Buried Memories

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. No one is going to bother me here with Callie around, and I don’t think anyone would dare approach me at work.” She stepped over the threshold and raised a hand in farewell. “Later.”

He watched her close the door, then moved toward the woods with Sasha. Nicki wasn’t the only one who needed to get to work. Andy would be ready to start soon, too.

He’d just reached the driveway on the other side of the trees when the front door swung open. Andy stepped onto the porch holding up a cell phone. Tyler patted his pocket. He’d left the phone on the table after finishing his coffee.

“It’s Bridgett.”

Their older sister. He cringed. He’d forgotten to call her when he’d arrived yesterday. Of course, Andy could have assured her he was alive and well. But he knew Bridgett, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d heard it from him. She’d worried about him as much in the past two years that he’d lived stateside as she had during his tours in Afghanistan. Maybe more. His mom would have been right there with Bridgett. But the day before his eighteenth birthday, the cancer she’d fought since the summer he turned fifteen had finally won. His dad wasn’t doing any worrying, either. He’d walked out years earlier.

He stepped onto the porch and took his phone from Andy. Once he’d convinced his sister that he was all in one piece, he headed to the back to dress for work. Tonight he’d get Nicki’s lock replaced. While he was at it, he’d check the ones on her other doors and windows. Any he wasn’t happy with, he’d replace the following day.

The fact was, he’d cared for her all those years ago, and he felt no less for her now. As young teenagers, they’d been drawn together by a mutual toughness. He’d had a chip on his shoulder from his dad walking out, and she’d still had an attitude from her years in foster care.

But things had been simple then compared to now. In the fifteen years since he’d left Crystal River, he’d faced too many battles. He bore the scars, both physical and emotional. Nicki probably had enough of her own issues to fight without having to deal with his. Besides, he couldn’t stay in one place long enough to pursue anything more serious than friendship with anyone. He had to keep moving to hold the memories at bay.

But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing everything he could to protect her while he was here. Someone was threatening his longtime friend, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He wouldn’t leave until he made sure she was safe.

Maybe, if he was successful, it would help make up for the other times he’d tried to protect someone but failed.

TWO (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770)

Nicki picked up the porcelain bowl in the corner and crossed the kitchen. The painted paw prints lining the bottom shone clean and clear, licked to a glossy shine. As she placed the empty dish in the sink, Callie watched her every move, tail wagging, eyes filled with doggy eagerness. She never gave up hope that maybe, just this once, there would be seconds.

Nicki strolled toward the side door and cast a glance back at the golden retriever staying right on her heels. “You behave yourself.”

She would be out all evening for the midweek church service. But she hoped the admonition wouldn’t be necessary. A year ago, yeah. When she’d first brought Callie home from the Humane Society, she’d been well past the energetic puppy stage, but past abuse had made her terrified of everything that moved and a whirlwind of destruction when left alone.

Now she didn’t even need crating. Finding a forever home where she was showered with love had made a world of difference. Nicki bent to scratch the dog’s neck. She could relate.

After stepping into the carport and closing the door, she fished for the key. Two nights ago Tyler had installed a new lock, complete with a deadbolt, and made repairs to the jamb. And he’d done a great job. So much so she might see if she could hire him to do some other projects. She would love to have the pedestal sink in the hall bath replaced with a vanity, and some shelves added to the two closets in her hobby room.

She hadn’t seen him since he’d made the repairs. Their times for taking the dogs out hadn’t coincided, and they’d both been busy. She was almost disappointed. It had been fun having someone to talk to on her morning walk.

She inserted the key into the deadbolt and turned it. The lock slid home with a satisfying click. She’d regained a little of her sense of control, thanks to Tyler. He’d even checked the locks on all her windows to make sure they were secure.

Fifteen years ago, they’d been the best of friends, spending hours hanging out at the park or high on a branch of the huge oak overshadowing most of her backyard. As he’d opened up about his anger with his father, she’d let down some of her own walls. Back then, he’d just been Tyler, her friend and confidante, the one person in the world she’d been able to connect with, because he was as lost as she was.

