Lila laughed softly. “She really was quite something. Tough as nails, that woman. I liked her. She despised me, of course, but I respected that. She always suspected something was off, but I don’t think she realized my true capabilities until her neighbor died.
“I’d been looking after poor Mrs. McHenry for months. Like my aunt, a stroke had debilitated her. I helped her make the transition by putting a pillow over her face. Your grandmother confronted me. This was after you’d gone off to college, so she was alone in the house. It would have been easy enough to shut her up for good, but that could have aroused suspicion coming so soon after her neighbor’s death. So I took that watch from Charles’s study and planted it beneath the floorboard at the Ruins.”
Nikki physically started at the revelation.
Lila nodded at her reaction. “Yes, I knew all about your little hiding place. I know everything that goes on in this town. I told your grandmother if she made trouble for me, I’d see to it that you got blamed for stealing that watch. I’d show the sheriff your journal, too. You know, the part where you’d been with Riley Cavanaugh the night she disappeared? Even if you didn’t do jail time, you’d lose all your scholarship and grant money. You’d have to drop out of school and would likely end up like your worthless mother. So your grandmother kept silent. She went to her grave protecting you, Nikki. You should be very proud of her.”
Tears stung Nikki’s eyes. She tried to summon her grandmother’s spirit. She had been tough as nails. What would she do in Nikki’s position?
Stop struggling so hard against those bindings, girl. You’re only tightening the knot. Just slow down and take your time. Use your head for a change.
Nikki calmed herself yet again and worked methodically at the knot. Maybe it was her imagination, but the cord seemed looser around her wrists.
“So that’s my story.” Lila smiled down at her in the moonlight. “I’ve answered all your questions and given you the gift of your grandmother’s devotion. See? I really am an angel. And now to be merciful...”
Nikki shook her head, silently pleading.
“Don’t worry,” Lila soothed. “It’ll be painless. I could just knock you in the head, throw you in the grave and bury you alive the way I did poor Lila, but I have more refined sensibilities now.” She produced a gun from the pocket of her jeans. “See? It has a silencer and everything. One shot between the eyes and you won’t feel a thing. Eddie Bowman procured it for me and I used it just this morning to shoot him in the chest. He was useful to a certain point, but stupid and greedy. Willing to do almost anything for the right amount of money, but then he’d turn around and blackmail you for the rest of your life if you let him. Ask Dr. Wingate about that. I knew when I hired him to help dispose of Dr. Nance’s body that I would have to get rid of him, too. I was careful about leaving fingerprints in his office, but I can’t say the same about Dr. Wingate. I expect she’s in for a rough few weeks, especially if I decide to plant this gun in her house. But we have to deal with you first, don’t we?” She stuffed the gun back in her capris and grabbed Nikki’s bound feet. “Let’s get you in the hole. Be less messy that way.”
She was strong for her age. Strong for any age. She picked up Nikki’s bound feet and dragged her with relative ease to the grave. Nikki went limp until Lila stood near the edge, and then she bucked her body and kicked. The attack seemed to catch Lila by surprise. She was used to a more fragile victim. She teetered on the edge and then fell backward into the grave.
Nikki scrambled away, slipping her hands free of the cord, ripping off the gag, and then she set to work on her ankles. Before she could free herself completely, Lila hoisted herself out of the grave. Grasping the gun in both hands, she staggered to her feet, looking desperate and demented in the moonlight. Nikki ducked and rolled, trying to make herself a harder target to hit.
Adam seemed to appear out of nowhere. In actuality, he’d slipped through the back gate without either of them noticing. He picked up the shovel and whacked Lila Wilkes on the back of the head. She hit the ground with a soft thud.
He was beside Nikki in a flash, untying her ankles and then taking her face in his hands. “You okay?”
“I am now,” she said. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Dr. Nance left us the address.”
“What?”
“1447 Oak Lane. He led me straight to his killer.”
Chapter Sixteen
Nikki spent the rest of the night and most of the next day in the hospital undergoing a round of tests to make certain she’d suffered no internal injuries from the accident. Adam stayed with her the whole time and they both gave their statements to Tom Brannon at her bedside.
That afternoon, Adam drove her home and fussed over her until she finally said, “Enough. I feel fine. Let’s go sit outside and get some fresh air.”
They sat on the back steps taking in the lush scent of the roses as they watched a glorious sunset. After a while, they talked about everything that had happened.
“Turns out, Lila Wilkes, aka Sally Johnston, spent some time in a mental health facility when she was a teenager,” Adam said. “That’s probably why she was so fascinated with the Ruins.”
“As much time as I spent out there as a kid, I never once saw her,” Nikki said.
“She was careful. She went in and out of Dr. Nance’s house without Dessie ever seeing her. She was probably in a lot of other houses, too. She kept tabs on everyone. Tom Brannon showed me photos of the stacks and stacks of journals they found in her house, detailing everything she’s done. She’s still quite proud of herself and seems to be enjoying all the attention.”
