The Black Sheep's Redemption

Before she could get out, he said, “Wait a minute, Demi.”

She turned expectantly.

He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel then said, “You know, when I interviewed you, the fact that you had amnesia put me off a bit. I mean, how could I trust my children to someone who can’t even remember who she is?”

She lifted a brow. “Are you sorry you did?”

“No, of course not.” His quick response reassured her. “But I do have a confession to make.”

Her brow lifted. “What’s that?”

* * *

He cleared his throat. “I have to be honest. I had Owen run a background check on you. On the name you gave me, anyway.”

She tilted her head. “I figured you probably had. You’re not the type to just hand over your children to someone you haven’t looked into.”

He nodded. “Nothing came up, of course. But more importantly, your fingerprints weren’t in the system.”

“The nurses in the hospital gave me my last name. I remembered my first name, but that was it.” She let out a deep breath. “When I came to in the hospital, the police also tried running my fingerprints. Again, they came up empty, but assured me that might be a good thing. At least I’m not in the criminal database.”

At the feeble joke, Charles felt himself smiling.

Another shrug. “I don’t blame you for doing a background check on me.”

He let out a long sigh. “Good, because I was going crazy feeling like I was lying to you. Part of me was afraid you’d be furious.”

“No. I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.” Her soft voice pulled him to her. Delicate features framed with honey-blond hair drew him like bees to honey. Her emerald-green eyes wanted to ensnare him. Innocence and gentleness radiated from her. He’d definitely made the right choice in hiring her.

“It’s only been a week, and the twins already adore you,” he said.

A gentle smile pulled at her lips. “The feeling’s mutual.”

There was something about her that he liked. Trusted. Wanted to know more about.

But not tonight.

“Come on, I’ll walk you up.” He climbed out of the truck and walked around to help Demi out.

“So, Fitzgerald,” the voice to his left said, “is this your next innocent victim?”

THREE

Charles whirled. “Burke, what are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying a little walk. Reveling in my freedom, taking in the taste of the night air.” His gaze hardened. “Wondering why criminals are allowed to roam free, given another opportunity to prey on more innocent women.”

Burke Hennessy. A lawyer and his father’s rival for mayor. Burke and Judge Ronald Monroe, who was rumored to be considering a run for mayor, were two peas in a pod. Fitzgerald Bay would be in major trouble should Burke win the election.

Charles held his tongue long enough to get it under control. Then he said, “Knock it off, Burke. This is Demi Taylor. She’s the children’s nanny.”

“Yes, I’d heard you managed to talk someone into taking the position.” Burke smirked and eyed Demi. “Be careful about following in Olivia’s footsteps. Especially if they’re along the edge of some steep cliffs.”

Charles felt his fingers curl into a tight fist. With effort, he loosened it and forced a smile. He would not sink to this man’s level—or do anything to mess up his father’s chances to beat Burke in the election. “Nice to see you, too, Burke. Now if you’ll excuse us…”

He placed his hand on Demi’s rigid back and tried to usher her into the rear entrance of the bookstore.

Burke stepped in front of them, anger smoldering just beneath the surface. Charles felt the tension in his shoulders escalate. Burke jabbed a finger at him. “You know you should be in jail. If the main suspect was anyone else not related to the almighty Fitzgeralds, that person would be rotting in a cell right now.”

“And if there were any proof that I’d killed Olivia, I’d be there, family or no family. But there’s no proof because I didn’t kill her. Get out of the way, Burke. Now.”

Demi walked away from the two of them, pulling her keys from her purse. Charles swallowed hard. Was she scared? Repulsed? Had she decided Burke was right and that she was placing herself in danger by just being in his company?

He remembered the look in her eyes when she’d said she believed him. No, it was something else.

Turning his back on Hennessy, Charles followed Demi. He saw her hands shaking as she unlocked the door and slipped inside.

“You haven’t heard the last of this, Fitzgerald!” Burke hollered.

