by Rebecca Deel
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“It’s not that funny.” Madison glared at her sister, her face flaming. She let the menu fall to the red table with a thump. Several patrons of Delaney’s Deli smiled at the trio occupying the corner booth. Megan grabbed a napkin and patted her damp cheeks, still laughing.
“Can’t say I’ve met too many camels up close,” Nick said with a grin. “Your screams scared it off. When I ran into your backyard, a brown hump and tail disappeared through the bushes.”
She frowned at both of them. They enjoyed this too much. After two dead flower deliveries in as many days and the fire, she’d yanked the curtains aside, expecting to see Scott Bates peering in her window, not a full-grown camel eating breakfast at her bush.
Megan stopped laughing long enough to draw a deep breath. “I can see the story now.” Her voice quivered. “Mrs. Ryder called the police and reported someone breaking into her house. Otter Creek’s finest arrived on the scene minutes later, sirens blaring, to find a peeping camel.” Her last statement sent Megan into another round of gut-busting laughter and prompted a few chuckles from customers seated close enough to overhear the conversation.
“I didn’t call the police.” The corners of Madison’s lips curved upward, though, when Nick joined in Meg’s laughter. Okay, she had to admit a camel grazing in the backyard belonged on a clip from America’s Funniest Home Videos. She would have found the whole incident hilarious if it had happened to someone else. “Who raises camels around here?”
Meg smiled. “I’ll find out. All good reporters check the facts.”
Great. Now she’d be on the Gazette’s front page and in the comics section. Sometimes being related to the editor of the town’s newspaper had serious drawbacks.
Trixie, their waitress, approached the booth. “Ready to order now?” She took their orders and turned to Madison, regret in her gaze. “I’m so sorry about The Bare Ewe, Madison.”
She smiled, her vision blurred. “Thanks.”
Halfway through the meal, she glanced up and smiled at the woman who paused beside their table. “Jenny, how are you this morning?”
The woman carried a to-go cup and a take-out bag, her dark eyes wide. “I saw what’s left of the store. You weren’t there, were you?”
“Nick and I were at the Wilson’s.”
“Nick?”
Madison flushed. “Sorry, Jenny. This is Nick Santana.”
Nick slid out of the booth and held out his hand. “Good to meet you, Jenny. I saw you at The Bare Ewe yesterday after the impromptu concert.” He smiled. “You seem familiar; do I know you?”
Jenny shrugged. “I’ve heard you play before. Maybe you saw me at one of your other concerts.”
Madison noticed a white bandage on top of Jenny’s wrist and frowned. She didn’t see it yesterday, but her own grandmother might have been in the shop and she wouldn’t have noticed in that crowd.
“I have to get to work,” Jenny said. “I’m sorry about The Bare Ewe, Madison. Since I can’t come to your store for help now, can you stop by sometime and help me untangle knots and close the holes in my scarf?”
“Give me a few days to sort out the insurance paperwork, then I’ll be happy to help.”
Finishing breakfast turned into a herculean task that spanned almost two hours. Each time she forked food into her mouth, someone new dropped by the table to talk about the fire. Madison introduced Nick to each person who stopped to chat. She wanted word to get around that he was a friend.
As she swallowed her last drop of coffee, Nick slid out of the booth and held out his hand. “Time to meet Ethan.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows at the third person entering his office.
“I’m here as a member of the press.” Megan shut the door with a resounding thud. “If you kick me out, I’ll still find out what I want to know, but you won’t look as brilliant in my write-up.”
He waved her to the chair off to the side, fighting a smile. Meg had a lion’s heart when defending her family. He hadn’t forgotten the warning she gave him when he started dating Serena last spring. Under normal circumstances, he avoided press interviews, but nothing short of tossing Meg in jail would keep her away from this story.
Besides, if he played it right, the press might help this time. He was counting on small town dynamics to pressure Madison’s stalker.
“Any news from the arson investigator?” Nick asked.
