by Nora Roberts
What satisfaction or thrill did someone get from destroying someone else’s property?
She got up, and since she’d showered the night before—with Zane—pulled on work clothes. She’d top off the coffee, have some cereal, check the weather forecast.
And get an early start on the waterfall.
As she wandered downstairs, she switched on lights. After setting Zane’s coffee maker for half a cup, she checked his kitchen tablet for the weather.
Hot, humid, probable late afternoon or evening thunderstorms. Typical. Yawning the night off, she poured cereal, got out the blueberries she’d stocked for overnights.
As she started to doctor her freshened coffee, the security lights went on. Her first thought: Deer.
She sprayed regularly with her homemade organic repellent, ordered Zane and her male crew members to pee around the shrubs—another fine repellent in her estimation. She’d planted plenty of deer-resistant plants.
But you just couldn’t trust Bambi.
She disengaged the alarm, pulled open the accordion doors, and started out with every intention of chasing off the invaders.
It hit her like a guided missile, knocking her back, crashing her against the kitchen island and onto the floor.
For a moment, dazed, she imagined a ten-point buck charging in. Then she saw the man.
“So, Zane’s got himself a little whore. One built more like a boy. Figures.” He pulled the doors shut behind him. “Saw your truck. I just needed you to let me inside while he’s down in town. Thanks for that.”
He started toward her, fists curled tight. “Now, you’re going to stay down, stay quiet.”
The hell she would.
She jumped up, spun, planted a hard kick in his midsection. Instinct had her running when he stumbled back. She could get outside, lose him in the woods.
But how would she warn Zane with her phone still on the charger?
So she whirled back, heart racing, and dropped into a fighting stance. She’d stand her ground.
Eyes glinting, he charged. Fast, she thought, he’s fast, and she used his momentum as she pivoted aside, followed up with a kick to his kidneys. He pitched forward, went to his knees.
“Now you stay down.”
He came up fists flailing. She blocked a punch with her forearm, felt the force of it scream straight to her shoulder. Ducked, and came up with the heel of her hand. Felt the crunch as she broke his nose.
He got one past her, landed a blow on her still singing shoulder, aimed for her face with his left. She batted his arm away, shot a kick higher, struck his jaw. And when he reeled back, planted her boot—two hard, fast kicks—in his crotch.
This time he went down, stayed down.
And she ran.
* * *
Zane stood in his office, hands in pockets. Just broken glass, he reminded himself. Nobody hurt, easily repaired. Insured.
But it upset and disturbed him that anyone would deliberately destroy what was his.
“The only person I’ve had any trouble with since I got back would be Clint Draper,” he told Silas.
His brother-in-law, dark blond hair still a little bed-rumpled, his raw-boned face still carrying the night’s stubble, nodded.
“I know it. We’ll be talking to him. But like I said, we got three calls for broken windows, all within about fifteen minutes.”
“All on Main Street?”
“I don’t think so. I need to check on that. Ginny was on call tonight, and contacted me when your office got hit. She handled the first two, but figured I’d want in. I’m two minutes away, and family. Speaking of, I felt like we had to let the chief know.”
Silas shook his head at the rock, at the shards of glass. “It’s just not the sort of vandalism we get around here. Some mailbox bashing along the lake road, kids TPing houses now and then, keying cars, and the like.”
“Well, if you catch them, and they want a defense attorney, they can count me out.”
“Can’t blame you.” His radio signaled. “Hold on.” Silas paced away, paced back after a brief conversation.
“The chief’s on his way. He wants you to stay put. He needs to talk to you.”
His brother-in-law had a good cop face, but Zane knew him too well to miss the worry. “What is it?”
“He’s contacted the local LEOs in Raleigh, just to make sure Graham Bigelow’s where he’s supposed to be.”
“Why?”
“Dave Carter’s place got a rock through the window. And so did your old house in Lakeview Terrace. That makes a connection, Zane, so let’s make sure.”