Nikki shivered. “It’s chilling to think how she watched us for years. How she literally got away with murder right under our noses. And everyone called her an angel. No one suspected a thing. Why do you think she did it?”
“Other than being criminally insane? She craved the attention, especially as she got older. She won praises for caring for the elderly and more praises still for planning their funerals. I guess you could say she found her niche.”
Nikki gave him a look. “The woman is a cold-blooded killer. She stabbed her boyfriend in the eye with an ice pick.”
“I’m not making light of what she did,” Adam said. “Far from it.”
They were sitting close, touching comfortably. Adam put his hand on her knee and she laid her head on his shoulder. “This town has been through so much in the past fifteen years. We never got over Riley’s disappearance and now this. Our most beloved citizen murdered by our second most beloved citizen. A woman who was never who we thought she was. My grandmother knew all along and she never said a word.”
“She didn’t know. She suspected. She had no proof. She kept silent to protect you.”
“That’s something I’m still trying to digest,” Nikki said. “I always thought I was just an annoyance to her. A burden. Turns out—”
“She loved you.”
Nikki blinked back hot tears. “I wish I’d known.”
“You know now. You can’t go back in time, Nikki. You can only move forward.”
She sighed. “What happens now?”
“Things will get back to normal eventually. Dr. Wingate will probably be investigated. As for Dessie and Clete...” He shrugged. “Maybe they’ll make a go of it. Dr. Nance’s will seems to be legit. Dessie gets the house and enough cash to live comfortably. Your school loans will be taken care of. The rest goes to research. He was a good man, Dr. Nance.”
“A very good man.” She turned to search Adam’s features. “But I meant, what happens to us? There’s nothing keeping you here now that you’ve solved Dr. Nance’s mystery.”
Adam squeezed her knee. “I wouldn’t say nothing.”
“You know what I mean. I assume you’ll be heading back to Dallas in a few days. You’ll get your old job back and your life wil
l return to normal, too.”
“You make it sound like normal has to be the end of things,” he said. “Dallas is little more than a two-hour drive from Belle Pointe. I sometimes sit longer than that in traffic. We can see each other whenever we want. If we want. Maybe we can even try dating. You know, dinner, movies, baseball games.” He shrugged. “I say, we see how it plays out.”
Nikki thought about his suggestion. She’d rarely ever made time for a social life. She’d devoted herself to her studies and then to her career. She had a vision of herself in the lab, the hours flying by until it was time to leave the lab and go meet Adam for dinner. Or a movie. Or a baseball game. Or just a leisurely evening here in her garden. For now, it sounded like the best of both worlds. It sounded a little bit like heaven.
She nodded, her head still nuzzled against his shoulder. “Yeah,” she said. “Let’s see how it plays out.”
* * *
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Witness on the Run
by Cassie Miles
Chapter One
The Day of the Dead celebration unleashed a parade of floats, bands, ghosts, skeletons and zombies that wended through the night in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Some people carried tiki torches while others waved neon lights. Alyssa Bailey stood with a crowd on the curb and watched. The thought of dancing in the street made her self-conscious. She had turned in her ledgers and calculator three years ago when she first entered the witness protection program, but she still had the soul of a quiet accountant who liked to have every i dotted and every t crossed.
This year, she vowed, would be different. No more standing on the sidelines. She was twenty-seven and needed to join the parade before life passed her by. During Día de los Muertos on the weekend after Halloween, the veil between the real world and the afterlife thinned. The dead craved laughter, song and revelry. Alyssa was determined to get into the spirit of the thing.
Just before she got off work at half past nine, she’d gotten a phone call from someone anonymous saying they’d see her at the parade. The voice had been so garbled that she couldn’t tell if the caller was male or female, but she intended to keep a lookout for a familiar face.
Gathering her courage, she took a giant step into the street, where she shuffled along to the irresistible beat of drums and death rattles. Her eardrums popped when the trumpets and saxophones wailed. People in crazy costumes bumped and jostled. She told herself that this was fun, fun, fun but didn’t believe it. The wild display of neon, color and confetti made her feel like she was inside a raucous, whirling kaleidoscope.
A masked ghost dressed like an 1800s pirate approached her, whipped off his tricorn hat and swept a bow before he grasped her hands and spun her in a circle. The music shifted gears from a dirge to a more upbeat tempo, and her pirate led her in an energetic dance that was half waltz, half polka and one hundred percent exciting—more thrilling than the handful of dates she’d had in the last three years.
He leaned close and said, “Tell me about your costume. Who are you?”
She’d put together a ragged outfit of pantaloons and an old-fashioned gown with a low bodice, lace trim and a tattered skirt. The clothes were meant to honor her mother. Mom had been born and raised in Savannah. Though they’d lived in Chicago for as long as Alyssa could remember, her mom would always be a southern belle. Five years ago, she’d been killed in a hit-and-run.
Tilting her head, she gazed up at her pirate’s silver half mask. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, his mouth was visible. He had a divot in his chin—very sexy. She swallowed hard and said, “I’m supposed to be a zombie Scarlett O’Hara.”
