One Millhaven Lane Page 5

  "Nothing. No one saw or heard anything. It looks like he brought the knife with him and left with it too."

  Nate mentioned Bobby's love for a switchblade. He could hear the shuffle of paper on Carter's side of the phone.

  "That makes sense. According to several police reports, it's his weapon of choice." The chief cleared his throat. "Why now? Why didn't he make a move on Asia sooner? Joanna's gone six months and some."

  "Who knows with Bobby? Something's misfiring in his brain. Always has been."

  "Watch your back, Nate. That's where Bobby will strike. Expect his return real soon. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

  "Smart enough to plan an attack here rather than Boston."

  "He probably thinks we yahoos won't be a match for him."

  "Yeah."

  ***

  Asia was tired, too tired even to open her eyes. A hand held hers, warm and soft. "Nate?"

  "I'm right here, love."

  A chair scraped the floor and she felt him coming to his feet. "Don't leave."

  "I won't. I promise."

  His words comforted her. No one would hurt her with Nate at her side.

  "Are you ready to blow this joint?"

  Her eyes flew open of their own volition, it seemed. "I can leave?"

  "Sure can."

  "Well, hell. What are we waiting for?"

  Chapter Five

  Asia lifted her head from the pillow and looked at Nate standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands.

  "It wasn't necessary to put me to bed." She sat up. "I'd be just as comfortable on the sofa."

  "The doctor was implicit. Bed rest and sustenance. By the way, your cupboards are barer than Mother Hubbard's."

  "I packed up everything for Romero House on my last visit."

  He set the tray on her lap. "Tomato soup, crackers and milk, compliments of The Haunted House."

  "No chicken soup?"

  "You like tomato. What's the matter with tomato?"

  "Nothing, other than it's red."

  "Oh God, I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. I'll have Madge send over some chicken soup."

  Clearly, Nate would cater to her. He'd been so considerate, taking her in through the kitchen door and up the back staircase so she wouldn't see her blood on the floor. He probably had elves cleaning up the mess already.

  "The soup's fine. I was joking."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Uh-huh. Did you tell Madge what happened?"

  "I didn't have to. She knew."

  Asia grimaced. "I keep forgetting how small a town this is."

  "News, good and bad, travels at the speed of light in the Grove." He sat on the edge of the bed. "We should talk about what happened."

  "Give you my statement, you mean." Ravenous, she greedily spooned soup into her mouth. Her hands shook; a combination of low blood sugar and anxiety. She broke a cracker in two and ate one half, washing the crumbs down with milk.

  "Can you talk about it now?"

  "Sure. No problem. After I left you at the lake, I drove straight here. I came in the front door and removed my shoes. Then, in my peripheral vision, I saw the glint of metal." She stammered as she envisioned the knife coming through the air at her. "A second later, I realized there was an intruder in the house." She paused. This was more difficult than she'd anticipated. She wiped the moisture from her upper lip and let a few seconds pass before continuing. Nate must have sensed her unease because he clasped her hand and offered to let the statement go for a while.

  "No, I'm all right." She ate more soup and crackers and, feeling stronger, continued her story without another hiccup. "And that's it."

  "You weren't able to get a look at your assailant at all?"

  She shook her head.

  "Did you get a sense of his size?"

  "I didn't hear him approach, so he may be a light walker." She didn't want to talk about the assault anymore. "Tell me about your ex-wife?"

  He jerked his head back and looked her squarely in the eyes. "Why?"

  "I don't know. The question just popped into my mind." That was a lie. Truthfully, she often wondered why his marriage had failed. Her marriage didn't work because she could never get over Nate and no man would ever measure up. Her ex-husband had been right. Maybe the time had come to admit the truth. Before she could open her mouth, he spoke.

  "Catherine and I weren’t suited. We should never have married.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Asia knew what he was about to say would come straight from the heart. “Truth is, she wasn't you, Asia."

  She smiled. "That's a wonderful answer." The right one.