“Preliminary reports indicate someone used an accelerant in Madison’s office and in the coffee bar area.”
Megan scooted to the edge of her seat, pen hovering over her note pad. “An accelerant? Something like gasoline?”
“That’s right.”
“Is he sure?”
“Hard to miss. Fire started in the middle of the floor.” Ethan studied Madison. She was pale, but handling this better than he expected. “When did you leave the store yesterday?”
“Around 4:00. Nick and I visited Julia at the hospital, ate dinner at Burger Heaven where we saw you, and went to church.”
“Then where did you go?” Ethan prompted. He already knew Madison and Nick stopped by the store last night. Ethan had warned his men to be alert for anything odd at the store. One of his officers saw them and made a note of it.
“We visited with Judge Wilson and Anna. That’s where we were when Meg called about the fire.”
“We stopped by the store before going to the Wilson home.” Nick’s eyes held a challenge of their own. “Madison forgot some supplies for Anna. I checked the store before we left. Everything was secure.”
The tension coiled inside him lessened. At least he didn’t have to dig the admission from the private investigator. He liked Nick, but didn’t trust him yet. The dead roses and fire occurred too close to Nick’s appearance in town, and he didn’t like coincidences. “What time?” Ethan grabbed his yellow legal pad and pen.
“Around 9:00,” Madison said, her features pinched.
“You go into the store with him?”
She shook her head. “I told him where to find Anna’s bag.”
“How long was he gone?” Ethan looked up from his notes to stare at his future sister-in-law.
“Maybe two minutes. What are you trying to say, Ethan?”
He shrugged. “Timing’s interesting. The fire started close to the time Nick left the store. Dispatch received the call at 9:15.”
“He didn’t have a gas container with him when he went into the store.” Madison’s glacial blue eyes reminded him of Serena’s when she was furious.
Ethan shifted his attention to Nick. “Notice anybody hanging around or passing on the street?” When Nick shook his head, Ethan capped his pen and laid it on the legal pad. “We’ll canvass the area and talk to the town night owls, see if we locate a witness who confirms your story.”
“He needs an alibi? You won’t take my word for it?” Madison’s icy tone prompted Nick to reach for her hand. She scowled at Ethan, but her protest subsided.
“Another unbiased witness gives your statement more credibility. Your objectivity is questionable, Madison.” He flicked a glance at their clasped hands and grinned when she tilted her chin with familiar Cahill stubbornness.
“If we go out of town, will a posse come after us?” she asked.
“You’re leaving?” Meg asked.
“Madison needs a new car,” Nick said. His unwavering gaze locked with Ethan’s. “After a stop by the hardware store, I’m driving her to Knoxville.”
Ethan nodded. “Keep the cell phones handy in case I need to get in touch with you.” He turned to Megan. “When you run the story for Saturday’s edition, ask for eyewitnesses to contact us. I want to talk to anybody who saw something last night. Make sure you mention the flowers and the Jeep, Meg. I want the whole town involved. List the main switchboard number.”
Meg made notations on her notepad, nodded. “Anything you don’t want me to mention?”
“Leave out the notes.” Keeping the notes from the public might
give him an edge later.
Otter Creek Hardware’s doors were propped open, fans stirring already humid air. The smell of smoke still lingered in the store. Nick stepped through the gauntlet of fans and located Howard pulling inventory from a bin near the back of the store. Overhead lights reflected from the top of his head.
Howard nodded at them. “Mr. Santana, good to see you this morning.” His cool gaze moved to Madison. “I’m glad no one was in the store when it caught fire, Mrs. Ryder. I hear the fire started around the coffee bar.” His clipped tone held a hint of accusation.
Nick’s temper smoldered at the implication of his words and tone. “I’m sure codes inspected and approved the change, Mr. Howard. And according to Ethan, the fire didn’t start by itself.”
“It didn’t?” He shifted his gaze from Nick to Madison and back.
“It was arson.” Nick folded his arms across his chest and stared at the older man. Time to stir the pot and see what rose to the top. “Know anything about that?”
