Someone must have climbed over the fence, unfastened the bolt and then stepped back through to the path without properly closing the gate. Why anyone would do such a thing, she had no idea. Maybe a kid had kicked a ball into her yard or someone had come over the fence chasing a cat. Or maybe the sensation of being watched wasn’t so misplaced after all. Maybe someone had been standing just behind the gate, peering through the crack, while she showered and dressed on the back porch.
Revulsion rose like bile in her throat even as she told herself she was letting her imagination get the better of her. She was stressed and not thinking straight. Who wouldn’t be? Her friend and mentor lay on a stone-cold slab in the morgue, cause of death still pending. It was certainly possible, perhaps even likely, that he’d suffered a medical event that had precipitated the overturned boat and his spill into the lake. But that didn’t explain his sudden change of plans. That didn’t explain the hidden watch or the person lurking at the lake the night before. What if he had met with foul play? What if the killer, for whatever reason, now had Nikki in his sights?
You’re being ridiculous.
But her pulse wouldn’t settle even after she latched the gate and retreated to the safety of her back porch. She made sure the screen and wooden doors were both locked and the windows were all closed before she finally went inside the house.
Everything appeared just as she’d left it that morning and yet nothing was really the same. She went through the motions of checking the refrigerator for dinner, finally settling on a turkey sandwich, but the doorbell interrupted her preparations. Drying her hands, she hurried into the foyer to glance out the sidelight. She rarely had visitors. Except for the occasional dinner with an acquaintance or work colleague, she spent her evenings alone in the garden with a book and her phone.
Lila Wilkes stood on the front porch, clutching a glass pie plate in both hands. Nikki quickly stepped back from the window. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t home, her caller would go away.
Nikki had nothing against the woman—quite the contrary. Lila Wilkes was considered something of a guardian angel in Belle Pointe, always the first to offer a comforting smile and a helping hand in times of sickness and death. Like Dr. Nance, her reputation and regard had created a larger-than-life persona and yet her physical appearance was completely nondescript. She might have been anybody from anywhere with her short gray bob and khaki capris.
Deciding she’d probably been spotted through the window, Nikki pulled the door open. “Mrs. Wilkes! What are you doing here?”
The woman said warmly, “Oh, do call me Lila. I’ve been a widow for more than thirty years. I don’t even feel like Mrs. Wilkes anymore.” Her hair was tucked behind her ears, displaying flower earrings that matched the floral print of her top and the sparkly embellishments on her sandals.
“What brings you by...?” Nikki trailed off awkwardly. Even with permission, she had a hard time addressing the woman by her given name.
“I’ve been baking all day,” Lila explained. “I was just out delivering pies to some of our neighbors and I had one left. A blueberry. I thought of you.”
“That’s very kind.” Nikki accepted the pie as she inwardly sighed. Word had already gotten out about Dr. Nance’s death. This was either a condolence call or a fishing expedition—possibly both. “Thank you.”
Lila craned her neck to glance around Nikki into the house. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”
Nikki could hardly think of a worse time, but she stepped back from the door. “Would you like to come in?”
“I can only stay a moment.” She brushed past Nikki, stopping short in the tiny foyer before advancing into the living area. “My goodness, just look at this place! You’ve certainly made a lot of changes since you moved in. It doesn’t even look like the same house anymore.”
Nikki closed the door. “I’ve done a bit of updating.”
“I should say you have,” Lila said in wonder. “Everything looks so clean and modern. I prefer traditional, of course, but you’re young and single. You have only yourself to please.”
Nikki smiled at the backhanded compliment. “I have iced tea in the refrigerator. Would you like some?”
“That would be lovely. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.”
“We’ve had such a hot summer. I always long for fall this time of year.” She followed Nikki into the kitchen, navigating seamlessly on her platform flip-flops as she circled the small area, taking in the new countertops and cabinets before moving to the French doors to glance out into the backyard. “I see you’ve kept up the garden. Poor Grace. She worked tirelessly in those beds even after she got sick. She was always so proud of her roses. Second only to mine, everyone said. We dearly miss her in the garden club.”
