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* * *
Wyatt swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I see.”
An innocent man had died in prison? There wasn’t much that Nina would achieve by unearthing something everyone else involved probably considered over and done with. He didn’t like it, but things were what they were. Still, the look on her face pricked his heart.
“I could...make some calls.” He took a breath. “Find the original investigating FBI agent, see if I can maybe get you a copy of the file.”
If she saw the evidence against her father for herself then she would know why he’d been put away. Maybe after that she could be convinced she didn’t need to continue on this fruitless search. Wyatt wasn’t discounting her memories, but she had been a child. Whether her mother had been having an affair or not, her father had been convicted for a reason. The evidence had to have been conclusive, or there would never have been a guilty verdict.
He believed in the justice system, despite its flaws. Wyatt believed if the evidence hadn’t been there, then the wrong person would not have been sent to prison.
“You would do that?” Nina’s look was full of hope, of wonder, that he might be able to help her. “Could you get the file?”
Wyatt nodded. “It’s worth a try.” He had a cousin who was an FBI agent that he could ask. If only to put to rest her questions, and this search she was on, to find a truth that was likely anything but. It’d be worth a call to help her do what he’d had to.
Move on.
Have you, really?
“Thank you.” She jumped up and put her arms around him.
Wyatt was taken aback for a moment, but remembered himself fast enough that he could return the hug before she got embarrassed over what she’d done. When was the last time someone had hugged him to say thank you? He wasn’t sure he could remember.
When they’d eaten, he set the dirty dishes in the sink and wiped his hands on a towel. “I should head back to the office, but I’ll make some calls this afternoon.”
Nina looked up at him from her perch on the stool. Her big blue eyes were full of sadness, and possibilities. It was enough to convince him she was onto something, despite the evidence to the contrary. Her need to prove that things had been the way she remembered them was strong, he got that. He understood why someone would want to preserve their memory of what had been—to prove what she knew to be true. But she was talking about events that happened when she was a young child, and since then she could easily have distorted things in her head.
Children were notoriously bad witnesses when any time had passed. Often they only wanted to tell adults what they wanted to hear—or what they themselves wanted to believe had happened. Was that the case here?
“Thank you, Wyatt.”
He nodded. The wall he could see in the living room caught his eye, so he trailed toward it. Nina jumped up and intercepted him. “Didn’t you just say you had to get back to work?”
Wyatt looked at her.
“There’s nothing interesting in there.”
Except that he thought there were printed pages or even newspaper articles tacked to the portion of the wall he could see. Why didn’t she want him to go in there and look? Nina wasn’t exactly hiding what she was doing. Parker and Sienna obviously knew about her looking into her mother’s murder, and she’d told him without too many qualms.
“If you say so.” But he didn’t believe her.
If she’d tacked pictures and news releases on the wall in her living room, this was clearly worse than he’d thought. It had consumed her daytime hours, which meant it also consumed her nights, too. Parker seemed to think she had to be reminded to eat. The signs were all there.
Nina was obsessed.
He understood why well enough. He’d been there himself even, but he knew what the end would be. If Nina kept going, either she would destroy herself trying to find the answers, or she would reach the end and find not even an ounce of the satisfaction she’d been looking for. She was going to wind up empty and exhausted with no answers.
“I guess I’ll be going then.” He stepped back. “Have a nice rest of your day.”
Wyatt walked to the door. That hadn’t been a great thing to say. Nina didn’t need the brush-off. What she needed was someone who could be compassionate to her situation—and that just wasn’t Wyatt. Sympathy, yes. But he didn’t know how much more he could give her when it would probably be unhelpful.
He turned back to her. “Be careful, and let me know if you need anything.”
But it couldn’t be denied she also needed someone who was going to tell her the truth—her father likely was her mother’s murderer. That the man she thought had done it didn’t have any reason to have killed her mom, not if they were in a relationship. She’d said herself that they had been happy, her mother and this “Mr. Thomas.”
“Goodbye, Wyatt.” Her voice was small, damaged. She didn’t sound anything like the self-assured former CIA agent he’d come to know.
A woman who had nearly died today.
Wyatt pulled out his phone before he hit the elevator. It rang twice and Sergeant Zane answered. “Hey, I need a favor.”