Charles didn’t bother to turn around and waste any more time or breath on the man. “Demi?” She stopped on the steps and looked back down at him. The fear in her eyes cut him. “Hey, I’m so sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t you,” she said with a shudder. “I had a flash of something. Of violence and anger and…and I just had to get away from that man.”

Charles hurried up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I understand. I was in a bit of a hurry to get away from him myself.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, I think so. I didn’t stick around to make sure.”

She took a deep breath and lifted a brow. “Too busy trying not to smash his nose?”

Charles jerked then gave a surprised laugh. “You noticed?”

“Oh, yeah. I noticed.” He felt some of the tension leave the shoulder under his hand. She bit her lip then said, “I’m sorry I was such a wimp. I didn’t mean to just walk away and leave you to deal with him, I just…”

He placed a finger on her lips. Her soft lips.

He pulled back his finger and rubbed it with his thumb even as he said, “No need to apologize. Burke’s a pain with a loud mouth, but he’s harmless. The trick is to just ignore him.”

She nodded and finished the trek up the steps. At the top, she turned down the short hallway that led to her apartment.

Charles caught her before she got to the door. “Demi, I want to make something really clear.”

“Sure, what is it?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “The rumor is that Olivia and I were romantically involved.” A frown creased her forehead and he resisted the urge to smooth the shallow lines. “We weren’t. She was my children’s nanny and I trusted her with my children. She was a pretty private person, but I’d like to think we were becoming friends. There were no romantic feelings between us whatsoever.”

Her eyes stayed locked on his for the longest time and he wanted to squirm under the scrutiny, but he didn’t. He just stood there as she decided whether she believed him or not.

Finally, she smiled. “I believed you the first time you told me that. Tonight hasn’t changed anything.”

Key ready, she reached out to unlock the door when Charles stopped her again, his hand on hers. “Wait a minute. It’s open.”

Demi gripped the keys tighter and pulled back. “That’s weird.”

“You probably just didn’t pull it shut behind you hard enough when you left earlier.”

The doubt on her face said she wasn’t buying it.

And after the night he’d just had, he wasn’t sure he was, either.

* * *

Demi stared at the door. “Maybe Fiona needed to get in for some reason.” But why? And why would she leave the door open? “The furniture was delivered last week. Maybe they had something else to bring up…or…or…something.”

And what about Chloe, the stray cat she’d taken in the day she’d moved into the apartment? Chloe had followed Demi up the stairs and sat outside the door meowing until Demi had finally let her in. Chloe had made herself at home and some of Demi’s loneliness had dissipated.

Had Chloe slipped out the open door?

Worry for the cat and other emotions swept through her.

Unexplainable fear.

Breath-stealing panic.

Something flashed in her mind. A clenched fist, a harsh yell. Pain lancing through her head. She blinked, raised a hand to her forehead, felt the scar.

Then the image was gone, leaving a pounding headache in its wake.

“Demi? What is it? What did you remember?”

“Fear,” she blurted out. “Just a horrible fear, but I don’t know the source. I don’t know why!” She lifted a hand to her head and pressed as though she could push the headache out and the memories back in.

He pulled her to him while she shook. His arms held her, comforted her. Offered her shelter.

Swallowing, her breath hitched as she gathered herself and pulled away to face the door once more.

“I’m okay.” Her hand reached out to push the door open. She appreciated Charles’s comforting presence behind her. “You’re probably right,” she said, hating the tremble in her voice, but unable to do anything about it. “I’m sure I just didn’t close the door tight.” From what she could see, all looked normal. Except…

“Chloe?” she called softly. “Here, kitty.”

Demi stepped inside for a better look in the kitchen. “Everything looks fine in here. But my cat usually greets me when I come in.”

She moved to the small living area, Charles right behind her. It was just as she’d left it. The new couch hugged the far wall with the afghan Fiona had given her bunched up against one end. The coffee table held the latest book she’d been reading. Her morning’s coffee cup sat on a coaster on the end table.

Normal.

