you out and keep it our secret. Now, what shall we talk about?”

  Nikki suddenly wanted to know all about him and felt guilty for it. Here she was a widow, and even if her husband hadn’t been the greatest, she shouldn’t be interested in another man so soon—but she was. Maybe drawn to him was more accurate; she might want to deny the attraction, but she couldn’t. “Tell me more about your team. There’s Ivan from Interpol, and some techno geek . . .”

  “Greg. The kid’s absolutely incredible. He can find anything that’s ever been stored on a database. I’m hoping he’ll get the info we need to ID your husband soon. There’s a BAU specialist on the team, too. His expertise lies in revenge killings and vendettas. So far, he hasn’t discovered much to help.”

  “What about Brad? It’s an odd name for a woman, isn’t it?”

  “It is, but if you knew her the way I do, you’d understand that Elizabeth, Liz, or Beth just wouldn’t suit her.” There was such admiration in his voice, she wanted to kick something. Jealousy was not a character trait she wanted to cultivate. Sam had been a jealous man. The sudden thought upset her. She let the sound of Jason’s voice erase the memory. There were some things best left forgotten.

  “Her real name is Elizabeth Bradley. Her friends and colleagues call her Brad. She’s ex-military, and you don’t want to piss her off. Like me, she goes wherever they need her, but home is San Francisco. Her husband’s Bill Seaford, the sci-fi novelist. They’re making Deep Six, his latest book, into a movie. They have two-year-old twins.”

  She relaxed, relieved the woman wasn’t special to Jason in the way she’d thought.

  “Why does Deep Six sound familiar?”

  Jason laughed. “I read it aloud to you in the hospital. Irene believes people in a coma are aware of those around them, and sometimes remember some of th
e things they hear.”

  “I can’t think of the storyline. I’ll have to read it again I guess. Or maybe see the movie when it comes out.” Curious to know more about him personally, she decided to probe for the answer to her biggest question.

  “Is there a Mrs. Spark waiting for you somewhere?”

  He sobered, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “No. I fly solo.”

  “Why?” The question was out before she could stop it.

  “Let’s just say I haven’t been lucky with the women in my life.”

  Nikki realized she’d pushed too hard. His personal life wasn’t any of her business. But I’d like it to be.

  “So other than sci-fi,” she asked returning to safer territory, “what kind of books do you read? I don’t know what kind of books I like.”

  “But I do, or at least I know what kind of books you had on the bed side table. You’d just started a romantic suspense novel. I finished it with you. I enjoyed it.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Well, I thought you’d like a book you’d planned to read . . .”

  She cut him off. “Not the book, the whole thing. Coming to the hospital, reading to me—it takes hours to read a book aloud. I was in that coma six weeks. If you came once a week, you must have spent the whole day with me. It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a stranger.”

  He reddened. “I thought you needed a friend.”

  She held out her hand to him, and he reached for it. His touch made her feel warm and tingly inside.

  “I did, and I still do. Thank you.”

  She took a spoonful of stew. “It’s delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

  Jason nodded. “It’s a good thing I don’t have kitchen duty. I can burn water. I eat most of my meals out. I can make mac and cheese and reheat frozen dinners, but that’s it.”

  “I’m a good cook.” Nikki continued to eat. “My pot roast is fantastic, and my apple pie is second to none.” She stopped talking when she realized Jason was watching her carefully. “What? Have I got food on my face?”

  “Think of what you just said.”

  “I remembered something else, didn’t I? Why do I keep bringing back minor details like these? Why can’t I recall important things like my son? It isn’t fair. I remember a damn doll, but not the child I nursed.” Tears filled her eyes, and she dropped her spoon.

  Jason put his spoon down and took her hand in his. “Hey, your memory will come back all in good time. You have to be patient. You had a nightmare early this morning. Maybe those are memories trying to come back, too. I don’t care if you ever remember what happened, Nikki. I’ll get this guy whether you do or you don’t. If I can help in any way, then you can count on me.” He stood and pulled the table away from the bed. He reached and took her into his arms.

  She should probably protest, but at this moment, being held in this man’s arms was what she wanted. He was offering her the comfort she needed.

  “I’m here for you and Mandy as long as you need me. I won’t leave until it’s over, and even then, I hope we can still be friends.”

  He held her a moment longer, letting her absorb his strength and confidence. When he released her, he looked as moved as she felt, but the guilt was in his eyes once more. He settled her back against the pillows, and pushed the tray in front of her once more.

  “Now, you have to eat to get well. Have I told you about my brother, Rick? He can take so long to get to the point . . .”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jason sat beside Nikki at the table watching her flip through the computer file he’d manage to assemble on her biological father. Tears brimmed her hazel eyes, more golden than green tonight because of the amber housecoat she wore, but she was smiling. Why did women have to cry when they were happy? It confused the hell out of a man.

  “You look like him, you know. Even with the cosmetic surgery, I can see the resemblance in the eyes and the cheekbones.”