  "And you? Why didn’t your marriage work?" His voice was soft, tentative, like he was afraid of her response.

  "The same."

  He let out a long, harsh breath and took her hand.

  Nate’s strength rejuvenated her. She wanted to continue where they’d left off. “I can talk about the intruder now, if you’d like.”

  “Only if you feel up to it.”

  “Go ahead. Ask your questions.”

  "Do you know anyone who would want to kill you? Besides me, I mean."

  "You heard that?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly. Your boots..." She closed her eyes against the image of a knife slashing the air above her head.

  "What about them?"

  "This morning, when I left for Harry's office, I noticed a footprint below the kitchen window. Only one boot I know makes such a distinctive imprint." She looked over the side of the bed at his feet. "Those boots, in fact."

  "And from that you decided I wanted to kill you?" He cocked a brow.

  "Well, yes. Wouldn't you?"

  "No."

  She thought about it, then laughed at herself and how absurd she could be at times. "You would have gotten more facts together before coming to a conclusion."

  "Something like that."

  "But not exactly." Then the truth dawned. She said the words for him. "You would never think I was capable of killing you."

  "Something like that." He half-smiled. He tried not to let it show but she'd hurt him.

  "I'm sorry."

  He nodded.

  "When I walked around the house, looking for something the assailant might have left behind, I saw that print. Aside from the fact I wasn't anywhere near the back of your house last night or any night, but if I had been, it couldn't be mine. I'd make a deeper indentation."

  "So my attacker is a lighter build."

  "That would be my guess. The fella who left the print in the flowerbed might not be your attacker."

  "Maybe I spooked a burglar."

  "It's possible."

  "But not likely?" She looked at him "I can't remember Mom or anyone in the Grove ever locking their doors. Except for Ricky Morison's crime spree, no one's ever had anything stolen from their houses." She grinned, picturing the four-year-old going from house to house helping himself to donations for his trike fund.

  "How is he?" she asked.

  "Reformed, house-trained and walking the straight and narrow."

  "How old's he now? Ten?"

  "About that. Cute kid."

  "Did my attacker leave anything behind? Anything that would identify him?" She wanted to know Nate's thoughts, wanting to be part of the investigation.

  "Maybe. Carter discovered a spot of blood on the dining room floor. He sent the sample to the lab for ID. If your assailant's DNA is in the system, we'll know his identity soon enough."

  "It has to be his because I wasn't anywhere near the dining room at the time of, during or after the attack." The information relieved some of her anxiety. In the back of her mind, she'd wondered if her assailant would come back to complete the job he'd started. There was something in Nate's expression that said he was keeping something from her.

  "You don't think this was random violence, do you?"

  "Stabbing typically suggests a crime of passion."

  She kne
w what he was thinking. "There are no jilted lovers and nobody I know would do something like that, so don't waste your time investigating." The attack on her didn't make any sense. Her mother didn't have anything of great value. What valuables she had were precious only to Asia. What had Nate said — a crime of passion? She was on good terms, friends even, with her ex-husband, and there were no jealous lovers. She wasn't in a relationship and there wasn't anyone she'd dated capable of hurting her, and even if they were, they had no reason. Her split-ups had been, if not mutual, amicable.

  "What do we have, then?"

  Asia thought Nate had asked the question expecting her to know the answer. After a moment of thought, she remembered what Harry had said. Then she understood what Nate was getting at but didn't want to say.

  "My mother's house. Bobby and I own it equally, per stirpes. Neither of us have children, so if one of us dies, the surviving sibling would inherit the house. Oh God." Her skin chilled. She shuddered. "My own brother tried to kill me."

  Ashamed and heartbroken, she covered her face with her hands. Two minutes passed before she could look at Nate. "He tried to kill me," she said, unable to wrap her mind around the certainty. "What did I do to him that was so awful he wants me dead?"

  Tears she'd managed to hold back burst free, flowing from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her heart couldn't ache any more if Bobby had stabbed it.

