Nicki Jackson wheeled her bulging carry-on through the carport, the rumble of the plastic wheels against the concrete breaking the silence of the dark night. The golden retriever prancing behind her had enough energy for both of them. Of course, the dog hadn\u2019t spent the past eight hours trapped in the car, battling traffic.<\/p>\n
Nicki sighed. The last of her single friends was now married. But at less than a year from thirty, what did she expect? In fact, she\u2019d almost made it to the altar herself. Instead, she was free and single, and her former intended was facing a hefty jail term.<\/p>\n
She hesitated in the glow of the Ram\u2019s headlights to finger through her keys, then dragged her bag the final few feet to the kitchen door. Bed was only a few minutes away. Unpacking could wait till morning. So could a shower.<\/p>\n
She raised the key and stopped short. The door wasn\u2019t shut tightly, and the jamb was chipped and scratched.<\/p>\n
The headlights clicked off automatically, casting her in darkness, and the hair rose on the back of her neck. Someone had broken into her house. Heart pounding in her chest, she pulled her phone from her purse and dialed 911.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome, Callie.\u201d With a small tug on the leash, she moved to the truck and opened the door. The dog stared at her, a question in her big brown eyes. After a moment\u2019s hesitation, she jumped onto the seat, and Nicki slid in after her. Uneasiness crawled along her skin, the sense someone was nearby, watching. Why hadn\u2019t that call gone through yet?<\/p>\n
She lowered the phone and stared at the screen. Half a bar. More like a dot. In several places on Cedar Key, her cell service was sketchy. Under her metal carport, it was nonexistent. Sitting inside the truck wasn’t helping, either.<\/p>\n
Leaving the driver\u2019s side door open, she moved out into the moonlight, pulling Callie with her. Two bars. It was better than nothing.<\/p>\n
The dispatcher answered, and Nicki\u2019s hand tightened on the phone. Perspiration coated her palms, and all the strength seemed to have left her limbs. \u201cSomeone broke into my house.\u201d She quickly provided the address.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs anyone there now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. I haven\u2019t been inside.\u201d Her gaze darted across the front of the house, and she backed toward the road, putting as much distance between herself and the house as she could. But nowhere felt safe.<\/p>\n
A shadow fell over her, and she lifted her gaze. Clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring the three-quarter moon. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a far-off storm that might or might not reach Cedar Key.<\/p>\n
After finishing with the dispatcher, she slid her phone back into its pouch. The police would be there soon. Meanwhile, Callie was with her. Of course, Callie was a big pussycat.<\/p>\n
She turned to head back toward the truck, the sense of vulnerability too strong to ignore. She was used to living out of sight of the neighbors. She\u2019d grown up in the country, at least from age nine onward. That was when she moved to Crystal River and found out what a real family was. The dozen or so foster homes before that didn\u2019t count. Neither did the time she\u2019d spent with her birth mother.<\/p>\n
But now, looking at the trees shielding her house on three sides, the privacy she\u2019d cherished when she bought the place felt more like isolation. And not in a good way.<\/p>\n
A rustle sounded nearby and grew rapidly closer. Her heart leaped into her throat. Callie stiffened, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Something was barreling toward them through the strip of woods separating her yard from the one next door. Something large. She jerked Callie\u2019s leash, ready to run for the truck, but Callie wasn\u2019t budging.<\/p>\n
A male voice cut through the noise. \u201cSasha, heel.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sasha? The breath she\u2019d been holding spilled out in a rush. Sasha was the German shepherd next door, her neighbor Andy\u2019s dog.<\/p>\n
A fraction of a second later, sixty pounds of quivering excitement broke from the trees and charged across the yard toward them. Both dogs\u2019 tails waved back and forth at a frantic pace. By the time Sasha\u2019s human counterpart appeared, the two dogs were busy exchanging sniffs.<\/p>\n
She watched him retrieve the leash and loop it around his hand. The other end was attached to Andy\u2019s dog, but the man standing in her driveway wasn\u2019t Andy. In fact, he looked sort of like\u2026 No way. She squinted in the bit of moonlight leaking through the clouds.<\/p>\n
\u201cTyler?\u201d<\/p>\n