He felt better after he’d ordered regular drive-bys of her building to check for suspicious activity that could be another attack. There wasn’t much else he could do aside from 24-7 protection, but Wyatt still drove away racking his brain for other things that might help. Whoever had tried to kill her with that car would most likely try again.
And Wyatt was going to be there when he did.
THREE (#ulink_49bf2ef7-fd96-5193-aa1d-da0b1331b936)
The click of the front door echoed through the foyer. Nina’s socks whispered on the floor as she trailed to the living room. The walls were covered with sketches she’d done from memory after she’d learned how to properly execute a suspect drawing, but weren’t useful at all in identifying Mr. Thomas. Articles she’d printed from archived newspapers detailed her mother’s murder all the way through the investigation to the sentencing...and then finally her father’s death in prison.
It was a play-by-play of the worst days of Nina’s life.
She kept them up as a reminder and as a memorial. She couldn’t let anyone in, not without knowing their true motives. Nor was she prepared to open herself up—except to people like Sienna who convinced her otherwise. Not when there were people in the world who would slit a woman’s throat even knowing the woman’s child was on her way home.
Nina turned a full circle to look at the sum of her life now. Her search for the truth would enable her to move on, and the teaching job would begin the next chapter of her life. She just had to find Mr. Thomas before fall semester started.
The floor creaked.
She spun again, half expecting Wyatt to have come back for some forgotten thing. It wasn’t him.
Mr. Thomas stepped into the room.
He wore a suit, much the same as the last time she had seen him, years before. His hair was gray but still stylish, and his tan was highlighted by the pale lines on the sides of his face where he’d been wearing sunglasses.
“Hello, Nina.”
Nina’s feet were frozen to the floor, her muscles solid. “It’s you,” she said. The landline phone was three feet to her right on the end table beside the couch. Could she get there? What did he want?
Mr. Thomas’s cheekbones were high, his lips pursed as he surveyed her. For an old man, he was remarkably handsome. Probably in his seventies, at least, but he could easily pass for someone younger. Nina could almost see how a woman could fall for his charm—not knowing he was a murderer. A murderer who’d come to kill her.
“Why are you here?” The question left her lips before she realized she said it. Did she want to engage him or just run?
His eyes flickered. “You tell me, Little Mouse.”
Lunch turned over in Nina’s stomach. He’d called her that, and she’d forgotten until now. Little Mouse. “Why did you kill her?” She wanted to know. She needed to know why he had murdered her mother. Though no reason on earth could justify what he’d done, she still demanded the reason. “Why?”
She didn’t see a gun, but it could be behind his back. He could be carrying all manner of weapons—just like she had hidden around her condo. Now she just had to make it to the closest one so she could force him to leave...after she got him to admit what he’d done.
It was a shame she couldn’t record his confession.
“I’ll take the first question.” The words rolled from his mouth as sweetly as a frozen treat.
She repeated it. “Why are you here?”
“Curiosity, I must admit. That is the biggest reason.” He halfway grinned. “That my Little Mouse has come back after all these years, scurrying around and trying to dig up information best left buried. For everyone’s sakes.”
“Because you killed my mother.”
“And you won’t let it rest.”
“Why should I?” Nina asked. “Why ever would I let you get away with it when I can get the evidence—”
“There is none to be found.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“A confession?” He sneered. “Unlikely.”
“Shame I don’t have a recording device.” She shot him a look in return. “But now I know you’re threatened by me digging into the past. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. And you certainly wouldn’t have tried to run me over earlier.”
“A simple scare tactic. I had considered it beneath me, but I can’t deny there was a certain...rush. It turned out to be quite a pleasant excursion.”
“How nice for you.” She accented the last word and lifted her right arm to show him the road rash she’d acquired to keep from hurting her left thumb any more than it already was. There was no need to let him know she’d been scared out of her wits. “All to warn me off getting my mother’s file?”
“No one will benefit from the past being resurrected, Little Mouse. Some things just need to be laid to rest and left undisturbed.”
“Not when my father was wrongly convicted. Not when he died in prison before he ever got the chance to be exonerated. I’ve spent years trying to find you, trying to bury what happened. But I can’t escape it. I can’t seem to escape you.” Nina sucked in a breath. “And now I suppose you’re here to kill me, too?”