  Nate took her in his arms and held her. "It isn't anything you did, honey. This is all on Bobby. All his. No one else's." He kissed her hair and rocked her. "I won't let him come near you."

  She used her fingers to wipe the tears from her face. "I know you won't." She removed herself from his hold and looked at him. Within an instant, she felt powerful, like she could take on all the riff-raff in the world and win.

  "Feeling better?" he asked.

  She nodded. "A good cry always helps." She managed a smile.

  He nudged his chin at the tray. "Eat up. You need to rebuild your strength."

  "I really can't eat anything."

  "Eat."

  "Okay, okay." She took the bowl of fruit salad and ate until there wasn't any more. Fatigue overtook her, then. Her mind was numb and her fingers shook. "I think I'll rest for a minute or two."

  He set the tray on the dresser and fluffed the pillows. He ordered her to lay back and close her eyes.

  "Yes, sir."

  He kissed her forehead.

  She grabbed his warm hand. "Please don't leave."

  "There isn't any place I'd rather be."

  Chapter Six

  Asia woke to the sound of wind rushing the back of the house. She sat up without considering her wounds. The pain in her arm and leg was agonizing. She fell against the pillows and closed her eyes against the throbbing.

  "Good morning, sleepyhead," Nate said.

  The wave of pain passed and she resumed regular breathing. She looked at Nate in the high-back chair across from the bed.

  "I hope that's not where you spent the night."

  "It was more comfortable than a stake-out."

  "Have you ever been on a stake-out?"

  He grinned and worked his mistake. "I meant to say that I'm sure it was more comfortable than a stake-out, not that I've ever been on one. I meant to say."

  "Uh-huh. What time is it?"

  He looked at his watch. "Eight-ten. You slept well."

  She yawned, unable to remember her last good night's sleep. The rumble of an engine in the back yard had Nate peering out the window.

  "We got hit hard last night."

  She didn't know what he was talking about. "Am I missing something?"

  "The snowstorm."

  It took her a moment to remember. "Oh, right. The Nor'easter."

  Nate didn't need to say anything more. Other than snow machines and dog sleds, no one would be coming or going for awhile, not with unplowed highways, blustering winds and zero visibility that a blizzard would bring. Everyone would hunker down to wait out the storm. At least now she wouldn't fret about getting back to her shop or about being attacked again in the next few days.

  "Did I hear a snow machine just now, or am I hallucinating?"

  "No, that's Madge with our breakfast. I left the door unlocked for her. Don't worry, no one can get up here. I locked the doors leading into the main house."

  That was her Nate. Always thinking. "Great. I'm famished. First, though, I need to use the bathroom." She threw off the covers.

  He leapt to her side. "I'll carry you. Remember the doctor's orders. No undue strain to that leg. You could rupture the wound."

  She looped her good arm around his neck when he lifted her from the bed.

  Minutes later, refreshed, Asia opened the bathroom door. "I'm finished," she said into the hallway.

  Nate didn't answer. In fact, the house was still — exceptionally still. Not the rattle of a water pipe or window or the creak of the floor. A chill rushed down her back. She called his name again. "Nate?" He didn't answer.

  Where was he? He said he wouldn't leave. Maybe her assailant had come back and Nate didn't hear him, attacked from behind like he'd done to her. Her fingers shook at the thought. She worried then that Nate wouldn't expect the intruder to return, not with the streets impassable with waist-high drifts. No one should be coming or going anywhere. Except snow machines. Maybe that hadn't been Madge with their breakfast. She could hear footsteps on the stairs. They didn't sound like Nate's. He stepped quietly and lightly. So had her attacker. No. Not again. Without any noise, she closed the door to a crack and peeked out. If her assailant had rendered Nate unconscious, there was no one to protect her. Her wounds made rapid movement virtually impossible. She would be defenseless against an assault. She looked around the bathroom for something to use to defend herself. Her battery-operated toothbrush was her meanest weapon.