He hesitated for two beats. Then recognition flashed across his face. “Nicki.” He wrapped her in a hug, then held her away from him, his hands on her shoulders. \u201cWow, you look good.\u201d The recognition turned to confusion. \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI live here.\u201d The hesitation in her tone proclaimed her own bewilderment.<\/p>\n
Long ago, they\u2019d been friends\u2014close friends\u2014until his mom got sick and moved him to Atlanta, where his aunt could care for them both. He\u2019d been a scrawny fifteen-year-old at the time. She\u2019d been a year younger and pretty skinny herself.<\/p>\n
Now he was anything but. Her three-inch heels, added to her own five feet nine inches, put her almost eye to eye with him. But he outweighed her by a good seventy pounds, all of it muscle.<\/p>\n
She shook her head, trying to clear it. \u201cWhat are you doing here with Andy\u2019s dog?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAndy\u2019s my brother. I\u2019m going to help him renovate that run-down inn he bought.\u201d<\/p>\n
The confusion cleared. Andy\u2019s kid brother. The soldier. Andy and his wife Joan had told her he was coming and had given her a bit of his history, how two years ago, he’d been finishing his third tour in Afghanistan and had come under attack during a recon mission and how he almost didn\u2019t make it out alive. Andy had just failed to mention his kid brother was Tyler Brant.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me you were coming, but I didn\u2019t make the connection.\u201d With different fathers, they didn\u2019t have the same last name. And during the two years she and Tyler had hung out, Andy was already out of the house and married.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just arrived this afternoon, and we had a lot of catching up to do. Since I\u2019d kept them up way past their bedtime, I told Andy I\u2019d take Sasha out. I didn\u2019t realize she was going to bolt as soon as I stepped out the door, or I\u2019d have kept a death grip on the leash.\u201d<\/p>\n
The teasing grin he flashed her carried her back fifteen years. When she was a cranky adolescent, he\u2019d had a knack for sending the dark clouds scurrying with his quirky sense of humor. Of course, she\u2019d done her share of warding off his storms, too.<\/p>\n
She returned his smile. \u201cSasha probably picked up Callie\u2019s scent. They\u2019re best buds.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded down at the golden retriever. \u201cShe must like late night walks, too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cActually, I\u2019m just getting home.\u201d<\/p>\n
He had the late part right. It was three hours later than she\u2019d planned. After the Saturday wedding in Miami, she\u2019d stayed a second night and enjoyed a long lunch with friends. The northerly drive from Miami to the Gulf town of Cedar Key wasn\u2019t a lot of fun anytime. Independence Day weekend, it was the pits. The truck that had overturned and strewn produce all over the turnpike hadn\u2019t helped, either.<\/p>\n
Sirens sounded in the distance and moved closer. When the glow of red-and-blue lights shone from the end of the road, Tyler raised his brows. \u201cI\u2019ve only been here a few hours, but when I used to come here as a kid, it was a pretty quiet place. I wonder what\u2019s going on.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat would be me. Someone broke into my house while I was gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
He frowned, the concern on his face obvious in the light of the moon, which had once again made an appearance. \u201cIs anything missing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t been inside yet.\u201d But considering the creep had had all weekend to clean her out, the possibilities weren\u2019t looking good.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s probably smart. I hope it isn\u2019t too bad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, me too.\u201d<\/p>\n
A cruiser pulled into the driveway, and the siren stopped midsqueal. The door swung open, and Amber Kingston stepped out. Amber was the newest member of the Cedar Key Police Department and among the group of people who\u2019d taken Nicki under their wings from the moment she\u2019d arrived in town.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou had a break-in?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nicki nodded. \u201cI left midafternoon on Friday and just got home, so no one’s been here all weekend.\u201d Andy had agreed to collect Saturday’s mail, and her friends Allison and Blake had kept Callie. She hadn’t seen a need to have anyone keep an eye on the house.<\/p>\n
Amber\u2019s attention shifted to Tyler. \u201cAnd you are?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTyler Brant.\u201d He jammed a thumb toward the house next door. \u201cAndy\u2019s brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