She needed to know either way. The not knowing was making her antsy, and then she would say something to attempt to end this and wind up making it worse. Nina prayed she hadn’t just done that anyway.
“Perhaps.”
Nina rushed to the phone, snapped it up and pressed the button. He hadn’t moved or made any attempt to come after her. When she listened and heard no dial tone, he laughed. “Nice try.”
Nina threw the phone handset and the base at him. The cord snapped taut and it landed on the couch. The closest weapon was in the kitchen, as was her cell. There was pepper spray in the hutch and a baton under the couch, but one was too far and the other she had to crouch low for.
Nina looked around for what else she could throw at him. The lamp, maybe?
He drew something long and thin from his pocket. Did she even want to know what was in that needle? Nina reached for something to say that would divert his attention. “So you’ve been keeping tabs on the case all this time?”
“My work is to be appreciated. Of course I stay connected.”
“And you tried to run me over because I was asking about my mother?” They’d already been over this point, but misdirection involved confusion. She needed to make him wonder if she was the one misinterpreting their conversation, or if he was.
“Nice dive, by the way.”
“The truth has to come out.”
Mr. Thomas frowned. “Not the right choice.” His face had reddened, and the vein on his neck puckered. “I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, Little Mouse. That’s why you’re coming with me.”
“You’re the one barking up the wrong tree, Thomas.”
“That’s Mister Thomas,” he hissed.
Nina stood straighter. At the first chance, she had to run for her phone. She couldn’t let him best her, couldn’t let him take her where he’d be able to kill her and bury her. Not when no one would ever know what had happened. She would be the victim. Yet another mysterious death, with only herself to blame.
He came forward then. “Come quietly, Little Mouse. It will be better for both of us.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
He lunged. Nina ducked and kicked out with her leg. The close proximity of the couch meant she didn’t get as much momentum as she wanted, but she slammed his knee as hard as she was able.
Thomas grunted. He swung out with the needle and she slammed her forearm into his. They grasped each other’s free hands and grappled. Strength for strength matched in a battle for her life.
Nina gritted her teeth and struggled. He was older, but muscled. She had training.
Eyes locked with his, she kicked out again.
As though expecting it, he countered the move. Pain burst in her shin and Nina’s grip loosened. She pushed back against his hands hard enough to shove him two steps back, then turned and ran the couple of steps to the end table, and the lamp.
She whipped it around at the same moment she felt a sting in the back of her shoulder. Nina rotated and slammed him on the side of the head with the lamp. The needle end broke off, still stuck in her shoulder.
Thomas cried out.
Nina ran for the kitchen. She cleared the doorway far enough ahead of him to pick up her cell phone. Her fingers were slick, but she’d preprogrammed a quick-dial setting while Wyatt was cooking lunch.
“Nina?”
A hand grabbed her hair and yanked.
Nina dropped the phone and screamed as she was dragged backward. The phone cracked on the tile floor as he pulled her across the threshold into the hall.
* * *
Wyatt pushed open the door of Nina’s building to the sound of sirens from approaching police cars. He hit the button for the elevator and tapped his foot as the car ascended to the twenty-second floor. “I’m sure she’s okay.” He muttered the words into the empty car, not because he was actually convinced. More like trying to fool himself into believing it.
Wyatt just wanted to get up there. He’d called Nina back after she screamed, and then he’d called Parker. Neither he nor his partner had gotten through on either her landline or her cell phone during the ten minutes since her call, until now.
He drew his weapon as the elevator slid open to reveal the building’s security guard outside the door to Nina’s condo. “She isn’t answering, but there’s thumping. Like I said on the phone, sounds like someone is in there with her,” the guard reported.
Wyatt nodded. “You did good, waiting for me.”
The couple of minutes had probably felt like a lifetime. Still, Wyatt didn’t want an old security guard getting hurt. Wyatt turned away, lifted his foot, and kicked the door open. He swung around, gun up, and started a room-by-room search.
“Nina?”
Kitchen was clear. Her phone was broken on the floor, a path through the debris like something had been swept through it. The hall looked exactly the same as when he’d left not long ago.
A dark figure crossed the hall at a dead run.