“The bush with the lavender blooms is amazing.” Nikki got down two glasses and poured the tea. “I’d never seen roses that color until I bought this house.”
“Twilight Mist.” Lila smiled dreamily. “Such a romantic name. I gave Grace that cutting years ago. You should see the original bush. The roses are stunning this year. I admire them every morning as I have my coffee.” She came over to the counter and sat down on one of the stools, giving a nod of approval after testing her tea. “So refreshing. Not many people can make a truly exceptional pitcher of sweet tea these days. Don’t get me started on cold brew and artificial sweeteners.”
Nikki left her own glass untouched. “Mrs. Wilkes...Lila...as much as I appreciate your dropping by like this, something tells me you didn’t come here to deliver a pie.”
“No, dear. I was with Sylvia Navarro early this morning when Billy called about Charles Nance. We were both shocked by the news. Utterly devastated. I know how close the two of you were. He spoke of you as if you were his own granddaughter. I hated thinking of you here all alone. I used the pie as an excuse to come by and see how you’re holding up.”
Nikki’s throat tightened perilously. “I’m okay.”
The older woman nodded sympathetically. “I understand Betsy Thayer’s grandson found the body. I saw him in town the other day. He’s...quite something, isn’t he? Such intense eyes. Not very talkative, but you know what they say. Still waters run deep.”
Yes, that was an apt description, Nikki thought.
“That young man has lived a life,” Lila said. “But that’s neither here nor there, is it? Poor Charles. Do you have any idea what happened? Billy said something about a capsized fishing boat.”
“An autopsy is pending. I really can’t discuss the details until the next of kin have been notified.”
Lila paused thoughtfully. “I suppose that would be his nephew, Jeremy. He lives in Atlanta, the last I heard. A few cousins are scattered about, but I don’t think Charles was close to any of them. If you ask me, Dessie Dupre is his real family. She worked for the man for the better part of thirty years. Cooked his meals, cleaned his house, tended his garden. She was quite proprietary of his time, too. No one was allowed to drop by that house without calling first.” Lila fingered the buttons on her blouse as she stared with a pensive frown into her tea. “If she’s not family, I don’t know who is.”
“I’m sure the sheriff has already spoken to her,” Nikki murmured, not offering any details about her conversation with Tom Brannon that morning.
“I’m sure he has, too, but maybe you should go see her yourself. Her sister caters our garden club luncheons and sometimes Dessie gives her a hand. We chat during the cleanup. She always speaks so highly of you and all that you’ve accomplished. I know you’d be a comfort to her at a time like this.”
“I’ll stop by as soon as I can,” Nikki said.
Lila nodded, her voice turning brisk as she mentally took charge. “I wonder if anyone has thought to call Dr. Wingate. I don’t know how close she and Charles were personally, but they were business partners for a lo
ng time. She’ll need to make arrangements for his patients. Then there’s the funeral. Flowers, music, eulogy. A hundred and one details to be considered, especially a service befitting someone of Charles Nance’s standing.”
Nikki could almost hear the gears grinding inside the woman’s head. She was in her element now. Nothing suited Lila Wilkes more than planning, organizing and delegating.
“I don’t want to think about the funeral tonight,” Nikki said. “As far as the interested parties go, Sheriff Brannon’s office will make the proper notifications. That’s how it works in this county.”
“Interested parties. That sounds so impersonal, doesn’t it? And yet there is nothing more personal than death.” Lila sighed. “But of course, you’re right. There’ll be plenty of time to make the necessary arrangements in the coming days. We all need time to process and mourn. So many people will be impacted by this death. Charles Nance was the heart of Belle Pointe.”
“Some people would argue that you’re the heart of this town,” Nikki said.