  Again, she peeked into the hallway, holding her breath. The top of a head came into view. She'd recognize that closely cropped hair anywhere. Exhaling, she opened the door.

  "Oh, thank God. I thought the intruder returned." There was little doubt that Bobby was her attacker, yet she refused to call him by name. In denial, a therapist would say. Maybe when the results of the blood analysis came back and pinpointed Bobby, then she'd accept the truth.

  "He'd be in handcuffs by now," Nate said, smiling and climbing the remainder of the stairs.

  She hobbled into the hall, ignoring Nate's warning to take it easy. She looked at their breakfast.

  "Madge outdid herself. Everything looks scrumptious."

  "There's more in the kitchen," he said.

  "Really? Gosh." They could hole up there for days.

  "Wait here while I put the tray in the bedroom."

  She did as he told her and waited for him where she stood.

  Seconds later, Asia was in bed and staring at her breakfast. "I haven't had oatmeal since I started drinking coffee and that was...too many years ago to keep track of. I was hoping for bacon and eggs or pancakes and sausages. You don't suppose Madge's conspiring with my doctor?"

  "Could be, but then you more than most people already know oatmeal is wholesome and speeds up the regeneration process."

  "I know. I know." She eyed the grapefruit, orange wedges and blackberries. "I should be back on my feet in a couple of days."

  He looked at her suspiciously. "Planning on going somewhere?"

  "I have to get back to Boston. My shop...."

  "Don't you have a second-in-charge?"

  "Yes, but — "

  "But nothing. It's time to delegate. You're the boss. You can do what you want." He brought his brows together. "Or is it something else? Some other reason you need to leave."

  She held his gaze. "No, just my shop."

  "Okay, then. Dig in." He handed her a plastic spoon.

  "Madge thought of everything."

  They ate in silence.

  Swallowing the last blackberry, Asia pushed the tray aside. She noticed the single paper cup on the bedside table next to Nate
.

  "Where's my coffee?"

  "None for you. Caffeine robs the body of vitamin C. You know you need a lot of that right now. We need to take every precaution."

  "But the antibiotics and tetanus shot." Which reminded her, "My butt still hurts, by the way." She eyed his coffee. "Just a sip. Please."

  He stood and lifted the tray from the bed. "No. It's true nurses make the worst patients."

  She faked a pout. "I'm irritable without my morning cup of java."

  He didn't say anything.

  "Like a bear wakened early from hibernation."

  "I haven't forgotten." He tucked the covers around her.

  Inches from his face, she could see the stubble along his jaw. Her gaze moved upward to his mouth. She closed her eyes and imagined his lips against hers. Her thoughts shifted to last night and the passion they'd shared. She murmured.

  "Did you say something?" Nate asked, his arms poised over her head to fluff her pillows.

  Asia couldn't wait one more second. She needed to feel his lips on hers. Now. This instant. She didn't give a hoot about her injuries. If the stitches broke, she'd live with a worse scar. Her heart was speaking and the message was clear. You love him. You've always loved him. There's no other man for you. He's the one. She put her hand against the back of his head and drew him downward until their mouths were aligned.

  "This is not a good idea, Asia."

  "Why the hell not?" she asked, unable to remove her gaze from his lips, kissable, perfectly shaped lips. She applied pressure to his head, urging him to surrender.

  He didn't budge. "Your wounds. The stitches. They might come loose."

  "We'll have to be careful, then." This time when she pushed his head downward, he didn't resist.

  Hallelujah.

  ***

  Nate wakened to Asia nestling into the crook of his arm, reminding him of their pledge years ago.

  "We'd have made beautiful children."

  They'd argued on the number. He'd wanted eight. She wanted four. After much discussion, they compromised and split the difference. Not caring the gender, they'd joked their kids would inherit her strawberry blonde hair and freckles and his blue eyes and dark complexion. Anything was possible, nothing too far-reached where they were concerned.