Nighttime Guardian

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His smile didn’t fool Shelby one bit. Nor did it deceive Nathan. His eyes narrowed as James walked over and patted Shelby’s shoulder.

“We’ll talk again real soon, Shelby, honey. In the meantime, you take care. I worry about you out there on the river, all by your lonesome. You always were scared of your own shadow.” His laughter was soft and mocking as he turned and headed for the door. He said over his shoulder, “Now, you call me if you see that monster again, you hear?”

Chapter Four

“What the hell was that all about?” Nathan demanded before James barely had time to get through the door.

“He’s just upset that Grandmother put me in charge.” Shelby tried to shrug off the incident, but Nathan could see she was still shaken. Her face was pale, and her eyes glittered just a little too brightly. She walked out to the showroom, as if to assure herself that James had really left. Nathan followed her. “He’s worried about the business, I guess.”

“Worried about getting his hands on Miss Annabel’s money, you mean.” Nathan had never liked James Westmoreland, and after that summer when he’d made Shelby’s life a living hell, Nathan had hated him even more.

He’d never known the full truth of what happened down by the river that night—what Shelby had actually witnessed—though he’d never doubted for a minute that she’d seen something. But after James had claimed that he’d made the whole thing up and gotten Shelby to go along with him, everyone in town—the whole country, it seemed—had ended up laughing at her.

Nathan would have taken great pleasure in pounding James Westmoreland into a bloody pulp, but he’d only been a kid and James had been a grown man. He would have throttled Nathan if given half a chance, but things were different now. If James ever so much as laid a hand on Shelby again…

Nathan drew a deep breath, trying to quell the gnawing urge to go track James down right now and settle that old score. But he didn’t think Shelby would welcome his interference. She didn’t seem too happy about his presence in general.

He thought about what he’d overheard James say to her—that she’d been hospitalized after her attack. That the nurses still remembered her screams. Those bleak images ate at Nathan. He hated to think of Shelby so vulnerable, alone and frightened.

She’d been through something pretty horrible, and yet here she was, a survivor, a woman with more inner strength than probably even she knew.

Virgil was right. Her story would make a hell of a human-interest piece.

“So what brings you by so early?” She toyed with the filmy scarf tied at her neck. The blue floral pattern brought out the azure of her eyes and the creamy quality of the pearls in her lobes. Her hair was cut in a short, choppy style that looked as if she’d taken the shears to it in desperation, but that had, in reality, probably cost a fortune at some exclusive Beverly Hills salon. She looked both elegant and sophisticated standing behind a display case, and it struck Nathan anew how many years had come and gone since he’d last seen her.

He moved around to the other side, so they were standing face-to-face, with only the expanse of the glass case between them. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and we didn’t get much of a chance to talk last night.”

“No, I guess we didn’t.” She paused, her gaze anxious. “Have you heard anything more about the body they found in the river?”

“Not much. His name was Danny Weathers.”

She nodded. “Yes, Dewayne told me last night. The name sounds familiar.”

“He was my age. We used to hang out sometimes.” Nathan frowned, remembering Danny Weathers as a boy, the times they’d gone fishing together, camped out on the river together. Nathan had used their childhood friendship as a way to reconnect with Danny once he’d found out Danny worked for Takamura. Now Danny was dead, and Nathan had a bad feeling—a very bad feeling—that it might be because Danny had talked to him. If that was the case, it was as Nathan had told his uncle—he wouldn’t rest until the truth came out.

Shelby gazed at him strangely, as if she’d somehow picked up on his thoughts. “You’re still not convinced it was an accident, are you?”

“Let’s just say I’m keeping an open mind.” He glanced down at the jewelry pieces and the assortment of loose pearls protected inside the glass. “Your grandmother still does beautiful work, doesn’t she?”

Shelby smiled. “Do you remember what we used to call some of the shapes of the pearls?”

“Angel wings, rosebuds, turtlebacks, dog’s teeth.” Nathan grinned. “Strange how it all comes back. I always figured pearlers gave the baroque shapes such colorful names to add to their mystique, since they were less valuable than the rounds.”

“Very possibly.” Shelby unlocked the case and took out a cream-colored pearl with a magnificent luster. Nested in her hand, the gem came alive, glowing like moonlight against her palm. “Grandmother always said pearls are like candlelight. So romantic and very flattering, no matter the skin tone.”

“I agree.” Nathan took the pearl from Shelby’s hand, lifting it to her face.

The pearl felt cool against his fingertips, a fine counterpoint to the warmth of Shelby’s smooth cheek. He hadn’t touched her in a very long time, and the feel of her skin against his, the knowledge that she was so close after all these years…

She stepped back suddenly, as if she’d been burned. The pearl would have dropped to the glass surface if Nathan hadn’t caught it in time.