Amber gave a sharp nod before moving up the drive. \u201cLet\u2019s see what we have inside.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nicki started to follow, but Tyler\u2019s hand on her shoulder stopped her.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you okay? I can go in with you if you\u2019d like.\u201d<\/p>\n
She hesitated, then shook her head. She didn\u2019t need anyone to prop her up. She was just overtired. She\u2019d made the harrowing drive home on too little sleep.<\/p>\n
But all the excuses in the world couldn\u2019t stave off the sense of vulnerability that had swept over her the instant she realized someone had come into her house. There were things inside those four walls that couldn\u2019t be replaced at any price, because they\u2019d belonged to the two people she\u2019d cared for more than anyone in the world. Two people who\u2019d taken a foster kid with a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas and shown her a love that wouldn\u2019t quit.<\/p>\n
She squared her shoulders and forced a smile. If there was one thing life had taught her to do well, it was to stand on her own two feet. \u201cThanks, but I\u2019m sure I\u2019ll be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
He opened his mouth as if ready to argue, then reached up to jam his fingers through his hair. No longer in the military buzz cut she would have expected, it rested in soft layers, light brown or dark blond\u2014it was hard to tell in the moonlight. \u201cLet me know if you need anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
She watched him lead the dog toward the road, a sudden sense of nostalgia sweeping over her. She had friends, close ones, but Tyler knew things about her no one else did. There\u2019d been no pretense for either of them. Could they pick up where they left off and renew the friendship they\u2019d had so many years ago? She wasn\u2019t the same person she was then, and after the horrors he\u2019d lived through, he probably wasn\u2019t, either.<\/p>\n
She turned and, with Callie trotting beside her, led Amber toward the carport. She might as well get it over with.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is where he got in.\u201d She pointed at the door. \u201cLooks like I\u2019m going to need some work done on the doorjamb.\u201d<\/p>\n
Amber removed her pistol from its holster. \u201cI\u2019m going to go in and clear the place, make sure no one\u2019s hiding inside. You might want to wait in the truck.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nicki coaxed Callie up into the seat for the third time that evening. A few minutes later, Amber stepped back into the carport, her expression somber.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got a little bit of a mess.\u201d She held up a hand. \u201cNothing major.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nicki followed her into the house, her insides settling into a cold, hard lump. She reached to unhook the leash from Callie\u2019s collar, then changed her mind.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d better close her up.\u201d Her house had become a crime scene. She didn\u2019t need the dog traipsing through and destroying evidence.<\/p>\n
She opened the door leading into the laundry room, then filled a bowl with dry food. Callie dove in right away. That would keep her occupied for a few minutes. After a couple of pats on the dog\u2019s back, Nicki pulled the door shut and stepped into the kitchen.<\/p>\n
It was the same as she\u2019d left it two days earlier. The living room, too, appeared untouched. Two curios held thousands of dollars of figurines\u2014Swarovski, Lenox and Armani\u2014all undisturbed. A sliver of the tension eased. The intruder apparently wasn\u2019t interested in electronics, either, because the big screen TV and pieces of accompanying equipment still occupied their cubbyholes in the entertainment center.<\/p>\n
Which meant the mess Amber had referred to was in her bedrooms. The guest room she\u2019d chosen for her own, leaving the large master bedroom to function as a combination hobby room and office.<\/p>\n
As soon as she stepped into the hall, she gasped. The open door at the end revealed her wooden work table covered with papers and files. She closed the distance at a half run.<\/p>\n
All of her tools and materials for making stained glass were where she\u2019d left them, but both file drawers were all the way open, the majority of the contents removed and strewn across her work area. Her bulletin board hung above the table, her to-do list pinned in the center. The first three items were crossed through. The remaining four, she\u2019d assigned time frames for completion. Organization in the midst of chaos. But the sense of control it usually gave her had evaporated the moment she stepped into the room.<\/p>\n