“Me?” She looked pleased. “I do what I can, but no. Charles was our heart and soul. Just look at all the lives he touched. Did you know he’s the reason I came to Belle Pointe?”
“I didn’t know.” Nikki resisted the urge to glance at the time on her phone. “Perhaps you can tell me about it someday.”
Lila blithely ignored her cue. “I was living down in Baton Rouge at the time. Only in my twenties, but already a widow. My mother had died a few years earlier and my father had passed when I was small. I was alone in the world, desperate and destitute, not knowing where my next meal would come from, much less how to pay my rent.”
“I’ve been there,” Nikki murmured. Except for the widowed part.
“And just look where you are now.” Lila beamed. “My salvation came by way of a letter. I’ve always said my trip to the mailbox that day was divine intervention.”
Nikki found her interest piqued despite her impatience. “The letter was from Dr. Nance?”
“It was. I didn’t know him at the time, only that he was my aunt Mary’s physician. She’d taken ill and had asked him to write to me on her behalf. The letter caught me by surprise. Mary was my mother’s sister, but I’d only ever met her once that I could remember. She and my mother had had a falling-out years earlier.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yes. My mother didn’t like to talk about it, so I never knew the details. Anyway, my aunt needed someone to look after her, and seeing as how I was her only living relative, she wondered if I would be willing to come to Belle Pointe and move in with her. My circumstances being what they were, the invitation seemed too good to be true. But after Charles and I spoke on the phone, I accepted her offer. He could be quite convincing when he wanted to be. Charming, too. And, oh, so dashing back in those days.” She looked momentarily flustered and laughed at herself. “I’m afraid I had a bit of a crush on him. Everyone did. He was the most handsome and charismatic man I ever knew.”
“I never thought of him as a heartthrob,” Nikki said.
“Oh, my dear child, you’ve no idea. Audrey was a very lucky lady. But to make a long story short, a week after we spoke on the phone, I arrived by bus with little more than the clothes on my back.”
“It must have been stressful moving in with someone you didn’t know,” Nikki said.
“Stressful is hardly the word. Even though Charles had warned me about my aunt’s illness, I was shocked by her condition. A stroke had left her bedridden. She could barely speak or even feed herself without assistance. The responsibility of caring for her seemed overwhelming at first. I often thought about slipping away in the middle of the night, but she needed me. I was all she had, and after a time, I came to love her as if she were my own mother. When she died, I was no longer destitute thanks to her generosity, but once again desperately alone. Then a few weeks later, Mrs. Jensen fell and broke her hip. And Mrs. Witherspoon came down with pneumonia. The point is, there was always someone who needed me. I came to Belle Pointe for my aunt, but the whole town became my family.” She reached across the counter and placed her hand on Nikki’s. “We can be your family, too, if you’ll let us.”
Nikki appreciated the gesture. She did. But allowing someone into her life and into her heart wasn’t so easy. Everyone she’d ever cared about had left her. She murmured her appreciation as she slipped her hand away. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
“It’s the least I can do. I was always sorry I couldn’t do more for your poor grandmother.” Lila rose. “I’ll be on my way now. I’ve taken up too much of your time as it is. Thank you for indulging a chatty old woman. You call me if you need anything. I mean that sincerely.”
“I will.” Nikki ushered her out the door.
“And please let me know about the autopsy.” She looked suddenly aghast as she stood on the porch steps gazing up at Nikki. “Goodness, that sounded macabre. I just think it would give us all some closure if we knew for certain what happened out there on that lake.”
Nikki nodded without comment. She stood on the porch and watched Lila Wilkes’s taillights disappear around the corner. As the sound of the car engine faded, the neighborhood fell quiet. Clouds covered the moon so that only the streetlamps kept the gloom at bay. With the gathering darkness, apprehension once again descended.
Nikki scanned the nightscape, unable to shake the notion that someone was out there in the shadows watching her house, watching her, but why?
