Buried Memories

Amber gave a sharp nod before moving up the drive. “Let’s see what we have inside.”

Nicki started to follow, but Tyler’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Are you okay? I can go in with you if you’d like.”

She hesitated, then shook her head. She didn’t need anyone to prop her up. She was just overtired. She’d made the harrowing drive home on too little sleep.

But all the excuses in the world couldn’t 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’t be replaced at any price, because they’d belonged to the two people she’d cared for more than anyone in the world. Two people who’d taken a foster kid with a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas and shown her a love that wouldn’t quit.

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. “Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

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—it was hard to tell in the moonlight. “Let me know if you need anything.”

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’d been no pretense for either of them. Could they pick up where they left off and renew the friendship they’d had so many years ago? She wasn’t the same person she’d been then, and after the horrors he’d lived through, he probably wasn’t, either.

She turned and, with Callie trotting beside her, led Amber toward the carport. She might as well get it over with.

“This is where he got in.” She pointed at the door. “Looks like I’m going to need some work done on the doorjamb.”

Amber removed her pistol from its holster. “I’m going to go in and clear the place, make sure no one’s hiding inside. You might want to wait in the truck.”

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.

“You’ve got a little bit of a mess.” She held up a hand. “Nothing major.”

Nicki followed her into the house, her insides settling into a cold, hard lump. She reached to unhook the leash from Callie’s collar, then changed her mind.

“I’d better close her up.” Her house had become a crime scene. She didn’t need the dog traipsing through and destroying evidence.

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’s back, Nicki pulled the door shut and stepped into the kitchen.

It was the same as she’d left it two days earlier. The living room, too, appeared untouched. Two curios held thousands of dollars of figurines—Swarovski, Lenox and Armani—all undisturbed. A sliver of the tension eased. The intruder apparently wasn’t interested in electronics, either, because the big-screen TV and pieces of accompanying equipment still occupied their cubbyholes in the entertainment center.

Which meant the mess Amber had referred to was in her bedrooms. The guest room she’d chosen for herself, leaving the large master bedroom to function as a combination hobby room and office.

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.

All of her tools and materials for making stained glass were where she’d 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’d 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.

She reached for one of the files on the table. Amber’s voice stopped her.

“Don’t touch anything. I’m going to try to lift prints.”

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’d taken early retirement to see the country and reward themselves for all the years of hard work.

Some reward. They’d been headed toward a picturesque small town in North Carolina when a tired trucker had crossed the center line. And she’d been left with a three-bedroom house on five acres and a great big hole in her heart.

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.

All of her personal information was right out in the open—her name, address, Social Security number, date of birth—everything needed to steal her identity.

“You’d better file fraud alerts with the credit reporting agencies.” Amber’s voice was soft but filled with worry.

She nodded and followed Amber from the room, an emptiness weaving through her. She’d come to Cedar Key to regain her footing after life had kicked out one too many of her foundation blocks. The quaint town’s peace and tranquility had gone a long way toward mending the tattered pieces of her soul. And she wasn’t going to let this break-in take that away.

She squared her shoulders and started down the hall. Before she’d gotten very far, Amber stopped her with a raised hand.

“The intruder did some damage in this room, too. I’m hoping you can shed some light on what’s going on.”

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?

Amber stepped aside and Nicki closed the remaining distance to her room.

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.

Her knees started to buckle, and she gripped the doorjamb for support. Lavender wasn’t just an old, scruffy stuffed animal. She was her childhood friend who’d gotten her through nights of terror while her mother was being beaten by her men in the next room. She’d been Nicki’s constant companion through one foster home after another when the parents couldn’t 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.

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?

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.

A soft hand on her shoulder reminded her she wasn’t alone. Nicki dropped her hand from the jamb and faced Amber. “I’m guessing the intruder was ticked about not finding any money and figured he’d do a little vandalism before he left.”

Amber shook her head, eyes now back on the stuffed rabbit. “That doesn’t look like vandalism to me. It looks like a threat.”

* * *

Tyler stepped out the door behind Sasha and drew in an earth-scented breath. Early morning sunlight slanted over the landscape, and the final remnants of pink still stained the eastern sky. The rain that had passed through during the night had left behind glistening droplets that clung to the shrubbery lining Andy’s front walk.

Cedar Key was a nice change from the city. Maybe he’d even stay awhile. He was committed to two months, anyway. Andy had bought an old inn and needed help with renovations. So he’d offered his services. He might as well put to good use those long-ago afternoons and weekends he’d spent working in his best friend’s dad’s construction business. Besides, after all the care packages that had traveled from Andy and Joan’s doorstep to Afghanistan, it was the least he could do. How long he stayed after the work was completed would depend on how quickly the nightmares caught up with him.

In the months following the attack, they’d been relentless. He’d been stationed at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, undergoing treatment, both physical and mental. After a year, the Army cut him loose with a monthly disability check.

Now another year had passed, and the nightmares were still pursuing him. Strenuous activity helped. So did starting fresh. That was how he’d lived ever since his discharge—move, find a temporary job, get semi-settled, repeat. So far it was working. Sort of.

Halfway down the drive, Sasha stopped walking, head angled toward the strip of woods and undergrowth separating Andy’s yard from Nicki’s. A few seconds later, a soft rustle sounded about twenty feet away.

The German shepherd lunged, and Tyler tightened his grip on the leash. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Callie would be inside, and he didn’t need to be led on a chase after some poor opossum or armadillo. He gave the leash a tug and continued down the drive.

Nicki’s in Cedar Key. The realization was still sinking in. He’d thought he’d never see her again. They’d promised to stay in touch. For a while they had. Then life got in the way and they’d each moved on. He’d had a terrible crush on her, something he kept secret throughout their entire two-year friendship.

When he reached the end of the driveway, he turned left and cast a glance toward Nicki’s house. It was dark except for the single light burning by the front door, apparently turned on after he’d gone home.

Since she’d had such a late night, she was probably still asleep. The same place he should be. But he’d woken up in the darkness after his usual four or five hours. And once he was awake, he was done. Sleep invited nightmares.

He continued down Hodges Avenue at an easy jog, Sasha as far in front of him as the leash allowed. The dog would have preferred a full-out run. But he wasn’t giving her the choice. Running long distances was one of several things he couldn’t do anymore.

Just past Gulf Boulevard, he turned Sasha around and headed toward Andy’s. Maybe by the time he got back, Nicki would be out and about. Last night, when he’d offered her his help, she’d stood straight and tall, projecting confidence. But her eyes had given her away. They’d held a fear and vulnerability even the nighttime shadows couldn’t hide. And his protective instincts had kicked into overdrive. He should have insisted on going in the house with her. But if there was one thing he remembered about Nicki, it was that once her mind was made up, there was no changing it.