She reached for one of the files on the table. Amber\u2019s voice stopped her.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t touch anything. I\u2019m going to try to lift prints.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nicki let her hand fall to her side but scanned the items. Lots of papers lay on top, pulled from their folders. One stack was the paperwork from the sale of the Crystal River house, an hour from Cedar Key. It had belonged to her parents. Seven months ago, they\u2019d taken early retirement to see the country and reward themselves for all the years of hard work.<\/p>\n
Some reward. They\u2019d been headed toward a picturesque small town in North Carolina when a tired trucker crossed the center line. And she\u2019d been left with a three-bedroom house on five acres and a great big hole in her heart.<\/p>\n
Next to the Crystal River sale documents was the paperwork from the purchase of the Cedar Key house. And beside that was the file from opening her account at Drummond Community Bank upon first moving to Cedar Key. Her income tax forms were also there, along with some credit card statements.<\/p>\n
All of her personal information was right out in the open\u2014her name, address, Social Security number, date of birth\u2014everything needed to steal her identity.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d better file fraud alerts with the credit reporting agencies.\u201d Amber\u2019s voice was soft but filled with worry.<\/p>\n
She nodded and followed Amber from the room, an emptiness weaving through her. She\u2019d come to Cedar Key to regain her footing after life had kicked out one too many of her foundation blocks. The quaint town\u2019s peace and tranquility had gone a long way toward mending the tattered pieces of her soul. And she wasn\u2019t going to let this break-in take that away.<\/p>\n
She squared her shoulders and started down the hall. Before she’d gotten very far, Amber stopped her with a raised hand.<\/p>\n
“The intruder did some damage in this room, too. I’m hoping you can shed some light on what’s going on.”<\/p>\n
During her mad rush to her work room, she’d hurried right past her bedroom without even looking inside. Now something in Amber’s tone sent dread showering down on her. Could anything be worse than what she’d already witnessed?<\/p>\n
Amber stepped aside and Nicki closed the remaining distance to her room.<\/p>\n
Then froze in the open doorway. Her old plush rabbit was hanging from the ceiling fan with a noose around its neck. Stuffing protruded from a slash that ran from throat to tail and littered the carpet beneath.<\/p>\n
Her knees started to buckle, and she gripped the doorjamb for support. Lavender wasn\u2019t just an old, scruffy stuffed animal. She was her childhood friend who\u2019d gotten her through nights of terror while her mother was being beaten by her men in the next room. She\u2019d been Nicki\u2019s constant companion through one foster home after another when the parents couldn\u2019t cope anymore with a disturbed, destructive child, and through weeks of uncertainty as she waited for her adoptive family to give up and throw in the towel. Lavender had been hugged and kissed and cried on. And had been there for a lonely, terrified little girl when no one else had.<\/p>\n
Why Lavender? Houses got burglarized all the time. Maybe not in Cedar Key, but plenty of other places. Even going through her paperwork made sense. But why destroy a stuffed toy?<\/p>\n
Nicki dragged her gaze from the rabbit to take in the rest of the room. Several dresser drawers were open, the contents hanging over the sides. The closet doors were open, too. Other than that, and the empty spot on the shelf Lavender had occupied, it looked undisturbed.<\/p>\n
A soft hand on her shoulder reminded her she wasn\u2019t alone. Nicki dropped her hand from the jamb and faced Amber. \u201cI\u2019m guessing the intruder was ticked about not finding any money and figured he\u2019d do a little vandalism before he left.\u201d<\/p>\n
Amber shook her head, eyes now back on the stuffed rabbit. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t look like vandalism to me. It looks like a threat.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Nicki Jackson wheeled her bulging carry-on through the carport, the rumble of the plastic wheels against the concrete breaking the silence of the dark night. The golden retriever prancing behind her had enough energy for both of them. Of course, the dog hadn\u2019t spent the past eight hours trapped in the car, battling traffic. Nicki […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":24,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-505","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/505","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=505"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/505\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":506,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/505\/revisions\/506"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/24"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/caroljpost.com\/dev\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=505"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}