  When Jason had left her after lunch, he’d gone to the computer and had been dismayed to find nothing but a grainy newspaper photograph detailing the basic account of her father’s death. His wife and daughter were mentioned in the article, but not by name, and there was no information on the others involved in the accident.

  Jason had panicked. He wanted to do this for Nikki, and he wouldn’t fail her again—he couldn’t. He’d phoned Greg and Ivan, begging them to see what they could find. He hadn’t given a thought to how the old count might have prized his personal privacy.

  He’d been able to get a lot of information about the winery and the château that went with it. Talk about a bonus. No longer a family home, the castle served as a bed and breakfast catering to tourists visiting Champagne. It had to turn a tidy profit since staying there started at $350.00 a night—and that got you a room in the stable. So where was the money?

  The house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the hiss of the gas fireplace and the ticking of the grandfather clock. Mandy and Cassie had gone to bed, and Angie and Troy wouldn’t be up for another three hours.

  “Thank you for this.” She smiled at him. “He loved me.”

  The image, one Ivan had sent, showed her in her father’s arms, standing beside a Christmas tree. There was no mistaking the pride and love in the man’s eyes. The photograph came from a newspaper article in the St. Dizier Weekly. Nikki had translated the article for him. Apparently, she’d placed the angel on top of the tree to kick off the Christmas festivities in the small town closest to the estate. The picture had been taken six months before her father’s death.

  “Yes, he did, and from what I can see, the feeling was mutual. I can’t take all the credit for this, though. Most of it comes from Greg and Ivan.”

  “But they wouldn’t have put it together for me if you hadn’t asked.”

  “I’ll get it printed for you when we get back to San Francisco.”

  Nikki pulled up another image showing five men dressed in climbing gear. Her father was in the center, and the man on his far right was Thomas Lincoln, the only one not smiling in the photograph.

  “He didn’t look happy to be there, did he? Everyone else looks like they’re excited and looking forward to the adventure, but he’s down in the mouth. I wonder why he even bothered to join the expedition. Maybe I’ll ask him if I can ever bring myself to talk to him again.”

  She shifted in her chair, moving her left arm.

  “Do you want me to take you back to your room?”

  “No, not really. I slept almost three hours this afternoon. I’m not tired, but if I’m keeping you from doing something . . .”

  “Nope. My job right now is protecting you and sitting with you makes that easier. Nathan’s outside doing the perimeter sweep and talking to Troy’s man. He’s helping plant a few detractors in case we have unwanted guests.”

  “Won’t those things keep the animals away? Mandy and I watched a deer eating berries on a bush in the backyard this afternoon. She was thrilled. She’d only seen them in the zoo, and I don’t recall ever seeing one before,” she laughed, “but then I don’t recollect much.”

  “The motion sensors and stuff he’s setting up won’t affect the wildlife. It’s designed to keep track of two-legged predators.” She shuddered, and he touched her arm, drawing her gaze to his.

  “It’s unlikely we’ll even need that stuff. My money’s still on the UCSF trap we’ve set. But Troy’s the expert on this, and he’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  She nodded and shifted again. “Can we go and sit on the sofa? My arm’s a little sore this way. I think it’s the angle it’s at.”

  He stood, pulled the chair out and picked her up. She put her right arm around his neck and he carried her over to the sofa, the distance too short. He liked the feel of her in his arms. He settled her so that the sofa’s armrest supported the cast.

  “How’s this?”

  “Much better, thanks. The cast is pretty heavy. I can’t wait to get it r
emoved. I’m anxious to find out if my finger works. I’m amazed they were able to reattach it.”

  The vision of the severed finger lying on the floor near her face flooded his mind.

  “As soon as I saw it, I put it on ice. I don’t even know why because I thought you were dead. I’m glad I did.”

  “So am I.”

  The living room was in semi-darkness, bathed by the glow of the fireplace. It was the perfect setting for romance, and the thought made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t think of her that way. Nikki Hart was a victim, the woman he’d sworn to protect. She was a friend, but that’s all they could ever be. He’d learned that mixing his personal life with business didn’t turn out well. Besides, he had a secret the size of the Grand Canyon.

  She’d probably be as big as Cassie was now, her baby girl’s birth only weeks away if he’d moved his ass. He stared at the offensive cast, the one she wouldn’t be wearing if he’d done his job right. She’d never forgive him if she learned the truth about his timing that night, and how could he blame her? He’d never forgive himself.

  “Let me turn on some lights here.” He stood and flicked on the lantern-style lights on each side of the fireplace. The oil painting emerged from the darkness, and Nikki gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” He hurried to her side.

  “That painting. I’ve seen it before, I’m sure of it. There’s so much loneliness and isolation there. Who’s the artist?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t signed. I picked it up in L.A. about eight years ago.” He sat beside her, amazed at how small the sofa was. Why hadn’t he realized it was only a two-seater?

  She shrugged, but he could see the painting had upset her, and she was doing her best to hide the reaction. “I’m an artist. I suppose I’ve seen thousands of paintings.”