Chapter Five
Adam cut the engine and drifted through the tangle of water lilies toward the bank. This was the first time he’d taken his grandmother’s twelve-foot johnboat out on the water since hauling it down from storage. After making sure the aluminum hull was still sound, he’d purchased a small outboard motor for tooling around the lake. The horsepower wouldn’t win any races, but he didn’t plan on needing much speed. At the moment, he was much more concerned about stealth.
All day long, he’d worked outside so that he could keep an eye on Dr. Nance’s cabin. Two of Tom Brannon’s officers had come out early that morning to search the property and the surrounding woods. After they left, Adam had been sorely tempted to take the boat across the lake right then and there, but he’d told himself to wait for darkness. The last thing he needed was to be caught in broad daylight breaking and entering a dead man’s house.
Although, technically, he didn’t need to break in. Dr. Nance had told him where he could find a spare key in case his grandmother’s house was unlivable. Still, it was best to avoid getting jammed up with local law enforcement, so Adam had watched the water and waited.
Sure enough, a little while ago, Tom Brannon and his officers had come back out to the cabin to take another look around. Adam had lingered on the dock, tracking their movements by the bobble of their flashlights. One of them had come down to the bank and shone his light across the water, catching Adam in the beam. Adam had lifted his hand in a brief salute and stubbornly stayed put while the light washed over the dock and climbed the stairs behind him.
After the cops drove off, Adam had climbed down into the fishing boat and started the outboard. Seated at the tiller, he’d navigated across the dark water using the faint shimmer of moonlight from behind thin clouds to guide him.
Now he let the prow run aground beneath a thick curtain of Spanish moss, then hopped out of the boat and grabbed his flashlight. He had no idea what he might find in the cabin. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. The notes and files that Dr. Nance had mentioned during their last phone call? The sheriff and his officers would have bagged and documented any evidence they’d come across, but Adam knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d been through the cabin himself.
He climbed the steep steps, glancing over his shoulder now and then to scour the water and the surrounding woods. He could see the silhouette of his grandmother’s house across the lake and, farther down
the bank, the twinkling lights on Ellie Brannon’s antenna. This time of night, she would probably be in her tiny studio, getting ready for her radio broadcast. Adam had listened to her show once or twice since he moved in. Midnight on Echo Lake, she called it. Strange show. Strange callers. Not his thing. He had no interest in the supernatural, but he had to admit if any place could be haunted, it would be Echo Lake. If souls could be trapped, they would surely linger inside the Ruins.
The bullfrogs on this side of the lake had gone silent upon his arrival. The woods seemed darker than usual and eerily quiet. Adam missed the noises of the city. Squealing tires, blaring horns. An endless cacophony of sirens. On the day of the shooting, the same uncanny hush had settled over the residential street where he and his partner had gone to serve a warrant. No kids on the sidewalk. No garbage trucks, no yard crews. Adam remembered standing at the top of the porch steps and looking out over the street as he took in that strange silence. A split second later, all hell had broken loose.
He shook himself out of the past, running a hand over the top of his head as his gaze traveled across the lake and along the bank. Nothing moved. Nothing so much as a stray breeze stirred, and yet he couldn’t shake a vague premonition that something was wrong.
He searched the darkness for a moment longer before he climbed up to the deck. Locating the key beneath the seat cushion of an old blue rocking chair, he let himself in through the French doors and paused once more to gather his bearings. Then he turned on the flashlight and moved the beam slowly around the space.
The cabin was small, with the kitchen to his left, the living area straight ahead and the bedroom and bathroom to his right. He crossed the room and glanced out the front window. Dr. Nance’s Jeep was parked in the gravel driveway. Adam went out the door and down the porch steps to check the vehicle. The doors were locked. He shone the light inside and then walked slowly around the vehicle, checking for body damage or bloodstains.
A Desperate Search Page 6