“Why the hell would he—Darby.” Fear chilled him straight down to the bone. “She’s alone at my place.”
He rushed out before Silas could stop him, and screamed away from the curb just as Lee pulled up.
“Get in,” Lee shouted at Silas. “We just got a nine-one-one from Zane’s house.”
“Darby’s there.”
“I know. She made the call.”
The Porsche hit eighty before the town limits, and Zane didn’t ease up. He hit the hands-free to call Darby, to tell her to hide, lock herself in and hide, and the phone rang.
“Darby. I need you to find a safe place, lock yourself in. I think Graham’s going to try to get in the house.”
“Too late. I’m okay. I called nine-one-one first.”
“I’m nearly there.”
“I’m okay. I’m all right. I—I can see you. Slow down. Jesus, don’t wreck the car. I’m okay.”
He could see her now in the wash of security lights, sitting on the steps of the porch. Her face so white the blood on it shined like neon.
She started to get to her feet as he screamed to a stop, wobbled, sat again.
He lifted her straight up. “Where are you hurt? What did he do to you? Which way did he go?”
“I’m not hurt. He tried, but I’m not really hurt. He didn’t go anywhere. He’s inside.”
Everything in him went hard and cold. “That’s Lee coming. You hear the sirens? You stay right here, wait for him. Stay out here, Darby.”
He went inside, ready, even eager now, to take on the man who’d put blood and bruises on what was precious to him.
And found Dr. Graham Bigelow on the floor, unconscious, his arms and legs restrained with … bungee cords.
“I had some in the truck,” Darby managed from the doorway.
“You did this?”
“I … I feel a little sick.” When she stumbled back outside, Zane scooped her up again, sat her down.
“Head between your legs. Breathe slow, darlin’. Just breathe.”
He waited for Lee to pull up behind his car, for Lee and Silas to leap out. “He’s inside. He won’t give you any trouble. Darby saw to that.”
“Is she hurt? Does she need an ambulance?”
“I don’t think so.” He kept rubbing her back, slow, steady strokes. “Just shaky. If she needs to go to the clinic, I’ll take her. You can decide if he needs one.”
“I’m all right,” she said again, but kept her head between her knees.
Silas came back out, crouched in front of her. He used the same gentle tone Zane had heard him use with Audra. “Sweetheart, did you hog-tie that son of a bitch with bungee cords?”
“It’s what I had handy.”
“How about we get you inside, get you sitting down with some cool water. If you don’t want to go to the clinic right off, I can call Dave Carter. He’ll come look you over.”
“Do that, Silas,” Zane told him. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“I’m not really hurt,” Darby began, only to have Zane pick her up. “And I can walk.”
“No,” he said, and carried her inside.
He walked straight past Graham and Lee, who was switching out bungee cords for cuffs, carried her back to the great room sofa.
“Sit.”
“Do I get a Milk-Bone?”
“Knock it off.” He walked to the kitchen, got her a bot
tle of water, walked back, dampened a cloth, and unbalanced her mood by gently wiping the blood from her face. “It’s not yours,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek.
“No. It’s his. I broke his nose. That was for you.”
That broke him. He gripped her free hand, pressed it to his lips, just held there. Then he looked into her eyes. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Nice work?”
“Ah, Jesus, Darby.”
“Here.” She held out the water. “I think you could use some, too. Then maybe we just sit here a minute and pull ourselves together.”
Lee found them like that, sitting, passing the water bottle.
“Dave and Jim are on their way. Silas is on Bigelow, and I’ve got another couple of officers coming. He’s going to need some medical attention, so we’ll get him out of here. Honey, are you hurt?”
“Not really.”
“There’s blood on your shirt.”
“That’s his. I broke his nose, and I kicked him in the face. And the balls. I—I’ve got a black belt. Kung fu.”
Blowing out a breath, Lee sat. “Are you steady enough to tell me what happened?”
