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Buried Memories
Carol J. Post
FORGOTTEN PASTAfter her broken engagement, Nicki Jackson hoped her move to Cedar Key would give her a fresh start—instead she quickly learns someone’s out to destroy her. Are the attacks tied to her mother’s recently reopened murder case…or to the nightmares Nicki’s beginning to suspect are actually hidden memories? With the threats against her escalating, former soldier Tyler Brant vows to keep Nicki safe. He refuses to lose the woman who’s swiftly becoming more than a childhood crush. But when danger circles closer, is Nicki’s traumatic past better left forgotten…or are her memories the key to something far more sinister?
FORGOTTEN PAST
After her broken engagement, Nicki Jackson hoped her move to Cedar Key would give her a fresh start—instead she quickly learns someone’s out to destroy her. Are the attacks tied to her mother’s recently reopened murder case...or to the nightmares Nicki’s beginning to suspect are actually hidden memories? With the threats against her escalating, former soldier Tyler Brant vows to keep Nicki safe. He refuses to lose the woman who’s swiftly becoming more than a childhood crush. But when danger circles closer, is Nicki’s traumatic past better left forgotten...or are her memories the key to something far more sinister?
WATCH THE COMPANY YOU KEEP.
IT CAN GET YOU KILLED.
Her blood turned to ice and her heart almost stopped.
She looked up at Tyler, her jaw slack. Her heart had resumed a frantic pace, and moisture coated her palms. “He was watching us. He saw us leave for Home Depot together.” She took a step back, shaking her head. “You have to stay away from me.”
He moved closer until he was standing at the threshold. “Do you really think I’m intimidated by this creep, who’s too much of a coward to show his face?”
“Maybe you’re not intimidated, but I am. I’m not willing to risk you getting hurt. This is my battle, not yours.” Although she had no idea what she’d done to get drawn into it.
He took a step closer and put both hands on her shoulders. “It’s our battle. Friends stick together. Or have you forgotten that?”
Dear Reader (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770),
Thank you for joining me for another trip back to Cedar Key. It’s one of our favorite vacation spots, with its quaint, artsy atmosphere and friendly people. Doing research on this series has been a pleasure.
Nicki and Tyler were fun characters for me to write. After a traumatic early childhood and two years in foster care, Nicki had developed a toughness that often kept her from connecting with others. And Tyler had his own issues to overcome. Like so many of our servicemen who see combat, he brought many of the traumas of war home with him, both physically and emotionally. Neither Tyler nor Nicki was able to begin the path of healing until they decided to open their hearts to love—each other’s and God’s.
I hope you’ll drop me a line. I love to connect with my readers. You can find me on Facebook (facebook.com/caroljpost.author (https://facebook.com/caroljpost.author)), Twitter (@caroljpost (https://twitter.com/caroljpost)), my website (caroljpost.com (http://caroljpost.com/)) and email (caroljpost@gmail.com). For news and fun contests, join my newsletter mailing list. The link is on my website. I promise I won’t sell your info or spam you!
God bless you!
Carol
CAROL J. POST writes fun and fast-paced inspirational romantic suspense and lives in sunshiny central Florida. She sings and plays the piano for her church and also enjoys sailing, hiking, camping—almost anything outdoors. Her daughters and grandkids live too far away for her liking, so she now pours all that nurturing into taking care of two fat and sassy cats and one highly spoiled dachshund.
Buried Memories
Carol J. Post
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
—Psalms 147:3
Acknowledgments (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770)
A huge thank you to my friend Chaplain (Major) Andrew Ropp, US Army (retired). I appreciate your willingness to share your experiences. Your help on this project has been invaluable.
Thank you to my critique partners, Karen Fleming and Sabrina Jarema. Your sharp eyes and creative minds always make my writing better.
Thank you to my editor, Giselle Regus, and my agent, Nalini Akolekar. I’m thrilled to be working with both of you.
And thank you to my husband, Chris. I might be able to do this without your love and support...but I wouldn’t want to.
Contents
Cover (#u27ee9d3c-4488-50d3-b7bb-fc0626e44a5d)
Back Cover Text (#ud254423d-fc94-5ad9-ab72-2a952130b366)
Introduction (#uafcfcd56-3521-5a15-9741-26073a927f9c)
Dear Reader (#ue4c51a74-c827-5fef-b84e-737439e1703d)
About the Author (#ub479d348-cdb6-519c-8fb0-07d0c2bac284)
Title Page (#ua2e3e61c-b521-5812-8f61-83e1a4ff49df)
Bible Verse (#u079573c8-0dc2-56d8-9af2-37fe14ff2115)
Acknowledgments (#u586a784a-a999-58aa-9361-9a01dd2d900b)
ONE (#u823297f7-7eef-57f6-8624-50fea041fd55)
TWO (#uaf6dbfe9-6604-52ba-b29b-e360ceaa80a4)
THREE (#u91ec06a3-fe03-5492-9030-0916f26c51eb)
FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#uaecd8a2a-8735-5249-baee-5d4f6b506770)
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’t spent the past eight hours trapped in the car, battling traffic.