But where was Chloe?

Her pulse slowed and her breathing evened out. But sorrow hit her. If Chloe was gone, Demi knew she would miss the cat who, for the most part, had been her only company in the evenings for the past week.

She walked the few steps to the bedroom and peeked in. All looked fine. Just as she was about to check under the bed for the missing feline, her gaze landed on the closet door.

It was shut.

“What is it?”

Charles’s voice in her left ear made her jump. He’d picked up on her sudden stillness.

“The closet’s shut.” She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It was open this morning when I left to take care of the kids.”

Why could she remember that and not her last name? Regardless, she distinctly remembered leaving it open. Heart thudding, sweat broke out on her upper lip.

Her front door had been cracked open. Had someone been in the apartment? Someone looking for something? For her?

Go, get away. Run.

Fear resurrected its head and cut off her breath. But why? Why did she feel this fear that seemed to come from nowhere? There had to be a reason. Why couldn’t she remember?

“Maybe we should just leave,” she said. “Something’s not right here.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and the comfort it offered made her shiver. “Let me just check the closet for you.”

“No!”

And the images hit her again. A flash of blood, a heavy hand on her face. Someone screaming. Was that her?

She gasped, her breaths came in pants and that sweeping fear that came from a place she couldn’t explain nearly consumed her.

Shaking with the urge to flee, she stepped back never taking her eyes from the closet door.

“Demi.” His gentle voice forced her gaze to his. Gulping, she saw concern, caring…a warmth that thawed the ice freezing in her veins. “Let me check,” he insisted. “It’s fine. Really. If someone was in there, I feel sure he would have made his presence known by now.”

Pulling in a deep breath, she nodded. Then firmed her jaw.

Walking to the end table, she picked up the lamp and stepped back to the closet door. “All right, I’m ready.”

“What are you doing?”

“If someone’s in the closet, I’m not leaving you to fight him alone.”

The tightness along his jawline that never seemed to ease, finally did. He smiled and nodded. Then his expression turned hard again as he eyed the closet.

* * *

Charles walked to the closet and swung open the door, even as he crouched in a defensive position ready for whatever might come at him. A cat darted out, startling him.

His pulse pounded and he realized how tightly wound his nerves were. Of course after what he’d come home to tonight, it wasn’t a surprise. And then Burke’s confrontation in the alley…

He watched Demi set the lamp back on the table then lean over to snag the cat and hold her close. “Silly cat, how did you get locked in there?”

“Is the window open? Maybe there was a draft and it blew the door shut.”

Demi walked over to the only window in the small room and pushed back the curtains. “No. It’s closed.”

“Well the cat didn’t close herself in the closet.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It is kind of strange, I’ll admit, but maybe someone from the bookstore wandered upstairs, found your door and opened it to see what was behind it. Seeing that it was an apartment, maybe the person didn’t quite shut the apartment door well enough and the draft caused the closet door to shut.”

Demi lifted a brow at the weak suggestion. Charles grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not really buying that, either.”

Demi’s frown deepened. “I suppose something like that could have happened. But I’m pretty sure I locked the apartment door when I left earlier.” Reaching inside the closet, she flipped on the light switch.

He could see the sum total of her wardrobe. Four or five shirts. Three pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts and a sweatshirt and a light windbreaker. On the floor, there were a pair of sandals and some pink slippers. She wore her only pair of tennis shoes.

The sparse selection stunned him. He thought about his ex-wife and her bursting-at-the-seams closet. He’d always been tripping over her shoes that seemed to multiply daily.

And then there was Demi.

Charles felt his heart ache for the fragile-looking woman who’d been victimized twice in one night.

* * *

Demi saw the pity in Charles’s eyes and turned away from it. She wasn’t ashamed of her lack of material goods and she didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for her. Straightening her back, she firmed her jaw. Another look around confirmed what she’d originally thought. “Nothing’s missing.”

“You’re sure?”