“Yeah. I was just shaky before. I never actually … training and competitions aren’t the same. I was down here, in the kitchen, and the security lights went on. I figured deer. I use repellant but they’re tricky. So I turned off the alarm, opened the back door to go out and chase them off. I didn’t even see him coming. He charged me—that was his mistake.”
“Mistake?”
“If he’d punched me, he’d probably have put me down, maybe knocked me out, but he just barreled in, knocked me back against the island—I think—and I fell. I was a little dazed, but not out. I think I saw him yesterday, parked across the street from the Ledbeckers’ place.”
“Did you notice what kind of car?”
“Black, four-door sedan. I don’t really know cars, so I don’t know the make, but I think a luxury car. It looked new, but I’m not sure.”
“Okay, he knocked you down, then what?”
“He called me Zane’s whore, said something about seeing my truck.”
“The lights came on just after three,” Zane put in. “I saw taillights heading back down when I got up to check. He must’ve driven up here, seen I wasn’t alone.”
“He’d have seen me and the truck at the Ledbeckers’, put that together. Wait, he said he’d needed me to let him in while Zane was in town. The broken window at the office.”
On a hiss, she tapped a fist to her head. “I played right into it. Well, he didn’t get away with it, did he? He was going to make sure I stayed quiet, stayed down, and he came at me. I got up. I have to say he seemed amused and pleased I was going to fight back. But he didn’t know I could kick his sorry ass.”
Tears trickled out, had her pressing her fingers to her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you be sorry,” Lee ordered. “We can do this later.”
“No, no, I’m good. He doesn’t really know how to fight, just how to punch and hurt. I hurt him first, but he kept coming. I knocked him down, and started to run, but I realized I didn’t have my phone, and maybe I could lose him in the woods, but I couldn’t warn Zane, call the cops. So I decided to finish it.”
She took a minute to swipe away tears, drink more water.
“He got up, and I did—finish it. When he was out, I ran out to the truck. The bungee cords were handy, and I wanted to get him restrained in case he woke up before I could call for help. And that’s about that.”
She started to get up; Zane pressed her back.
“I want a Coke.”
“I’ll get it. Sit down.”
When he walked to the kitchen, he saw Dave rush in with his partner, Jim, behind him. And Graham sitting up, hands cuffed behind his back, his face a mass of blood and bruises.
“Good to see you, Graham.” Dave paused to give him a sneering look. “Good to see you just like this. You take him, Jim. I’ll take the lady.”
He started back, his eyes meeting Zane’s for a long moment. Then he crossed over to Darby, crouched, smiled. “How’s it going, champ?”
“I’m okay.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Any dizziness, nausea?”
“No. I had a little of both right after, but it was just reaction.”
He opened his kit, took out a blood pressure cuff. “Your knuckles are swollen and bruised. You’ve got some bruises coming up on your left arm.”
“I blocked a punch. He’s strong.”
“He likes to gut punch.”
“He didn’t get one in. He only got one by me—I think—adrenaline blur. In the shoulder—and it was feeling it from the block. I’m a little rusty or he wouldn’t have gotten one by me.”
“If that’s a little rusty,” Lee commented, “I’d like to see what you can do when you’re all in.”
“I’m with you,” Dave agreed. “I need to see the shoulder.”
When she started to take off her shirt, Lee pushed up.
“Sports bra,” she said. “You see more at the gym—don’t worry about it.”
Her shoulder protested, but setting her teeth, Darby peeled off her T-shirt. Twisting her head, she got her first good look. “Okay, shit. He got one by me all right.”
“Her back’s bruised and scraped.” Zane’s voice came out deadly calm, in direct opposition to the blood rising hot under his skin.
“It’s a little sore, that’s all.” To prove it, she lifted her elbow, then her arm, rolled the shoulder back, rolled it forward. “Nothing’s pulled or broken. Full range of motion. I know what it feels like when it’s really hurt. It’s not. A couple of Motrin will handle it.”