Howard opened and closed his mouth several times before he croaked a response. “You’re accusing me of setting my own building on fire?”
“You tell me. You’re the one pushing Madison to terminate her lease early.” Nick narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you helped her make up her mind. Wouldn’t be the first time a business owner set his own building on fire and collected insurance money. Of course, the merchandise isn’t yours. So you dip into the payoff for building repairs, but Madison takes the inventory loss.”
Madison’s mouth dropped open. Perfect reaction for a woman who knew nothing about the accusation he’d leveled. Nick wanted Howard’s rage focused on him.
“That’s outrageous!” Howard’s face reddened. “You have no proof.”
“Won’t be hard to check. I’m sure the police already thought of that possibility.” He slapped his palms on the counter and leaned toward the furious storeowner, crowding him into retreating a step. Silence built, then he allowed his lips to curl. “Or maybe you aren’t scamming the insurance company. When I look into your real estate holdings, what will I find?”
The color drained from Howard’s face. He clamped his lips shut. “I have nothing more to say to you, Mr. Santana.”
Satisfaction settled in his gut. Nick pushed away from the counter and let his voice slide into normal tones, as if the last two minutes of conversation never happened. “That’s a pity, Mr. Howard. I wanted your advice on better security measures for Madison’s house. Someone’s trying to hurt her and I want to make it hard for him to reach her.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “I still need those supplies. If you won’t sell them to me, I’ll get them in Knoxville.”
Nick figured the enticement of a large sale would draw Howard like a magnet. Despite blatant antagonism, the storekeeper rallied to sell Nick his top-of-the-line locks and security equipment.
Outside once more, they stowed their purchases in the trunk and belted themselves into the Mustang. “What was all that about?” Madison said.
“Fishing expedition.”
“A fishing expedition?” She stared at him. “Did we catch anything?”
He cranked the car and grinned at her. “Oh, yeah. We got a nibble. And if we’re careful, we might haul in a large mouth bass.”
Madison eyed the huge Sports World sign. “I don’t drive jet skis or four-wheelers, so why are we here?” She thought he’d forget about the marathon torture for a few days because of the fire. No such luck.
“Cinderella needs new slippers.” He urged her into the air-conditioned store interior.
She stared at the sports-related equipment that occupied every inch of available space. Why was she here? Forget basketballs or free weights. She lifted knitting needles for exercise and hated to sweat. Her brain must have short-circuited for her to agree to walk in a half-marathon. Her feet already hurt thinking about miles of concrete and asphalt.
Madison sat in a chair by the women’s running shoes. “Cinderella needs to go home and clean ashes from the fireplace.” Thousands of shoes lay within reach if she wanted to touch them. She didn’t.
Nick laughed. “Wind will blow away the ashes. Let’s find shoes that make you feel like you’re walking on clouds.” He wandered the aisles and brought her several brands and styles of shoes.
“Don’t you think this is overkill?” Boxes towered on both sides of her chair. “It’ll take at least an hour to try on all these shoes.”
He knelt, positioned her foot on his thigh and untied her shoe. “Two hours, and you’ll thank me after walking the first mile in the right shoes. We’ll keep track of your mileage and replace the shoes about every 400 miles.”
Madison tried and failed to imagine 400 miles of wear on a pair of shoes. Her stomach knotted. For Julia, she’d walk.
He squeezed her shoeless foot. “Don’t worry, Cinders. When we find the right shoes, you’ll dance at the ball.”
Ninety minutes later, Madison walked into sultry September heat with a large bag in each hand. “How did the most uncoordinated, least athletic woman in Otter Creek end up with two pairs of the most expensive running shoes to grace store shelves?”
Nick unlocked the trunk and stored her bags inside. “You need a second pair in case it rains. Wet shoes mean blisters.”
“Who says I’ll walk in the rain?” She frowned at him, her hands fisted on her hips. “I’ll resemble a drowned rat, and I refuse to look like a blonde rodent. Besides, aren’t those super thick socks you made me buy supposed to prevent blisters?”