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’d almost made it to the altar herself. Instead, she was free and single, and her former intended was facing a hefty jail term.
She hesitated in the glow of the Ram’s 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.
She raised the key and stopped short. The door wasn’t shut tightly, and the jamb was chipped and scratched.
The headlights clicked off automatically, casting her in darkness, and the hair rose on the back of her neck. Someone had broken in to her house. Heart pounding in her chest, she pulled her phone from her purse and dialed 911.
“Come, Callie.” 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’s 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’t that call gone through yet?
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.
Leaving the driver’s side door open, she moved out into the moonlight, pulling Callie with her. Two bars. It was better than nothing.
The dispatcher answered, and Nicki’s hand tightened on the phone. Perspiration coated her palms, and all the strength seemed to have left her limbs. “Someone broke in to my house.” She quickly provided the address.
“Is anyone there now?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been inside.” 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.
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.
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.
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’d grown up in the country, at least from age nine onward. That was when she’d moved to Crystal River and found out what a real family was. The dozen or so foster homes before that didn’t count. Neither did the time she’d spent with her birth mother.
But now, looking at the trees shielding her house on three sides, the privacy she’d cherished when she bought the place felt more like isolation. And not in a good way.
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’s leash, ready to run for the truck, but Callie wasn’t budging.
A male voice cut through the noise. “Sasha, heel.”
Sasha? The breath she’d been holding spilled out in a rush. Sasha was the German shepherd next door, her neighbor Andy’s dog.
A fraction of a second later, sixty pounds of quivering excitement broke from the trees and charged across the yard toward them. Both dogs’ tails waved back and forth at a frantic pace. By the time Sasha’s human counterpart appeared, the two dogs were busy exchanging sniffs.
She watched him retrieve the leash and loop it around his hand. The other end was attached to Andy’s dog, but the man standing in her driveway wasn’t Andy. In fact, he looked sort of like... No way. She squinted in the bit of moonlight leaking through the clouds.
“Tyler?”
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. “Wow, you look good.” The recognition turned to confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” The hesitation in her tone proclaimed her own bewilderment.
Long ago, they’d been friends—close friends—until his mom got sick and moved him to Atlanta, where his aunt could care for them both. He’d been a scrawny fifteen-year-old at the time. She’d been a year younger and pretty skinny herself.
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.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. “What are you doing here with Andy’s dog?”
“Andy’s my brother. I’m going to help him renovate that run-down inn he bought.”
The confusion cleared. Andy’s 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’t make it out alive. Andy had just failed to mention his kid brother was Tyler Brant.
“He told me you were coming, but I didn’t make the connection.” With different fathers, they didn’t 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.
“I just arrived this afternoon, and we had a lot of catching up to do. Since I’d kept them up way past their bedtime, I told Andy I’d take Sasha out. I didn’t realize she was going to bolt as soon as I stepped out the door, or I’d have kept a death grip on the leash.”
The teasing grin he flashed her carried her back fifteen years. When she was a cranky adolescent, he’d had a knack for sending the dark clouds scurrying with his quirky sense of humor. Of course, she’d done her share of warding off his storms, too.
She returned his smile. “Sasha probably picked up Callie’s scent. They’re best buds.”
He nodded down at the golden retriever. “She must like late night walks, too.”
“Actually, I’m just getting home.”
He had the late part right. It was three hours later than she’d planned. After the Saturday wedding in Miami, she’d stayed a second night and enjoyed a long lunch with friends. The northerly drive from Miami to the Gulf town of Cedar Key wasn’t 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’t helped, either.
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. “I’ve 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’s going on.”
“That would be me. Someone broke in to my house while I was gone.”
He frowned, the concern on his face obvious in the light of the moon, which had once again made an appearance. “Is anything missing?”
“I haven’t been inside yet.” But considering the creep had had all weekend to clean her out, the possibilities weren’t looking good.
“That’s probably smart. I hope it isn’t too bad.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
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’d taken Nicki under their wings from the moment she’d arrived in town.
“You had a break-in?”
Nicki nodded. “I left midafternoon on Friday and just got home, so no one’s been here all weekend.” 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.
Amber’s attention shifted to Tyler. “And you are?”
“Tyler Brant.” He jammed a thumb toward the house next door. “Andy’s brother.”