For some strange reason, Demi felt like giggling. “Trust me, I’m sure. I have no jewelry, no fancy clothes, nothing. There’s nothing worth stealing.”

Charles’s stare made the back of Demi’s neck heat up. Ignoring the sensation and praying the flush didn’t spread to her cheeks, Demi looked around. “Everything looks fine. I guess no one was up here after all.” She frowned, not understanding how this could be when the closet door was shut. “I’ll ask Fiona if she came up here. If she didn’t, then—” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug “—I have no explanation.”

“Is there any reason someone would want to break into your home?”

“No.” She paused. “At least I don’t think so…I mean…” she stammered to a halt. How would she know? “I don’t really know.”

“Of course there is,” he muttered answering his own question. “Someone who might be mad that you’re working for me. Maybe this is just the beginning.”

Demi came to his side. “Stop it.”

He looked at her. She frowned at him and he could see the frustration in her eyes. Charles sighed. “You’re right. I don’t need to be having a pity party. But I hate to think of you being in danger because of me.” He paused. “Will you be all right to stay here alone?”

Her chin jutted out. “Of course. Nobody was here. I’m just being jumpy after what happened at your house.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’d better head home. I’m sure Keira is tired from working all day and is ready to spend some time in her own house.”

Charles rubbed his chin, wanting to protest. But he knew she was right. Again. “Okay.” He walked to the door then turned. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” He found himself fidgeting with the doorknob and forced his hands to his side. “I know it’s your day off, but…ah…how would you feel about spending it with me and the kids?” He wanted to spend more time with her. Getting to know her better was at the top of his priority list. At first he tried to tell himself it was because of the kids, but if he was honest, he’d admit he wanted to get to know her better…for himself.

Demi swallowed. Hard. Excitement swirled in the pit of her stomach even as she wondered if spending the day with her boss—her very attractive boss—was a wise thing to do.

Probably not.

“Sure,” she said. “I’d love that.”

His shoulders relaxed and when he smiled, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Great. I’ll let Brianne and Aaron know. They’ll be thrilled.”

What about you? she wanted to ask. But bit her lip in time to keep the words from spilling out.

“Nine o’clock?” he asked.

“I’ll be ready.”

She shut the door behind him and made sure the lock clicked. She would definitely be ready to spend the day with them, but wondered if she would get any sleep at all.

Looking around, seeing nothing out of place, she wondered what she was missing.

Because no matter what she had said to the contrary, she felt sure someone had been in her apartment.

FOUR

Saturday morning dawned a little overcast, but no rain fell yet. The thought of the day to come sent a twinge of excitement through Demi, spurring her to toss back the covers and pad toward the bathroom. She had something to do today besides sit in her apartment spilling her guts to Chloe and bemoaning the fact that her memory hadn’t returned yet.

Self-pity was no fun. It was time to start making plans for the future, start to live again and try to either get her memory back or accept that it was gone for good and move on.

Of course she wanted her memory back, but if that wasn’t meant to be, she was determined not to let the amnesia negatively affect the rest of her life.

At least that was the pep talk for this morning. Tonight, when she was all alone once again, she would have to figure out how to keep the despair and frustration at bay.

Briefly, she thought about the Bible she’d seen on the shelf in the bookstore. Maybe she should turn to God for comfort. Making a mental note to think about that, she went into the kitchen for her morning cup of coffee.

And realized she didn’t smell it.

Another thing she’d discovered since getting out of the hospital was that she loved coffee. Any kind, flavored, black, with cream. It didn’t matter.

The last thing she did before bed was set the timer on the coffeemaker Fiona had given her as a housewarming gift.

Only she’d been so distracted last night, she’d forgotten to set the timer.

She filled the carafe then opened the cabinet to pull out the canister of coffee.

When she pulled off the top, she gaped.

A piece of paper sat on top of the ground coffee.

Wariness flooded her. How did this get in her coffee can? Reaching in, she pulled it out and read, Stay away from Charles Fitzgerald. You don’t belong here.