“After a visit to the clinic,” Lee said.
“I don’t—”
“I’ll take her,” Zane interrupted.
“It only adds to the case against Bigelow if you’re under a doctor’s care for injuries he inflicted,” Lee pointed out. “It would help us out.”
“Okay, okay. But I need to get the crew started. They’re probably here and wondering what the hell.
“Give me a minute.”
When Dave went out to consult with Jim, and Lee walked away to answer his signaling phone, Zane got a bag of peas out of the freezer. “Never eat them,” he said as he handed Darby the Coke, laid the cold bag on her shoulder. “Always have them.”
“Hey, me, too. It’s just bumps and scrapes, Zane.”
“I know.” Still he stroked her hair. “But you’re going to the clinic.”
“We’re taking Bigelow into Asheville,” Dave said. “Jackie Chan here did a number on him. Broken nose, black eyes, a few loose teeth. Jaw may be broken. His balls are nicely black-and-blue. Lee’s having two officers ride with us.
“And you.” Dave walked over, framed Darby’s face, kissed her on the mouth. “We’ll let the clinic know you’re coming in shortly.”
He walked over to Zane, gave him a hard, one-armed hug. “Don’t worry about this. We’ve got him.”
When she stood up, Darby felt some twinges, a lot of stiffness she wasn’t ready to admit. “I need a fresh shirt. I need to talk to my crew.”
“I’ll get you a shirt.”
“Moving’s good, otherwise you stiffen up.”
He worried he’d snap, just snap. “Let me take care of you.”
“You have been, from the second you drove up at light speed. Believe me, it made a difference. But okay, you can get me a shirt, then drive me to the clinic after I talk to the crew.”
“Zane.” Lee stepped back in. “I need a minute.”
“What?” He could see it, see something coming.
Darby took a step back. “I’ll just—”
“No.” Zane took her hand, held her in place. “What is it?”
“I got a call from Raleigh. The locals gained access to the Bigelow residence. Eliza’s dead, Zane. Probably a few days dead. They’ll do an autopsy to determine that and cause of death.”
Darby edged in closer, took a harder grip on Zane’s hand.
“I should feel something, but I don’t. Maybe later.”
“I don’t want you to worry about this. I’ll handle it.”
“Emily. My grandparents.”
“I’ll handle it. You take care of your girl, and leave this to me.” He put a firm hand on Zane’s shoulder. “Leave it to me.”
Dulled, numb, Zane just stood where he was. “I want the details when you have them.”
“You’ll get them. You get checked out now, Darby, and I want the details on that. I need to take some pictures of your injuries.”
“Sure. Fine.”
“I’m going to go up, get her a fresh shirt.”
Nodding, Lee took out his phone. “You let him take care of you now, you hear? It’ll help him.”
She’d seen Zane’s eyes go blank, felt the absolute stillness in him.
“We’ll take care of each other.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
While, in odd synchronicity, the doctor who lived in his old house treated Darby, Zane walked over to Britt’s office. He caught her before her first appointment, and her surprised smile of greeting faded when she got a good look at his eyes.
“You need to sit down.”
“Grams.” As she did, she pressed a hand to her heart. “Pop.”
“No, it’s not that.” Fast was usually best. “Eliza’s dead.”
“Oh.” As her hand dropped to her desk, Britt’s breath came out long, shaky. “I’m not surprised. How could I be surprised? He killed her.”
“That’s not official yet, but of course he did. There’s more.”
While he told her, she stood up, walked to the window, and circled the room, her hands clasped tight.
It shouldn’t have surprised Zane how strong she was, but it constantly did.
Her voice held just a touch of pity when she spoke. “He could have lived his life. They could have lived their lives. But it wasn’t enough for him. We took everything that mattered away from him—that’s how he saw it. The only way he could see it. We had to be punished. He meant to kill you this time.”