Her gaze flew up to meet his. She seemed a little dazed. Nathan wondered what she was thinking, if the touch of his fingers against her cheek had affected her the same way it had him. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said impulsively.

She looked almost shocked. “I…can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t go out.”

“Even with an old friend?”

“No.” Her tone was adamant.

“I don’t understand.” Nathan gazed at her for a long, silent moment. “We were once best friends. Why would it be so wrong for us to have dinner together?”

Her expression turned almost defiant, as if she were fighting very hard to control her emotions. “Our friendship was a long time ago.”

“Yes, but I haven’t had a really close friend since you left town.” He paused, then said softly, “I think maybe it’s been that way for you, too.”

She frowned. “What makes you think I don’t have close friends?”

“Because you were always a loner. Just like me.”

“Don’t assume you still know me,” she warned. “People change in twenty years.”

Not you, he thought. In spite of the changes in her appearance, Shelby was very much the way he remembered her. Sweet, quiet, very intense. Soft-looking on the outside, but tough on the inside when she had to be.

She’d never been one to run from her fears—even going so far as to wait on the riverbank at midnight for a glimpse of the Pearl River Monster. And then later, when people in town had turned against her, she’d faced the ridicule with the same quiet determination, never once running away. Never once dissolving into tears.

Nathan had been the one to act a fool, swearing at her tormentors, picking fights, getting his nose bloodied more times than he could count. That was what had made Shelby cry.

He gazed at her now, haunted by the pain in her eyes, and he wished fervently that he could have been there the night Albert Lunt had come after her. Wished, even, that he could have saved her husband.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” he said softly.

Her gaze faltered. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Then we don’t have to. We can talk about anything you like. Think of it as two old friends catching up. We haven’t seen each other in years, Shelby. There’s a lot I’d like to know about you.”

One brow lifted slightly. “Such as?”

“Have dinner with me and I’ll tell you.” Shelby had never been able to resist a challenge. It had been her downfall more than once. If Nathan hadn’t dared her, she never would have gone down to the river that night. “Come on. For old times’ sake.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “You haven’t changed much, have you? You still don’t like taking no for an answer.”

“Is that a yes, then?” he asked hopefully.

“It’ll have to be an early dinner,” she finally conceded. “I don’t like driving home alone after dark.”

“Deal,” he agreed, smiling. Feeling triumphant for no good reason. “But don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of letting you drive home alone. I’ll follow you.”

She said nothing to that, but her expression seemed to suggest that his words were hardly reassuring.

SHELBY WAITED until the door closed behind Nathan before hurrying over to the window to watch him stride down the street. The sidewalk was empty this time of morning, but with his looks and bearing, he would have been noticed even in a crowd.

Last night, under cover of darkness, Shelby had thought him attractive, but this morning, in broad daylight, with sunlight gleaming against his dark hair—

She drew a sharp breath.

He was more than attractive. Nathan Dallas had turned out to be a very handsome man. Drop-dead gorgeous, in fact. The single women in town were probably leaving tracks on each other’s backs in their haste to capture his attention.

But Shelby wasn’t one of them.

Watching him disappear around a corner, she rallied her resolve. She wouldn’t be going to dinner with Nathan Dallas tonight or any other night. She’d only agreed in order to quell his persistence. In an hour or so, she’d call the Argus and leave a message. She’d say something had come up. She couldn’t make it after all.

But the thought of spending the evening alone was hardly tempting, either. Shelby hadn’t slept well last night. She wanted to believe the country quiet had kept her awake, but she knew better. The river was a spooky place, had been since that summer night when she’d seen something rise out of the water and start toward her.

Realistically, she knew the Pearl River Monster didn’t exist. The vision had been conjured by her imagination and by all the talk that summer about the creature. She’d been just a kid back then, frightened and lonely. It might have been nothing more than shadows in the moonlight that had terrified her. Nothing more than an illusion caused by the darkness. But she had seen something.

Over the years, Shelby had managed to look back on that night with an open mind and even with some humor. She’d created quite a stir in Arcadia that summer. The ridicule she’d taken after the Argus had declared her sighting a hoax had, in time, taken on comic overtones. The town had turned on her because the national media had made them all look like fools. Shelby accepted that now. She even speculated with some amusement that her monster sighting was what had compelled her to go into accounting instead of the arts, although she’d always had a creative flair. After that summer, she’d wanted to deal in the concrete, not the abstract.

But after Michael had been killed and Albert Lunt had come after her, her logic had deserted her. Entering her darkened house that night, Shelby had sensed Lunt’s presence before she’d seen him, and the cold, black, mind-numbing terror of that long-ago summer had come rushing back.

But somehow she’d managed to survive both river monsters and Albert Lunt.

You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Shelby.