Knees suddenly week, she dropped the paper back into the can, slapped on the top and gasped, her lungs deflated.

Flashes of a hard fist. Shouted angry words. Pain in her head.

She cried out and sank to the floor, hands gripping her hair. Her head throbbed, but she forced herself to think, to remember.

“No!” The word echoed, the pain in her head intensified and tears slipped down her cheeks. Heart thudding, head pounding, she whispered, “Please, stop. Stop.”

For the next few minutes she sat there and emptied her mind of every thought. She couldn’t force it. And she had to pull herself together for Charles and the children.

Twenty minutes later, a fine tremor still shook her, but she took a look in the mirror as she ran a brush through her hair. The excited anticipation of the day had waned because of the message still in her coffee can—and the disturbing flashes that resonated in the corners of her mind.

But the thing holding her together was the thought of being with Charles and the children.

That gnawing in the pit of her stomach agitated her as she realized she’d been right. Her instincts had been dead-on when she thought someone had been in the apartment yesterday.

But who?

And what should she do with the odd—and scary—message? Was it from someone who was warning her away from Charles because of what happened to Olivia? But what a weird way to do so.

Should she report it to the police? But what could they do? And why say she didn’t belong there? Why would someone go to all the trouble to sneak into her apartment and leave that in her coffee can?

The coffee can.

A strange place for a note. Why put it there?

Unless the person knew her. Knew her habits.

A chill swept through her.

The person had to know that she loved coffee. That she would be in that coffee can first thing this morning. Or soon anyway.

Or was it simply coincidence? The coffeemaker sat in plain sight on the counter. It would be a short thought to realize there would be coffee in the cabinet somewhere.

But why?

Her head started to ache again. Determined to push the incident out of her mind until she felt ready to deal with it, she focused on the excitement she’d felt when she first woke up and remembered what she was doing for the day.

She muttered, “You really shouldn’t be so excited about spending the day with Charles and the kids. He’s your employer, nothing more.”

She flushed as she said the words out loud because she knew they were a lie.

She’d been attracted to him the minute she’d looked into those blue eyes and seen compassion—and a spark of something more as he’d questioned her during the interview for the nanny position.

Wishing she had some lip gloss or lipstick made her flush hotter and she rolled her eyes at her reflection. Shiny lips hadn’t gotten her the job. Trustworthiness and capability were the qualities Charles had been looking for, and she’d assured him that she had both. He was obviously a good father who was very careful about whom he left his children with.

As well he should be.

But today wasn’t about work even though she looked forward to caring for the children during their time together. Most of all, she wanted to get to know Charles a little better. Spending the day together would allow that.

She didn’t mind the idea one bit.

But someone else did. Someone else thought she didn’t belong here. Here in town? Here with Charles? Here in The Reading Nook?

Again, who?

Standing at the window in her bedroom, she glanced down in the small alley that ran behind her building. It was a shortcut to the other street and had a lot of traffic most days.

She’d stood in this spot many times since moving in. Just watching, wondering about the lives that passed under her window.

Today, the foot traffic was light.

A solitary figure in a hooded sweatshirt, hands tucked in the front pockets walked slowly. Then paused in front of the back door that would lead into her building. She watched him reach out, his arm moved in a twisting motion.

What was he doing?

Seeing if the door was unlocked?

Fortunately, she and Fiona kept it locked unless there was a delivery expected. Tensing, she waited to see if he could get in. Was he the one who’d broken in and left the note?

When he dropped his hand and turned to walk off, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Chloe wound herself around Demi’s left ankle, distracting her from her thoughts and unanswered questions. She picked up the cat and carried her to the bed. Setting the animal on the coverlet, she asked, “Shorts or jeans?”

Chloe commenced cleaning her left front paw.

“Right. That’s what I thought, too. Jeans it is.”

Pulling up her hair into a ponytail, Demi dressed in her thrift store jeans and a flowered top. She opened her purse and grabbed a ten-dollar bill that she stuffed into her front pocket.