He grinned. “The socks are whine insurance. If you end up with blisters, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Madison’s taste buds tingled at the tangy sauce on her tongue. Could Serena match the melting texture of the ravioli? Opera music played in the background and created the perfect ambience for her favorite Italian restaurant.
Her gaze drifted over the dim interior of the dining room with its familiar greenery, faux miniature Roman statues and sculptures, and Italian landscape oil paintings. A wave of nostalgia washed over her. Her last meal at Bellini’s had been with Luke about a month before the accident.
“I’m sorry.”
Nick’s soft voice jerked her back from her memories. “Why?” She couldn’t think of actions or words requiring an apology. He’d catered to every need. In truth, she ought to apologize herself for taking advantage of him.
“I should have realized this place would resurrect painful memories.”
He looked so miserable her heart squeezed in sympathy. Madison reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. “It brings back good memories, too. Laughter accompanied every meal here.” She smiled. “You came with us a few times and brought a different date each time. What happened to all those women?”
He turned his hand and entwined their fingers. Heat rose in her cheeks. She should pull her hand away, but his hand cradling hers felt right.
He shrugged. “They moved on.”
She frowned, puzzled by his expression. Before she could pursue the subject, his cell phone rang. Madison released his hand and focused on the last of her meal.
“I’ll be at the restaurant for another half hour. Can you make it by then?” He listened for a minute. “Thanks, man. I owe you.” He slipped the phone back into the carrier.
“What’s going on?”
“Flynn has surveillance photos he thought I should see.”
“David Flynn?” Dismay oozed from her voice. She shuddered. She’d met the man a couple of times, but he made her feel edgy. Luke had told her Flynn spent months deep undercover with some of the vilest men alive, as if that explained his weird behavior. The man scared her with his tenuous hold on reality.
Nick’s lips twitched. “You’ve met him.”
“I feel sorry for his wife.”
He handed her the dessert menu with a smile. “Need some chocolate to build up your courage?”
By the time she and Nick polished off the rich, velvety double chocolate espress
o cake, Flynn appeared. Customers and waiters alike gave the man a wide berth with his long dark hair, two-day beard stubble, gold-studded ear, and cold, ruthless gleam in his eyes. Dressed in black, including cowboy boots the color of tar, he looked like death on the hoof.
He sat down without preamble and tossed an envelope toward Nick with a sidelong glance at her. Recognition flickered for an instant in his eyes. His shuttered expression restored, he dismissed her and focused on Nick. Madison fought down an unreasonable desire to scoot her chair far away from Flynn. The man seemed to absorb all the room and oxygen at their table.
“The narcs were running surveillance on a possible drug house. Caught your man on film.” His deep, raspy voice grated on Madison’s nerves.
Nick slid a picture from the brown envelope. He studied the photograph, his face expressionless. “Didn’t make a buy?”
“Nope.”
She craned her neck. “Let me see.”
Nick tilted the picture away from her. “Madison, the narcs got a picture of Bates with his girlfriend.”
Maybe she didn’t want to see the picture. From his actions, Bates’ girlfriend must be someone she knew. The irony mocked her. Two nights ago she stood toe-to-toe with Nick, told him she could handle anything as long as no skeletons lurked in the closet or secrets leaped free. Part of the truth waited an arm’s length away and she preferred torching the picture, sight unseen.
Madison reached deep inside and seized another handful of courage. Maybe the chocolate rush gave her a false sense of bravado, but she refused to be a victim any longer. She held out her hand, her gaze locked with his. She grasped the photo and turned it to reveal the images captured on film. Nick gave her a small nod. She blinked and dropped her gaze to the black-and-white picture.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Madison thrust the photo back into his hand, denial springing to her lips. “There has to be some other explanation.”
“Pictures don’t lie.” Nick slid the photo into the envelope. “Jenny Siler is Bates’ girlfriend.”