He was still Tyler. But now he was Tyler all grown up. It was hard not to notice how well he filled out those T-shirts he wore, or how his golden-brown eyes filled with warmth every time he smiled. But with her track record, she didn’t have any business contemplating anything that smacked of romance. She was still trying to ward off the repercussions of the last disaster.

She pressed a button on her key fob, and the Ram’s locks popped up. Tonight she would be occupied, with or without Tyler. She was going to church, something her friend Darci had talked her into. She’d been surprised to find she enjoyed attending. It was almost like belonging to a family again—a loving heavenly Father and lots of brothers and sisters.

That wasn’t all she’d been talked into. After the crash that killed Nicki’s parents, Darci was the one who’d suggested she sell out and come to Cedar Key. When her ex had dropped the second bombshell on her, she’d finally agreed. One month had passed since the move. She still missed her parents terribly, but she hoped the call from Peter a week ago was the final one. He claimed that everything he’d done was for her. So what? It was over.

She swung open the driver’s door of her truck, but before she could get in, a dark sedan pulled into her driveway. As she watched a man and woman exit, tension crept across her shoulders. Both visitors were strangers.

“Can I help you?”

The man showed her his badge. “I’m Detective Granger, and this is Detective Mulling. We’re with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office.”

As he spoke, her mind whirled. Maybe they’d learned something about her break-in. But Jacksonville? That was where she’d spent her early years. In a run-down shack with peeling plaster, grime-encrusted windows and puke-green shag carpet.

“Can we have a few minutes of your time? We need to talk to you about your mother’s murder.”

She nodded, a weight pressing in on her chest. She’d worked hard to leave those memories behind. The steady stream of creepy men who’d paraded in and out of the house. The way some of them had leered at her, making her hair stand on end. The nights she’d spent curled into a ball with her pillow over her head, trying to shut out the thud of angry fists and her mother’s muffled pleas.

She swallowed hard and led them toward the house. “It’s been twenty-two years. Why now?” If they hadn’t solved it then, with fresh evidence, how would they uncover anything leading them to the killer over two decades later?

“We’re investigating an incident that happened two weeks ago, also in Jacksonville. There are some similarities, and we think they might be connected.”

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I wasn’t there.” She unlocked the door and ushered them inside. After a few quick sniffs, Callie apparently decided the visitors were okay and plopped down in front of the entertainment center, dark eyes alert.

Nicki motioned toward the sectional sofa. “Have a seat.”

Once they’d settled onto the couch, Mulling turned back the cover on a notebook.

Granger clasped his hands loosely in his lap. “Thank you for talking to us.” Although the female detective was sitting closer to Nicki, it looked as if Granger would be the one asking the questions. “I’m sure it’s going to be difficult, but I need you to tell me everything you can remember about that night.”

She drew in a deep breath. Yeah, it would be difficult. Not because she still grieved for her mother. She’d come to terms with her death years ago. In fact, if events hadn’t gone the way they had, Nicki’s life would have turned out quite differently. Ending up in the Jackson home was the best thing that had ever happened to her. No, this was going to be difficult because she didn’t want to remember.

She leaned back against the padded leather. “I was spending the night with a friend, Lizzie. She lived next door.”

“Do you remember Lizzie’s last name?”

“McDonald. Elizabeth McDonald.”

“What about her parents’ names?”

She shook her head. “I never met her dad, and I just called her mom Mrs. McDonald.”

Granger continued while his partner filled up the first small page. “Was anyone there when you left to go to your friend’s house?”

“My mom and my sister. I don’t remember anyone else.”

“When was the first time you learned about your mother’s murder?”

“The next morning. Mrs. McDonald said something awful had happened. She was crying. And she wouldn’t let me go home.” In fact, Nicki never set foot inside her house again. By lunchtime, the authorities had gathered up her belongings and whisked her away to the first of many foster families.

“Did you know of anyone who’d have wanted to hurt your mother?”

Hurt or kill? “A lot of them hurt her.”

“How?”

“Slapping her, punching her, throwing her against the wall, pushing her to the floor.” Fights were a regular occurrence, especially after a night of heavy drinking and shooting up.

Granger leaned forward, sympathy filling his eyes. Or was it pity?

She drew in a deep breath and lifted her chin. She didn’t need sympathy. She’d put her past behind her a long time ago. And she didn’t want pity.