“Good choice, cher. With your dark hair and green eyes, you make a real pretty Scarlett.”
Her mom had always said the same. “Did you call me?” she asked. “Was I supposed to meet you here at the parade?”
“We didn’t have an appointment.”
“Well, we should have.” Alyssa gestured to his white shirt with full sleeves and his burgundy velvet vest with gold buttons. “Are you a famous pirate? Jean Lafitte?”
Again, he doffed the hat and bowed. “I’m the ghost of Captain Jean-Pierre Fournier, an original pirate of the Caribbean and one of my ancestors. I am Rafael Fournier.”
“I do declare,” she said in a corny southern accent. Unaccustomed to teasing, she wasn’t sure she was doing it right. “I’m ever so pleased to make your acquaintance, Rafael.”
“Enchanté, mademoiselle. Please call me Rafe.”
He twirled her again and then held her close. Their posture felt strangely intimate in the midst of a wild crowd. Her half-exposed breasts crushed against his firm chest. Their thighs touched. He guided her so skillfully that she felt graceful, beautiful and sultry. Before she knew what was happening, they were dancing a tango. A tango? No way! She didn’t know these steps but must have been doing something right. People in the crowd made way for them and applauded as they passed by.
When their dance ended, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Merci, ma belle.”
With a flourish, he disappeared into the crowd—an impressive feat for a guy who was over six feet tall with wide shoulders and puffy sleeves. He’d kissed her and called her belle, beautiful. Moi?
Their dance gave her courage. Life was meant to be celebrated. When a laughing zombie placed a beer in her hand, Alyssa took a huge gulp and wholeheartedly threw herself into the parade, bounding along the street, snapping her fingers and shaking her hips. Her mom would have loved this scene. If she were here, she’d have danced all night. It was Alyssa’s duty to celebrate in Mom’s place, dancing with pirates and looking for mysterious people who left anonymous messages.
On a street corner, she encountered a guy dressed like Baron Samedi, the voodoo master of the dead, with a skull face and top hat. He blew a puff of chalky powder at the crowd, making everybody more ghostlike. All around her, people were laughing and waving, drinking and dancing. New Orleans took every opportunity to party—from Mardi Gras to funeral processions to Día de los Muertos.
Dodging around a dour threesome in skull masks, she joined a group of zombie belly dancers with tambourines. A four-member band played “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and she sang with loud enthusiasm that was hugely out of character. She danced along a street where the storefronts were mostly voodoo shops. The fortune tellers stood outside, enticing tourists with offers of special deals. For a small fee, the bereaved could have a conversation with loved ones who had crossed over. Instead of dismissing the voodoo promises as illogical and absurd, Alyssa imagined how wonderful it would be to talk to Mom one more time.
A loud, raucous laugh cut through the music. Alyssa knew that sound. A shiver prickled between her shoulder blades, as quick and creepy as a spider running across her back. She peered toward the fortune tellers on the sidewalk. Amid the crowd, she saw a woman who looked like her mother. She stood in a doorway, laughing with her head thrown back and her long silver hair rising in a cloud of curls around her head.
Could it be? Her mom couldn’t be the voice on the phone. Alyssa would have recognized her. And she was dead, very dead—Alyssa had identified the remains. She caught another glimpse. The silver-haired woman looked so much like her mom. Could she be a ghost?
Alyssa broke away from the parade and ran toward the place where she’d seen the
woman. A trombone player got in her way, and then a high-kicking can-can dancer. The music shifted to a minor key as a feeling of dread swelled in her chest and spread through her body. The shop where the woman had been standing was closed, and the door was locked.
Frantically, Alyssa asked if anyone had seen her. Nobody knew anything. Nor did they care. Laissez les bon temps rouler—let the good times roll.
But Alyssa couldn’t let go. The woman’s resemblance to her mom was too uncanny to ignore. Operating on instinct, she darted through an alley and came out on a street where there weren’t as many people. She crossed at the stoplight and entered a park with a large brick patio and bronze statues of jazz legends. Pacing back and forth, she scanned in all directions.
At the edge of a grassy area lined with fat palm trees she saw the three men in matching skeleton masks who had been at the parade. She’d noticed their cold, serious attitude. Why were they here? Had they followed her?
The tallest asked, “Do you need help?”
“I’m looking for a woman. She has curly silver hair.”
“Oh yeah, we saw her. Come with us.”
The three of them surrounded her. She was trapped and beginning to be scared. “Forget about it. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He edged closer. “You’re coming with us.”
For the three years that she’d been in the witness protection program, she’d lived in fear of this moment. The dangerous criminals she’d testified against wanted to take revenge, and she figured that it was only a matter of time before they found her. She pivoted on her heel, tried to run.
The leader grabbed her arm and yanked. The other two closed in. One of them slapped a cloth over her mouth to keep her from calling for help. She couldn’t breathe. A sickly-sweet antiseptic smell penetrated her nostrils. She heard the men in skeleton masks laughing, telling witnesses that she’d had too much to drink and they’d make sure she got home.
A Desperate Search Page 20
